Opinions
Still fighting for parental rights in Ireland
Every child of an LGBTQ parent deserves equality under the law

My name is Ranae and I live in Dublin, Ireland with my wife Audrey. Our daughters Ava and Arya are 4 and 2. Our girls have two mothers, yet I am still seen as a single parent.
Audrey and I were an unlikely couple from the start. She was in her fourth and I was in my first year of acting in a theater school in Dublin. We were paired together at an open day and became friends. We were so different, yet we immediately clicked. I knew Audrey wasn’t straight, but over the course of the next year, I had no idea that I was developing feelings for her. The day before my 21st birthday the realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. The feelings I had for her were so much more than just friendship. The rest, as they say, is history.
We have been together for 12 years now, and married for five. Audrey and I always knew we wanted to have kids and talked about this from the moment we started dating. We both have lots of siblings and knew that life wouldn’t be complete for us without having our own kids. I always dreamed about being pregnant and going through the process of growing and birthing a baby. Audrey, on the other hand, didn’t really want to be pregnant as long as she could become a parent. It was almost an unspoken thing that I would be the one to carry our child, should we go down the IVF route.
One night in early 2015, after a few glasses of wine, I had an idea. Wouldn’t it be cool if we could use Audrey’s eggs but I would carry the baby? This way, our children would genetically be Audreys, but I would be the birth mother. At the time it was just a silly idea we had. Little did we know that conversation would change the course of our lives. We decided to Google it and lo and behold, we found out that it wasn’t that crazy of an idea. Reciprocal IVF was actually an incredibly popular fertility treatment option for same-sex couples. At that moment, we knew that Reciprocal IVF was right for us.
When we tried to book a clinic appointment in Dublin, we were disappointed to find out that they wouldn’t treat us in Ireland. Back in 2015, Reciprocal IVF wasn’t licensed yet. In fact it’s only been licensed in the last year. We were given the option to do IUI/IVF with my own eggs, but at that point we had our hearts set on using Audrey’s eggs. Despite the setback, it made us more determined to find a way. We found a clinic in Spain and to be honest it was a bit of a crazy time for us. We didn’t know any other LGBTQ+ parents, let alone any who had undergone treatment abroad. We had no clue what we were doing, and made so many mistakes along the way. A few months later, we conceived our first child with the help of an anonymous sperm donor.
Conceiving our first child in the wake of marriage equality in Ireland was like a dream. Wrapped up in our little bubble of happiness, we went through that pregnancy with a sense of hope for our future. We got married when I was five months along and we celebrated a future that was finally equal. Little did we know what lay ahead of us.
Toward the end of my pregnancy, we learned something that devastated us. LGBTQ+ parents in Ireland were still not equal. I remember feeling so overwhelmed with emotions and going through various stages of shock. My first reaction was ‘but we are married and we voted for marriage equality last year.’
After consulting with a solicitor, we found out more. From the moment our daughter was born I would be a married woman but considered a single mother. I would be forced to register myself as a sole parent and our family would not be recognized under the law, simply because we were a same-sex couple. The simple difference was that I was married to a woman and not a man and because of this, Audrey would be a legal stranger to her own child.
There are some moments that stick with me. Moments that were stolen from us as a young family and ones that we will never get back. The day we registered Ava’s birth, we walked into the registration office and saw all the proud parents with their babies. When they called us into the room, the registrar sat down behind her desk. Without looking up she asked, ‘OK, so which one of you is the mother?’ We said, ‘We both are.’ ‘But which one of you gave birth?’ I said, ‘I did!’ She looked at me and said, ‘OK Ranae, I will be directing all my questions at you, if that’s OK?’ From that point on, she didn’t even look at Audrey. It felt like a kick in the gut. It was just all wrong.
