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Still fighting for parental rights in Ireland

Every child of an LGBTQ parent deserves equality under the law

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parental rights, gay news, Washington Blade
Ranae von Meding

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.

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Botswana

The rule of law, not the rule of religion

Bonolo Selelo and Tsholofelo Kumile are challenging the Botswana Marriage Act

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(Bigstock photo)

Botswana was in a whole frenzy as religious and traditional fundamentalists kept mixing religion and constitutional law as if it were harmless. It is not. One is a private matter of belief between you and God, while the other is the framework that protects and governs us all. When these two systems get fused, the result is rarely justice. It results in discrimination. 

The ongoing case brought by Bonolo Selelo and Tsholofelo Kumile challenging provisions of the Botswana Marriage Act has reignited a familiar debate in Botswana. Some commentators insist that marriage equality violates religious values and therefore should not be recognized by law. It is a predictable argument. It is also fundamentally incompatible with constitutional governance.

Botswana is not a Christian state. It is a constitutional democracy governed by the Constitution of Botswana. That distinction matters. In a constitutional democracy, laws are interpreted in accordance with constitutional principles such as equality, dignity, protection, inclusion and the rule of law, rather than the doctrinal beliefs of any particular religion.

Religion has no place in constitutional law and democracy

The central problem with religious arguments in constitutional disputes is simple in that they divide, they other, they contest equality and they are personal. Constitutional law by contrast, must apply equally to everyone.

Botswana’s Constitution guarantees fundamental rights and freedoms under Sections 3 and 15, including protection from discrimination and the right to equal protection of the law. These provisions are not conditional on religious approval. They exist precisely to protect minorities from the preferences or prejudices of the majority.

Legal experts, such as Anneke Meerkotter, in her policy brief in Defense of Constitutional Morality, point out that constitutional rights function as a safeguard against majoritarian morality. If rights depended on whether the majority approved of a minority’s identity or relationships, they would not be rights at all. They would merely be privileges.

This principle has already been affirmed in Botswana’s jurisprudence. In the landmark decision of Letsweletse Motshidiemang v Attorney General, the High Court held that criminalizing consensual same-sex relations violated constitutional protections of liberty, dignity, privacy, and equality. This judgment noted that constitutional interpretation must evolve with society and must be guided by human dignity and equality. The court emphasized that the Constitution protects all citizens, including those whose identities, expressions or relationships may be unpopular. That ruling was later upheld by the Court of Appeal of Botswana in 2021, reinforcing the principle that constitutional rights cannot be restricted on grounds of moral disapproval alone. These decisions were not theological pronouncements. They were legal determinations grounded in constitutional principles.

The danger of religious majoritarianism

When religion is used to justify legal restrictions, the result is what constitutional scholars call “majoritarian moralism.” It allows the dominant religious interpretation in society to dictate the rights of everyone else. That approach is fundamentally incompatible with constitutional democracy. Botswana is religiously diverse. While Christianity is the majority faith, there are also Muslims, Hindus, traditional spiritual communities, Sikh and people who practice no religion at all. If the law were to follow the doctrines of one religious group, which interpretation would it adopt? Christianity alone contains dozens of denominations with different views on love, equality, marriage, sexuality, and gender. The moment the state begins to legislate on the basis of religious doctrine, it implicitly privileges one belief system over others. That undermines both religious freedom and constitutional equality. Ironically, keeping religion separate from constitutional law is what protects religious freedom in the first place.

Judicial independence is the cornerstone of Botswana’s governance system

The current case involving Bonolo Selelo and Tsholofelo Kumile is before the judiciary, where it belongs. Courts exist to interpret the Constitution and determine whether legislation complies with constitutional rights. Political and religious lobbying, as well as public outrage, must not influence that process.

Judicial independence is the cornerstone of Botswana’s governance system. According to the International Commission of Jurists, judicial independence ensures that courts can make decisions based on law and evidence rather than political or social pressure.

When governments, political, religious, or traditional actors attempt to interfere in constitutional litigation, they weaken the rule of law. Botswana has historically prided itself on having one of the most stable constitutional systems in Africa. The judiciary has played a critical role in safeguarding rights and maintaining legal certainty. The decriminalization case demonstrated this. Despite strong public debate and political sensitivity, the courts assessed the law according to constitutional principles rather than moral panic. The same standard must apply in the current marriage equality case.

This article was first published in the Botswana Gazette, Midweek Sun, and Botswana Guardian newspapers and has been edited for the Washington Blade. 

Bradley Fortuin is a consultant at the Southern Africa Litigation Center and a social justice activist.

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Meet the Scandals, D.C.’s LGBT rugby team

Informational event set for March 21

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My strawberry muumuu was about the ugliest thing I could have picked for our muumuu-themed movie night. 

Really, it’s just an excuse to cross-dress while the sun’s still up; these themed movie nights are concocted by a teammate of mine on the Washington Scandals, D.C.’s LGBT and mens-plus rugby club. 

The team is hosting an informational event on Saturday, March 21st, for those interested in testing the waters on inclusive rugby. We have a lot of fun with a lot of balls, and then we head out for a drink at Kiki. 

Events like these Rugby “101s” are a blast because the joys of queer camaraderie are on full display – no experience is necessary. If you’re interested in learning more, check out our socials for more info in our bio. Back to the muumuu night, because someone will make a good point that bears repeating. 

