Here’s the thing. My identity as a biological female has nothing to do with anything in my life. That’s why I have such a loopy time with gender- I don’t get why it’s such a big choppy subject, why it exists.
With that understanding, I feel like being a parent is an identity. There are women who want them, women who want the pain and sorrow and fulfillment and joy that comes with offspring and giving life where there was none, by virtue of their body.
I don’t doubt that these are real. I don’t doubt that to be a mother can be endlessly fulfilling, or that, were I to have a child, I would love them with all my heart.
But the fact of the matter is, I’ve considered it, and I don’t feel like a little person, who’s my responsibility, emotionally, physically, mentally, is something I need for fulfillment. I enjoy being around children, but I don’t really feel any emotional or mental drive towards guardianship and the responsibility of helping a person to grow.
On top of that, as I’ve mentioned before (though not here) and will likely mention again, I am asexual- meaning that there is no one, man or woman, or those outside of binary genders, that I have ever felt sexually attracted to. While I have nothing against sperm donation or even marrow donations to provide the other 21 chromosomes needed for a little person, I don’t particularly have a desire for someone downstairs, if you get what I mean. That includes clinical actions to add a baby to my physical state.
I have mental and social issues. Not as notable as many people- mostly I need my space, I need mental stimulation, and I have a temper- but I get frustrated when people are stupid, and children/teenaged children can be very frustrating with disagreement and opinions.
I don’t want to be my own mother towards my children. My mother has hurt me more than possibly anyone else in my life, verbally and mentally. I have been forced to practically eradicate any affection for her, because a person you love can hurt you greatly. When I complain about her treatment of me, I’m told that one day, I’ll have a child just like me, but ten times worse. I don’t want that, and I don’t ever want to say things like that to a malleable, vulnerable, loving, hurting little person, just because I’m angry.
I have lots of issues. This is one of them- I think when the drive for family, romantic and parental love was passed out, I was in the bathroom. I don’t have it. I love my dad, and my siblings, my aunt and uncles and cousins and friends, but at arms’ length. Always.