That was the day I promised Audrey I was never going to stop fighting until we fixed this. I joked and said, well at least this will all be sorted out by the time we have another baby. How wrong I was. Fast forward to New Year’s Eve 2018 and I lie bleeding in the recovery suite with a second daughter, listening to fireworks, my heart breaking because I knew we were still in the same position as before. As it stands today, I am considered a single parent to our daughters. Our children, along with countless others in Ireland, are denied the right to a legal connection with both of their parents simply because their parents are a same-sex couple.
Much has changed in the last five years. In 2019, following on from an online petition that I started, we started a campaign called ‘Equality For Children’ along with a group of other LGBTQ+ parents. Since then we have been successful at lobbying the government for change and raising awareness of these issues within Ireland. Legislation was finally passed in 2020 that would allow certain LGBTQ+ families to have both parents legally recognized. Sadly it’s legislation that will only cover certain methods of conception. It’s great to see progress in the right direction, but it’s galling for anyone who falls outside of this and is still being actively discriminated against. Only female couples who have conceived in an Irish clinic with a non anonymous donor and a child born in Ireland are covered.
I can’t really put into words how damaging this has been for our family. To be reminded every day that you are ‘less than.’ That you are not equal. For your kids to be punished because their parents aren’t straight. In practical terms it’s an issue for children when one of their parents is unable to give medical consent, unable to travel freely with them, unable to make decisions on their behalf. But it goes beyond that, the emotional and physiological damage it has done to our families is immeasurable.
Following on from lengthy legal proceedings, our family soon hopes to be recognized. If we are, we will be one of the lucky ones. What about all those who fall outside of this? Are their children less deserving of equality? Because they have two dads? Because they were conceived outside of a clinic? Because they have a known donor? Because they weren’t born in Ireland?
This fight will never be over until every child of an LGBTQ+ parent in Ireland has the same rights and protections as any other child in the country.
Ranae von Meding is a writer and a same-sex parent to two young daughters with her wife Audrey. They live in Dublin, Ireland where she has become an outspoken advocate for equal rights for children of LGBTQ+ families. She is the co-founder and CEO of ‘Equality For Children.’ You can find her on Instagram at @ranaevonmeding.
Opinions
Don’t just vote for change — vote for Hope Solomon for mayor
LGBTQ community isn’t separate from Washington’s story — it is our story
My name is Hope Solomon, and I’m running for mayor of Washington, D.C.
I’ve spent my entire life here. I attended D.C. Public Schools. I grew up working in my family’s small business here in D.C. I live in Dupont Circle. For 17 years, I worked in national security with the Department of Defense, FBI, and Department of Homeland Security. Then last July, I got DOGE’d by Elon Musk.
I don’t recommend it as a career strategy.
But it did give me something I hadn’t had in a long time: perspective.
For the first time in years, I had space to slow down and ask a simple question: Why does it feel like Washington is being run by the same small group of people playing musical chairs, while everyone else is just expected to live with the results?
That’s when I decided to run.
I wasn’t raised in Washington’s political circles. I was raised in Washington. There’s a difference.
Some of my earliest memories are going to see the AIDS Quilt on the National Mall with my mother. I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but I understood enough to know it mattered—because it made something the country had been trying not to see completely impossible to ignore.
My family’s version of a home-cooked meal has always been Annie’s or Mr. Henry’s. I grew up going to Pride, the High Heel Race, drag brunches, and drag shows. As a kid, I thought that was just what cities were like—sequins, show tunes, queens, neighbors, everything mixed together.
Turns out that wasn’t every city.
It was Washington.
The arts shaped me just as much as anything else. I started at Fillmore Arts Center, trained for years with the Washington School of Ballet, and performed across the city—from the Kennedy Center to Warner Theatre to Lisner Auditorium.
The arts taught me discipline and confidence. But more than that, they taught me something Washington has always understood: A city works when people are free to be exactly who they are.
Growing up here, LGBTQ+ Washingtonians were my neighbors, my teachers, fellow business owners, artists, friends, and family.
They helped build the Washington I know.
