Girl Be Stingy With Your Womb Blog Series – Chapter 1: Your Womb Is Not a Charity

From the “Girl, Be Stingy with Your Womb” Blog Series by Elizabeth M. Johnstone

“Sis, repeat after me: My womb is not a halfway house for broken promises.”

The Power of ‘No’

Sis, Let’s Talk.

Not as strangers. Not as rivals. But as real women who have lived. We carried weight that wasn’t ours and loved people who didn’t know how to love us back. We were told to sit still and stay quiet while we bled for everyone but ourselves. We’ve watched the world try to stuff us into boxes and call it womanhood. Boxes built from tradition, pressure, sacrifice, and silence. In those boxes, we’re not valued for who we are, but for how much we can give. Give love. Give time. Give peace. And especially give our wombs.

From the moment our bodies start to bloom, hips rounding, breasts budding—the questions start flying in like vultures. “Clock is ticking, girl.” “Mtoto anakuja lini?” “Your time is coming, don’t wait too long.” Some of it comes as jokes. Some as advice. But all of it carries the same weight: Your womb defines your worth.

The world celebrates us not for our minds. It is not for our fire or our freedom either. We are celebrated for our potential to bring life into the world. And if we don’t? We’re judged. Whispered about. Called incomplete. Ungrateful. Even cursed. And yet nobody pauses to ask if we even want what they’re demanding. Nobody teaches us how to say no, not to tradition, not to pressure, not even to our own internalized expectations.

I want you to hear this clearly. There is no filter and no apology. Motherhood is beautiful when it’s a choice. It is not a chore. It is not a default setting. It is not a debt you owe society.

This blog series is not just a rebellion, it’s a homecoming. It’s for the woman who’s tired of feeling like her body is up for public discussion. It’s for the woman who dreams of a full life, with or without a child. It’s for the woman who wants to redefine what success, joy, and legacy look like on her own terms. It’s for the one who’s finally realized that just because she can carry life, doesn’t mean she has to. She won’t do it for the wrong man. She won’t do it in the wrong season. She definitely won’t do it to prove anything to anyone.

Let me say it again for the people at the back: You don’t owe your womb to anyone. Not your mama. Not your man. Not culture. Not your past self. Not even your dreams from five years ago. You are allowed to change. You are allowed to protect yourself. You are allowed to choose you.

Because the truth is that many of us were taught how to give, but not how to guard. We were praised for how well we could pour, but never taught how to refill. They instructed us on serving and keeping a man. We were taught how to bear children. But who taught us how to say:
“No, I won’t carry your emotional baggage.”
“No, I won’t birth a child to fix a broken relationship.”
“No, I won’t offer my womb like it’s on clearance.”

So let’s unlearn the guilt that says we’re selfish for putting ourselves first. Let’s rewrite the script that says fulfillment can only come from diapers and dinner plates. Let’s question the narrative that says our value ends where motherhood hasn’t begun. Because the only person who gets to decide what your womb is for, is you.

You are not just a womb. You are a whole woman. A creator. A builder. A healer. A vessel of power. And that power? It’s sacred. It’s rare. It’s not for rent. Not for trials. And definitely not for potential.

So, my sister, let’s talk. Let’s talk about healing. About wholeness. About saying no and not explaining it. About reclaiming our right to rest. To breathe. To choose. Let’s talk about the womb as something spiritual, not transactional. Let’s discuss what it means to be stingy. We have learned this viewpoint not due to a lack of love. Instead, it’s because our love, energy, and womb must be earned.

You Are Not a Charity Case

Too many of us, aki sisi, have treated our wombs like community outreach programs. You know, like a free initiative funded by emotional exhaustion and sponsored by generational pressure. We’ve handed out access like we’re running a CSR project –“Corporate Suffering and Rejection.” We’ve given love to men who couldn’t even commit to a dinner reservation, let alone a future. We’ve given time to people who had nothing to offer back but chaos and confusion. And let’s not even discuss the energy–nguvu zote. We’ve invested it in situations that were already on fire when we got there. Like firefighters in heels, showing up to fix what we didn’t burn. We convinced ourselves to give a little more. We stayed a little longer. We bent a little further. We thought they’d finally see our worth. We thought they’d love us more. We believed they’d respect us more. We hoped they’d choose us.

But here’s the truth, sis: You can’t pour yourself into someone and expect them to hold you like you matter. If all they came with was a leaky cup and a sense of entitlement, they can’t.

Hata kama ni charity, there should at least be an application process and a waiting list! You are not a public service. You’re not a womb-for-hire. You’re not a life coach in lingerie. You’re a whole empire and not everyone deserves citizenship. Your womb is not a charity. Not a daycare. Not a donation drive. Not a fix-it shop for broken boys.

Motherhood Is Beautiful, When It’s a Choice

Let’s say it louder, clearer, and with our whole chests: Motherhood is divine—but only when it’s your decision. Not when it’s demanded. Not when it’s forced. And definitely not when it’s used as a measuring stick for your value as a woman.

You don’t owe motherhood to society. Society is out here shouting “legacy” and “future generation” while doing absolutely nothing to help you raise these so-called legacies. They’ll pressure you to have a baby, then disappear faster than a deadbeat baby daddy when you ask for support. Suddenly, everyone is too busy to babysit. They are broke when it’s time for school fees. They become blind when the baby daddy vanishes into thin air like a Safaricom bonus.

You don’t owe your body to tradition either. Listen—some of these “cultural expectations” are just outdated rules made by people who were terrified of powerful women. Auntie wa kijiji wants to know when you’ll give the clan a child. Yet she won’t contribute even a teaspoon of cow milk if the child gets sick. Don’t let outdated customs pressure you into a permanent situation with temporary people.

