Breasts and Eggs

by Mieko Kawakami

If you want to know how poor somebody was growing up, ask them how many windows they had. Don’t ask what was in their fridge or in their closet. The number of windows says it all. It says everything. If they had none, or maybe one or two, that’s all you need to know.

Setting foot in Tokyo Station, I stopped short at the sight of all the people. Where were they coming from? Where were they going? It looked more like some strange competition than a crowd. I had the lonely feeling that I was the only one around who didn’t know the rules.

Happiness can be defined all kinds of ways, but human beings, consciously or unconsciously, are always pulling for their own version of happiness. Even people who want to die see death as a kind of solace, and view ending their lives as the only way to make it there.

I wish we didn’t have to suffer. Any of us. Why can’t it all just go away? I feel so bad for Mom. I always have.

Technology is advancing, and so are our values. A whole range of questions deserve consideration.

So, I thought. At the end of the day, it’s pointless speculating what a kid might think. There’s no way to know ahead of time.

back then, there was no such thing as male infertility. When a couple couldn’t have a child, it was always the woman’s fault, no matter what. That’s the way everybody thought. For years, my mother had to put up with all kinds of things. Everyone said she was barren. Then, at some point, my grandmother came to her and said, ‘Before it’s too late, you should go to Tokyo and see a specialist. If you really can’t have children, then the only option left is going to be divorce.’

They’re taught to believe that their penises make them superior, and that women are just there for them to use as they see fit. Then they go out into the world, where everything centers around them and their dicks. And it’s women who have to make it work. At the end of the day, where is this pain that men feel coming from? In their opinion: us.

“The whole situation,” she said. “You’re betting that the child that you bring into this will be at least as happy as you’ve been, at least as fortunate as you’ve been, or, at a minimum, that they’ll be able to say they’re happy they were born. Everyone says life is both good and bad, but the majority of people think it’s mostly good. That’s why people go through with it. The odds are good. Sure, everyone dies someday, but life has meaning, even pain and suffering have meaning, and there’s so much joy. There’s not a doubt in your mind that your child will see it that way, just like you. No one thinks they’ll pull the short straw. They’re convinced everything will work out fine. But that’s just people believing what they want to believe. For their own benefit. The really horrible part is that this bet isn’t yours to make. You’re betting on another person’s life. Not yours.”

We’re all so small, and have such little time, unable to envision the majority of the world.