And that’s why this moment matters.
Washington is facing a budget crisis. Small businesses are struggling. The federal government is openly hostile toward our city. But what worries me most isn’t just policy—it’s whether we lose what makes Washington itself while trying to fix it.
Because the soul of this city is in places like Annie’s. It’s in neighborhood restaurants, small theaters, Pride celebrations, independent businesses, and the people who make this city feel like home.
As mayor, I’ll fight to protect that. I’ll stand up for LGBTQ+ rights, support LGBTQ+ youth, invest in the arts, strengthen public safety, and back the small businesses that keep our neighborhoods alive.
Most importantly, I’ll lead with the understanding that the LGBTQ+ community isn’t separate from Washington’s story.
It is Washington’s story.
If you want another career politician, you’ve got plenty of options.
If you want someone who was shaped by this city, believes in this city, and is ready to fight for this city, I’m asking for your vote.
Learn more at HopeForDC.com. On Election Day, don’t just vote for change. Vote for Hope.
Hope Solomon is a candidate for D.C. mayor.
Opinions
Vote Kenyan McDuffie for D.C. mayor
He will best protect D.C.’s interests amid federal meddling
Elections are always important, but this year in D.C. they will bring major changes. Because of that, your vote in the Democratic primary on June 16 is more important than ever. D.C. is so overwhelmingly Democratic it is a near certainty the winners in the Democratic primary will win the general election. So, I urge everyone eligible, take the time to vote.
D.C. makes it very easy. Every registered voter has received a ballot in the mail. I cast mine before I left for a vacation. When you read this don’t put your ballot in the mail, rather vote at an early voting location, or put your ballot in one of the drop boxes around the city, or vote in person on June 16. You can find the locations for these options nearest you by going to the DCBOE website.
This year for the first time D.C.is dealing with rank choice voting, and who you rank second, or third, can make a difference in the outcome. It is important to note that you don’t have to rank the candidates. You can bullet vote for the one you like, or rank up to five. If there is one or more you like, you can simply choose a #1 and #2. Again, there is no requirement that you rank more people. From what I am seeing, in most of the races, even if five, six, or more, are running and listed on the ballot, in most of those races it will come down to one or two who have any chance. The way the city handles giving out our public money, it will cost us a lot of taxpayer dollars for all those people with no chance at all to win. I hope after these elections the Council will take a close look at how we do our public financing, and reform it. I am all for public financing, just not at the rate D.C. does it. We must ensure anyone who gets city money, accounts for every penny of it. It should never be spent on personal items. If it is not all used, it needs to be refunded to the city.
I have not made endorsements in every race, but clearly the most important race this year in D.C. is for mayor. After 12 years of Muriel Bowser serving as our mayor, there will be someone new sitting in that office after Jan. 1, 2027. What people must remember when voting for mayor, is the person we elect, even if Democrats take back Congress, and I think we will, must continue dealing with the felon in the White House for the first two years of their term. We have seen doing that requires the skill to walk a tightrope. While fighting him on nearly all he is doing, it’s crucial the mayor understands they must not alienate him to the point where he goes all out to attack the city, and the residents here. Remember, home rule gives the felon in the White House, and Congress, enormous power over us. Congress gets to review all our legislation, and our budgets, before they become law. The president controls the D.C. National Guard, and the federal agencies that in many cases get involved, and impact the work of our city. That includes housing, parks, the MPD, and others. There is only one person on the ballot who fully understands that, and has shown, by word and action, they know how to deal with him in the way that will benefit all the people in our city. That person is Kenyan McDuffie. I urge your #1 vote for him. If you have decided to vote for one of the other candidates, I would hope you would list him on your ballot as #2.
Then for Democratic Council-at-large I urge you to consider a #1 vote for Kevin Chavous. Then Brian Schwalb for Attorney General, Phil Mendelson for Council Chair, and Brooke Pinto for delegate to Congress. For Ward 5 Council I recommend Zachary Parker. For Democratic Party slots, I urge a vote for all those running on the Democrats United for a Free D.C. slate.
