I published an essay entitled, “I’m A Surgeon. I’m Also Child-Free — And 6 Words From A Colleague About My Life Left Me Stunned,” on HuffPost Personal in 2024.

The morning it went live, my alarm jolted me from sleep well before sunlight filled the sky. I grabbed my phone, swiped it open to see the headlines, and there, smack dab in the middle of my news feed, I saw my name. The day had hardly begun… and I was already trending.

I had revealed my most private feelings about my reproductive life and detailed how my choice not to have children was repeatedly called out in professional settings. I was confident that whether I had kids or not did not determine my worth as a person. In the 21st century, it should not be controversial to say that some women choose other paths. And, still, that morning, I was nervous about sharing all this in such a public way.

Those nerves only proved my social conditioning. Women without kids are still viewed within the context of rigid stereotypes. I was anxious about how my essay – and I – would be perceived, and I worried it wouldn’t be good.

Then something unexpected happened. I was inundated with messages. Over the next week, my Instagram, the essay’s comment section, and even my work email were flooded with a huge outpouring of gratitude and positivity. Women wrote to thank me for sharing what they felt but couldn’t vocalise, for helping dispel the myth that women without kids are selfish and cold, and for making it clear that women don’t need to apologise for choosing not to have children. More people felt like me than I ever would have guessed.

Most of these messages were from women who, like me, did not want to be mothers. Women who knew that their reproductive freedom was hard fought and well deserved, but still wrestled with strong societal expectations. Some of the messages I received, however, were from women with kids who wished they had been told at some point in their lives that they had other options. I even received notes from men who had witnessed their partners’ or wives’ value reduced to whether or not they were a mother. What united all of these people was a simple wish: for women to be valued beyond their reproductive choices.

I would be lying, though, if I said all the responses I received were positive. A proportion of these notes were filled with anger and resentment. A few of them even veered into harassment. Like the positive messages, these all had a unifying theme.

“You stupid idiot,” wrote one person, “will feminism take care of you when you’re old and dying?” Feminism, responses like these implied, was to blame for my decision to pursue a life as a successful surgeon, to follow the instincts that told me I did not want children of my own and that my life could be complete without motherhood.

To some degree, I expected to receive messages like these from men, but I was surprised to find that many of the negative replies were, in fact, authored by women. They insisted my own take on my own life could not be trusted and that I was lying about feeling fulfilled. I would never be happy, they insisted, and never know true love or joy. My life would always be incomplete, they said, since I had been misled by a wolf in sheep’s clothing into a life without meaning. That wolf was, apparently, feminism.

These sentiments are not new, even if they have been emboldened by the current presidential administration. Feminism has long been a societal scapegoat. The wave of feminism championed by figures like Gloria Steinem encouraged women to free themselves of society’s expectation that all women must have children and stay in the kitchen. However, in recent years, this narrow definition has been heavily critiqued for the way it may appear to overlook and undervalue the labour involved in motherhood. This version of feminism has also estranged women from different backgrounds by centring the experiences and priorities of only white middle class women.

Women who find deep meaning in child rearing and significance in their work at home have felt alienated by mainstream versions of the movement. Some have even fled progressive politics because they found more alignment in conservative platforms, which often embrace domestic life and labour as a woman’s truest calling. There are even those who have argued that feminism has “ruined” motherhood by allowing women to pursue alternative paths in life and by encouraging the declining birth rate. Furthermore, the experiences, voices, and struggles of marginalised, non-white, and queer women have not always been included in the mission of some approaches to / forms of feminism, leaving many searching for alternative frameworks to fight for all women’s rights.

As the derogatory messages I received in my inbox show, the societal skepticism of women without children is not going anywhere, especially now that we have high-powered conservative think tanks pushing regressive gender roles and opposition to feminist movements. They, too, take the stance that feminism has damaged the traditional family structure by allowing women to believe their lives can be fulfilled without motherhood and marriage.

At the same time, conservatives like JD Vance, who is well known for his animosity towards single women without children, are using their large platforms to claim that women who pursue professional careers are causing social unrest.

Instead of addressing the real lack of support mothers face in this country, Trump is also making an explicit play to push motherhood on American women. Since my essay was published, we have seen proposals for a baby-bonus cash payout for new mothers, childbirth medals, and a federally funded tax-advantaged savings account seeded with $1,000 for any child born between 2025 and 2029, all aimed at selling women on partaking in a traditional nuclear-family lifestyle.

As a paediatric surgeon who helps children every day, I do not understand how I could be viewed as an enemy of the state. Unfortunately, I still see this belief play out – even at work.

In fact, a mother recently asked me a series of personal questions to suss out whether I was capable of performing her child’s routine surgery. After inquiring about my qualifications, she asked me directly whether I was a mother. “No,” I told her, and I asked her why she wanted to know. After a bit of rambling, she concluded with an unconvincing apology, noting, “But I think women should be able to do all kinds of jobs… or whatever.”

I don’t mind questions, and I understand parents put a huge amount of trust in their children’s doctors, especially when it comes to surgery. However, this specific encounter was yet another reminder that even a woman’s value in professional settings can be tied back to their reproductive choices.

I knew a question like this didn’t belong in that hospital exam room and had nothing to do with my skill as a surgeon, but it’s no surprise women feel this way. After all, we are all taught to view women without children as less capable and less committed to the care of others.

At the time I wrote my original essay, I had hoped such sentiments about women without children were declining. But in the weeks after it was released, I watched Kamala Harris’ choice to not have children of her own get repeatedly dragged through the mud. The derogatory rhetoric about women without children has, sadly, only accelerated since I awoke to find myself trending on my phone screen.

I, however, have never wavered in my belief in my value as a childfree woman. Because of the women who have come before me, I have been able to live a life full of joy, meaning, and fulfilment – on my own terms. I will continue to use my voice to ensure others can do the same.

Caitlin A. Smith is a surgeon and writer in the Pacific Northwest. Her personal essays on surgical training and experiences have appeared on Doximity. She is currently writing her first book, a firsthand account about the life and experiences of women in medicine. Find her at @miseducationofaknife on Instagram and Substack.

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