Friday, August 22, 2003
The Value of The Dollar
Recently I was told I might become a father. I'm 26 years old, and not only unmarried, but unattached -- the person who revealed this news to me was a friend, who I had slept with, once. There was no talk of getting married, of course, or even dating for the child's sake, because that would be silly. If we hadn't decided to date at any point during two years of friendship, it'd be pretty contrived to start now.
And so, we had "the talk." What were our options? Well, it's always the standard three, although it's customary to go through the charade that each one just "popped into" our heads: give birth and raise the child, give birth and put the child up for adoption, or the third option few even speak by name, even the most voraciously pro-choice among us. People come up with these bizarre little euphemisms, like, "deciding not to continue with the pregnancy", which is a lot like calling sex an act of "not continuing with the abstinence."
We ultimately agreed, however, that considering that "third option" would be outrageously selfish under the circumstances. We were at good points in our lives. We had a combined income exceeding $200,000/year. We were both intelligent, loving people who adore children. We weren't two teenagers struggling below the poverty line whose parents would disown us, or worried about failing out of college and having to work at Arby's. Hell, we'd even get maternity and paternity leave. Having the child would be the responsible, decent thing to do, and the thought of terminating a pregnancy in which the child would be so financially and emotionally cared for, just for our own convenience of wanting to undo a mistake, seemed sleazy.
And yet, even as we agreed upon this, something bothered me, greatly, about the argument on which it was based. "Well, we shouldn't consider abortion -- I mean, we're not poor, or anything." It made me think back to nearly every abortion debate I'd ever had, in which every pro-choice friend would undoubtedly argue: "but how can you force some inner city single mother to have a child? Imagine the quality of life that child would have!" I once saw a bumper sticker which read: "It's not the poor who want abortions; it's the rich who want abortions for the poor." I believe it's taken from the old Dr. Wilkes text "Abortion: Questions and Answers," and it's always stuck with me. Overly simplistic, I suppose, as all good bumper stickers are. But it really helps illustrate the intense elitism of that line of thinking: the idea that a child born in poverty by definition is doomed to a horrible life incomprehensible to the largely middle and upper class white people who make the argument.
The concept that poor individuals have an inherently diminished quality of life (and, apparently less worthy to even get the opportunity for it) is something I've never been able to accept. It's not only classist, but un-American -- isn't this the country that believes anyone and everyone has a fair shot? We don't have a caste system. We have hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of examples of individuals born in poverty who succeed, who contribute, who make up our greatest artists and entertainers and politicians and intellectuals, who may have had to overcome more hardships than the middle class but in many cases are stronger for it. (In fact, at least in the case of the arts, you could even make the argument that poverty and hardship increase the odds of one being successful and important and remembered.) And, even if children born in poverty (gasp!) don't decide to try and break out, who are we to decide they aren't still as important as the rest of us? Study after study have shown the nation's rich to be less happy, less content, and less fulfilled than the "poor." So what on earth gives any of us the right to the offensive, prejudicial misconception that a child born into money is more valuable than a child born without?
There exists no convincing correlation between income at birth and quality of life, and to use it as an argument for abortion seems panicky. "Eek! We can't have more poor people! They'll devour us all!" Besides, even if it could be shown that people born with less financial security were less likely to "make it," whatever that means, aren't there so many exceptions both ways as to make the point moot? Where would we draw the line? When a child would be 20% less likely to become "successful?" 30%? And yet, there I was, making the reverse of the argument, that abortion would be a terrible decision because we weren't poor. And the only reason I made the point was not because I believed it, but because I thought the person in question, who ultimately and legally has sole choice in the matter, would be moved by it. Because, I (perhaps unfairly) assumed she was the same kind of person who, in the reverse, would make the typical elitist "but what about the quality of life!" arguments in supporting abortion's legalization.
Perhaps I take this so personally because I was a child "born in poverty", in a trailer, on food stamps, the epitome of who the pro-choice crowd wants to assure doesn't exist. Planned Parenthood tried to pressure my mom -- repeatedly -- into abortion, for the same reason my well-meaning friends always echo: that the child, in this case, me, would have a "horrible life". Well, I haven't. And ya know what, I'd have been just as valuable had I been born a millionaire, or to a crack addicted single mother in Cass Corridor. Because the genetic code behind my individuality would have been the same, either way. I would have been equally valuable either way. Because I still would have been me. And no one, no one has the right to say I shouldn't have existed based on the financial decisions of my parents, simply because the critics' spoiled lives have left them unable to comprehend a happy existence with a smaller bank account.
Thankfully, it turns out that my friend was merely several days late for her period, and after "passing" several pregnancy tests, all is right with the world. My first "pregnancy scare" since becoming sexually active nine years ago, which isn't bad, I suppose -- a better "record" than many. Yet for all my sighs of relief, I find myself thinking about the child that might have been. That unique genetic combination that my friend and I may have produced, that individual who has never existed before and would never exist again. This child who would have been the same individual had we been married, or single, or if he had been conceived by us while in college, or high school, or while we were wealthy, or poor. This child who would have been the same individual had he been wanted or unwanted, raised by one parent or two, loved or unloved. Would he have had it rougher in some scenarios than others? Of course. But would he have been less valuable? To who?
