Who may never be born,
Because first of all I will need a sperm donor
Whom I could call my husband
And you could call your father
But your mother is a bit crazy
Harbouring many popular
unpopular opinions
Like men, for example,
who she finds pretty disappointing
as prospective life partners
and she wonders why and how this tradition even lasted so long.
Out of love?
Or out of fear?
They say there’s nothing worse than dying alone
Several lifetimes might not be enough to atone
So, many of us rush to start our families,
To chase our happily ever afters
Knowing perfectly that it’s not always that happy afterwards
How can I say stuff like this?
Questioning the fundamentals of every damn society
Me, your mother,
A privileged little
Unapologetic
Ungrateful
Bitch.
Perhaps I am not even qualified to be a parent
Although I know
If you were to really exist
My child
I would love you till my last breath
My new purpose,
My new reason,
My new strength,
Oh how beautiful you would be!
Even when you frown at me
Even when you are this rebellious teenager
Who I am struggling to understand
(But conveniently stereotyping)
“Mom! You are cute but that’s so 90’s!”
“Mom! You are getting old!”
I was born with a womb
I am biologically wired to create you
To love you
To nourish you
To raise you
I was born with a womb
Like my only real purpose
Was to bring you on this planet
And propagate my genes ahead
Like it is for most of the animals
Most of whom we have killed already
Because we care for our children
But other children
And other organisms don’t matter.
That’s how my love is
Selfless for you
And selfish for the rest of the world.
How wonderful it would be to hold your tiny body
In my arms
As I marvel at your beautiful face
My heart swelling and swelling with love
How would it feel to feel you in my womb
My placenta;
Your first bed
Your first food source
Your first-ever plastic supply.
It terrifies me
to bring you into the world
where all I see is concrete and more concrete
where the real jungle disappears
Too bad trees don’t make money
Only oxygen,
Which is great
but not better than the digits in my bank account
And so what if the air has less O2
And more dust, and more CO, and SO and CO2?
And so what if the world is burning
And burning?
And we ignore it
Because thinking about it is depressing
Because our most pressing
problems just magically disappear
if we just turn a blind eye.
Tell me
How do I bring you into a world
That’s dying?
where the ocean is choking with plastics
And the river is choking with chemicals
where habitats have turned into hell?
You expect me to have faith?
Where do I put my faith?
God is dead.
Humanity is dead.
Or at least in a coma.
I am not strong enough my child,
Perhaps I could fight for you
I could give you all my love
But I would also give you my genes
With a history of cancer
Or heart disease
Or mental illness.
And the trans fat
And the artificial hormones
And the antibiotics
And the pesticides
and the microplastics in the food I eat
don’t help the cause.
How do I bring you into a world
where we know so much
but are still so ignorant?
Where we talk of compassion
and still be so careless?
Where the greed still wins
Despite knowing how it leads to eventual defeat?
Where people are running and escaping
To a faraway picturesque island or a continent or a fantasy
Hoping that their lives would be better there.
But would it?
Our entire home is on fire
Or submerged underwater
Maybe not yours today
Because you are wealthy
But it will be tomorrow
And I can’t blindfold myself
And do what we have been doing for ages
Because that’s what we have been doing for ages
Without questioning.
Your mother thinks too much
Perhaps your mother is paranoid
I am sorry I am not hopeful
They tell me I don’t have to save the world
Like it’s not mine to save
Anyway it’s too huge and complicated
My only responsibility is to survive
And settle
And bring you
In a world that I am not proud of.
It’s not that bad though,
they tell me,
There’s still some beauty
That is left for you and me to enjoy
There is still space for us all
And who knows there could be a miracle
That somehow we will get our home back
But who exactly is bringing that back?
Most of us are too busy
To loot from what’s left
Or continue hoarding and hoarding
Not caring if nothing remains.
So I have decided to be selfish too
That my life is mine
And just mine
Not yours
Not his
Not theirs
But mine
And that would be the end of it.
***