An Anthology of Lessons in Myths & Stories (Choosing Children Addendum)

Myth 1: Childfree people are selfish, reckless, and living a life devoid of any valid stress or responsibilities.

There was always this lingering doubt about whether or not I wanted to make this decision—leaving my job. The pay was decent, especially since I had recently moved back home following my divorce. The job itself was sublime, everything I was born to do: customer relations management, a decent amount of traveling for field work, and engaging with staff to bring the humanness back into the corporate. So why leave? Aside from the excruciatingly policed office environment (we were once punished for not having the lights on at 7:45 a.m.), I was commuting four hours a day with no accommodation to work in any of the three remote locations closer to home, upper management spent most of their time schmoozing instead of working and reprimanded us if we caught a mistake caused by their lack of efforts, and I was exhausted of the harassment (and by harassment, I mean I was being spied on meticulously, including in the restroom, so much so that I stopped using it at work and would hold it till my lunch break or my commute home where I’d stop at the nearest mall).

I realized I had just come out of an abusive marriage and should not have to endure another abusive relationship for money. I took the bold first step and put in my notice and was immediately called into the office of my boss’s boss—one of my least favorite people at the company. He began his superficial spiel about the necessity of a hard work ethic and needing to be an adult, suggesting that I take some time to reconsider my decision more maturely. That’s when all lingering doubts vanished. “I have one of the hardest work ethics out there, sir, and with all due respect, I know what is best for me. My time has run its course here and I have made my decision. There is no need to rethink.” He sat back in his chair and cracked a condescending smile as he put his hands behind his head. “Wow, it must be so nice to live so recklessly and not have to worry about adult responsibilities, like bills and children. Once you have kids, you won’t make such rash decisions.”

It’s been almost seven years since that day but it remains etched in my mind for two very contradicting reasons—he was so wrong but so right. Let’s start with the latter. It’s true, I don’t have to carry the burden of parenting responsibilities, but unlike him (and many others), I took the time to reflect deeply on my life and came to the conclusion that I neither needed nor wanted to carry those responsibilities. Maybe had he (and the many others) taken the time to do the same and actively choose parenthood, they would never feel compelled to use their children and the responsibilities that come with them as mechanisms to try and reduce someone else’s life.

On the flips-side, however, being childfree will never mean my life weighs less in responsibilities. This is probably one of the most ridiculous and pathetic claims people with children make about us. I could have most certainly given him the laundry list of responsibilities I was carrying at the time (leaving an abusive marriage alone being the weight of the world), but I am constantly reminding myself I owe no one an explanation for how I live my life. One month later, I was free and embarking on what would become the next incredible phase of my life. I published my second book, built my poetry and copy editing career, invested more time in my nonprofit, and experienced the most revolutionary adventures that both this job and children would have stripped me of.

Myth 2: Childfree people are lonely and living boring, meaningless lives.

I wish I could say this story was an isolated incident, but I had another boss, a woman this time, who threw similarly insensitive comments at me throughout my time at the firm. One morning she walked in and said, “You look tired, Dania,” (something no one should ever say). I said, “I am. Just dealing with a little stress.” She cackled loudly and replied, “Stress? Oh please. You don’t have children so you can’t even begin to know what stress is."

A year later, I informed her that I was considering applying for a doctorate program and that if I got accepted, I would be leaving the position. With a confused expression she asked, “Why are you going for a PhD.? You already exceeded your capacity as a woman with the Master’s degree. You should be focusing on finding a husband and having children now.” Before I could retaliate to every dysfunctional word (Exceeded my capacity? As a woman? Finding a husband? As if quality ones are readily available in aisle 5 at Target? What in the actual hell?) she continued. “I look at my daughter’s life in comparison to her friends with Masters’ degrees and doctorates. They’re all living such dull, boring, meaningless lives with that education. But my daughter, with her loud, wild chaotic children in that messy house? Well she has the real meaningful colorful life.”

I know what that chaotic household is like. I used to experience it every summer in Syria, but it was temporary. Beautiful family reunions, that yes, were colorful and meaningful, but when the break ended, I was glad to be home in my quiet haven. Also, why the assumption that there is only one way to live? Or that educated single and/or childfree women (women, specifically, this is never said about men) are bored, dull, lonely, miserable, etc.? Have you actually asked us? Did you read what I said earlier? Hello, writer, editor, poet, author, traveler, nonprofit cofounder, and adventurer over here, pursuing a SECOND Master’s degree and living a whole other world of colorful, joyous, chaos!

But this is what really hurts me, when it’s women—those who should be uplifting us and supporting our empowered decisions to break oppressive cycles—who tear us down because of some clearly deep seated envy they have yet to heal within themselves. I stand by the belief that this is pure jealousy. We are choosing when they chose not to choose. This ex-boss is one of the most successful single moms in my community. She singlehandedly established an empire from the ground up, but was apparently still brainwashed with this backwards rhetoric. These beliefs are so deeply indoctrinated that society is more than happy to push women into abusive, incompatible, or unhealthy marriages, coerce them to reproduce just to ensure they cross marriage and motherhood off their lists. It doesn’t matter if they become widows or a divorcees so long as they got the wifey and motherly roles checked off.

Society is the one labeling us meaningless, boring, and lonely. In relationships, I always ask the men who get angry at me for this choice why they deem the life of a nonexistent (and at this point, imaginary) human more valuable than the life of the real existent human being before them? They can’t answer me. They never can. So I tell them without hesitation, if that imaginary child is more significant in value than I, they never actually were interested in me, Dania. Just the potential of my body and what they expect it to do for their penises and future offspring. Most men are not choosing us for who we are, only what we are. Too vulgar? Not even remotely. The number of women I watched abandoned or cheated on by their husbands because they couldn’t reproduce (or did not produce sons, only daughters) is traumatizing.

 

Myth 3: There is something psychologically or physically wrong with childfree people.

