When I first heard that the Trump administration was considering a $5,000 “baby bonus” for women to have children, I rolled my eyes. 

While government-funded financial assistance for childbirth may sound good on the surface and be an answered prayer for those longing for motherhood, it is, in fact, a slap in the face to all women, considering the tremendous financial cost of raising a child and the toll childbirth can have on a woman’s body, emotional state, and financial and career prospects. The “baby bonus” amplifies a fallacious notion in society that a woman’s worth is based on her ability to conceive. 

It is a particularly painful insult to women like me who cannot bear children.

My emotions shifted from annoyance to anger to sadness, not just because of how ridiculous this concept is, but because it struck a nerve over a personal choice in this area: My decision to have my uterus removed nearly three years ago. 

While the idea of motherhood was not a lifelong dream for me, this decision was not to avoid becoming a parent. It was rooted in having a quality of life.

I suffered with painfully debilitating periods for more than 25 years because of endometriosis and uterine fibroids that returned no matter how many medications I took or the multiple surgeries I underwent. My chronic pain often left me doubled over in bed or on the bathroom floor, sobbing and begging for relief, and, at one point, even contemplating suicide.    

Holding on to my uterus was untenable because an organ designed to bring life was costing me mine. Me, my mother, and my doctors were also concerned that if I wanted to become pregnant, I would need to undergo two to three rounds of painful and expensive infertility treatments. Multiple women in my family also lost children during pregnancy. We all doubted I would ever be able to carry a child full term. 

This fear was heightened by the fact that Black women are three times more likely to die from a pregnancy-related issue than White women due to a number of factors, including such chronic health conditions as gestational diabetes and preeclampsia, among other diseases. According to research published by the National Library of Medicine, these conditions and their impact on Black maternal death rates are exacerbated by the impact of systemic racism. 

The proposal incentivizing women to have children, among other reported ideas, such as a “National Medal of Motherhood” to boost the birth rate, is not new. It is rooted in pronatalism, a belief that advocates for childbearing and an increased birth rate. While not a new concept, when intertwined with race, there are historic ties to slavery in the Americas and the Caribbean from the late 18th and early 19th centuries, according to historians. 

Slave planters who were in favor of pronatalist policies would reward enslaved women for giving birth to a high number of children, according to historian Diana Paton. However, for example, during a protracted period in the Caribbean, pronatalist policies had “little demographic effect: fertility remained low and infant mortality high until slavery ended,” Paton writes.

“Pronatalism produced a particularly sharp and cruel version of the ‘chattel principle’, in a context in which women were often infertile and subfertile, and their children were highly vulnerable to infant mortality. Especially in their state-sponsored forms, they established a goal which was impossible for most women to meet … and which made brutally explicit the slaveholder’s investment in childbearing,” according to Paton. 

Enslaved women were keenly aware of the perils and financial stakes in having children, according to the Lowcountry Digital History Initiative, which researched reproduction and resistance. 

“Some women simply could not bear children, an emotional plight women faced in a society that valued children. Their value of children is reflected in the fact that some women sought the help of conjurers in enslaved society and doctors in white society to improve their chance of fertility. While some women unable to have children indeed lamented the fact that they would never become mothers, all enslaved women also were well aware of their children’s financial value to enslavers,” the organization noted.

Enslaved family at the Gaines’ house, photograph by G. H. Houghton, Virginia, 1862. Credit: The Library of Congress

Looking back over my own family tree, which includes enslaved ancestors who bore up to 12 children, I know that number is not just out of a desire for a large family, but from a racist drive to supply an enslaver’s labor force and increase the value of his property. Enslaved women faced sexual violence from White slave owners and overseers and were sent to breeding plantations — all in an attempt to force them to become pregnant and produce Black children to contribute to the workforce. 

In a modern era, for those seeking to keep a White majority demographic and a hold on political power, incentivizing childbirth (and, by extension, penalizing abortion) has nefarious aims. For White women, it is about ensuring a statistical majority. For Black women and women of color, it has always been about supplying a ready-made workforce. 

I reached out to the White House for comment about reported plans to increase the birthrate by paying women, but have not received a response. But when asked by other news outlets about plans to incentivize childbirth, White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt has said that President Donald Trump “is proudly implementing policies to uplift American families.”

“The President wants America to be a country where all children can safely grow up and achieve the American dream,” Leavitt said in a statement to the New York Times. “As a mother myself, I am proud to work for a president who is taking significant action to leave a better country for the next generation.”

Her words “as a mother,” in discussing Trump’s reproductive policies, is phrasing that excludes the marginalized experiences of other women, like me, who had to forgo the chance of becoming pregnant because a condition, disease, or cancer robbed them of that choice.

This Mother’s Day weekend, I think about women who have longed for motherhood but instead had to prioritize their health and watch their dream of having a baby bump crumble before their eyes.

I also think about women who had the chance and chose not to have children because that was their God-given right to do so. 

Policies such as a “baby bonus” make us wonder: Am I not worthy if I cannot conceive? Can I not have a purpose other than motherhood?

Those are the harmful lies that those who seek to control our reproductive freedoms want women to believe. In a nation that prides itself on all people being created equal, why does the responsibility of childbirth fall to the woman? Why is there no incentive for men, who are in some cases capable of contributing to the deal well into their 60s?

As I sit by the lake and write this essay, the exact same place I wrote a goodbye letter to my uterus hours before its removal, I am reminded of what I told myself to ease the heartache of losing what was considered to be the essence of who I am: Your womanhood is not defined by your uterus.

And, instead of solely placing the emphasis on educating women about their periods and teaching them about ovulation, the focus should also include informing young people about reproductive conditions, such as endometriosis, which has no known cure and is a cause of infertility. 

So, to the women who cannot have children or do not want to have children, stand strong in who you are and know your worth is not defined by your ability to conceive or what most in society say it should be. Your worth is defined by what you believe about yourself, not what others believe.

If you or someone you know is considering self harm, please reach out to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline for support at 988 or 1-800-273-8255.

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