Op-Ed
The Invisible Family
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Don’t Kill the Messenger
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Can you hear it — the ominous pulse of an unseen clock? Can you feel it — that incessant, insistent beat? Whatever you do, do not confuse those deafening strokes that paralyze the patrons of Libe Café and shake up the late night crowd at The Palms with the McGraw Tower Chimes.
Instead, the sound you’re hearing is the communal biological clock of the undergraduate community; and from the sounds of it, it’s ticking mighty loudly.
OK, the clock metaphor was a little conceited. But really, the level of ‘family talk’ on campus has reached alarming heights. As my senior year approaches and my peers begin to compete tooth and nail for allegedly life-determining summer-after-junior-year financial sector internships, conversation inevitably turns to the future and the practical considerations that accompany even our most distant dreams.
It’s not uncommon for me to see a frustrated friend throw down his Financial Accounting textbook and proclaim solemnly, “I just want to have a good job and be able to provide for my family.” On the other end of the spectrum, I would not be at all surprised to hear a girlfriend lament the fact that, although a career in intellectual property law seems right up her alley, “it just isn’t conducive to raising kids.”
Mercilessly literal as it may be, my response is always the same. What family? Whose children?
And so I expose the omnipresent ‘INVISIBLE FAMILY,’ whose mere HYPOTHETICAL existence is dictating the career and lifestyle decisions of Cornell University twenty-somethings as they embark on the long and inexorable road to financial security.
This does not represent an attack on children. It’s not my charge against the institution of marriage and it is anything but a strike against the act of procreation. I simply feel disturbed every time I see a bright student, barely past childhood, molding future plans around their own nonexistent offspring.
My first point of contention brings to light a fundamental assumption on which the ‘family-planning’ student relies: that it’s easy to make a baby. (OK, stop snickering.) While girls and boys are brought up on ceaseless warnings not to ‘become a statistic’ by joining the ranks of the teenage parent, the same youngsters remain ignorant of the fact that for many eager couples, pregnancy proves impossible. According to the National Survey of Family Growth, 6.1 million American partners experience infertility; that’s about 10 percent of the reproductive-age population. Imagine your friend’s disappointment when, after 10 years of emerging-market analysis rewards him the family-suitable salary he’s always wanted, his little swimmers aren’t up for the task at hand.
But let’s say you are a lucky woman with a working womb, or a fortunate bloke blessed with vigorous sperm, there’s still the issue of finding a pleasing (or for the pessimists, a sufficiently tolerable) mate. The census tells us that 95.7 million Americans are single. Bringing the stats closer to home: 50 percent of New York adults are unmarried. Could it be that my inability to secure a formal date is a brutal anticipation of perpetual loneliness? For my own sake, I should hope not; but should I scoff at the idea? Imagine turning down that awesome post-doc position so I can raise my invisible children near my parents — only to discover that I cannot find a supplier of that other crucial chromosome.
OK. But our parents did it; so, let’s assume that we can too. Should we want to?
From a purely selfish point of view, we would want to know if children increase our happiness. The effects of parenthood are disputed, but a 2005 article in the Journal of Health and Social Behavior argues that unlike ‘marriage’ and ‘employment,’ ‘parenthood’ is not associated with enhanced mental health. So is it simply raw, biological impulse that leads us to voraciously distribute our genetic code, even when it’s a lousy mood-booster?
Perhaps more altruistic motives are at play. People always tell me they want to have children that they can instill with strong values: children who will become the next Mahatma Gandhi or Angelina Jolie. Though this idea of working to create a morally upstanding community is admirable, it does not speak to the fact that at 20, YOU should want to be Mahatma Gandhi and I should want to be Angelina Jolie. [Ed: Dear Master of the Universe, please endow me with Angelina’s irresistible lips.] Why are we allowing ourselves to be driven by concerns of financial wellbeing simply so that it will be possible to raise our invisible children in an environment which is conducive to their hypothetical greatness?
It seems to me that we’re working awfully hard to glamorize ‘security,’ and the accompanying sense of fulfillment that it will bring. Seriously. What happened to adventure? To chance? I grew up wanting to be a crimefighting Ninja Turtle or the sixth member of the Spice Girls [Ed: Awkward Pre-Teen Spice?], not a number-crunching bond trader.
I know I sound harsh. In fact, I consider myself quite maternal. And I want children — I just try not to think about the reasons too much. My point is to get people thinking about alternative ways to justify their lives — as opposed to placing the entire burden on the fragile hypothetical backs of their possibly inconceivable, likely inferior and hopelessly invisible children.
Katie Engelhart is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be contacted at kengelhart@cornellsun.com.Don’t Kill the Messengerappears alternate Tuesdays.