The only “wrong” thing I can point out about childfree/childless people is that we live in a world that doesn’t accept us. In the Fall of 2020, I launched an independent study on a subset of this topic. I have always had this theory about the nuances of postpartum depression and the possibility of its misdiagnosis. Ever since coming to terms with my own childfree decision and feeling so much relief, I began having reoccurring nightmares of being pregnant or giving birth. The emotions I felt in the dream mimicked a sense of suffocation and imprisonment. An “Oh shit, I’m stuck with this eternal responsibility that I never wanted. What do I do? How do I escape?” sensation.

By my early 20s, I started to wonder how many women, who never took the time (or were given the space) to choose motherhood, entered this role and awakened to the realization at birth that this is not what they wanted but had no idea? While drowning in the emotionality of this revelation, they were swept under the rug of postpartum depression and told it would just go away, but it never did because the child didn’t?

My independent study was only an introduction, but I learned that most women who did not have children felt a sense of shame and failure as women and members of society. Anonymous response after anonymous response, I read about the struggles of women coming to terms with childfreeness/childlessness in a world that never made them feel worthy as their own selves. Since childhood, girls are taught only to think of other’s needs and never encouraged to reflect on their own needs. Then we’re taught to look forward to the single life goal: wife-motherhood. That’s it. Achieving personal development, education, success, those are all pastimes to keep us occupied until the husband and children come. To read the painful responses from such highly accomplished and educated respondents to my study affirmed how society was the true failure, not women.

Myth 4: Childfree people hate children and are incapable of being nurturing and loving.

I am told this myth often in my life, both literally and figuratively. Literally, by men and/or their mothers. Figuratively, by relatives, friends, and community. A few years ago, during an annual trip to Syria, I found my cousin’s daughter sitting alone and looking bored at my grandmother’s kitchen table. She was about 6 or 7 at the time and she reminded me a lot of myself. Quiet, reserved, chronically thinking and intuitive, but often misunderstood by this demeanor. The adults always talked about how worried they were for her frequent preference to work or play in isolation and I’d always defend her, knowing exactly where she was coming from. (Y’all, I still prefer my solitude.)

I grabbed a nearby puzzle and walked over to the table, careful to keep my space and not impose upon hers. After pouring out the pieces and slowly organizing them, I noticed her watching me. Jackpot, haha. I nonchalantly asked her, “Do you want to help me with this? It looks kinda hard!” Excitedly she nodded and scooted in closer and began helping. About half an hour later, her mom walks in and exclaims with utter surprise, “Wow, Dania, I’m so impressed you’re putting up with this, considering how much you know, you hate kids.” Taken aback, I asked, “What do you mean? Hate kids? I love them.” And that’s when I realized humanity’s ignorance. We make snap judgments and pairings without exploring the different degrees associated.

Sure, there are probably a few childfree people out there who hate children, but I’m going to let you in on a secret: I know quite a few friends who hate children and have them! Yikes! The truth is many childfree people actually like, love, or feel relatively indifferent about children. No hate. We just don’t want any of our own for a variety of valid reasons. Believe it or not some of my favorite memories are of taking care of my baby brother, teaching third grade, and facilitating a pre-teen youth group for a few years. My entire undergraduate studies focused on the sociology of marriage, family, and child development so I know my way around handling children and adolescents, which is one of the reasons I came to this decision. I am a healthier “mother” when I can give birth to advice, articles, books, community service, babysitting and supporting struggling mothers, advocacy for survivors of rape and domestic violence, initiatives for equality, and so much more.

I genuinely hope this series has been able to not only create a space of accommodation for the childfree folks—especially Arabs and Muslims—who never found their community. But I also hope it serves as an educational launchpad for people with children. An awakening to your role in perpetuating dysfunctional and discriminatory beliefs, as well as the efforts to start changing, beginning with how you treat your peers and how you raise the next generation.

Intangible Tangibility: Identifying Abuse (Part I)

 

A frequent question I get asked is how do you identify domestic violence/abuse? This is a really good question but it’s also a tricky one for two reasons. First, it’s twofold when it comes to actual identification—are you trying to identify abusive behaviors in a perpetrator or trying to identify a victim who might need help or support? Second, abuse is still so incredibly normalized that many people are completely oblivious that they are either perpetrating or experiencing it. The handful of times I answered, “What happened?” early after my divorce, I was met with responses like, “But that’s just men,” or “Oh, that’s normal. You let men blow off some steam and then they cool off,” or the worst, “What did you do to anger him?” Quick disclaimer, even if someone screws up in a relationship, it doesn’t give their partner rights to abuse, but let’s get into the identification. In this article, I’ll be discussing how to identify a potential victim of abuse.

Over the years, I’ve noticed that survivors have a developed sense of awareness for abuse—be it a perpetrator or a victim. I know that’s not an answer, but it’s a reminder that we survivors have an untapped resource of diverse information on the matter. Personally, I’ve been able to recognize victims and predict oncoming divorces with ease since my own experience. On my wedding day, a divorced friend of mine came over early in the morning to help me get ready for the ceremony I never wanted in the first place (that’s actually a big identification factor—seeing someone severely alter their behaviors and/or lifestyles in a manner opposing their nature). I obliged to the wedding ceremony—instead of my city hall preference—after weeks and weeks of psychological and verbal abuse from my ex husband and his family.

As my friend zipped up my dress she said, “I know there’s so much pressure with today being the big day, and it could feel impossible, but it’s not too late to change your mind if you don’t want to do this.” After my divorce, I asked her what inspired her to say that. She told me she recognized something in my demeanor similar to hers on her wedding day. Most people claimed we looked so perfect and happy together, but I was reminded that (1) people don’t know me and most were just excited to get their feminist muzzled and (2) people say things like that just to maintain the status quo. I heard these same sentiments repeatedly from everyone around me in my last relationship. At the end of the day, no one knows what’s really going on inside a relationship, but hopefully the following tips help provide some insight, whether you’re trying to identify and support a victim or protect yourself/someone else from an abuser.

