Following is something I am working on for a performance festival. This is draft 1 1/2 (approx). It will get somewhat edited probably (howz that for a statament of committment). I am going to try and bury this one a little so no one gets offended because, while parts are fact, other parts are fiction.
Title is 'Not Pregnant'
Most of the script is performed in voice over
Some women, when they reach a certain age – whether they are single, married, or in a committed relationship, become aware of a certain time piece they are told they carry within their bodies – their biological clock. A woman might realize all on her own that her clock is, as the saying goes, ticking, and she only has X number of years left to successfully and uncomplicatedly breed. Or, this fact may be brought to her attention by someone else – be it a well-meaning friend:
Friend – “My daughter’s birth was the happiest moment of my life!!!! I am so glad I didn’t wait to become a mother!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Or a not-too-subtle parent:
Parent: “Well, Fifi the cat is all I have to spend my time on – seeing as I’m not a grandmother”
An even less subtle in-law:
In-law: “you know, little Jordan could really use some cousins from this side of the family”
Or even a disinterested third party:
Doctor: “You know, at your age continued use of birth control can lead to delayed fertility. If you’re going to have children you should be aware the longer to wait to conceive, the longer it takes to conceive.”
And suddenly women, who have spent much of their lives trying to be noticed for something other than their boobs, start wishing everyone would just stop focusing on a part of their bodies no one can see. Why do so many people care about someone else’s so-called biological clock?
My three girlfriends and I, all childless, were discussing this one day over brunch. The conversation started because Savannah, aged 35 and proudly single, had heard two women sitting at a nearby table comment to each other after Savannah ordered a double mimosa at 11:00 AM.
Woman 1: “My god! Do you remember drinking alcohol for breakfast?”
Woman 2: “Do I ever! I couldn’t imagine doing such an unhealthy thing now! Especially not while breastfeeding!”
Woman 1: “Poor thing probably doesn’t even have children.”
Savannah, a clothing designer who considered motherhood a disability, had responded by very pointedly changing her order from a mimosa to a martini.
Savannah: (archly) “Actually, make that a martini, please.”
Meredith, our type-A friend who worked 16 hour days at a well known law firm, said she couldn’t imagine even thinking about motherhood for at least another couple years – certainly not until she made Partner at her firm. Although her mother-in-law was getting on her nerves with her constant hinting.
Meredith: “I couldn’t imagine being a mom right now. I’m still trying to be made partner! If Stu’s mom asks ‘when are you two going to start having kids’ one more time I’ll probably deck the old bird.”
Catherine, who had grown up dreaming of a large house with a white picket fence, a perfect husband and four children – and who had achieved three out of these four desires - voiced a slightly different opinion.
Catherine: “I don’t know why you two are so negative! Motherhood is great! It’s even fashionable now – look at Britney Spears and Jennifer Garner. And I heard Jennifer Lopez is taking fertility drugs so she can have a baby. Babies are the new teacup Chihuahuas.”
All of which made me wonder – what really is so great about motherhood? And, more importantly, when did it become so important to breed?
Clairie: “What I want to know is, when did it become okay to look down on us who aren’t parents? Ten years ago our older sisters were stuck with convincing the world that it was okay to be single and over 30. Now every time you turn around there’s another book or TV show about the fabulous lives of single women, sleeping with guys left and right, living in the coolest places on earth. But now, if you are married, you still hear “biological clock this, motherhood that” – it’s like once you stop being single if you don’t pop out a kid and then promptly start raving about how ecstatically happy you are you’re some kind of freak.”
Savannah pointed out she was happy being single.
Savannah: “Clairie, some of us like being single. Cheers.”
But Meredith saw my point.
Meredith: “You know what’s even worse? All those commercials! ‘A baby changes your whole life.’ Ads of perfect families: selling cars, selling condos, selling vacations - even for retirement planning! Excuse me, but when did it become selfish to keep a bank account just for myself? I wonder how it makes women feel who have tried to have kids but can’t.”
Catherine: “It makes you feel awful, okay?”
[Silence]
I forgot to mention, Catherine had had a miscarriage about a year ago. As the only one of us who actually showed an active interest in having kids, it did seem kind of a cruel twist of fate.
Catherine: “It makes you feel like this huge failure! Like you can’t even do something basic like be pregnant. Like everybody feels sorry for you, or like you did something wrong.”
Sometimes, none of us are really sure what to say to Catherine about it either.
Meredith: “Oh sweetie – you can’t worry about stuff like that – no one thinks you did anything wrong.”
