Shayna Patton was 23 when she decided kids weren’t for her. She made the decision to become a rich auntie long before it became an Instagram hashtag.
The now 35-year-old travel agent based in Rochester, New York decided kids weren’t for her after watching a sibling’s parenting journey. The opportunity for early retirement and freedom took precedence for Patton.
“When I met my husband at age 20, I wanted seven or more kids,” she tells ESSENCE. “My baby brother had his kids first and then with all the struggling and two more kids after, we decided kids weren’t going to fit in our retirement plan.”
Patton is one of many 21st century women choosing not to have kids. A 2021 Pew Research survey found that 44% of adults between 18 and 49 without kids say they don’t want to or are unlikely to have kids. That’s a 7% increase from 2018.
For anyone not aware of what a rich auntie is, it’s a woman who chooses to live a child-free life. And no, this doesn’t mean she’s dysfunctional, less of a woman, or joyless. Research shows women without kids tend to be happier. They may also be richer, too. The Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis found single women with no kids had $65,000 more in wealth in 2019 compared to single child-free men at $57,000. Single mothers, on the other hand, only had $7,000 in wealth.
That said, being rich in this context isn’t all about having more coins to yourself–it’s also about the sentimental riches that emanate from a woman’s choice to be child-free, says Rachel Cargle, writer, founder of the Loveland Foundation, and the creator of Rich Auntie Supreme. It’s an Instagram community she founded in 2020 that now has over 100,000 “rich aunties,” or supporters of the movement.
“We define the term ‘rich’ to reflect the abundance we have in a variety of ways due to our choice to be child-free,” she tells ESSENCE. “We are often rich in time, rich in rest, rich in travel, rich in space, [and] rich in spontaneity.”
Cargle started Rich Auntie Supreme as a hub for women interested in discussing and celebrating the choice not to have kids. It was also inspired by her desire to debunk the myth that women who say no to parenthood don’t like kids.
“Much of what I was seeing online around the decision not to have kids seemed to be rooted in a dislike for children,” she says. “That’s not where I was coming from. I was hoping to explore the both joyous autonomy of my decision and the ways this decision offered a very particular way to be in relationship to, and support of, the children and families in our worlds. That’s why I chose the word ‘auntie’ — it really symbolizes that freedom and community dynamic I wanted to cultivate and celebrate with the platform.”
Cargle decided having biological kids wouldn’t be part of her journey after being a caregiver to a disabled parent, co-parent, children brought into her home by her mother, and caring for other children through babysitting and being a nanny.
“I have already experienced a bit of caregiver burnout now that I’m in my 30s,” she says.
In addition to this, she worries about bringing a Black human being into a world that isn’t safe for Black people. This rich auntie movement is especially liberating for Black women as Black people as a whole have historically experienced so much oppression. Such a choice can be transformational.
“Black women have historically been subjected to their autonomy and agency being either completely taken away or diminished by the forces of things like patriarchy, capitalism, enslavement and discrimination,” says Cargle.
These issues the author mentions aren’t extinct in our present day society—Black women are still greatly impacted by them. It’s more reason why having the agency to choose not to have children under such hostile circumstances can be empowering. And also why Key Bigham, a business consultant, located in Detroit, has chosen the rich auntie lifestyle. Her reasons for not having kids hinge on the lack of structural support America provides for families.
“There’s no mandated maternity or paternity leave. The leading cause of death in pregnant women is homicide,” she says. “As a Black woman you’re more likely to die and have complications with childbirth. [For] childcare in my area, you’re looking at close to $2,000 a month for an infant. And to be raising little Black babies it’s barely even safe,” she says.
The cost of raising a child is estimated at about $17,000 a year according to data from the U.S. Agriculture Department. Considering the median earnings of full-time American workers in the fourth quarter of 2022 was $1,085 or just over $52,080 a year, the math isn’t mathing.
For people who think women who choose not to have children are lonely or their lives don’t have meaning, they may be surprised to know that isn’t the common reality. Since said women aren’t saddled with the responsibility of child raising for the unforeseeable future, they can distribute their time in ways that serve them. This is a luxury that mothers, who spend an average of 97 hours a week for 52 weeks a year parenting, don’t often have.
When not supporting friends with children, Cargle finds joy in quiet mornings, her thriving career, pottery, learning to play the cello, yoga, and writing. She is currently preparing to release her debut book A Renaissance of Our Own, which will be available May 16 and published by Penguin Random House.
Focusing on wellness is also something Cargle has more time and freedom to do. Women with children can relate to how difficult it can be to squeeze healing into tight windows between naps or after bedtime if you can stay awake long enough.
“I think there is something deeper to this choice like the time and space to really focus on my mental wellness or the opportunity to not do things like not leave my bed for 24 hours if I really just need a day to recover from something hard that’s happened in life,” she says.
Some may argue that it’s noble for women to prioritize wellness and healing over children as one healed woman can have a ripple effect on generations to come. Others may see it as an act of rebellion against systems that are constantly trying to rob women of their autonomy. Both are valid and necessary.
“It’s a bit of a political choice for me as I consider the type of self sacrifice that has been required of women over history,” Cagle says. “My reimagining of how I might live a full and meaningful life that both keeps me whole and serves my community feels like a bit of a renaissance of my own.”