MUST LOVE BABBIES (aka, are children automatically a feminist issue?)

So I should have realized by now that I need to stop reading certain feminist blogs because the comments sections devolve into extremist two-sides mud slinging and negativity no matter what the post. There's certain blogs that make me feel worse for reading them, and even some that I feel don't offer a whole lot of safe space for me for various reasons.

Therefore, I guess I had it coming when I read the comments section of a recent Feministe article called "On Hating Children." Because it turned into the Old West of ableism (disabled adults are the same as screaming children), subtle racism (inner city people like to beat their kids), and privilege (calling the kid that threw a Tonka truck at me in the mall a "brat" is bigoted), I'm going to mainly focus on bits and pieces of the article. From what I gathered, the main focus of the article was debating whether or not it was okay to say certain restaurants weren't for kids, tentatively leaning toward the side of it being okay. But one of the throwaway comments that the author didn't elaborate on too much was that saying you "hate kids" is a sexist statement.

Here's the part where the parents in the audience automatically discount everything I say: I don't have kids, and I certainly don't want to. But I don't hate kids. In fact, in their own space where they feel comfortable, kids are pretty cool. I regard kids the same way I do cats, train whistles, and my downstairs's neighbor's love of booty bass. (A) I like interacting with them in someone else's home because I can leave before my eyes start welling shut (B) outdoors, in neutral spaces, and in spaces dedicated solely to them, they're cool and I encourage them to go full steam. Even if they annoy me, that's my bad, and I'll either suck it up or leave. But (C) when they interrupt my nice dinner, my movie, my personal space, my bodily peace, places reserves specifically for adults/dog lovers and allergy clinics/ quiet meditation/ sleeping at 2 AM, that shit has to cease.

I really hate to go into libertarian territory, but I feel that the above mentioned situations go along with the old slogan "your rights end at the tip of my nose." I fully expect to hear train whistles at a train museum or when I lived next to the depot (yeah, that wasn't a great choice on my end); I'm going to get pissed when some jackass stands outside my bedroom window and blows a train whistle for 30 consecutive minutes. Therefore, it's fair game if your kid wants to act up at Bob Evan's, but not at Bloody Slasher's Revenge 2: Blood, Guts, and Boobies. And unlike the train whistle jackass, I can't tell your kid to shut up. That's stranger danger, or disciplining your kid for you, or a myriad of other things that get you screamed at by someone other than a four-year-old.

So that rant took a different turn, and I still haven't addressed the original sticky statement: that "hating" kids is sexist. That's something I can't get behind. I do agree that sexist actions can discriminate against children, such as workplaces passing up mothers for jobs or promotions, the brunt of domestic violence going to women and children, and "all inclusive" activist activities/conferences giving the cold shoulder/ not accommodating moms. But simply not enjoying children isn't a sexist act. In fact, I think that the implied other end of that statement - all feminists (ie women) should love being around children - is a lot more sexist of a statement.

Now caveat, Wench-readers: this is not aimed at all kids and all parents (yes, parents, because for all the "mombie" bullshit that gets thrown around - and yes, that is sexist that it's always moms - it's usually uptight dads that 9/10 of the time get on my nerves). This is a subsect of parents, maybe 15% at best, that are chock full of entitlement, classism, and white privilege that make the rest of you guys look bad. If you still think you're in that 15%, and that adult-only rules are the same as Jim Crow (honest to blog, I read that comment once), then let's make a deal. The first month that a family member, coworker, or complete fucking stranger doesn't walks up to me and ask WHEN (not if) I'm having a baby and looking in revolt or disbelief when I say I'm not, you're gold. I'll accept all your strawman arguments, ALL of them, and let your kid scream directly into my eardrum cart blanche for five hours on end. Deal?