My mom often says, a healthy relationship is one that brings out the best in both partners, not the worst. She started saying this during my engagement and I knew that while she was offering sage advice, she was acknowledging a change in me. Not a good one, as would be expected for a victim. I was experiencing chronic anxiety attacks (real physiological episodes), I was constantly emotional and moody, and I developed insomnia that almost a decade later, I still suffer from. Witnessing the onset of these symptoms in someone you know after they enter a relationship is a sign. However, I have to stress that identifying a victim of abuse requires a great deal of sensitivity, compassion, and most importantly, patience. It is not your life and therefore you do not have decision making capacities. I can definitely relate to the frustration this creates, having worked with victims shortly after my divorce, and realizing every victim has their own timeline. We have to respect that, to a certain degree; if you see the potential for severe harm, intervention is a must. Otherwise, it takes time, identifying and supporting a victim.

Some things to pay attention to are moodiness, increased seclusion or isolation or withdrawal (emotional and physical), and severe lifestyle changes. It’s totally normal if your friend is experiencing the euphoric high of a new relationship and getting a little busier than usual with this special someone, but when that friend is doing things completely against their nature, as well as becoming all consumed and way too soon, it’s a major red flag. I really want to emphasize this point because it’s the first indicator for both parties. The romanticism of that “all consuming life altering” love is one of the most poisonous propaganda every industry has fed us. People are finally starting to recognize this as a byproduct of love bombing. With my ex husband, it was impossible not to fall for. It was my first time experiencing it.

We are constantly taught that we must find that one person who “sees” us and values who we are beyond just the looks, and sadly, that's become such an easy act for people to put on. My ex husband played the role so well and proclaimed, repeatedly, this love and wholehearted acceptance, even when my intuition kept feeling otherwise. However, the second time this happened, in my last relationship, I caught it immediately and called it out, eventually ending the relationship. A healthy relationship grows organically. It should not exhibit severe intensity or time consumption. If you start consistently missing deadlines, events, work; if your eating habits and routines drastically change; and if you find that quality time with family and friends suffers, there’s an issue. That’s not romance or love, it's the early signs of a potentially harmful relationship.

I write this and feel disheartened and a little betrayed, realizing how little we are taught about healthy wholesome relationships in life. And this part has nothing to do with religion or culture because my white friends, my Asian friends, my Jewish friends, and my Catholic friends, we are all suffering the same way. Discovering that sometimes, the only way to identify abuse is to sadly experience it, which isn't the most uplifting note to end on, but a realistic one. When I started my advocacy and educational work on domestic violence, I often shared the following disclaimer: I am not promising or expecting to prevent abuse, I am just hoping that I can accomplish the following goals:

(1) Help victims recognize they're being abused and leave sooner

(2) Be an ally and supporter to the best of my ability for survivors

(3) Educate the community, my community specifically, so we can overtime reduce this until we eventually break the cycle or make it far less prevalent

These are the reasons that for eight years, every October, I am here writing, publishing, recording videos, sharing posts, and praying that one day, I won't need to do this anymore.

Intangible Tangibility: Preface

 

 

We were sitting at my once upon a time favorite cafe. I had found it right before the pandemic, on my global hunt for the BEST latte (still have yet to visit Italy where I assume it awaits me). This place, however, had the closet thing: The Churro Oat Milk Latte—better served hot than iced. He criticized this, claiming because he hadn’t seen me at the shop during his recent visits, I can’t call it my favorite cafe. We were meeting because after a year of hitting on me, he decided it was time for him to get married…and that I would be the one he’d recruit to help him find a wife.

I had two choices: impolitely decline (my kindness dam had run dry this year) or somehow find a way to be a bigger person, recognizing how excruciatingly difficult it is for Muslim Americans to find a spouse, and offer my unbeknownst matchmaking services. I quickly learned option number two would be a mistake but a necessary lesson to add to the destructive lessons of 2022.

“Can you just open up your social media and scroll through to pick out some girls for me?” I was taken aback by how easily he requested this but at the same time, I wasn’t. I returned to online dating in March of 2022, after a year of recovering from my last relationship with a supposedly good man. However, four months of sexual assault and harassment later, I deleted all the apps and finally buried the last of my faith in men. [More on these encounters in a bit.]

Taking the road regrettably traveled, I asked coffee shop boy what he was looking for in a wife and he gave me all the cliches. I reiterated to him the importance of being honest with me if he really wanted me to find him the right partner, all while he continued the flirting, which didn’t help the cause (bro was trying to have his cake and eat it too: using me to try and fulfill both his flirty and his matchmaking needs). He pulled out his phone and began showing me hoarded photos of his exes and other women he recently connected with, who sent him photos of themselves without a scarf to seduce him. (This is a whole other level of disturbing that requires another series.) “I want someone who looks like these girls. This is my type, not that first girl you considered for me who isn’t that attractive.” It suddenly became clear that nothing mattered beyond the looks for this guy.

Of course, he was oblivious to the problematic nature of his behavior, from the objectification of women to his stubborn refusal to even try despite his consistent pleas of desperation. As if this wasn’t enough of a degradation, he decided to begin interrogating me about my dating life. Am I seeing anyone? Talking to someone? I brushed him off with a simple, “No,” and it only fueled his toxic masculinity further. “Let me offer you some dating advice,” he began. “It’s no surprise that you are single. You’re quite frankly too much and scare off guys. I suggest you be less of yourself when you meet guys. You know, say less, and don’t be too intense. Also, your social media is a lot. I definitely think you shouldn’t let the guys you’re dating see that stuff. Actually, I say you should make it a private and women’s only account where you can all vent your feminism alone and away from us. Men don’t want to see that crap.”

