Womanhood, Motherhood and Identity

Words By Katie Burke

Within Ireland especially, motherhood and womanhood are inherently intertwined. The country itself is repeatedly referred to using feminine pronouns, with notions of “Mother Ireland” and the goddess Ériu featuring throughout historical writing and art work. To this day, while largely considered irrelevant, the Irish constitution still interchangeably uses the word ‘mothers’ for ‘women’, as if to suggest you cannot be one without the other. Throw in the country’s long-held idolisation and devotion to Holy Mary, and you have a serious interdependence on the concept of women being perfect maternal creatures. From a young age, motherhood is intertwined with the female identity. To this day, debate rages on over the division of children’s toys within shops or media. “Boys” toys pertain to darker colours, and more activity based, whereas “girl” toys are delicate, predominantly marketed with the colour pink. One of the most common toys marketed for and owned by little girls are baby dolls. It is not that this is a negative act, but in pushing parenting based toys predominantly at girls as opposed to boys, it only serves to reinforce the idea that the female identity is intertwined with her childbearing abilities. 

Despite Ireland’s fantastic progression in recent decades at becoming more open, there still remains an element of taboo surrounding a woman deciding she does not want to have children. The conversation is slowly changing, with the topic being broached more amongst friends, and articles on the topic featuring in magazines. Despite this progress, there are still people who are outraged that a woman should not want to use her body to reproduce. I do not want children. I would say I am ninety-nine percent certain of this. I will leave the one percent because I’m a firm believer that anything can happen in this life, but it would have to take some serious divine intervention for me to even consider babysitting a child, let alone having one of my own. I know labour and all the various liquids that seep out of children as they grow older is not something that people rejoice at, but they want kids and love their kids enough to go through all of this for them. I am just not one of those people. 

Growing up I had two baby dolls who I adored and proudly paraded them around in their double buggy, dressed to the nines. I loved hypothetically thinking about what I would call my future children and how I would decorate the nursery. When it came to real babies and younger children than myself? I was in hell. If younger cousins cried, I would stick my fingers in my ears, and as someone who relishes their own peace and quiet, the idea of a child constantly hanging out of you horrified me. I realised pretty early on that I adored all the frivolous and aesthetically pleasing things that came with having kids, and not the harsher realities of them. Yet, what seems like a pretty clear cut and respectable decision for me, tends to cause much consternation for many others. From a young age, and for generations of women before us, we have been subliminally told that our primary aim in achieving happiness should be motherhood. The nineteenth century short story ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’ deals with this issue and how damaging the patriarchal construction of what a ‘proper’ woman should be is. The narrator is a woman suffering from mental health issues who is confined to the nursery of her home, and deprived of any mental, physical or social stimulation, things which she has thrived on previously. Others are perturbed by her lack of happiness in newfound motherhood, something that all women should aspire to.

The wallpaper of her confines is yellow, a bright, positive happy colour. Perhaps this symbolises what motherhood is viewed as. Nothing negative can be associated with it. But the narrator’s wallpaper is peeling and menacing. Withered and broken. Is this how women who are not maternal are seen? Decaying? Wasted? Useless? Motherhood is what women are there for, surely. It should bring the ultimate joy to women, and once a woman becomes a mother it is to define her entire identity, with little room for other interests to make up her identity as a woman. Perhaps the bars on the narrator’s window symbolise her being trapped by her womb, something women are defined by. But her womb is not what she wants. Hers is not the source of joy. She wants her books and independence. But she cannot have those things now. She is not an autonomous woman. She is a mother. She is a womb.