After settling in with some pizza and homemade cream puffs, I asked my friend and teammate, Theo, on my left, what it’s been like in a rugby club. 

“Flooded with love,” he told me, him wearing a thin-striped but soft cotton muumuu.  Theo often prioritizes comfort in clothing, always dressed for the weather. Eyes as soft and fuzzy as a warm bunny, he recounted his journey here to LGBT rugby as the life of the party shifted from food to entertainment. 

Theo and I both prefer the quiet to the crowd, which is odd, given our shared passion for rugby — famously loud, infamously tough on the body.

The details are irrelevant, here; it’s Theo’s passion that caught my eye. Passion, I thought; it wasn’t particularly familiar to me, especially in sport. Profession, yes, but social pursuits?  Passion seemed so foreign to me there. 

That’s because it’s nurtured through culture, not inherited as a personality trait. This is a familiar place for much of D.C.’s LGBT culture and community; ‘chosen’ or ‘found’ family is the common phrase, but this is too simplistic, is it not?  It makes it sound like you washed ashore and stumbled effortlessly into family. It’s not like that, not in real life. 

It’s work and work requires passion to keep showing up. 

Adult friendships are hard, Mary. It’s not light and airy, like when we were kids. It’s hard enough in adulthood, and to carve a space out for men’s-plus LGBT rugby in a city literally built on compromise is an act of defiance in itself. 

Taking a chance on LGBT rugby is not for the casual observer – it’s a tough sport (but safer than football) with some big personalities. But as Theo pointed out, when I asked him about the magnetic draw between the LGBT community and rugby, that all body types are welcome in the sport; anyone can imagine themselves wearing a jersey and still fit in. 

If you are to take anything from this, dear reader, it’s that when you show up for rugby, you belong. 

The team’s hosting an informational Rugby 101 on Saturday, March 21, at Harry Thomas Rec Center, at 2 p.m. Our home match the next Saturday, March 28, is also at Harry Thomas, at 1 p.m. 

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Opinions

Protecting D.C.’s promise: why Kenyan McDuffie deserves our support 

Former Council member is longtime ally

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Former D.C. Council member Kenyan McDuffie in 2023. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

For generations, LGBTQ+ people have come to DC searching for something simple: the freedom to love who they love. I was one of them.

Washington, D.C., is the gayest city in the world. This didn’t happen by accident; It’s the result of generations of organizing, advocacy, and leadership from elected officials who championed the movement for equality, a movement that drew people like me to this city in search of safety and acceptance.

Now, as we approach the June 16 mayoral primary, the LGBTQ+ community will play a decisive role in shaping the city’s future. I believe the candidate our community should rally behind is Kenyan McDuffie, a longtime ally with a proven track record.

Kenyan’s relationship with the LGBTQ+ community began long before it was politically fashionable. In 2012, when he ran for the Ward 5 D.C. Council seat, he sought and earned the support of the Gertrude Stein Democratic Club, the city’s largest LGBTQ+ political organization. At a time before marriage equality was the law of the land, Kenyan stood with us and went on to support the banning of conversion therapy.

But what has always stood out to me about Kenyan’s leadership is his willingness to tackle issues head-on that deeply impact queer families and young people. 

As someone who was recently engaged and is currently navigating pathways to parenthood, I was moved by Kenyan’s leadership to modernize D.C.’s outdated surrogacy laws. For more than two decades, the District criminalized surrogacy agreements, threatening families with fines of up to $10,000 and even jail time. Kenyan helped lead the effort to repeal that law, opening a legal pathway for LGBTQ+ couples and others to build families through surrogacy. Thanks to advances in medicine and policy changes like this one, more LGBTQ+ families are now able to pursue parenthood.

Kenyan has also been a champion for some of the most vulnerable members of our community: LGBTQ+ young people experiencing homelessness. In DC, LGBTQ+ youth represent nearly 40 percent of the city’s homeless youth population. Early in his time on the Council, Kenyan worked with fellow members to dedicate housing beds for LGBTQ+ youth and to strengthen the capacity of the Mayor’s Office of LGBTQ+ Affairs to support community programs. Those investments helped ensure that young people facing rejection or instability had a safer place to turn.

Leadership like this matters, especially as our city faces unprecedented challenges. In addition to being a champion for our community, the next mayor will need to navigate threats from the federal government, a massive reduction of the federal workforce of over 20,000 jobs, an unprecedented wave of restaurant closures, and year-after-year billion-dollar budget shortfalls. 

Today, our city needs a leader whose values never waver and who has delivered real results for all our neighbors. Kenyan McDuffie has shown that kind of leadership throughout his public service career.

D.C. has always been a safe haven for the queer and trans community seeking opportunity, safety, and belonging. That promise is worth protecting and ensuring the next generation can find the same refuge and opportunity we have.

As voters prepare to make an important choice about the city’s future, I believe Kenyan McDuffie is the leader best prepared to carry that promise forward.

That’s why I’m proud to join him and countless others in launching the Out for Kenyan coalition this Thursday, March 26, at Number Nine.

Cesar Toledo is a first-generation queer Latino and an Out Magazine Out100 honoree who has spent over a decade advancing LGBTQ+ equality, equity, and social justice.

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