Stunned, I sat there trying to process the immense level of stupidity. Was this dude seriously insulting, to my face, the woman he was begging to help find him a wife? I should have snapped and unleashed my 33 years of sexist oppression and ripped him to pieces. Instead, I smiled and said, “So is that what happened to you? Spent a year flirting with me inappropriately but was too scared and not man enough to make a move? And so instead you’re here begging me to find you a wife?” Before he could start disagreeing with me (I heard him begin stuttering), I continued. “And thank you for proving precisely why my “feminist crap” is absolutely necessary, and needed on a public platform where males such as yourself, who require severe knowledge, can see it. Repeatedly. Because trust me, bro, I’m not wasting my time preaching to the choir. We women already know this shit. I do what I do to educate and create change.” He went quiet, and I wish I could say he learned something, because even after that day he continued asking me whether or not I found him a date, as well as sliding in my DMs with more immature flirtatious jokes that I ignored until I deleted him. Obviously, I withdrew my willingness to matchmake; there’s no way I’d subject myself (or any of my peers) to that level of disrespect.

But was I really surprised by any of this? Not at all. Even before my divorce men have worked tirelessly at tearing me down. And in the last few years, men have not at all shied away from showing (and telling) me that women are nothing more than objects to them. No matter how many years of therapy they’ve been in, how many times they are talked to about it, or how many women they’ve destroyed, the lesson is not being learned. Online dating only reinforced this truth.

I trusted Muzz (formerly known as MuzMatch), Salaams (formerly known as Minder), and Baklava to, at the very least, connect me with some decent people, even if no relationships came to fruition. What I got instead is the following abridged set of fiascos.

The Lebanese surgeon in New York who kept up his charade until he realized I wouldn’t be sleeping with him, and simply said, “Yeah, I think I’ll pass on hanging out,” when I was already in New York.

The Syrian Italian kid (six years younger than I) who decided, after bonding with me for 15 minutes on our Syrian heritage and his upcoming move to SoCal, he could sexting, me descriptively, and then blocking me after he let it all out.

The Palestinian doctor in Arizona who right off the bat asked me what my sexual fetishes are and if I’m open to a three-way with another man, as well as giving blow jobs while wearing my scarf. because porn made that “so hot!” When I asked why this was his top priority ten seconds after matching with a woman who made it clear on her profile she’s looking for something clean and serious, he replied, “I want to make sure I don’t have a boring sex life.” I told him I wasn’t interested in engaging in this kind of conversation early on, to which he replied, “Okay, can I show you a picture of my dick?”

The Palestinian (whose location and profession are still a mystery) who decided to clarify that he was just looking to make friends. When I said I was not looking for friendships on the app, he insisted on knowing why. I said I know what kind of “friendships” men are seeking today and that’s not what I want. He tried to argue that he wasn’t referring to sex but then began describing where he wants to put his tongue.

The ethnically ambiguous Arab dude who claimed he was a doctor in Dearborn but turned out to be a catfish who sent me a video of his dick getting hard the instant we matched because “my face is such a turn on.” As I was blocking, he sent me a photo of my app profile picture with his ejaculation all over it, thanking me. Post blocking, he tried to find me on multiple social media apps to reconnect.

The Lebanese Syrian vape shop owner (his profile said business owner, which yeah, is true, I guess) who seemed to think calling me “baby” after every sentence was appropriate. “So what you doing now, baby?” “How’s your dinner, baby?” “Can I join you on your summer break, baby?” I asked him to stop because (1) it’s disgusting and (2) my biggest pet peeve is when males get way too comfortable with me too quickly, and so he got angry and said, “So what am I supposed to call you, huh? Dania? Fine, what’s up, DANIA?!?!”

The cream of the rotten crop? The Syrian Palestinian HR associate who talked to me for three weeks, emphasizing religion, spirituality, and Godliness (while judging me for my lifestyle,) who visited me in SoCal and pulled out his penis in a public setting, during Ramadan, to proclaim his love and readiness to marry me.

To be fair, not all of them were dicks (total insulting pun intended). Here are the three who didn’t get sexual:

The Syrian med student who flaked on his three video dates in between heart filled texts and faux cuteness.

The Jordanian divorced dad who “really really loves” my energy but then ghosted.

The Egyptian field engineer who gave me a misogynic lecture on our first (and last) FaceTime. He had started the chats complimenting my “vibe” but then criticized the same vibe once we got on FaceTime and began picking apart my outlook and asked me why I’m not enthusiastic about the dating app. I asked him if he was genuinely interested in understanding the women’s experience, especially as a Muslim and Arab one, or if he was just asking for sheer small talk. He insisted he really wanted to know and I briefly began recounting a bit of what had been done to me and how it left me feeling a little defeated. However, instead of listening and sympathizing, he said, “A word of advice, never ever tell men these things. When you talk about them, it makes you look really bad. And also, no guy wants to hear that his wife was exposed to other penises or sexuality.”

There it was, coffee shop boy’s echo reverberating around me and assuring me that with man it will forever be one step forward and two steps back. Meaning? We’re probably not likely to move forward and it is exhaustingly defeating. Why is feminism—the mere idea that we, women, are f***ing human—still such a problem in 2022? How is educating about human rights, domestic violence awareness, sexual assault, and human decency seen as a threat? Why is an unafraid, educated, and intelligent woman “scary” and intimidating? The answer to these questions is actually a question: Why are men still such insecure beings?

In all my years, I have not yet met one truly genuine male ally who is straight. The only real male allies I have ever come across are my gay friends. Every other guy who bought my book, shared my posts, retweeted my articles, offered me verbal support, or showed up to my events always had an ulterior motive (i.e., seeking a hookup/relationship/sex). Actually, every guy friend I turned to about my experiences this year either laughed or scoffed. Laughed! And you want us to have faith? To be quiet? To censor our normal selves for your easier consumption?

I was sexually assaulted early 2020, shortly after my dad passed away, and I remember his laugh when I confronted him afterwards. I also remember how he threatened me with single hood because of my social media, claiming the feminism is scaring men so I should consider more make up posts, or videos of my cats, or modeling shots that would make me look “cuter and more approachable” (his words).