Recently I was told I might become a father. I'm 26 years old, and not only unmarried, but unattached -- the person who revealed this news to me was a friend, who I had slept with, once. There was no talk of getting married, of course, or even dating for the child's sake, because that would be silly. If we hadn't decided to date at any point during two years of friendship, it'd be pretty contrived to start now.
And so, we had "the talk." What were our options? Well, it's always the standard three, although it's customary to go through the charade that each one just "popped into" our heads: give birth and raise the child, give birth and put the child up for adoption, or the third option few even speak by name, even the most voraciously pro-choice among us. People come up with these bizarre little euphemisms, like, "deciding not to continue with the pregnancy", which is a lot like calling sex an act of "not continuing with the abstinence."
We ultimately agreed, however, that considering that "third option" would be outrageously selfish under the circumstances. We were at good points in our lives. We had a combined income exceeding $200,000/year. We were both intelligent, loving people who adore children. We weren't two teenagers struggling below the poverty line whose parents would disown us, or worried about failing out of college and having to work at Arby's. Hell, we'd even get maternity and paternity leave. Having the child would be the responsible, decent thing to do, and the thought of terminating a pregnancy in which the child would be so financially and emotionally cared for, just for our own convenience of wanting to undo a mistake, seemed sleazy.
And yet, even as we agreed upon this, something bothered me, greatly, about the argument on which it was based. "Well, we shouldn't consider abortion -- I mean, we're not poor, or anything." It made me think back to nearly every abortion debate I'd ever had, in which every pro-choice friend would undoubtedly argue: "but how can you force some inner city single mother to have a child? Imagine the quality of life that child would have!" I once saw a bumper sticker which read: "It's not the poor who want abortions; it's the rich who want abortions for the poor." I believe it's taken from the old Dr. Wilkes text "Abortion: Questions and Answers," and it's always stuck with me. Overly simplistic, I suppose, as all good bumper stickers are. But it really helps illustrate the intense elitism of that line of thinking: the idea that a child born in poverty by definition is doomed to a horrible life incomprehensible to the largely middle and upper class white people who make the argument.
The concept that poor individuals have an inherently diminished quality of life (and, apparently less worthy to even get the opportunity for it) is something I've never been able to accept. It's not only classist, but un-American -- isn't this the country that believes anyone and everyone has a fair shot? We don't have a caste system. We have hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of examples of individuals born in poverty who succeed, who contribute, who make up our greatest artists and entertainers and politicians and intellectuals, who may have had to overcome more hardships than the middle class but in many cases are stronger for it. (In fact, at least in the case of the arts, you could even make the argument that poverty and hardship increase the odds of one being successful and important and remembered.) And, even if children born in poverty (gasp!) don't decide to try and break out, who are we to decide they aren't still as important as the rest of us? Study after study have shown the nation's rich to be less happy, less content, and less fulfilled than the "poor." So what on earth gives any of us the right to the offensive, prejudicial misconception that a child born into money is more valuable than a child born without?
There exists no convincing correlation between income at birth and quality of life, and to use it as an argument for abortion seems panicky. "Eek! We can't have more poor people! They'll devour us all!" Besides, even if it could be shown that people born with less financial security were less likely to "make it," whatever that means, aren't there so many exceptions both ways as to make the point moot? Where would we draw the line? When a child would be 20% less likely to become "successful?" 30%? And yet, there I was, making the reverse of the argument, that abortion would be a terrible decision because we weren't poor. And the only reason I made the point was not because I believed it, but because I thought the person in question, who ultimately and legally has sole choice in the matter, would be moved by it. Because, I (perhaps unfairly) assumed she was the same kind of person who, in the reverse, would make the typical elitist "but what about the quality of life!" arguments in supporting abortion's legalization.
Perhaps I take this so personally because I was a child "born in poverty", in a trailer, on food stamps, the epitome of who the pro-choice crowd wants to assure doesn't exist. Planned Parenthood tried to pressure my mom -- repeatedly -- into abortion, for the same reason my well-meaning friends always echo: that the child, in this case, me, would have a "horrible life". Well, I haven't. And ya know what, I'd have been just as valuable had I been born a millionaire, or to a crack addicted single mother in Cass Corridor. Because the genetic code behind my individuality would have been the same, either way. I would have been equally valuable either way. Because I still would have been me. And no one, no one has the right to say I shouldn't have existed based on the financial decisions of my parents, simply because the critics' spoiled lives have left them unable to comprehend a happy existence with a smaller bank account.
Thankfully, it turns out that my friend was merely several days late for her period, and after "passing" several pregnancy tests, all is right with the world. My first "pregnancy scare" since becoming sexually active nine years ago, which isn't bad, I suppose -- a better "record" than many. Yet for all my sighs of relief, I find myself thinking about the child that might have been. That unique genetic combination that my friend and I may have produced, that individual who has never existed before and would never exist again. This child who would have been the same individual had we been married, or single, or if he had been conceived by us while in college, or high school, or while we were wealthy, or poor. This child who would have been the same individual had he been wanted or unwanted, raised by one parent or two, loved or unloved. Would he have had it rougher in some scenarios than others? Of course. But would he have been less valuable? To who?
