With the pandemic running out of steam in the United States, a bunch of really aggravating existential questions are now hovering in the air, just above your vaccine jab. Chief among them is: Should you pop out a baby?
It’s a serious question.
When I think about polarization and online rage, I think about influencing a whole generation of toddlers to be kind.
Should you have kids when the world is an uncertain mess and climate change is a probable catastrophe and god-knows-who will be President in four years? Forget all of that. Why would you have a baby when people can’t stop posting mean things online?
It’s not just me who is feeling this angst. The birthrate in the United States and other countries has dipped considerably during the past year. So the thing everyone was doing at home that they called “making sourdough loaves” was . . . actually making sourdough loaves. They were putting literal buns in the oven!
Of course, during the bun-making phase of the pandemic, I was busy dealing with an actual baby. I was in constant shock about the free time people talked about. How they were cooking and writing novels and organizing their closets. I had no time for anything like that. Maybe that’s reason enough to not have a kid: If the next pandemic strikes, you want to make sure you have enough free time to turn your apartment into a bakery and master origami classroom.
But, in fact, the time I spent with my baby during a pandemic made me less angsty. I couldn’t ponder life’s bigger questions because I was busy cleaning up life’s bigger poops. My progeny learned how to walk during the pandemic. She learned how to almost stick her finger into an electrical outlet during the pandemic. I couldn’t be hopeless because I had to be certain that she had a future—and the opportunity to discover yet more dangerous electrical outlets!
Some people say, “I can’t picture bringing a child into this world when I know their future lives can’t be as good as mine.” And by that they mean having more money and stuff.
But our parents are the ones who did the things that brought us climate change. They discovered mass-produced processed foods that resulted in diabetes, irritable bowel syndrome, and the need for elastic waistbands. They lived unsustainably, and their level of consumption was clearly terrible for our well-being and for the Earth. Having a baby shouldn’t be about making sure she grows up to own a yacht. Of course, I want my offspring to see and experience things, but she’ll have to do it with less plastic, less jet-fueled air travel, and more general care.
I don’t know how our political systems will fare, but I do know that I’ve given birth to a future voter. And if I play my cards right, a progressive voter. One who’s Black, Iranian, Muslim, and by virtue of this very mix will have an easier time being compassionate about large swaths of her fellow citizens.
When I think about polarization and online rage, I think about influencing a whole generation of toddlers to be kind. The anger and division we are seeing now will pass. A new generation will take over. And that generation is going to think that QAnon is dumb.
Of course, if you don’t want a kid, cool, don’t have one. I live in New York City and a hefty proportion of my friends are not having kids. They moved here to be wild and free, and I get it. My worth isn’t wrapped up in having a kid and your worth isn’t wrapped up in not having one. The decision to not have kids is not a big deal.
But for the worriers out there who are wavering, know this: If you do have a child, you’ll still have fun. You will. It’s not the opposite of freedom; it’s just a different type of freedom that involves going to the zoo more often.
What I’m saying is: Babies can get you out of your head. After this year of being so closed off and so overwhelmed with thinking about ourselves and seeing ourselves on Zoom calls all day long, we could all use a baby to help us get by. Or a dog. Or a really needy plant.