Such a tale might seem far-fetched in today’s world and it is easy for us to think that such an immovable amalgamation of womanhood and motherhood would permeate through society today. Sadly, on some levels it still does. In 2015, a woman called Holly Brockwell, who has no desire to have children, wrote about how difficult it was for her to obtain a sterilisation procedure, as many other forms of contraception did not agree with her, through the NHS. Like many women, she faced confusion and dismissal from those in positions of medical power. However, it was the vitriolic response she received on all social media platforms that caught most people’s attention with her being described by some as “horrible” and “self-righteous”. Much of the targeted abuse was for the most part unrepeatable according to Holly. This story alone proves that there remains an undercurrent of expectation for women to use their body to reproduce, and alongside this a long held belief that a woman’s body is not hers alone, but an acceptable source of public discussion when it comes to reproduction. 

I can distinctly remember the first time I said to someone I did not intend to have children. I was eighteen and they were within my friend group at the time and I will never forget their head swivelling around to look at me as if I had two heads, and so began a pattern in my life. I have been repeatedly told the usual “oh don’t worry, you’ll change your mind”, or the classic “wait until you meet the right man”. With all due respect to the male population, I do not think I could love any of them enough to shove another being out of my body. Why is it that many people still cannot simply accept my decision, or even just politely ask for my reasons out of curiosity? Instead, their responses are hinged on the idea that my mind can be changed, and should be changed. I am unsure why some people still remain desperate for another human to have a child, and why there still is an assumption that what a woman does with her reproductive health is up for public debate or judgement.

Through both my undergraduate degree and my masters, I saw how women were often seen only for the purpose of growing a man’s family, and should they fail in producing a child, they were seen as less of a woman, if not a failed and incomplete one. After all, women are just walking wombs right? The stereotypical image of a mother is someone who is kind, nurturing, and warm. Historically women without children have had their identities shaped into beings who are cold, broken and unnatural. I am none of the latter and refuse to be identified as such. While many continue to believe that a woman deciding not to have children is cruelly selfish,  I would argue it is actually quite selfless based on my own experience. Firstly, with an increasingly overpopulated world I’m doing my bit for the environment in not producing another being to rely on the earth’s resources. No disrespect or judgement to people who do have kids, after all we can’t let the human population die out, but why would I have a child purely as a result of peer pressure when the world does not need another one? Similarly, as much as I’m not a huge fan of children, I would never wish to bring a child into the world because I felt I was expected to, and cause that child to feel resented or unwanted growing up. Me not having a child is a win-win for everyone, and a far cry from the depiction of childless women by choice as cold and uncaring. 

Undoubtedly huge strides have been made over the decades to change the dominating rhetoric which informed society that the ultimate goal and role for a woman was to be a mother. Today, it is far from uncommon for women to work outside the home, and have more freedom to make their own choices regarding their reproductive and employment choices thanks to decades of campaigning. Yet, there still remains the expectation that wanting a child is to be expected for every human and there is a subconscious difficulty in understanding a woman’s identity when it is not tied to motherhood. 

My name is Katie. I am a white Irish woman. I have earned myself two university degrees and I have a deep love for animal print and colourful fashion. I love old school music and love nothing more than dancing with my friends. I consider myself to be quite an empathetic and kind person, and when it comes to my friends and family I am fiercely loyal and protective. These are just some of the things that define my identity. It’s my actions to those around me that defines my identity not just as a woman, but as a human. Me not wanting to grow, birth and rear a tiny being does not have a significant impact on who I am. For many women motherhood is a defining factor in who they are as a human and I have no issue with this fact and I wish them all well. But perhaps it is time we analyse those casual “but you’ll change your mind(s)” and truly start to realise that a woman’s identity is not in existence to be viewed solely as a mother, or as a womb. 

Katie Burke is a pop culture expert, a dabbler in all things fashion, and is a trained stylist who has also served as fashion editor for both UCC’s Motley Magazine and the UCC Express. While much of her interests are related to fashion, she is also passionate about other topics, having studied politics and history for her undergraduate degree, and is a recent MA Women’s Studies graduate. Katie is known for her addiction to hats, and is rarely seen without a flamboyant coat and some form of leopard print on her. Like everyone, she is taking time to figure out where she wants her life to go while exploring fashion and writing opportunities.

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