This month marks eight years since leaving my marriage, meaning eight years of advocacy and outreach, but also eight years of chronic harassment. I needed to (unfortunately) start this year’s Domestic Violence Awareness Series with this disclaimer piece. Everything I laid out in this article happened this year, proving we have not come very far. Women are still unsafe, physically, sexually, and emotionally, and until that changes, until men change, I hope every loud, scary, intimidating women keeps her horror blasting. Because speaking for myself, I have never felt more hopeless and tired than this year, and if you’ve been an avid reader, you know life has been a roller coaster. Nonetheless, I decided I would continue with this series and uphold my annual tradition for the sake of myself and survivors worldwide.

Choosing Children - Part III

The OG Trio

 

When I published the first part of this series, someone asked me why I chose to write it now. I didn’t have any other answers except that it is long overdue and I know no other Muslim and/or Arab openly talking about it. It should go without saying (but unfortunately I know I have to say it again), this series is not at all intended to shame having children. Rather, it is to shed light on the fact that having children should finally be recognized and taught as a choice. I don’t know how that is not Parenting 101, but let’s not get redundant. Part I and Part II already covered this fact. However, let me quickly reiterate some religious points: The concepts of reflection, thought, and contemplation are repeated in the Quran more than 200 times, meaning every single thing we do in this life as Muslims requires thorough knowledge and awareness. An intentional mindfulness to our life choices, including having children.

Sometime in late June, months after I intended on finishing this series, amidst final exams and coming to the conclusion that online dating is most certainly a concoction of Satan, I woke up from the strangest dream of my life. The instant I opened my eyes, I knew this was one of two reasons God had me delay the finale of this series.

My mom, brother, and I were sitting on the couch, and I get a notification that my dad left me a voice message. I play it aloud for the three of us, who had been waiting for him to get home, and it sounds like he’s clearly driving. He tells us that gas prices are too high for him to drive home tonight from his business trip so he’s staying at a local motel (counterintuitive and totally not what my dad would actually do lol, but dreams are weird). Then he says to my mom, as if knowing his message would be on speaker, “Tell Dania that her test results came back and her body is ready for reproduction, but her window of opportunity is closing. So if she wants them, she needs to start now, but of course, it’s totally up to her whether she wants to have any or not.” 

In real life, my gynecologist found an abnormal growth in my uterus and I was scheduled for a procedure at the end of June to have it removed. If ever any woman is on the fence about having children, this procedure will traumatize you against it. The pain was so excruciating my tears streamed without my knowledge. This is saying a lot considering my tolerance of pain is HIGH. I wasn’t even crying. The tears just escaped my eyes uncontrollably. Even my doctor (who is genuinely incredible, THANK GOD) deeply empathized with me and periodically checked in to manage my pain level. I knew the anxiety leading up to—and after the procedure as I awaited the results—triggered the dream. After all, my dad was a doctor, and since his passing in 2019, he only shows up in my dreams when I’m dealing with a heavy dilemma. Somehow, he always has the perfect answers, even in the afterlife.

We could spend hours psychoanalyzing the various parts of this dream, but what resonated the most for me was the fact that even when the biological argument came into play (as it often does when people interrogate me), my dad still emphasized that free will is on the table. He reminded me it’s my body, my life, and therefore, my choice. But it wasn’t just the reminder. It was the fact that it was so normal to him for his daughter to be allowed to choose. It was the fact that he built an authentically safe space for me to change my mind (if need be) without being judged or criticized or given an “I told you so.” And while this was a dream, in actuality he always extended these same privileges to me. Privileges I rarely find in the world anymore, and this is another reason I decided to publish this series.

While scrolling through social media, every once in a while I come across a “motivational” quote that isn’t too cliche or nauseating (because let’s face it, pop psychology has become exhaustingly problematic). Last year, I saw one that said something along the lines of: Normalize compassion with those who change their minds because growth is real. Basically, it’s the idea of offering grace when people come full circle in their knowledge or simply change their mind—overcoming ignorance, becoming more educated, surviving trauma and seeing another side to things, etc. As saturated as the world has become with “Be Kind” and “Love is the Answer” mantras, humanity often fails at these things. Why are we so stingy with our compassion and grace to others in this world? Why do we angrily attack anyone who doesn’t see things our way and then relish in unhealthy egotistical pleasure at someone’s shift? Shaming them or rubbing noses in the change? (And then continue having children that we pass on these unspoken behaviors to? Make it make sense.)

The dream left me wondering, what grace and compassion does the world offer someone, specifically a woman, who reconsiders her lifelong choice to remain child free? But I did not have to wonder too long because I remembered the lack of kindness and grace I received when I “finally” got engaged to my ex-husband. The celebratory wishes coming from a place of society’s relief that the feminist they feared was finally muzzled vs. being genuinely happy I supposedly found the one. And then the severe attitude shift following my divorce. (You can catch more on that here in my Domestic Violence Awareness video series.)

But hearing the gentleness in my dad’s voice, assuring me that I was welcome to walk any of the paths that best fit me, was a relief. I realized if (and it’s a HUGE “if”) I ever changed my mind about having children, aside from having my parents’ blessings, I am doing what I know is best for me and that is all that matters. And I hope that the rest of the folks in this world who choose a child free life or are still trying to figure it out, especially those who share my cultural and/or religious backgrounds, can find their way to this liberation.

I share this little aside because interestingly enough for a very brief few weeks this summer, for the first time I found myself almost contemplating it. Life can be really strange—sometimes cruel, very funny, and just a tad bit awkward. Long story short, I unknowingly caught some deep feelings for someone I never expected to fall for. I think what carved the depth of these feelings was the fact that he and I were friends for the longest time, which is not something I experienced in any previous potential relationship. So it built a solid foundation for me to be vulnerable. It also helped to know that the feelings were mutual for a while. However, everyday is apparently opposite day with men, so the moment I started feeling things, his feelings (romantic and platonic) were mysteriously and unexpectedly obliterated. But before he exhibited the shocking twist and disrespect, I had felt a slight “what if” spark about having one baby. And this was, I realized, the second reason God had me delay the finale. I never (and still don’t) believe the notion that when you meet “The One” and fall in love you’ll suddenly crave reproduction because I did fall in love once (like real life-altering-never-forget-this love) and despite crossing oceans and making too many sacrifices for him, I never even had a tickle to be a mom. So it was really weird for me that it suddenly happened with this dude.

