How The CCP Uses Birthplace Citizenship And Surrogacy To Manufacture ‘Americans’
The CCP is building a generation of legal American passport holders, raised under Beijing's educational system, and primed to return.Two of our kids went to visit my parents a couple days ago, so my wife and I are home with just our youngest for a few nights. It’s strange. It kind of feels like it felt when we only had our first. It’s so quiet, so insanely quiet.
In fact, I’m laughing as I write this thinking about just how quiet it is compared to normal (read as: insane) daily life. Babies cry and all, but the truth is once you have older ones, you realize that those little cries and protests are really just cute and kind of pitiful, even if they seem furious.
There is something vital in us that seeks out friction and new horizons, physical and mental.
But of course, they don’t feel like that at the time when you are new to everything with your first kid.
I remember one time, probably two or three days after we left the hospital with our son, we called the 24-hour nurse line because we were concerned he might hurt himself from crying so much. She very kindly assured us that everything was fine and that we shouldn’t worry about him hurting himself due to crying.
My wife and I think about that story probably every six months or so. We laugh so hard about how little we knew, how nervous we were, and how loud those weak, little screams from a 5-day-old mouth must have felt to our uninitiated ears. We weren’t used to crying, we weren’t used to holding a little human screaming his hardest. We genuinely thought he might blow a blood vessel or something.
Now it’s different. When our 5-month-old cries, we aren’t particularly disturbed or shocked. It’s just what they do. We know the kinds of cries (my wife better than I), and it’s just not a big deal. They aren’t even loud, or at least not compared to the cries from a 2-year-old in the throes of an illogical tantrum.
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It felt so hard when we only had our son six years ago. That leap from zero to one is a big one. Up until that point, you have basically spent your life being selfish. In your quiet, organized, little apartment where nothing is moved unless you move it, where no one screams for no reason, and where you actually have time to relax, life is very easy. So that leap with your first is big, and the chaos feels like a lot.
But now? This brief return to life as a family of three feels like a vacation. There are no messes unless my wife or I make them. I don’t have to admonish someone every 10 minutes for not doing what they should be doing. I can get so much done, we have so much extra time, and everything is so quiet.
It’s funny how easy that thing that seemed so hard feels now. As we have more kids, we adapt to more chaotic circumstances. We are able to take on more stuff. We are able to manage more people. Our love expands, and so does our bandwidth.
The thing is, we don’t feel it happening when it’s happening. The stress keeps right up, following a straight line so we don’t realize we are becoming more competent, and it isn’t until we are able to visit ourselves in our prior situation for a few days that we are able to really see how far we have come.
This phenomenon doesn’t only apply to raising a family. It applies to our work, our adventures, and all of everything we do. We adapt to our environment, rise to the occasion, and our capacities expand when needed. If we stop, look back at our lives, and really think about how we have grown, we see that often we’ve grown the most when we have been forced to.
We grow when we take on things we don’t think we can handle. We don’t know how we are going to do it — whatever it is — but we jump in, do it, and two years later, it’s just what we consider to be normal, and we are ready again for a new challenge. There is something vital in us that seeks out friction and new horizons, physical and mental. And so we keep doing that over and over again throughout our lives, and we keep getting stronger and more capable as the years pass, even if we still feel kind of like we don’t know anything at all.
It’s possible to try to avoid struggle and the growth that comes with it. It’s possible to try to take the easy way out. But life finds a way of demanding more of us. Whether we like it or not, we are thrown overboard and told to swim, and more often than not, we find that we can swim quite well.
You see it constantly, some version of this claim: “The cost of child care is the single biggest obstacle to working women and families.”
From there come the familiar conclusions: “The state needs to subsidize child care.” “We need affordable day care for working moms.”
No, we don’t.
While claiming to elevate women, feminism has steadily lowered the status of motherhood and homemaking.
What we need is to recognize that it’s not normal — nor healthy — for children to be farmed out to strangers during their earliest years so that Mom can be “more than just a mom” with her career.
