The Only Good Thing About Being a Woman…

The conversation circled around womanly issues, the perils and the woes.

‘I’ve got PCOS,’ one woman said.

‘I’ve got endometriosis,’ another replied.

‘I had a traumatic birth,’ yet another said.

Around we went, lamenting the pitiful state of women’s health in Australia. Finally, one woman wrapped things up with a bombshell.

‘The only good thing about being a woman,’ she announced, ‘is having children!’

A whirlwind hit me. It knocked me sideways. Oh, that hurts, I thought. Surely there’s more to being a woman than having children!

And there is. As much as I whinge and moan about women’s issues, and as much as the pain of childlessness still burns, there are distinct advantages to being a woman. I’m sure you can think of some. Fashion springs immediately to my mind. I’m not a huge fashionista, but I do enjoy wearing brightly coloured clothes, including skirts and dresses in the hot weather (bonus if they have pockets). I like wearing sparkly, pretty things. I enjoy wearing cute hats (summer or winter) and buying bags that are miniature works of art. I adore op shopping.

Beyond the superficial, there are other advantages to being a woman. I receive social reinforcement regarding my intake of cakes and chocolate. I receive weird stares and double takes when I share my interest in video games. I can be an awesome aunty to my nieces and nephews. I can request assistance with heavy lifting without shame, because I am naturally perceived as being physically weaker. And I am.

Being a woman has also served me well in my profession. As a psychologist, it is crucial that others feel comfortable around me and are able to trust me. And they do. My womanness has helped me to help others (even strangers on the street who approach me for help. It happens more often than you’d think).

The major advantage of being both a woman and childless is that I’m able to connect with other childless women. We can exchange war stories, commiserate over the sorry state of healthcare, and find comfort in our shared grief. That’s the bittersweetness of walking this path of grief: we can find solidarity with one another.

I hesitated in replying to the above woman with children. I felt overwhelmed with emotion in that moment and unsure of what to say. In the end, I decided to shelve my feelings for a second and speak up.

‘Uh,’ I started, rather brilliantly, ‘I’m childless.’

Her eyes went wide with realisation. She started apologising and reassuring me that there were good things about being childless, like saving money and travelling. She’s right, of course, but I wasn’t looking for pity in that moment. I wasn’t seeking reassurance. I already know there were good things about being a woman, albeit a childless one. I was looking to raise the profile of childlessness in my community, and that moment was ripe with opportunity. I spoke up. I reminded that cohort that childless people exist.

We are worthy, regardless of our parental status. It’s a worthwhile reminder for all of us.

What would you have done in the above situation? What are some advantages you see in being a woman in today’s society? If you are childless, have you been able to connect with other childless people? Share your story. Let’s have a countercultural conversation.