I shared this with only three people in my life who I trusted would not overreact or dismiss my lifelong choice to be child free: my mom and two other girlfriends. It’s not that I suddenly contracted baby fever with this guy. Actually I had hoped that if we explored a relationship he would tell me he was entirely open to a child free life. However, I thought if he said he wanted at least one, I’d consider it. But when the rug was pulled from under my stilettos and he completely changed his behavior without an explanation, everything was immediately extinguished. The slight consideration to having a baby. The friendship I loved so much. And my faith in a lot of things.

Before anyone jumps to any conclusion (and I know many *cough* h a t e r s  *cough* surely will), I am not saying I changed my mind. If anything, following the excessive levels of painful disappointment I faced this year, I feel even more committed to a child free life. The lack of grace, compassion, and understanding in this world is draining. We offer women no grace, no compassion, and no empathy to choose what to do with their bodies or their lives—physically, sexually, or professionally. Three different men in the last year told me it wasn’t until now, in their 30s, that they woke up to the realization that women are human and not objects. (Somebody, just end this nightmare for me!)

We misconstrue the understanding of feminism and then demonize and marginalize women when they fight for the right to make their own choices. Case in point is the severe irony that even while writing this, I am anxious about its reception, knowing the number of people who will be utterly devoid of empathy and understanding, but rather malice when reading that I briefly reconsidered being a mom. People who will carry this little piece of information with them, waiting to discredit my choices moving forward. It is so exhausting because I face this in my community and in relationships. This is why I am writing the series. This is why I write and do anything in life. Unfiltered truth based education and awareness to break down this growing meanness we have in society. To eliminate the marginalization and isolation of people who choose to do (or not do) something.

For the longest time, I carried this choice in isolation. I had only ever known one other Arab Muslim woman that chose a child free life. We often exchange stories about the judgment we face, the harassment, the abuse, and the hate, and I think that’s pretty sad. However, since coming forward with Parts I and II of this series, quite a few other women (and some men) from my religious and cultural background messaged me to express gratitude and relief that someone from among our people is speaking up about this and that they no longer feel so alien.

Alienness is a feeling I know all too well and not only because of my child free choice. It started when I was 11 and diagnosed with trichotillomania. I thought the psychiatrist was joking when she said the word but she pulled out the dictionary from the bookshelf behind her and showed me. I cannot explain the immense relief that enveloped me to see that word on paper. As if having it documented means I am not the one “weirdo” on this planet that has something undiagnosable. As soon as I got home, I plugged in the internet cable, waited for that dial up tone, and asked Jeeves to show me all the articles on trichotillomania. (Shout out to the late 90s and early 2000s!) That little 11 year old girl suddenly felt a little less alone, but she still felt compelled to hide the secret until she turned 29. I found an unexpected moment of vulnerability and shared my story on a very public domain and suddenly I was liberated. Feeling shame for something that is not shameful was no longer a weight I wanted to carry.

The same thing happened here and it started when I saw the We Are Childfree feature in The New York Times. It was a photo + interview based spread of women who chose child free lives and it blew my mind! Finally this was coming to light and in such a beautifully powerful illustration. I immediately found their Instagram account and knew I was home. The immense sense of relief, validation, and end of aloneness I felt was immeasurable. At 29, I became the person I had been looking for since the age of 11 when I spoke up about OCD and trichotillomania. And at 32, We Are Childfree became the community I had been seeking since I was 18 and coming to terms that motherhood may not be my future.

From reading (and sharing) stories to exchanging commentary to learning about other helpful resources to finding new friends, I had finally gotten to experience this “village” everyone told us about that helps raise the child but never got to witness. A whole village of child free people who have our backs, provide a judgment free space, and are so loving and nurturing. I highlight these last two qualities because they’re the top two qualities I’m accused of lacking when I reveal my child free choice. To be honest, some of the most empathetic and kindest people I know are those who never had children. Why marginalize us instead of welcoming us into your village? Recognizing that we serve other genuinely significant roles in this life aside from parenthood? We become the fun aunts and uncles that your children turn to when sometimes you lose your sight as a parent. Some of us become the avid babysitters when you need some alone time. There’s this really sad misconception that everyone who chooses a child free life is a child hater, but um, friends, I freaking love babies! I just don’t feel compelled to have any of my own, but let me tell you, I have been counting down the seconds till my brothers make me an aunt.

My point to all of this is enough with the judgment already, and enough with misusing religion and culture to uphold patriarchal agendas. Not everyone has to become a parent. Not everyone has to get married. And not everyone has to make a choice and stick with it to satisfy your impressions. I find it disturbing yet interesting that these hateful attitudes are strictly coming from those who are parents or soon to be ones. Don’t you think you of all people you should be the ones preaching empathy, love, and understanding? You’re basically supplying the world of its next generation and it’s about time we had a better one. Just saying.

Choosing Children - Part II

Mama & I in the same place where I told her I didn't want to have children, 14 years later.

 

Unpopular Fact: A genuinely secure person would not, at all, feel threatened by the life choices of another.

I think of this fact often when I get attacked for my child free choice, wondering what fuels such intense, almost visceral, reactions from these people. I know what the answer is but to avoid exacerbating the argument, I refrain from informing people that their anger is clearly a byproduct of envy and insecurity.