Then for the Independent Council-at-Large seat I urge a vote for Jacque Patterson or if you vote for Doni Crawford, rank Jacque #2.
Again, the results of this election will determine the future of the District of Columbia. It is the most important election here in years. I urge everyone who can vote in the primary to do so. Your vote can make a difference to you, and all your neighbors.
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
Opinions
Pride in a new world order
White House has dismantled global U.S. LGBTQ rights infrastructure
It can be tempting to feel somber this Pride. In 2025 and 2026, the United States dismantled much of the LGBTQ+ rights infrastructure it had spent decades building — eliminating the Global Equality Fund, defunding local LGBTQ+ organizations, and banning the rainbow flag from federal buildings and embassies. India unexpectedly rolled back transgender rights in March, stripping away the hard-won right to self-identify. Senegal passed an abhorrent anti-LGBTQ+ law in April, and a similar one just cleared parliament in Ghana.
But this is only part of the story. 2026 is also the year Rob Jetten — a proud gay man — became prime minister of the Netherlands, the youngest in the country’s history. It is the year Thailand celebrated the first anniversary of legalizing same-sex marriage, a historic first for Southeast Asia that is already influencing debates across the region. It is also the year “Heated Rivalry” became one of the most-watched shows on HBO, a global phenomenon.
In fact, LGBTQ+ people have never been more numerous, more visible, or more politically consequential than we are today. The question is not whether we have power. The question is whether we are using it to adapt to the emerging new world order.
Three geopolitical forces are redrawing the terrain. Borders and sovereignty are under renewed strain — this year showed us that the rules-based international order can no longer be taken for granted. Power politics is back at the center of global affairs, and when nations turn inward and militarize, those at the margins often pay the price first. And the institutions our movement has relied on most — governments, multilateral bodies, and multinational corporations — are proving unreliable allies.
The conclusion is that LGBTQ+ people cannot tie their future solely to the fortunes of liberal democracies. We need to come into our own power, and this turbulent moment may offer an opportunity to do so.
This requires a change in strategy. The LGBTQ+ movement has largely understood itself as a national movement in the business of changing hearts and minds one country at a time: win the courts, shift public opinion, and trust that progress would spread from north to south. That model delivered real victories on decriminalization, anti-discrimination protections, military service, and marriage equality. But it is showing diminishing returns. Today, political movements, financial flows, cultural narratives, and AI models increasingly operate globally outside of normative frameworks. Our movement has not kept pace.
LGBTQ+ people globally constitute a population larger than that of the United States. Our collective economic power approaches $4 trillion. We shape culture disproportionately in film, fashion, technology, and the arts. We are no longer a niche constituency petitioning for tolerance. We are a global community with growing economic, cultural, and political influence.
Realizing that potential requires three things. The first is unity — not uniformity, but the strategic coherence that allows a dispersed global community to act with shared purpose. The second is infrastructure: organizations and networks capable of operating across borders, pooling resources, and articulating a vision people want to be a part of. The third is abandoning a Western-centric mindset: building deeper roots in emerging economies will be essential.
There is a broader point. LGBTQ+ people should not be reduced to merely enduring or surviving this moment. We are entering a turbulent period in which humanity faces serious challenges — armed conflict, climate disruption, and technologies advancing faster than governance. LGBTQ+ people have often had to imagine a different future before it existed — and build the communities to sustain it across borders, generations, and class lines. That experience gives us a comparative advantage in this global context.
Pride, at its best, has always been a declaration of existence and a demand for dignity. In 2026, it should become something more: a reckoning with how much power our community has accumulated — and how seriously we intend to wield it to shape what comes next.
Fabrice Houdart is a former World Bank and United Nations staff member. He has taught at Georgetown University and Columbia University, and chairs the Institute of Current World Affairs in D.C.