Yes, there are millions of families in which both parents must work to keep a roof over their heads. But there are millions more who don’t need two incomes. What gets called “need” is often just lifestyle expectation. What children actually need rarely enters the calculation.
Modern expectations in 2026 America look less like necessity and more like luxury — something closer to the “hands-off” child-rearing of aristocratic households than to ordinary family life.
People talk about “affordable day care” as if it were self-evidently necessary. It isn’t. It only sounds that way because repetition has made it seem normal.
Behind it sits an unspoken belief: “It is right and proper — even ideal — to leave our children with hired strangers for most of the day.”
Even 40 years ago, that would not have sounded normal. Most people still believed that all else being equal, children were best raised by their mothers (and with a father in the home). Day care might be necessary — but it was understood as a regrettable second-best option.
Today, even many conservatives won’t question it. To do so invites accusations of harming mothers or failing to support “hardworking single moms.”
But prolonged parental absence is not neutral. Children need their mothers, especially in their early years. We can cite studies, but we don’t need them to see what’s plainly in front of us.
Strikingly, the people who claim to “need” day care are often those who don’t. What they want is a standard of living that would have been considered extravagant a generation or two ago.

Take Democrat Rep. Brittany Pettersen of Colorado. She has cultivated an image as a sainted working mother, bringing her small child onto the House floor while lamenting the lack of day care for “working moms.”
There’s just one problem: Congress has had full-time day care on Capitol Hill since 1987.
What’s happening here isn’t necessity — it’s performance. The question she avoids is whether her child’s needs might outweigh the demands of a camera-facing career.
And it’s not just politicians. Middle-class Americans have adopted a set of “minimum” expectations that earlier generations would have recognized as indulgent:
In the feudal world, there was a distinction between a woman and a lady. A woman belonged to the working class; a lady to the aristocracy.
Women raised their children directly — feeding them, caring for them, folding them into the rhythms of daily life. Ladies did not.
In the Tudor royal court, for example, a noblewoman did not breastfeed. A wet nurse was hired in advance and took over immediately. Children were raised by nurses, governesses, and tutors, with parents appearing only intermittently.
The result was distance — emotional, developmental, and often moral.
For all our technological differences, the psychology isn’t so different today. The aristocratic habits of detachment have been democratized. What was once a marker of nobility is now treated as a baseline expectation.
There are better models to follow.
I have a friend, Tasha, a Catholic mother of nine. Her husband works full-time; she manages the home.
They don’t have two SUVs. They don’t have a large house. But they have what they need: a home, a van that fits everyone, good food, clean clothes, and a stable, loving family life.
How does she do it? The way families did for generations — before the late-20th-century promise that women could “have it all” and should expect it immediately.
She shops carefully. Buys in bulk. Reuses what she can. She hasn’t outfitted each child with personal screens to keep them isolated. Her household is structured around shared life, not individual consumption.
While claiming to elevate women, feminism has steadily lowered the status of motherhood and homemaking. For decades, we’ve heard that women are “more than just mothers,” that raising children prevents them from “being someone.”
Consider what that sounds like to a child.
The desire for status is natural — for men and women alike. Motherhood once carried that status. As it has been stripped away, many women seek it elsewhere.
But the substitute — career-first identity combined with outsourced child-rearing — is narcissistic, materialistic, and ultimately unsatisfying. It can be hard on families and hard on children.
It's also hard on mothers themselves. I’ve known many women who report that their contentment increased when they let go of "girlboss" career-woman expectations to concentrate on raising their children and making the home a nurturing place for their families.
How do we fix this? I don’t know. Many Western families can’t get by on a single income. Men who want to be good providers can work hard and it’s still not enough. Some mothers need to work.
But we can acknowledge that economic reality without accepting how it has distorted us. We can stop demanding a government solution to what is fundamentally a problem of values. We need to reacquaint ourselves with what we really are as men and women and what we really need. I can’t give a road map for how to achieve this. But it has to start by hauling our aristocratic assumptions into the sunlight and seeing them for what they are.