The Childfree Dream Is A Scam

There’s a particular kind of video that keeps finding its way onto my screen. And if you're riding the childless-women algorithm like me, you’ve probably seen it, too. It’s usually a stylish woman listing off the things she enjoys specifically because she doesn’t have children. She brags about her sleep, her travel, her designer bags, her Botox appointments scheduled without interruption. The list goes on to include wine and spa visits on a random Tuesday. 

Sometimes the tone is playful and funny. Sometimes it’s defiant and a shameless brag. But almost always triumphant.

The subtext is clear: Look at all I have because I didn’t choose motherhood.

As a woman without children myself, I must admit that I do enjoy the flexibility in my schedule and the extra funds for clothes and other fun things. So while I should be the kind to resonate and feel affirmed by these types of videos, instead I find myself deeply unsettled by them. Sometimes, I'm even embarrassed by this community that I fall into. Not because there’s anything wrong with enjoying your life or your freedoms, but because of what this trend is celebrating: a life centered entirely on the self.

When Selfishness Becomes the End Goal

Let’s start with the obvious: there's nothing inherently wrong with not having children. Some women can’t. For others, the time simply hasn’t come yet, or they aren’t ready. Some women may never feel called to motherhood at all. Life unfolds differently for everyone, and reducing a woman’s worth to whether she has children is both unnecessary and unfair.

But what's emerged online isn’t just a defense of childless living, it’s a rebranding of it as a superior and luxurious lifestyle. One defined by leisure, consumption, and the absence of obligations. In this framework, selfishness is disguised as freedom; it becomes the highest good.

While freedom is undeniably valuable, it was never meant to be turned into a self-centered lifestyle. When it does, it creates a life that looks full on the outside but feels strangely hollow on the inside. It may work for a while, especially because you’re always distracted and entertained. But at some point, the question creeps in: free for what? When you’re the center of your own world, your world gets uncomfortably small. 

The Emptiness of Self-Absorption

A life organized entirely around personal comfort and material luxuries has a ceiling. There are only so many brunches, purchases, and self-care routines that can sustain a sense of purpose. What begins as indulgence slowly morphs into repetition, and repetition, and since it lacks meaning, breeds dissatisfaction.

This isn’t a moral judgment as much as it is a human reality. I'm not criticizing anyone for enjoying an expensive bag, but let’s not fool ourselves: We are not wired to exist solely for ourselves. 

We are not wired to exist solely for ourselves. 

Self-absorption, despite how glamorous it’s made to appear online, has a way of collapsing in on itself. It narrows your world to the point that it makes your problems feel larger than they are. It disconnects you from the very things that bring joy. Ironically, the pursuit of a completely self-directed life often results in a kind of comfortable loneliness. Not the dramatic or cinematic kind, but the subtle, persistent awareness that something or someone is always missing.

The False Divide Between Mothers and Childless Women

Part of what makes this trend so troubling is the way it frames the conversation as a competition. Mothers versus childless women. Who is doing better? Is it the women waking up early and wrangling their children through morning drop-offs or the women savoring their breakfast and putting on precisely the right amount of blush while listening to a podcast? These videos pit a world of chaos and sacrifice against one of calmness and indulgence. 

Mothers are often portrayed in TV shows and movies, and even on social media, as exhausted, overburdened, and resentful. They're often the ones that have "let themselves go" and look twenty years older than they are. Childless women, in contrast, are depicted as carefree, polished, and perpetually relaxed. They're youthful, energetic, and happy. Each side becomes a caricature of the other, and the result is a growing cultural divide that benefits no one.

The truth is far more nuanced.

Motherhood is a source of profound meaning, but it also comes with real challenges. And not having children (or not having them yet) can offer flexibility and opportunity, but it can also come with its own questions about purpose and legacy. These experiences are not in opposition. They are different expressions of the same underlying human desire: to live a fulfilling and beautiful life.

Rather than competing, these two groups of women have far more to offer each other than they might realize.

A Personal Shift in Perspective

I've always wanted kids and I still do. But these past few years, I've felt a shift. Those late nights out no longer appeal to me the way they used to. Now, even when I go out, I'm wishing I was home with a family instead.

