Greetings Mischief Makers!
Lore here, with my monthly update. We have some super exciting updates, and things around here are starting to feel very real! For May, we wanted to share a few personal stories from the perspectives of our vagina-holders. Does that word make you uncomfortable? Sorry, not sorry. This world focuses way too much on Cancel Culture, and we will not be a part of it.
Before we get to the good stuff, a couple short announcements from the Executive team:
Thank you for continuing to grow with us. BASIC Studios is going to change the world. Mark my words!
And now… Let’s talk Women’s Health!
For generations, American culture has treated motherhood as an inevitable milestone for women. Marriage, children, and the nuclear family have long been presented not simply as one possible life path, but as the expected one. Yet in recent years, more women are openly choosing not to have children, and many are speaking about that decision without apology. Some are delaying parenthood indefinitely. Others are intentionally remaining childfree for life. Increasingly, women are also seeking permanent contraception, including bilateral salpingectomy procedures, as a way to exercise lasting control over their reproductive futures.
I am among those women.
I chose not to have children of my own, and I ultimately underwent a bilateral salpingectomy—a surgical removal of the fallopian tubes—earlier this year to ensure that this choice remained mine. For me, the decision was not rooted in hatred of children or in disdain for women who choose motherhood. Quite the opposite: I deeply respect the labor, sacrifice, and emotional commitment involved in raising children. My choice simply reflects the life I want for myself, my understanding of my own happiness, and my belief that bodily autonomy matters.
That distinction is important. Discussions surrounding childfreedom are often framed as divisive, as though women who choose not to become mothers are somehow criticizing women who do. In reality, reproductive autonomy only exists when all choices are respected equally. A woman who dreams of a large family deserves support and respect; a woman who never wants children deserves the same.
In the current political and economic climate of the United States, however, the choice not to have children has become increasingly tied to broader conversations about healthcare access, financial instability, gender expectations, and personal freedom.
The economic realities facing younger Americans today are drastically different from those faced by previous generations. Housing costs continue to rise, wages have stagnated relative to inflation, healthcare remains prohibitively expensive for many families, and childcare costs can rival college tuition in some states. According to multiple studies and surveys, financial insecurity is now one of the leading reasons people delay or avoid parenthood altogether. While previous generations often viewed children as a natural step into adulthood, many modern Americans now see family planning through the lens of economic survival.
At the same time, women today have greater educational and professional opportunities than many of their predecessors. Careers, creative ambitions, travel, community involvement, and personal fulfillment increasingly occupy spaces that society once reserved almost exclusively for motherhood. This shift does not mean women have become selfish or anti-family. Rather, it reflects an expansion of what women are allowed to imagine for themselves.
Scholars examining reproductive autonomy note that reproductive decisions are never made in isolation. They are shaped by economics, politics, healthcare access, cultural expectations, and social pressures. A recent study on reproductive politics argued that governments and political systems have historically attempted to influence women’s reproductive decisions for economic and demographic purposes, often at the expense of women’s autonomy.
In the United States specifically, the political atmosphere surrounding reproductive healthcare has intensified dramatically since the Supreme Court’s 2022 Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization decision overturned federal abortion protections. For many women, this moment fundamentally altered how they viewed their reproductive futures. Research published in Contraception found measurable increases in women seeking permanent contraception after the Dobbs decision, including younger women and women who had never given birth.
That increase should not be viewed as panic or irrationality. Rather, it reflects women making informed decisions in response to a changing political landscape.
Permanent contraception, including sterilization procedures, has become increasingly discussed among childfree women as a means of ensuring long-term bodily autonomy. Recent research exploring childfree adults seeking sterilization found that many participants experienced unnecessary barriers when attempting to obtain care, including paternalistic attitudes from medical providers who assumed they would eventually regret their decision.
This skepticism toward childfree women reveals how deeply pronatalist assumptions remain embedded in American culture. Pronatalism—the belief that motherhood is the natural or ideal role for women—often treats women without children as incomplete, immature, or misguided. Scholars writing on reproductive autonomy and pronatalist discourse argue that these cultural narratives undermine women’s self-determination by assuming that fulfillment must come through motherhood.
Yet the reality is far more nuanced.
Many women who choose not to have children lead deeply fulfilling, connected, and meaningful lives. Some prioritize careers or artistic passions. Others value independence, travel, friendships, activism, or mental well-being. Some simply do not experience the desire for parenthood,while others recognize that they would not thrive as parents and choose honesty over social expectation. In many ways, choosing not to have children can itself be an act of care and responsibility.
