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I used to imagine having a family of my own. I enjoy working with kids, and I find them funny and engaging. They constantly introduce new perspectives to your outlook on life, and at the same time, they are so naïve and innocent to the reality of the human situation.
Obviously, there’s more to raising children than just being entertained, but the point that I want to make is that I used to dream of the chance to have my own children. I wanted them to adore their grandparents, my parents; to love all of my friends as their aunts and uncles; to explore the world with wide-eyed curiosity and know that I would be supporting their endeavors every step of the way. I used to have that dream. I no longer do. Growing up in tandem with the rapid collapse of the world has stripped that dream from my grasp.
I do not fault anyone my age for having children — it is a highly personal decision, and one about which I have no right to judge. On that highly personal level, however, I cannot rationalize myself purposefully bringing new life into a world so rife with death. What kind of life would I be giving my children? They would inherit a burning planet. They would grow up knowing that their country’s leaders do not care about them and will gladly ship them off to fight selfish wars. They would be stuck with a cutthroat economy, a violent government and a broken society. How could I invite my own offspring into that existence? In short, I could not.
Perhaps it is selfish for me to be thinking of all of my long-lost dreams when there are hateful genocides and wars happening concurrently. However, I do believe that in analyzing our own pain, we can at least more clearly understand the pain of those who suffer even greater than ourselves (not that it’s a competition — but I would argue that losing your entire family to a bombing is more painful than an upper-class household paying more for eggs).
This is not an expression of resignation on my part — of course we must continue to advocate for what is right and just, despite the many forces of opposition that seek to undermine those efforts. This is simply a reflection on some simple human emotions in light of the recently passed “Big, Beautiful Bill,” and an expression of the profound sadness that commonly consumes my mind. Allow yourself to feel anything you may be feeling — to separate yourself from your emotions is to eschew your humanity — and know that billions of people feel right alongside you.
Calla Massari, of St. Paul, is a university student.