I was 19 when I first came forward with this decision I had been ruminating over for two years. Ironically, it came out while my mom and I were babysitting my cousin’s newborn. She was finishing up a diaper change and I was clearing up the crib when I anxiously asked, “What would you say if I told you I don’t want to have kids?” Without even looking up, her hands moving at professional speeds, she said, “It’s your life. You do whatever you want.” I was surprised and looking back at this moment now, I realize why exactly I was so shocked at her answer. Regardless of how we’re raised and what types of environments we grow up in, the patriarchal system is still in power and will leave its mark one way or another. For us women, gifted with the right kind of upbringing and empowerment, the unlearning starts earlier and becomes easier with time, but every once in a while, we are reminded of the patriarchal indoctrination. For men, the work is two-fold because they don’t easily see the need to unlearn what benefits them so well.

Despite my mom’s answer, there was a small part of me that almost doubted her open minded (but still hardcore religious) demeanor. I decided to ask a follow up question, inspired by the obnoxious behavior and rhetoric of her peers. “So you’re not mad that I won’t ever make you a grandma?” She laughed loudly, as if I had cracked a really good joke, and said, “I got to live out my life the way I chose, and I wanted children. Grandchildren are not MY choice to make.” That was it. That was all the reassurance and validation I need to never look back. Though it didn’t ease the isolation I would soon come to face for this decision, it gave me the thick skin I needed to survive.

❥    ❥    ❥

The reason I blame insecurity and envy on people’s reactions to this choice is because there is no other valid answer to why they behave this way. I remember one time a group of young Arab women were hanging out and, per usual, the conversation revolved around husbands, what to cook them for dinner, and babies. Many were engaged if not already married and they asked me about my plans, specifically how many children I wanted. When I matter-of-factly let them know children were not in my plans, one girl just would not accept. “What?! Oh my god, no. You know what? I’m going to pray so hard that God gets you impregnated ASAP and you end up with seven kids!”

I can’t get (too) angry at people who never grew up with genuine free will. Who were never gifted the time and space to choose their lives. Even if many of these people thought they chose what to study or whether or not to get married or when to have children, the truth of the matter is, these choices were all stemming from unspoken pressure. I compare their reactions with my mom’s and recognize insecurity vs. security. I believe the same goes for men, except men also seem to seek out any opportunity to attack a woman more empowered than they are. Case in point: In 2019 I posted a TedTalk about a woman’s child free choice and the sexist journey she experienced in seeking sterilization.

The story was incredibly powerful and so I posted it on Facebook. Little did I know it was going to anger a random older Arab (who I don’t even know) so intensely he would take it upon himself to convert me back to Islam. Yes, he doubted the validity of my religiosity and headscarf because I have exercised this one choice. Here's one of a few screenshots I saved as a reminder:

 

See, religion is a failing argument for why one “must” have children, and I’m speaking strictly about Islam and Muslims right now. I understand when we feel sympathy and frustration towards our family, friends, and community members who lose their way spiritually, but choosing not to have children? I don’t understand the religious-based anger or reasoning.

Growing up in a practicing Muslim household means Quran comes up anywhere and everywhere, no matter what we talk about. I recently posted an Instagram video where my mom managed to somehow bring Quran into the conversation about skydiving. That’s literally my home. We eat, breathe, and sleep scripture, so when I make a choice, it passes through every religious litmus test I learned. In conjunction to my upbringing and education, I also read and understand the Quran, and it doesn’t take too much sensibility to see the 5:1 ratio in verses.

Every time someone tries to use religion as an argument for why children are an “obligation” they always turn to Chapter 18, Verse 46:

“Wealth and children are adornments of the worldly life;
but the enduring good deeds are better to your Lord for reward, and better for hope.”

It’s a lovely verse, but what part of it is mandating reproduction? The part that calls children an adornment (zeena in Arabic)? An adornment is an accessory, as in an addition, not a foundation. I also think it’s very powerful that God pairs “wealth” and “children” in this verse, that they are attractions of this life, however…

God also provides us with FIVE other clear-cut verses in the Quran that caution Muslims about these two:

“And know that your wealth and your children are a trial
and that Allah has with Him a great reward.” (8:28)

“And it is not your wealth nor your children that will bring you nearer to us in position,
but rather by being from those who do good; for them are double the rewards of what they did
and will be in the upper chambers, secure.” (34:37)

“Never will their wealth or their children avail them from Allah.” (58:17)

“Oh you who have believed, let not your wealth nor your children divert you
from the remembrance of Allah; for whosoever does so, then they are the losers.” (63:9)

“Your wealth and your children are but a trial, and Allah has with Him a great reward.” (64:15)

The point behind my presentation of these verses is simple, self-explanatory really. God Himself is giving us a choice, presenting to us the pros and cons of child rearing (and wealth). Telling us that those who acquire these adornments should pay attention and not let them steer or overpower their lives. (Allah calls them fitna, and for those familiar with the Quran, that’s a heavy word referring to things that can misguide you in life.) None of these verses mandate or prohibit reproduction and if I were to summarize this series into one thing, it’s this! Having children is a choice, not a mandate.

Consider terminology. When we call reproduction an “obligation” instead of a choice, it alters the weight and value of the entire experience. When we begin to approach having children as something someone is choosing—and choosing wholeheartedly—it automatically shifts the overall emotional, mental, and physical wellness of both parents and children. It’s interesting when those of us who choose not to become parents are called selfish, but the folks carelessly reproducing “just because” or “because of religious obligation” (or "as a solution to problematic marriages") are not selfish? Bringing a living soul into this heavy world and not by authentic choice?

I have painfully heard it quite a few times at community gatherings, parents passively aggressively resenting having children…in front of their own children! I’ve wondered how many women in this world suffered from lingering postpartum depression and how many actually suffered from suddenly realizing this is not what they wanted but never had a moment to think about it?

One of the most powerful illustrations of this was on the show The Bold Type, when Sutton Brady induced a miscarriage after finding out the baby had no heartbeat. Her loved ones, assuming she was grieving the loss, offered her comfort, but she later reveals that her grief stemmed from guilt for feeling relieved. The experience had taught her she did not want to become a mom because she had never thought about it.