Importantly, the growing visibility of childfree women also reflects broader progress in women’s rights. For much of American history, women had limited ability to control reproduction. Reliable contraception was restricted, abortion access was criminalized, and women often depended financially and legally on husbands or male relatives. The ability to decide whether to have children—or not have them—represents one of the most significant expansions of personal freedom in modern history.
Researchers writing about reproductive autonomy emphasize that true reproductive justice includes not only the right to become a parent but also the right not to become one. In that sense, childfreedom is not a rejection of womanhood; it an affirmation that women are complete human beings regardless of parental status.
Social media and online communities have also played a role in normalizing childfree identities. Spaces where women discuss sterilization, economic anxieties, and reproductive rights have allowed people to realize they are not alone in their feelings. While online discussions are not academic evidence on their own, they reveal the emotional realities behind statistical trends. Many women describe permanent contraception as empowering, comforting, and liberating in a political climate where reproductive rights feel uncertain.
At the same time, it is essential to avoid framing motherhood and childfreedom as opposing camps. Women already face enough pressure to justify their lives, regardless of which path they choose. Mothers are criticized for working too much or too little, for having children too early or too late, for parenting styles that are too strict or too lenient. Childfree women face accusations of selfishness, immaturity, or bitterness. Both groups are often subjected to impossible standards.
The answer is not to elevate one lifestyle over another. The answer is choice.
A healthy society allows women to define fulfillment for themselves. Some women will find profound joy in motherhood. Others will find joy elsewhere. Neither path diminishes the other.
In many ways, the growing acceptance of childfree women represents cultural progress because it expands the definition of what a successful life can look like. It acknowledges that women are individuals first—not vessels for social expectations, political agendas, or demographic anxieties.
My own bilateral salpingectomy was ultimately about certainty and peace of mind. It was the culmination of years of understanding myself and my goals. I did not make the decision lightly, nor did I make it out of fear alone. I made it because I believe my body and my future belong to me.
That belief should not be controversial.
Women choosing not to have children is not a sign of societal failure, moral decline, or selfishness. It is a sign that women increasingly have the freedom to make deeply personal decisions about their own lives. In a culture where reproductive choices are often politicized, that freedom matters more than ever.
And, importantly, freedom includes the freedom to choose differently from one another.
Works Cited
At least once a year, after fourteen years in Canada, someone asks me, “Don’t you miss the States?”
To which I respond, “Yes.”
Then they inevitably ask, “Will you go back?”
My response is a swift and vehement “Never.”
Growing up American, from a Southern family, and in the Conservative Midwest, it was easy to wear blinders and think that ‘Murica was the best country in the world.
I was twenty-seven when I found out it was a lie— one that feels more egregious as the current President traipses over the Constitution with a disturbing lack of morality. Not only is democracy dying in real time, but countless dangers are devastating women, the LGBTQ+, and other marginalized communities because of rhetoric that so-called alpha males are projecting onto vulnerable populations.
These unfortunate and dangerous notions are spreading across the world, though it certainly appears as if the “Land of the Free” has paved the way for them to be spoken aloud instead of hidden in the shadows. Safety is a rare commodity for so many of us, and perhaps one of the most concerned and frustrated groups is mothers.
The answer to the question of whether I would ever return to the U.S. always shocks the person who asks.
As a mother, how could I take my child somewhere that believes her autonomy is irrelevant? How could I put my mental and physical health at risk by returning to a broken system that is America’s health care?
Fortunately, I do not need to return to the U.S. because I am able to remain in Canada. Canada has universal health care;and, while the system is not perfect, I have not had the crushing weight of medical bills. Surgery? No bill. Pregnancy and all of the medical appointments that go with it? No bill.
Canada even takes into consideration mental health concerns. If a person faces burnout (which I did), their doctor can provide a note for sick leave. The individual will not lose their job; they even receive a portion of their pay (I speak from personal experience, as this happened to me in 2018). Oh, and having a newborn? I had almost nine months of maternity leave, didn’t lose my job, and received a wage the entire time. What is more, my husband was granted more than six weeks of paternity leave to spend with his newborn and wife. I was able to give this to him from my government-mandated leave. And his job? No issues. And yes, he was paid during the leave as well.
Some readers may ask: Why would I have to worry at all now that I do not live in the United States? It would be foolish, however,to consider that moving countries eliminates all concerns about the state of the world. Chaos festers and spreads until it takes over or it is stopped. The current chaos will not stop unless citizens of the world fight against it.
