50/50 Future
In our wondrous modern day
I don’t mind to have to say
Some presumptions of the mind
Fail to see the very kind
Of pressure all about exerted,
Though oft around the topic skirted,
On bodies to form and contort
Til they make beings which then ought
To hatch a further generation
Who partake in the creation
Of neverending civilisation.
The only thing we really need
To reach human infinity
Is a few hundred million torsos,
Often women’s wanted more so,
Who choose without a doubt
Within a century or thereabouts
To stop the species dying out.
So, let’s skip to a future scene
As Google maps goes multiplanetary
And terraforming turns mars green.
A thought experiment helps us voice
Whether we have a 50/50 choice
To, on the one hand, procreate
Or, on the other, "no" to state.
Would a woman who won’t give birth
Be on the shuttle leaving earth
To form a new civilisation
Without even a flirtation
With the traditional role of gestation?
Or as the martian dawn draws nearer
Would an other role grow clearer?
While excel she may in cosmic tasks
There's just one more thing we have to ask
Of course:
We'll need you and your uterus
to make more of the rest of us.
We forgot to point our mighty tech
At the most critical job we've seen yet.
So, thanks to our procreating hero
We chose til now to value "zero".
When millions choose without a doubt
Within a century or thereabouts
To stop the species dying out
I’d suggest it’s more complex
Not just new won consensual sex
And personal preference isn't king
Even without a wedding ring;
That global vested interests
Are weighting coins in unfair bets.
Perhaps however we’d all agree
That the fate of our humanity
Shouldn’t be within the hands
Of mere mortals with mammary glands.
A reminder then to voice
If asked whether we have a choice
To, on the one hand procreate
Or on the other, no, to state
That the likely answer goes:
It won't be an easy "no".
And if you need to show your workings
To concerned futurists lurking
Feel free to share the elements
Of my Martian thought experiment.
Sarah Giblin
January 2020, Berlin
At a party in Berlin, December 2019, M entered the kitchen and said “Germany is run by women. We live in a matriarchy. Discuss.” The conversation flowed to someone suggesting that women have it easy now so feminism is done.
I waded around in my mind searching for some kind of thought experiment to explain the forces at work on people who look like they might be able to give birth on earth. I explained it. M listened, walked out, came back in and said “you should write a poem about that.” I said “this is far too important to write a poem about!”
Then I wrote this.