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By Marilú Acosta
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Life is defined, more or less, as a series of molecular structures that can develop and sustain themselves within an environment, that recognize stimuli and respond to them, allowing continuity through reproduction. Or more simply: life is the quality of being born, growing, reproducing and dying. Yes, the continuity and evolution of life, however we want to imagine life, is based on reproduction. Not only genetic codes are reproduced, but also patterns of behavior, knowledge, questions, phobias, prejudices, dogmas of faith, quests for freedom, understandings, etc.; everything, absolutely everything is reproduced. Within this reproduction, society transfers the little or the much that it carries within itself to the next generation. This same society has the conviction that its mold is perfect (and it is), however it does not understand that it is also perfectible. Therefore, anyone who breaks out of the mold puts at risk the perfection achieved, and also, all those who reproduce the mold, put at risk the perfectibility, the movement, the change and the evolution.

I come from various molds through which they transferred rules, limits, expectations and algorithms. That ink that they wanted to print on my surface did not manage to stay. The repellent has always been logic. Before I reproduce what is right for me, I ask myself: why? why? does it apply here? me too? And most of the time I end up exclaiming, "But it's not logical! Although there are times when everything makes so much sense that it can be graphed, such as the hormonal cycle. It is pure logic: there are hormones produced by the brain that stimulate the ovaries (and testicles) to produce hormones, and month after month eggs mature and wait to be fertilized by a sperm that matured on the way. Month by month a woman's body, from the moment she menstruates, is ready to reproduce.

Whoever says that it does not require discipline not to get pregnant, a constant work to overcome the monthly questioning of the whole endocrine nature, in addition to receiving looks, silences, direct or indirect questions about motherhood and family, is that surely has already reproduced and is enjoying the fatigue that means motherhood or fatherhood. My empty uterus has its history, its foundations and has solid pillars that resist the onslaught of the pro-reproductive society. It is not an oblivion, nor idleness, nor fear of responsibility or an inability to be "normal". They are hours of reflection, not only thinking about myself, but also about those people who will be part of my family, questioning what I can provide and even calculating the carbon footprint of reproduction in a world where there are already 8 billion people and counting.

Perhaps it would have been simpler to listen to the life that runs through my veins and tells me with each heartbeat: you were born, you grew up, and you are going to die without having reproduced, who do you think you are to challenge the definition of life itself? Because although my decision does not change, I constantly reflect on it. Shortly before she died, I spoke with my grandmother about family. For her, family was the manifestation of love, not only between us, but of God's love for his creation. From her perspective, family was the antidote to loneliness and she was concerned about my loneliness. She also asked me if I would give her time to meet a member of her family born to me, the 4th generation. She said it almost as if she was asking me for an estimated time to assess whether I was still alive or not. I explained that there was no need to stop for me, I told her that, despite carrying my empty womb and ringless finger, my life had been surrounded by love and that loneliness does not exist. She looked at me, weighing her death and seeing life from my perspective, smiled and satisfied she told me: the important thing is love, no matter the format or the packaging.

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@Marilu_Acosta

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