And you definitely do not owe your womb to someone who hasn’t earned the right to be there. Let’s stop giving VIP access to people who don’t even qualify for general admission. If he hasn’t proven he can lead, provide, love, or protect, then he’s not worthy. If he can’t even reply to a full text message – bana, hiyo ni pass ya kumtoa line, si kumpa mtoto. Carrying life for a man who can’t even carry a conversation? Nah. We are not doing that in 2025.

You are so much more than your ability to carry life. Your value is not based on how many children you produce. It is based on who you are. It’s also based on what you build, what you believe in, and how boldly you choose yourself. You are worthy, period. WORTHY when you’re single. WORTHY when you’re child-free. WORTHY if you choose adoption. You are WORTHY even if you never carry life in your womb. You give life through your words, art, kindness, or wisdom.

So next time someone asks, “When are you giving us a baby?”
Take a deep breath. Smile sweetly and say, “Maybe one day I’ll pop a baby if I ever want to. Right now, I’m busy giving birth to boundaries. I am protecting my peace and cutting off bullshit like you.”

Your Womb Is Sacred Space

Let’s get one thing straight: your womb isn’t just about babies. Society has spent centuries reducing it to a baby factory. It’s like you were born to just push out mini humans on demand. But plot twist, sis—your womb is so much more than a nine-month lease for somebody’s legacy.

Your womb is a seat of power. It’s where your instincts whisper when something feels off, even if your mind’s still negotiating. It’s where your deepest creativity thrives. This creativity births ideas, visions, dreams, and empires. Sometimes it even sparks drama, but that’s beside the point. It’s the center of your emotional truth—the place you feel things before they ever make sense. That gut feeling that told you “this man ain’t it”? Yeah. That was her.

Inside that sacred space, dreams are conceived. Not just babies. Big, wild, audacious dreams. The ones that terrify and excite you. That’s where they start. Your womb is where boundaries should take root—not just babies. Boundaries that say, “No, I won’t mother a grown man.” They also say, “No, you don’t get access to me just because you’re consistent with morning texts.”

It’s also the place where your voice gets louder. Where silence becomes heavy and truth becomes impossible to swallow. That’s the womb energy. It occurs when you stop shrinking. It is when you stop making yourself digestible for people who are committed to misunderstanding you.

So let me ask you something real: Would you hand your house keys to a complete stranger? No?
Would you give them the PIN to your M-Pesa?
Would you say, “Hey, here’s the password to my entire life—don’t steal anything!”?

Exactly.

Why are we out here handing over our wombs? We are entrusting our futures to men who don’t even know how to communicate without emojis. Why are we letting part-time people make lifetime deposits in sacred places? Why are we letting emotionally unavailable folks make spiritual withdrawals like it’s a free trial?

Excuse me, this is not a walk-in uterus clinic. Na hakuna sample days hapa – insert dem wa facebook’s voice here “sina mayai ya experiment”

Your womb is a vault. A temple. A legacy in motion. And not everyone deserves to step foot in it, let alone leave something behind.

If they haven’t earned your trust, your peace, your respect, then what are they doing there?
Sis, protect it like your next chapter depends on it—because it does.

Being Stingy Is Smart, Not Selfish

They may call you selfish.
They might call you cold, standoffish, bitter.
Some will say, “Umechange, huyu sasa ni snob.”

Good. Let them talk. Let them whisper. Let them write you long paragraphs about how “you’ve changed” like it’s a bad thing. You’re not changing—you’re evolving. You’re healing. You’re enforcing boundaries. You’re growing out of places that made you shrink. And let’s be honest, most of the people accusing you of being “selfish” are just mad. They can’t access you the way they used to. That’s not your problem, that’s their ego.

Let them stare while you raise your standards to heaven level.
Let them choke while you calmly say, “No thanks, I’m not interested in situationships anymore.”
Let them sit in confusion. Decline emotionally unavailable men. Say no to toxic friendships. Avoid relatives who only call when they need money or drama.

Because being stingy with your womb isn’t rude, it’s revolutionary.
You’re not withholding out of spite, you’re protecting what’s sacred.
You’re no longer interested in playing host to anyone who doesn’t respect the invitation.
You’re no longer offering front-row seats to people who clapped the loudest when your life was falling apart.

It means you finally know your worth, before anyone tries to slap a discount sticker on it. It means you’re done giving out of desperation, guilt, fear, or loneliness. You’re done pouring from an empty cup, sis. You’re not even using the cup anymore. You are drinking straight from the sacred jug of self-love and peace.

And the best part?
You’re choosing you first and you’re not apologizing for it.

No more long essays to explain why you said “no.”
No more “maybe next time” to things that drain you.
No more stretching yourself to be understood in rooms that were never built for your healing.

Because, hear me clearly, your womb is not for public use.
It is not a community swimming pool.
It is not a test drive center.
It is not a “let’s see how it goes” zone.
It is not a consolation prize, a bandage for broken men, or a reward for potential.

It is sacred.
It is creative.
It is powerful.
It is ancient wisdom wrapped in flesh and fire.
It is the seat of your legacy.

So treat it like the divine treasure that it is. Guard it with boundaries. Crown it with standards. Water it with peace. Speak life into it daily. And only let those with divine intention, proven consistency, and kingdom energy even step near it.

Let them call you whatever they want.
You’ll be too busy glowing, growing, and guarding your sacred ground.

When was the last time you gave more than you should have—physically, emotionally, or spiritually?. What would you do differently now, knowing your womb is not a charity? let me hear your thoughts in the comment section and do not forget to Subscribe to WordflowStudio.blog to get the next chapter straight to your inbox.

• WhatsApp
• Facebook
• Telegram
• X
• Mail
• LinkedIn

Previous

Next

Elizabeth Johnstone

Log in

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.