John Ingram, American Renaissance, January 21, 2021
I count myself lucky to be married with children. The daily chaos aside, the salutary benefits of family life are many.
In my mid-40s, though, I look around in despair. Countless white men and women my age occupy a dead-end existence, procreation-wise.
- Two male relatives who got married, and consciously decided not to have children.
- A supervisor from a family of ten — yes, ten — who is married, and gleefully pronounces he’ll never have children.
- A male relative who committed suicide. He had no children, loved drugs and professed atheism.
- A female relative who sought a bigger family, but has one child.
- A divorced, childless woman who is past the point in life for children.
- A white school chum, married, no children, now in late 40s.
- Three work colleagues in an office of 20, one woman, two men — no children, in their 40s.
- A family friend who married a black man, and had a child by him.
- Conservative neighbors who have two children but no grandchildren, because the daughter is married with no children, and the son is gay.
- A white couple who had two children, one of whom claims to be “transgender” and another who is dating a black woman. They will have no white grandchildren, it appears.
The normal white family — a white man, white woman, and their white children — seems to be an increasingly rare phenomenon.
It all adds up to Mark Steyn’s “upside down family tree,” where once upon a time, you had a couple who had three children, each of whom in turn had three children, and so on. Now, the three children beget one child, who in turn begets no children.
It’s not that most of these barren whites aren’t good-looking. Some of the unmarried, childless whites I know, from extended family to workplaces to schoolmates, are actually above-average. Handsome men. Gorgeous women.
They aren’t fat, slovenly dressers with defects or deformities that might make them unattractive mates.
It isn’t that they’re losers. Often, they’ve achieved great things in their careers, typically in professional fields.
It isn’t that they aren’t bright. In fact, they’re often very smart, personable, and funny.
They’re exactly the kind of people who, to my mind, would make wonderful spouses and parents.
Yet there they are, touting their “aunt status” on facebook, posting pictures of cute little nieces and nephews, or their “fur babies” — the dogs and cats that seem to have replaced children for too many white people. The instinct is there — it’s just not fulfilled.
I worry about these white people.
They will die, I presume, alone. Even people with families, of course, might end up dying alone, but the chances are greatly reduced. What will these people do as the years roll on, relying on friends or other families for Thanksgiving company?
Today’s childless whites may well die getting hospice care from a black or Hispanic worker who cares little for them. What a way to die!
Society has always had its aging singles. In years past, though, they were outliers.
Now, they’re becoming their own group. They’re everywhere.
My mother once criticized a famous baseball player I admired. Why? He was a bachelor with no children. “If he were a real man, he’d be married with children.”
How our values have changed.
It’s as pernicious a trend as any that we as whites face.
Against all civil libertarian instincts, I nurse anger against the childless white adults. I want them punished somehow: double taxes, a lower status of citizenship, something. I suppose most white people, even those sympathetic to my feelings, wouldn’t support that.
Part of the cause is relentless liberal conditioning. In Superman, released in 1978, Lois Lane quips that she’s got no interest in living a boring life with children. Millions of girls my age heard it, and many followed her example.
This drumbeat continues through to today’s Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood’s book-turned-Netflix presentation, which instructs young women that to have children is to perpetuate an evil patriarchy.
It’s obviously white women they’re talking about.
I don’t want a world in which no women have careers. But feminists have done incredible damage to society by telling women that they’re pawns of men by having children. The “stay-at-home mom” is derided as a social freak.
What many women have discovered is that the natural instinct to have children is powerful, and once the children are born, childlessness becomes unthinkable to them. They relish motherhood.
Putting a corker in this natural instinct is creating dangerous pressure elsewhere: miserable middle-aged women who do not actually find fulfillment in lifelong spinsterhood.
And men. I imagine that the childless white man, at some point, must feel foolish, living an empty life of material pursuits. He’s taken the circle of life and snipped it.
A horrifying scene in Slumdog Millionaire is where a young Indian boy is intentionally blinded, so as to make him a more valuable beggar. I felt sick watching it.
But the intentionally childless whites are doing something similarly wicked: snuffing out the very beauty of continued life on Earth. We come from countless generations of whites. They fought battles, farmed fields, built cathedrals, fed babies. They knew toil and heartbreak, and they knew honor, glory and joy.
The casual decision to cut that off with a thoughtless decision is criminal.
Yet liberal culture celebrates their decision to be “childfree:” they aren’t contributing to global warming, white supremacy or overpopulation. What liberal heroes they are! It makes me want to scream.
Of course, the challenges whites face are endless. But when we voluntarily end ourselves, we know the sickness has set in deep.
We can right the ship on this one, though. We can do this without being censored or deplatformed, without being physically attacked, without representatives in power, and without regard to the numbers of other races.
Just have children. More than one, please.