But, there's something we blokes can be grateful for. No matter what grief the world throws at us, it'll always be the women's fault that there aren't enough babies!

The other day, I saw this headline:

The Business Insider article - in the "Economy" section - focussed solely on the lady-folk. Why do those pesky dames refuse to procreate? About half-way through, the journalist linked to the original study. Did it put the blame squarely on the female of the species?

Among parents and non-parents alike, men and women are equally likely to say they will probably not have kids (or more kids) in the future.

Ah.

It turns out, it isn't just the fault of the chicks. Us dudes (assuming you are one) are also equally to blame. Not that you'd know it from the media!

Here's a selection of recent headlines. I've deliberately selected fairly mainstream Anglosphere publications rather than, say, single-interest magazines.

And on and on it goes!

Try to find articles in those same publications - or anywhere else - which ask "Why are young men not becoming fathers?" Or "10 reasons why men aren't choosing fatherhood - you'll never guess number 7!!" Or "Gen-Z Blokes Back-off Baby-making".

Where's the article entitled "I don't want to be a dad… ever!"?

At best, you find the occasional article like this: But that's really about men who want kids, but haven't got around to it.

Or this: Which quite reasonably says:

Why, oh why, does nobody ever ask about the men?

Statistics

OK, so no one is asking men why they don't want kids. What about the statistics?

I've previously ranted about the way the UK's Office for National Statistics talks about childfree intentions. By law, the ONS has to gather data about live births. In its latest statistical bullitein, it says:

The total fertility rate (TFR) reached a record low in 2020, decreasing to 1.58 children per woman.

OK, but how many children were there per man? Is this one hyper-fertile chap running around impregnating everyone?

The average age (as measured by standardised mean age) of mothers at childbirth remained the same as 2019, at 30.7 years … Fertility rates for woman over the age of 40 decreased for the first time since 2013.

And what's the fertility rate of the father? Are young-bucks opting out? Are older daddies now the norm?

On the one hand, it is easier to gather data from the mother - there's reasonably solid evidence that the baby is hers. People can and do lie about who the sperm-donator are. But that seems to me like a weak reason to not attempt to gather the data.

Well, the good news is - the data are gathered! The ONS query builder shows age of father. Here are the age of fathers & mothers in 2019:

(Ew at the number of geriatric skeeves perving on teenagers!)

The full dataset only has 2017-2020 - and looks like this for the age of fathers over time:

Now, this doesn't talk about how many kids each man has fathered. But it is pretty clear that younger guys are dropping out of fatherhood at a higher rate than older ones. And, eyeballing it, at about the same rate as women.

Why is this presented as a woman-only problem?

Sexism.

Sorry, were you expecting a more detailed explanation? OK. Lots of sexism.

There is a stereotypical perception that men generally don't want kids. That's not true - I know loads of mates who were desperate to become fathers.

And there is an equal and opposite presumption that all women want to breed. But it is only that stereotype which seems to be the target. Men simply don't get an equal amount of grief in the media.

As people get better access to education and jobs - they see the structural advantages to the way (some) child-free people live their lives. And they see the misery inflicted on (some) people by having kids. This affects men and women equally.

As people take a rational look at both the economy and the health of the planet - they realise the monumental unfairness of bringing life into the world. Again, both men and women take a long-term rational view of their lives and the lives of potential children.

You can't escape the fact that you need a womb in order to give birth. But, as the old song goes, it takes two to tango. "Blame" for the lack of babies needs to be shared equally.

Most literature is written in the 1st person ("I opened the door") or the 3rd person ("She picked up a fork"). But very occasionally, mostly in interactive fiction, authors use the 2nd person ("You break open the crate").

And herein lies the problem. When you are reading a book, you is you. You isn't a character with different attributes. You are necessarily your own gender, race, age, and so on. Unless it is made explicit in the text ("You run a hand through your greying beard" or a character says "Where are you going, girl?") then the protagonist is assumed to be like you in every way.

Imagine, just for a moment, that English had a gendered "You". For example "Mou" and "Fou" (yes, I know gender is more complicated than that). When experiencing 2nd person text, Fou automatically know what gender Fou are.

Some languages do have this feature. Traditional Chinese used to have 你 and 妳 to differentiate between gendered You - although both were pronounced the same. Nowadays only 你 is used.

Mou open a book, inside are strange letters. As mou read each word, mour eyes light up. As you read, mou realise that mou're not who mou thought mou were. Mou've always known mou were the protagonist, and now mou'd better stop reading and help mourself to more cake.

This is, perhaps, a silly idea.