Breasts and Eggs

by Mieko Kawakami

It feels like I’m trapped inside my body. It decides when I get hungry, and when I’ll get my period. From birth to death, you have to keep eating and making money just to stay alive.

I recognize that luck, effort, and ability are often indistinguishable.

Why do people see no harm in having children? They do it with smiles on their faces, as if it’s not an act of violence. You force this other being into the world, this other being that never asked to be born. You do this absurd thing because that’s what you want for yourself, and that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Here’s one way of looking at it,” Yuriko said after a pause. “Imagine you’re at the edge of a forest, right before dawn. There’s no one else around, just you. It’s still dark, and you have no idea what you’re doing there. For whatever reason, you make up your mind to walk straight into the forest. After walking for a while, you come to a small house. Slowly, you open the door. Inside, you find ten sleeping children.” I nodded for her to go on. “All the children are fast asleep. Now, in that moment, in that small house, there’s no joy, no pain, no happiness, no sadness. There’s nothing, because all the children are asleep. So what do you do? Wake them up or let them sleep? The choice is yours. If you wake them up, nine children will be happy that you did. They’ll smile and thank you. But one won’t. You know this, before you wake them up. You know that one child will feel nothing but pain from the moment they open their eyes until they finally die. Every second of that child’s life will be more horrible than death itself. You know this in advance. You don’t know which child it’s going to be, but you know that’s going to happen to one of them.”