I'm an aunt who chooses to be childless. Merchandise with passive-aggressive mom digs gets under my skin
I still get caught in the us-against-them trap sometimes
This First Person column is the experience of Nicole Starker Campbell, who lives in Fort Saskatchewan, Alta. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
My sister-in-law, Laura, handed me a gift wrapped in Christmas paper, apologizing for what she said was a tacky present.
I unwrapped a coffee mug and held it up for a look.
The yellow-and-dusty-rose colour scheme and random pink paintbrush stroke pattern signalled that this cup was made in the '80s. Judging from the tiny chips on the bottom, it had seen some use.
But printed on the side of the ceramic cup was, "For a Very Special Person," and below that, the word "Aunt."
Laura and my niece, Serene, had been browsing in a thrift shop when Serene saw the mug and declared she wanted to give it to me for Christmas. Laura suggested they pick out a brand new mug, but my niece looked at her with eyes the same blue as mine and said, "But it says, 'For a very special person.'"
Most of the text wore off years ago, yet that cup is still one of my favourites. I love my nieces and nephews to pieces and happily advertise that I'm a proud auntie.
But when I recently saw another mug decorated with the phrase "Aunts … Like Moms, Only Cooler," I paused.
This cup was less a tribute to aunts and more of a passive-aggressive dig.
While many mothers are also aunties, this alluded to a comparison that concludes childless aunts are cool and moms are not. In other words, women stop being fun and interesting once they have a child.
The us-against-them trap
This false chasm existing between mothers and childless aunts is just a construct pitting women against each other.
I think most of us live in the vast grey area between two polarizing stereotypes: that all women want to be mothers and that all childless women hate kids. In fact, there's no "womaning" better, there are just different choices.
Even so, I admit that I still get caught in the us-against-them trap sometimes.
Years ago, while chatting with a friend as she made us coffee, we began talking about the question of when to have children.
She had decided it was time for her and her husband to start trying. Sitting at her kitchen island, I explained that I'd never wanted children and wasn't going to have them.
As she reached into the cupboard for coffee mugs, she replied, "Oh, don't worry, you'll have kids one day." As if to say, you'll come around.
My friend didn't ask why I felt the way I did and didn't seem interested in a conversation about the different choices that women make. At the time, it felt like she'd simply dismissed my feelings as being wrong.
I now realize my friend wasn't trying to intentionally dismiss my decision not to have kids. Rather, it was a lack of understanding about why I would make a choice that was different than hers.
Most of the women in our friend group have felt the pull of motherhood.
I haven't.
I love kids, but I've never wanted any of my own. The responsibility of being a mom has always been far too daunting for me, and being an aunt is where I thrive.
Most of the moms I know are cool — and their kids think they're cool, too. These mothers have living room dance parties with their sons and daughters, shepherd their children through mental health challenges or have even parented their kids through tough divorces.
For all my advocating for, and defending of, the ability to not choose motherhood, I realize that children are still central to my identity.
Growing up, I used to visit a favourite aunt who never had children. Some of my favourite childhood memories involve driving around Seattle in her Corvette, talking, sipping iced mochas and listening to Wham!
Now, I'm making those memories with my nieces and nephews.
I enjoy babysitting my nieces and nephews, bringing them to the water park, buying them cool YA books and taking them on trips.
They've come to stay with me for a fun weekend visit and also when they needed support during a challenging time.
As an auntie, I get to love my siblings' and friends' sons and daughters, and be involved in their lives, free from the pressures of parenthood. I'm happy to play an important supporting role.
Serene is now in her early 20s. This past Christmas she gifted me a bright pink coffee mug that says "Best Aunt Ever."
To my nieces and nephews, just being their aunt is enough, and I'm cool with that.
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