Not only that, but I am still American. I yearn to believe once again that my country is the greatest in the world. More than that, I want to be able to look my children in the eye every day knowing I fought for their future— one that will hopefully let this blip in time turn into an important history lesson instead of a daily reality.
For now, though, it is time for the battle lines to be drawn. Mothers of the world must stand up and meet this new battle head on.
When all seems bleak, here are some things that I remind myself of daily to protect my emotional and mental health when the chaos in this world becomes overwhelming:
Most importantly, don’t ever stop believing in yourself. Stop giving other people who do not have your best interests at heart the energy you need for yourself and those you love. Be a role model for your children.Let them see your emotions. Let them understand their own. Draw a line between what is healthy and unhealthy, and let them see you make those decisions. Let them know that perfection is never the goal— growth is. Mistakes teach you a lesson, and they are just as important as moments of success.
——————
Some of this might sound overwhelming or scary. That is because being a mother is already an immense challenge. In the current political and medical climate, it feels more like fighting Saruman’s Uruk hai after watching Boromir be shot down. We are in survival mode, prepared to launch into battle after the rage fully settles in.
We are not just scared. We are furious. Livid. Outraged! We are mothers and women, and we are going to roar until this world gives us the respect we deserve. Some may ask why we are fighting so hard when it all seems impossible.
The answer is simple.
We do it for our children and the future children who will inherit this world when we are but a memory.
Come on mamas. Let’s be a fantastically loud and fierce one.
It started when I was nine years old. I remember that day perfectly: it was warm, and I was in my grandmother’s backyard, playing in the good ol’ New England summer sun. Then I felt something odd, and so I ran upstairs thinking, “Maybe I just have to potty.” I was nine, and I didn’t know any better. Well, that day, after screaming my head off, thinking I was dying, I found out the truth: I had started puberty and was becoming a woman. At a young age, to be sure, but Mother Nature has a way of doing what she wants regardless of what we intend or want.
But it wasn’t what I’d thought it would be after the lessons. There would be pain—pain so severe that I’d end up curled in the fetal position, with only acetaminophen or ibuprofen and a warm heating pad as my saviors. I went to the doctor, who referred me to what my mother and grandmother would call “the lady specialist” (for all those wondering out there, a gynecologist). I would be diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome at ten years old.
Fast forward to my late teens, and I am in a stable relationship with a woman. I think she is the one; we are happy, and we are going to adopt a child if we ever want one. I go to my gynecologist and ask a simple question: “Since my shit is broken, can I have it removed?” I was told a simple, “No.”
Then the reasons came:
“You’re not old enough.”
“You have bipolar, so you might not want this later.”
“What if you find a husband who wants to have children later?”
“What happens when you change your mind?”
Not “if” you change your mind, but “when.” Frustrated and in pain, I dealt with it for another few years. The pain does not get better; in fact, it only gets worse. I end up breaking up with my partner and start dating my best (male) friend. Two years into that relationship, we are blessed with a miracle child who, by all accounts, shouldn’t have been able to survive. I found out I was pregnant after getting into a car crash, and the hospital I was seen at wanted to test for pregnancy before they did any other kinds of tests. When it came back positive, I was blown away. So was my partner.
The pregnancy was not smooth. I had Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG). This is the medical term for severe, persistent nausea and vomiting during pregnancy that lasts all day. I lost a lot of weight, and overall, my pregnancy was not healthy for me. But, regardless of this, my miracle boy was born healthy and on time.
However, I made it my mission to focus on my health. I found out from another doctor through an invasive procedure that I had endometriosis. That explained all the pain and the other symptoms. But still, I was denied a hysterectomy, one of the ways to alleviate endometriosis symptoms, and all for the same reasons. This year, I turned thirty-five. Suddenly, I wasn’t too young. It didn’t matter how many children I had or if my partner would want children later.
This is not okay. We should not be blocking women’s healthcare access behind age-walls or measly excuses. Men should not dictate what a woman does with her body; doctors should not have the final say in whether a patient decides to remove an organ that is clearly unneeded and/or failing to do its job properly. I spent my life on different medications, different hormone treatments, and other such nonsense just to live my life without pain—and it didn’t work. Now that I’ve had my hysterectomy, my life is much better. I don’t have to worry about my painful periods, and my endo symptoms are clearing up.
We can be better.
Doctors: DO BETTER.
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