Catherine: “But I must have! And now it’s been six months I’ve been trying to get pregnant again and I can’t!”
Savannah: “You’re probably stressing about it too much. Just relax.”
Before Catherine could protest that it was impossible for her to relax when this meant so much to her, I decided to jump in.
Clairie: “Look – that is a point, though. Babies do seem like an accessory everyone expects you to have. Today if you tell a woman she needs to get married you can expect a stoning. Why is it still okay to tell a woman she needs to get pregnant? Even maternity wear is suddenly high fashion – you hear women bragging about their eighty dollar third trimester shirts.”
As soon as I said that, fashion designer Savannah got a gleam in her eye that meant she had just thought of something unique, something subversive and, if she got her way, something destined to go into her next show.
Savannah: “You know, that gives me a brilliant idea for my fall line. . . “
Any fashion mag could tell you Savannah is known for her edgy sense of style, and her strong countercultural influences.
Savannah: “I’ve got it. My next collection is going to feature a brand new line – I’ll call it ‘Not Pregnant.’ There can be ti-shirts with X’s across your navel instead of those stupid empire waists.”
We might have thought she was crazy, but Savannah was on a roll.
Savannah: “And there will be miniskirts that say . . . “
I think Meredith was about to point out that miniskirts usually did not ‘say’ anything, when Savannah came up with . . .
Savannah: “That say: ‘Not taking reservations at this time.’ Right across your uterus.”
I thought she was nuts. But with Savannah, sometimes there can be no stopping her. She continued, musing ‘This is great! And something I would even wear myself! And there could be shirts that read . .’ When Catherine exclaimed:
Catherine: “It’s not great! It’s horrible! Who’s going to advertise they’re not pregnant? What’s the point?”
‘The point is, my dear,’ Savannah said, ‘It’s not only that you’re saying you’re not pregnant. You’re saying there is nothing wrong with not being pregnant. Think of those women you were complaining about – the ones who make you feel like you’re not a real woman because you don’t have a child. The ones who’ she cast a pointed look over to the two women at the next table, ‘try to make you feel guilty for having a martini at 11:00 AM. Think about telling those women they’re no better than you. And doing so fashionably, wearing a stretch cotton fitted ¾ sleeve ti proclaiming you are ‘Empty, but Fulfilled.’
Catherine gets a mischievous look on her face, and you can tell she likes the idea.
Catherine: “‘Empty’ – huh? I don’t know about ‘empty’ but – I guess I kind of like that.”
I had to admit – as someone who planned on eating for one for at least the next several years - I kind of liked it too.
Meredith: “Careful – you might start an abstinence movement while you’re at it.”
Savannah, who had considered herself sexually liberated since her sophomore year of high school, shuddered at the idea.
Savannah: shuddering “The hell I will. But you watch – 6 months from now, everyone will want one of these. You’ll see.”
And, I had to admit, 6 months later I was wearing one of Savannah’s shirts. I had purposely chosen it to wear to a meeting I had in the park. It was a bright, sunny day – one of the last glorious fall days of the season – which meant that parents were destined to flood the park with their strollers and child-seated bikes. I was meeting a friend of mine for a half-hour before her daughter’s play group started. A friend I had barely seen over the past year, and who had hardly uttered a word about anything other than her daughter, her daughter’s toys, her daughter’s diapers, breastfeeding her daughter, and the brilliant new life she had discovered since her daughter had been born, and how selfish and unfulfilling her previously child-free life now seemed. A friend who took every opportunity to offer me tips for trying to conceive, in case I wanted them.
This part is spoken along with the tape. I wore my shirt for several reasons. For one, it was new, and fit me perfectly. I was also sick of seeing pregnant starlets all over the gossip pages, proclaiming they were happily giving up their million dollar careers to dedicate themselves full-time to raising their children they were creatively naming after fruit or foreign cities. I was also wearing it because a part of me was very angry that women like Catherine, clever, successful, funny women, could be made to feel bad about themselves simply because they hadn’t had a baby. And a very selfish part of me wore the shirt because I wanted my friend to know that I didn’t especially feel like hearing about the best time of the month to conceive today. That even though my womb was empty, I was fulfilled. Clairie reveals shirt – reads Empty but Fulfilled (or an X’s ti shirt) and has a ‘Not Pregnant’ logo.
Clairie: “It’s not that I hate children. It’s not that I don’t want to have children someday. It’s not at all that I’m against parenthood. It’s that I’m against someone else thinking they have any right placing their values on me. So, here I am – not pregnant – and fabulously fulfilled. And I don’t care who knows it.”
Blackout
- acr