When I share this with my friends who are mothers, they often mention how much they envy me just because I'm able to sit down and watch a movie or my favorite show without interruption, or because my Instagram showcases a lifestyle they miss at times. Whichever path you choose, no woman gets to have it all. The point is that while going through it, we can have each other. 

Recently, a close friend of mine had her fourth child. Shortly after, she was placed on bed rest. Her husband was doing everything he could, but managing a newborn and three young children is not exactly a one-person job. She was one of those friends I had enjoyed plenty of Chicago nights with, but we had lost touch somewhat since she got married and became busy with pregnancies, infants, and family life. But she was still my friend nonetheless, and when I reached out to congratulate her for her fourth child she told me about how she was struggling. Without hesitation, I started going over to help. 

Sometimes, I’d play and make dinner with the older kids. Other times, I’d simply sit and talk with her. Compared to our late nights out after concerts, it was decidedly unglamorous. I could’ve chosen to stay home with a face mask and watch Netflix (one of my top favorite post-work rituals). But being present for her and her family was not only nice for them, it was also nice for me. It brought me out of my bubble and in doing so, gave me an opportunity to love and be loved. Isn’t that what it’s all about? 

It reminded me that my time, my energy, and even my freedom aren’t just assets to be spent on myself. They’re resources that can be freely shared. And giving, it turns out, is far more satisfying and fulfilling than consuming.

Redefining a Meaningful Life

We often talk about meaning as though it’s something you stumble upon or something you need to travel to exotic places to acquire (Eat, Pray, Love. I love you, but I’m looking at you.) Or something tied to major life milestones or dramatic turning points. But more often, meaning is built quietly, through consistent choices that orient your life outward rather than inward.

It’s a habit of thinking and caring for those around us and choosing to give a hand when needed. For some women, that will absolutely include raising children. For others, it might look different: mentoring, volunteering, supporting friends and family, building something that serves others, or simply showing up where you’re needed.

It’s defined by your willingness to invest yourself in something beyond your own immediate desires.

The specifics matter less than the posture.

A meaningful life is not defined by how much you can accumulate or how little you’re obligated to others. It’s defined by your willingness to invest yourself in something beyond your own immediate desires. And while that investment is sacrificial in the sense that it costs you something, it's also enriching as it gives you what money can’t buy: meaning.

Both Women Need Each Other

One of the most overlooked aspects of the moms v.s. childless women conversation is how much women, across different life stages and conditions, rely on each other. Mothers need support. They need friends who can step in, offer relief, and remind them of the world beyond their immediate responsibilities. Childless women, in turn, benefit from being integrated into those family dynamics. There’s a lot to be gained in relationships, perspective, and a sense of connection that can’t be replicated through solitary.

This isn’t about obligation in the rigid, burdensome sense. It’s about choosing to give and the joys of what we receive.

A healthy society isn’t built on individuals maximizing their personal comfort in isolation. It’s built on networks of people who show up for one another, who share the weight of life, and who recognize that their well-being is interconnected.

A Different Kind of Aspiration

What if, instead of asking how much we can enjoy our freedom and independence, we asked how we might use it well? What if the measure of a good life wasn’t how uninterrupted it was, but how meaningful? This kind of shift doesn’t require abandoning everything we enjoy or taking on responsibilities that don’t fit our circumstances. It simply asks us to expand our perspective. It demands of us to look for opportunities to contribute, to connect, to be useful in ways that extend beyond our own immediate gratification.

I don’t want to look back and realize that all my freedom was spent avoiding responsibility rather than embracing purpose.

I don’t have children. Maybe I will someday, maybe I won’t. But I do know this: I don’t want a life that revolves entirely around me. I don’t want my greatest victories to be my luxury purchases or my most meaningful moments to be my uninterrupted mornings. I don’t want to look back and realize that all my freedom was spent avoiding responsibility rather than embracing purpose. I want a life that feels full; not just in schedule, luxury, and entertainment, but in substance. And increasingly, I’m convinced that fullness doesn’t come from having less asked of you, but from choosing, willingly, to give more of yourself where it matters. That might not make for the most glamorous social media content, but it makes for a better life. And in the end, that’s what actually matters.