Parents Have Always Been Ungovernablefeatured

I want to address a claim I’ve seen circulating on social media: That only the childless are truly ungovernable—that parenthood politically castrates you, rendering you ineffective and compliant within a colonial capitalist societal structure. This perspective is based on anti-natalism, a philosophy that deems reproduction to always be unethical.

 

I want to address this claim because I perceive such a notion to be inaccurate and incredibly disrespectful to the countless political activists and leaders who fought for societal change–not in spite of parenthood–but because of parenthood and because they wanted to facilitate a kinder world for generations to come.

 

I am philosophically opposed to anti-natalism because my values and perspectives are rooted in indigenous American & African philosophy, which is at odds with anti-natalism.

I see anti-natalism as a philosophy that is rooted in western colonial values and perspectives. 

 

As someone who is very much aware of the fact that we live under colonial capitalism, I apply indigenous philosophies to my life because that is what resonates with me and those are the philosophies that paint a clearer picture of a more kind, just, and healthy society.

 

I believe indigenous ways of living and thinking provide invaluable guidance as we leave this dying system behind. It is my firm belief that one cannot claim to be anti-capitalist without also practicing decolonization and indigenization.

 

That is, willfully divesting from colonialist ways of living and thinking and investing in one’s indigenous roots as well as respecting and collectively integrating the worldviews of indigenous cultures.

 

The argument that having children purely serves the capitalist machine and renders you politically ineffective ends up reinforcing the very colonial, capitalist, and Euro-centric narratives that erase indigenous understandings of kinship, legacy, and resistance.

 

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that anti-natalism is in direct opposition to indigenous philosophies, and the main people I see at the forefront of anti-natalism rhetoric are individuals whose cultural backgrounds are largely tied to colonial structures or who have been disconnected from indigenous ways of being.

 

As many leaders of thought and decolonial activism have stated, choosing to continue our lineage and preserve our cultures as colonized peoples is an act of resistance in itself.

 

The US government forcibly sterilized Indigenous and racialized Black women en masse because they wanted to eradicate us. 

 

Is it not “ungovernable” to actively resist and survive genocide through the continuation of one’s lineage and ways of life?

Is it not “ungovernable” to raise children on principles of peace, liberation, and environmental stewardship in the midst of a societal structure that tries to steer us in the opposite direction? 

 

To say that having children essentially “politically castrates” you in society ignores the reality that for many, raising children is a radical act of resistance—a way to defy genocide, forced assimilation, and erasure.

 

For many of us, having children is not just a personal decision—it’s a proclamation of survival, a reclamation of stolen futures, and a deliberate act of shaping the world we want to see.

 

As a parent, I was devoted to activism before my child came into the world. It didn’t take long before my fire began to die out because I was tired and hopeless. After my child entered the world, that flame was renewed as I was forced to consider not just my child, but all children. 

 

Since becoming a parent, I have taken financial risks in my journey of decolonization and liberation. I have the benefit of an ancestral belief system that promises prosperity so long as I follow my Soul’s compass—so far, it’s never been wrong.

 

Thanks to parenthood, I have discovered and continue to play my role in the co-creation of new worlds.

 

My role is not going out to protest and set things on fire. My role is not committing acts that could potentially land me in jail or prison. I would not be doing that regardless of my status as a parent. 

 

We all have a part to play and all parts have equal value.

I am here to write. I am here to observe, to document, to speak, uplift, support, guide, gather and share knowledge, to lead by example. I can do that with or without a child.

 

In fact, many of us choose to do the work because of our role as parents.

Because we are parents, we have to think like an Ancestor. We have to think about the generations to come because our children and their children will inherit the world that we left behind. 

 

As James Baldwin said, “The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe.” 

 

Though he did not have biological children as he wished, he understood the responsibility of caring for future generations. He embodied the indigenous philosophy that raising the next generation is not just a biological act but a communal and ancestral one.

His activism was driven by the same impulse that fuels many parents—the desire to ensure that those who come after us inherit a better world.

 

I am saying this passionately and with zero desire to be insulting or disrespectful to anyone who shares the anti-natalism perspective or the particular sentiment that being a parent “politically castrates” you. 

 

As someone who highly values and is led by indigenous philosophies, by my inner knowing of what it means to be a human on Earth and an extension of Spirit itself, and my knowledge of the countless people who fought for us while raising and loving their children, I can’t sit by and listen to such inaccurate and disrespectful rhetoric.

 

It bothers me deeply. 

 

To close this essay, I will share a few quotes from notable political activists and leaders who had children.

 

Every single one of these activists has spoken about how being a parent and caring for future generations was a central aspect of their activism.

It was one of the major reasons they put themselves on the line and continued to fight for justice and liberation.

 

Assata Shakur, an active member of the Black Liberation Army who continued her decolonial work after fleeing to Cuba with her daughter to escape persecution in the US: 

 

“I want my child to be free. And if I want that for her, how could I not fight for the freedom of all black children?” 

 

Rigoberta Menchú, a K’iche’ Guatemalan human rights activist, Nobel Peace Prize laureate and survivor of the genocide against Indigenous Guatemalans:

 

“I have seen mothers weep for their children, and I have seen children cry for their lost mothers. We are fighting so that no child has to grow up in a world of fear.”

 

Amílcar Cabral, one of Africa’s foremost anti-colonial leaders who fought in the struggle for independence in Guinea-Bissau and Cape Verde:

 

“We do not fight for today. We fight so that our children may never know the chains that bound us.”

 

Martin Luther King Jr., one of the most influential civil rights leaders in history: 

 

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

 

Maya Angelou, in addition to being a globally celebrated poet and writer, was also a civil rights activist, feminist, and advocate for Black liberation:

 

“To be a mother is to be a revolutionary. Every mother wants a better world for her child, and that means she must be ready to change the world itself.”

 

“My son is the best thing that ever happened to me. He gave me the strength to stand up for myself, to fight, to write, to speak out when silence was expected of me.“

 

“I raised my son while marching for civil rights. I fed him while I wrote poetry about our struggles. I taught him his worth while I fought for our freedom. And through it all, I learned that being a mother does not stop you from being a warrior. It makes you one.”

 

To claim that only the childless can devote themselves to the rebellion is to erase centuries of resistance, wisdom, and generational survival.

 

Parenthood is not a prison—it is an honor, a legacy, and for many, the very foundation of revolutionary change.