I still wanted to stick to the core of not wanting children. I haven't really seen any female characters in TV, film or on stage who don't want to have children and don't express any kind of "sorrow" over that decision.
Whenever a woman has an abortion in a fictional performance, they always seem to regret their decision later, and grieve the baby that never was.
In reading up on childfree women, I got the sense that they are viewed as different, abnormal even. I found numerous articles or even entire websites that help people to "navigate a childfree lifestyle".
These tips come from a website dedicated to giving tips on how to deal with the world when you’ve chosen not to have kids. (That Childfree Life n.d.)
I felt that it was a bit surreal that it's considered so abnormal to have chosen not to have kids, that this lifestyle seems to need its own manual. These tips seem to take for granted that other people around you will ask the "inevitable questions" about having kids, making the childfree person some sort of an alien.
So I wanted to embrace surrealism within the work, and take some scenes to the extreme.
My Thought Process
To start with, I wondered: What can I say?
What do people see when they look at me? White, middle class, 40 year old.
And I don't want to have kids, that's maybe my most "peculiar" decision out of the norm.
To start with, I wrote a word vomit text (in Icelandic), just to get some ideas out.
I wanted to write the performance in English, so I wrote a scene in English based on my first word vomit.
I felt like I was both judging myself, and talking about society judging me for my lifestyle or life decisions. I wanted to write about labels and judgement, and how we're all judged by society, and all a part of that jury.
I was told by my teachers to stay in
“what do I have to say?”
Men have not been asking that question as artists throughout the centuries. Is this a feminist piece?
Can I take up space? How much space am I allowed to take?
I went down a bit of a rabbit hole of Googling labels, and motherhood, and being childfree.
Found out that there are two labels for people without children:
Childfree and Childless
Those who choose not to have children Those who can not have children
- Develop a mental library of lighthearted yet firm responses to the inevitable questions. A simple, “It’s just not part of my plan, but I’m so glad it’s yours!” can convey pride in your choice without inviting further debate.
- Avoid the “Babysitter Trap”: Some friends (hopefully jokingly) start hinting that you, with your “free time,” would make the perfect go-to babysitter. Laugh it off, stay firm, and remember, you’re a friend, not free childcare.
- Gently Remind Your Friend: “Hey, I’d love to catch up about life outside of parenting too!” A casual comment can go a long way in helping friends refocus on all the things you still share.
What do I have to say? Is there something to fight for?
I’ve just been thinking, what do I have to say to the world?
I mean, I’m not queer. I’m a queer ally and I care a lot about queer rights, but it’s not my place to talk about queer issues, but rather show up and support.
I’m not, currently, an immigrant. I’ve lived around the world so I’ve been an immigrant in several countries, and I’m married to an immigrant. I’d say probably about half of my social circle in Iceland is not originally from Iceland and I could have a massive rant about how Icelanders could be more welcoming to people from other countries that decide to make Iceland their home. And I don’t understand how long everything takes at Útlendingastofnun. Did you know that for the application to get Icelandic citizenship there is currently about 2 years of processing time? 2 years of waiting for someone to wield a stamp. And that’s after people have stayed in the country for 7 years, have learnt Icelandic, are paying taxes and contributing to society.
Someone is definitely going to complain, for example, that this show is in English instead of Icelandic and therefore “not for Icelanders”, even though they can perfectly understand English, and there are thousands of locals that simply don’t speak or understand Icelandic perfectly. But then again, I’m born and raised here, so I can’t really share my immigrant story. What I can do is perform the show in English, so it’s accessible to most Icelanders, immigrants and tourists.
I’m not disabled or dealing with any mental illnesses.
I’m a white, middle class, Icelandic woman with all the privileges that come with that. I have travelled extensively, speak a few languages, am working on my Master’s degree and have tried working in several different sectors. Education in Iceland is even so affordable that every now and then I sign up for some courses at University just to learn something fun. I’ve recently done a course about Italian films and French literature, as well as a year of tourism and another year of Japanese when I was in my early twenties and figuring out what I want from life.
I even entered the housing market early and managed to pay off my small apartment, despite spending a big chunk of my life being a student and mostly just having a part-time job.
But when it comes to telling a story, which story can I tell? How much space am I allowed to take up?
And then I’ll be judged. Favourably by some, not so favourably by others.
I feel like I’m in the way.
I am what civilization is trying to produce. Healthy, happy, privileged, have options, a career. We take those things for granted
The state of Iceland that has reached the peak of creating basic bitches like me, is not guaranteed to be the same in 20 years time.
Take space. Have the conversation. Don’t let society tell you how to behave.