That’s the problem. We are not raised in a world that genuinely teaches us to reflect on and weigh the decisions painted as necessary life stages, like marriage and child rearing. “You just do it,” is what I hear from most people who still don’t know why they want to get married (or why they are married) and why they want to have children. So anyone who “goes against the grain” is shamed, guilt tripped, and attacked.

I am not shaming anyone for having children nor am I against it (for others). I am simply insisting that we begin recognizing it as the choice that it is and respecting people's right to make that choice. And a choice is not just deciding to have a baby. It’s an active effort to do your utmost best, to make sacrifices, to go through anything and everything to raise as best a human as possible. If someone understands they cannot/do not want to take on this very big responsibility—for whatever reason at all—that person has every right not to have children.

Choosing Children - Part I

I had forgotten what it was like to feel this alien, this almost sense of insecurity that I was taken aback. All I said was I don’t want to have children and the interrogation began. It had been almost a year since my last relationship and I decided to try dating again. A very small part of me wondered if two and a half years of a pandemic were enough to get men to put in some effort with online dating. Sixteen minutes into swiping told me no. Amidst hundreds of swipe lefts, I managed to find two potential possibilities that checked off enough boxes for me to swipe right. Muslim, Arab, highly educated, ambitious, and attractive. Quite a rare combination these days.

 

The conversations started out well enough—some clever comedy, tasteful compliments, and polite discourse about each other’s histories and current endeavors. But there was this gnawing part of me that knew what was to come. It’s a heavy burdening anxiety I carry because never have I ever brought up the child free choice without being attacked. Be it rage filled tantrums over a bowl of chips and salsa or invasive and inappropriate interrogations or severely harsh verbal assaults, I have heard it all and know I will unfortunately continue to. This time was no different, as they began hounding me with questions, treating me like some foreign specimen defying my pure biological purpose in this life (which is what one of them actually said). It amazed me to see how deeply ingrained this idea is into the minds of people, especially men and especially Muslims who are supposedly implementing the Quran. Remember the Quran? The sacred scripture that teaches us we were created on this earth to worship the Lord and do good. The mere idea that our sole purpose exists to marry and reproduce defies religion at its core. I no longer offer explanations for this choice because it is just that, a choice. The fact that people don’t see this is the real problem, but I’ll dig deeper into this during Part II.

“Give me some reasons why, because this is so strange!” they urged, but I simply told them I see no need to justify my reasoning, especially when they have made it abundantly clear they want children (but could not offer me any reason as to WHY they want children—another huge issue I found on this journey). Not long after, I deleted the account and realized online dating doesn’t work for Muslim women and those who choose a child free life at that. Heck, offline dating is failing us too and I remembered my last relationship.

It lasted about four and a half months, more or less. No lie, the first two months I was floating on cloud nine like never before. I had never uttered the words, “I think he’s the one,” before and yet I found myself saying them to my mom. On the first date, per usual, the child free discussion arose. This, in conjunction with the recent online dates, taught me to shift this pattern and not start off the relationship with this dealbreaker (unless I want to get rid of the date ASAP), but I’ll get to that in a future installment.

At first he was dissatisfied but also mesmerized at the alienness of such a mindset. He asked for a few days to digest it, which taught me another lesson: I will no longer accept a partner who has not chosen a child free life himself. This whole ambivalent “I guess I’m cool with that” will no longer cut it. He came back three days later claiming he is okay with this decision and was willing to keep going. My ex husband lied and said the same thing, so much so, that when I filed for divorce due to domestic violence, his claim to the world was that my child free choice is the real culprit behind our marital dissolution. I note this important point because it later came back to haunt me in this recent relationship.

As things progressed, we were edging closer to the need for our families to meet. As American as I am, I am Muslim and Arab first and foremost, and while I had met his family and he met  mine, our families had not yet met each other. For the next phase to happen, the big meeting needed to happen first. After what I’ve been through, I held intense anxiety about this. I witnessed my family endure a lot from my ex husband and his family that a part of me feared what would come of this meeting. More importantly, however, I realized his family should know about “our” child free choice if this was to move forward. Because I know how my people think, I knew that if they weren’t informed in advance, they would assume I “seduced” their son into loving me that he blindly accepted this choice against his will, and I’d live in their resentment forever. I know too well what problems in-laws create for their children and grandchildren, so I wanted to bypass this.

I told him that we should figure out how to let his family know before any meeting is arranged. However, instead of exercising a partnership and discussing together how to broach the subject (which shouldn’t require such dramatic sensitivity in the first place) with his parents, he went rogue and threw the metaphorical grenade solo. Hundreds of miles away, I felt the searing pain of the shrapnel. From being demonized for being a divorcee to my “old age” (I turn 33 today) to the “sinfulness” of this choice, it all came out. None of it really hurt me or surprised me, until my experience of domestic violence was entirely dismissed and they blamed my divorce on my child free choice, just like my ex husband did.

The week our families were set to meet was the week I ended the relationship, and strangely enough for a few months after I experienced the same PTSD I had with my ex husband. God was helping me detox and I felt so much more gratitude for the strength He has given me to leave sooner and sooner when I start seeing red flags.

I start this series with my personal journey because I want to shed light on yet another layer of harassment we have to face as women. I have only met one man (who happens to be Muslim and Arab) that also chose a child free life, but we never engaged in enough conversation for me to learn whether or not he faces the same abuse. Nonetheless, I share this introduction because it’s time for us, especially Muslims, to cease with the harassment. The number of times my child free choice has been used against me are countless. Whether to discredit my faith, my spirituality, my womanhood, my capacity to be a wife or to be a nurturing human being, it’s incredibly ridiculous. For the remainder of this series, I will be incorporating religious texts to support the fact that this is indeed a choice and not a mandate upon humanity. Until then, I pray, birthday wish, and advise our human societies at large to end the prejudicial and hateful rhetoric and behavior towards all people who choose a child free life.

P.S. Such hate is unGodly, FYI.