Stop Asking Me Why I Had Ten Kids: A Lesson in High-Status Boundaries

The Pivot Technique: How to answer the question you want, not the one you're given.

Little Summary Insight: As a mother of ten and a corporate advisor, I’m done with invasive questions. I believe parents earn our social sovereignty through the 'pivot technique': answering the questions we choose to, not the ones we’re asked, so we can fiercely maintain boundaries without losing our professional or personal grace.

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Greetings from the icy South West, As the weeks creep toward the big reveal of the Parents Who Think podcast, I’m heartened by these words:

"Never rush the sweet, delicate time between what’s now and what’s next.” ~ Jillian Anthony

For a few hours this reminds me to steady in the moment. It’s easy to be terrified by all the many things left to do, especially the ones that need me to master a hefty new skill for.

Then I remember I did this to myself. I remind myself to stay calm and that even if things go pear-shaped, I’ll be okay. More than okay. As I tick off jobs on my to-do list, naturally, I direct my attention to something that wasn’t on there.

Which is how I bring you these thoughts

I’m mother to 6 sons: Freddie, George, Jack, Tom, Montgomery + Horatio.

I’m also mother to 4 daughters: Harriet, Isadora, Meredith + Seraphina.

But being accurate I’m mother of eleven children. Ten living, one stillborn. Her name was Madeline. She was born between Isadora + Meredith.

Whatever the number there’s a question I’d like people to stop asking me.

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It’s so obvious you probably already know the make up of the sentence.

It goes like this.

That’s Lorraine Candy when she (and co-host Trish Halpin) interviewed me on the Postcards from Midlife podcast.

We were in “flow” in this super interview when from nowhere Lorraine threw that question out.

Note: We’re always at choice whether to answer any and all questions whether someone ‘gives us’ permission to ignore their question or not.

The Relentless Question: Why ‘Why?’ is the wrong starting point.

At a basic level I get it. Someone does something a bit a lot different from others, we want to know the inside track of their choices.

Humans are nosy. We love the ins and outs.

Having been at the receiving end of the same question for years I’ve had time to consider my own whys.

The whys of having ten children.

The whys of people asking that question.

Here’s my answer to Lorraine. Note my fake good humour.

I start out sounding over perky like someone being asked to spell out their surname yet again. My tone trills while an internal voice runs riot reminding me to sound bright and breezy.

It’s also *dreadfully* polite of me to not point out it’s not the first time I’ve heard this particular quippy question. Maintaining a facade of originality for the sake of the other person is all part of this social dance.

I mention the word “ONE” in my answer explaining why I’m mother to ten children as if I’ll be following it up with a “TWO”.

I don’t.

I had zero intention of explaining my decision to birth ten children.

Isn’t this an innocent and interesting question?

I fancy this question involves something pretty basic but also rather toxic. We’re so used to it we don’t even query it. It’s called penetration.

In this context, the mechanism of penetration centres around an act of dissection through overly personal questions. Intimate questions. Cheeky questions without charm. Rude ones we reserve for conversations with our closest trusted inner circle. They’ll forgive us for penetrating.

Think of Facebook posts that start with, “If this isn’t allowed Admin just take it down…” followed by something controversial and often incendiary. Posters know they’re posting something out of bounds but they go ahead anyhow. Because they just w.a.n.t to.

We know they’re penetrating and breaking a rule. More to the point they know they are.

The payback might be worth it, right?!

Some might say if people go on podcasts or feature in the media they ought to expect difficult questions, or ones they might not choose to be asked.

FYI in pre-recording forms where I’m podcast host I ask this explicitly, “Are there any topics or questions you’d like me to avoid?”. Guests in the past asked me to avoid talking about feminism, abortion, being a parent, their spouse, divorce, their children, weight, sexuality, abuse, criminal records, their ex, grief, their money, and the list goes on. I hold their requests tenderly.

There’s a big difference between being asked 1) why I had/have ten children and 2) exploring structural barriers for women once we become mothers and especially for women like me with mega big families.

The boring one examines cultural expectations and assumptions about what it takes to be a mother within societal systems. The salacious one smacks of the need for me to explain why I did what I did. Or rather why my overactive womb behaves like it does.

I’m always interested in reframes of the same question. Indeed, what WAS my kind of thinking imagining I could be mother to so many kids and still be a career fulfilled person?

Seriously STOP it

Quit asking the crude “but why have so many kids?” question. Nuance it out wider. Make it less about me as a (possibly) deluded and driven weirdo with incompetent contraception. Ask me instead “how are you raising so many kids and still thriving?” so that I can wang on less about my individual braggy stuff and more about the Mother Stopper culture that stops mothers in our tracks. Unless we unhook from it. 

I won’t defend my right to have all my kids in the first place. I refuse to discuss why they exist.

My starting point is that GIVEN my decision to create a large family, what are the moves that mean I can still be me? 

That old chestnut. Because that’s ultimately what we’re grappling with here. At what point do we drown under the weight of it all? Is it two kids. Four? Six?

Except I’m looking from a different vantage point. I’m not distracted by the number of children, I’m interested in the conditions of motherhood itself. The terrain and assumptions built into mothering and the mother identity/ies. This is where Change is possible. There’s a sweet spot amid all the noise of how mothers are told we ought to be living. It’s there (trust me) and we can grab it and thrive. Ask me about this, would you? 

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The Bigger Picture: Why it’s important to resist explaining our life decisions

💬 Just because we’re asked a question it doesn’t mean we owe an answer. Not to anyone.

💬 We aren’t obliged to answer personal questions intended for public consumption either.

💬 Good girl socialisation means I wobble when I’m asked innocuous questions that ought to feel alright but somehow don’t land okay. Most of us were taught to answer well, be compliant and not cause a scene.

We’ve learned to smother our intuition and make nice.

The personal cost is crippling.

Instead, I listen closely to questions, check in with my gut, and when needed, convert the question to one I prefer to answer. Here’s how:

I say, “that’s an interesting question and the better question for me is…[insert new question]” then answer the new question you just made up. The one you want to answer.

When I do this it’s always in ways that link to the conversation but still I avoid the question I’m unwilling to answer. Side stepping questions is a powerful tactic.

In politics this manoeuvre is known as the pivot technique; answering the question politicians want to answer, not the one that’s given. 

I also try my hardest to do this in ways that don’t make an arse of the questioner. My intention is to create boundaries for myself, but to not ‘show up’ interviewers while I do this. Seems like a basic point, I’ve learned it isn’t!

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People who are really interesting are the ones true to themselves by being willing to show the right amount of “ankle”¹. My friend/author Lucy Werner talks about this ankle idea when she writes about self-promotion over at her Hype Yourself Substack.

Whose the best judge of the right amount of ankle to show? That can only ever be ourselves, surely.

I’m curious, what questions do you want people to stop asking you? Hope you’ll let me know.

Oof, must get back to red-lining transcripts, Happy Monday to you and yours,

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P.S. When I feel the urge to share why I decided to birth ten kids I’ll be sure to show a little extra fuck-you ankle. That’s a pinky promise. Meantime, here’s the draft title for that future piece:

Reasons I regret having ten children. 

None. 

LOOK-SEE

📍 "She was a very adventurous woman"

📍 The triplets and I like checking this!

📍 Oh the breathtaking beauty

I’m Danusia Malina-Derben and if this work resonates with you, please spread the word!

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