“It’s Because She Doesn’t Have Kids.” Yeah — And?

I read the HuffPost article I’m A Surgeon. I’m Also Child-Free — And 6 Words From A Colleague About My Life Left Me Stunned by Caitlyn A. Smith, and it really hit home. It is a first-hand account of how a careless comment by a colleague (or anyone, really) can imply that there is no value in what child-free folk contribute.

Smith was speaking with colleagues at the end of a physician meeting, sharing their weekend plans. Of course, there was chatter about children’s activities. Smith voiced that she would be travelling to Las Vegas for the weekend. One of the doctors commented, “It’s because she doesn’t have kids”. Others laughed in response, and the conversation carried on.

These types of comments are so infuriating. Are they meant to make Smith (or me) feel bad for choosing to have a life where a lack of parenting responsibilities make traveling easier? Because that is often how they land. Smith wondered: Did he mean that because I didn’t have children, I didn’t have any responsibilities at all, so of course I could run off to party in Vegas?

I’ve never understood what pointing out a person’s reproductive status in conversation is meant to accomplish.

Saying insensitive things like this can make the child-free feel like there is a discount on the value in their life - or imply that this is the case. For me, value comes from my career successes - I have transitioned through several law practices and am now an executive at my law firm - from time spent with my family and friends, and from the contributions I make to my community through volunteering.

Smith had the following to say about the impact of such dismissive comments:

Being child-free doesn’t make us less ambitious, less responsible, or less fulfilled — it just means we’ve chosen a different version of a good life. A life that’s still full of purpose, connection, and contribution. The offhand comments and quiet judgments might seem harmless, but they chip away at the idea that our value depends on parenthood. It’s time to retire that outdated script.

Our lives have worth — not because of who we raise, but because of who we are and what we build.