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 wasnāt 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 wouldnāt 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, didnāt 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. Wouldnāt it be cool if we could use Audreyās 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 wasnāt 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 wouldnāt treat us in Ireland. Back in 2015, Reciprocal IVF wasn’t licensed yet. In fact itās 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 Audreyās 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 didnāt 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 ābut we are married and we voted for marriage equality last year.ā
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 Avaās 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, āOK, so which one of you is the mother?ā We said, āWe both are.ā āBut which one of you gave birth?ā I said, āI did!ā She looked at me and said, āOK Ranae, I will be directing all my questions at you, if thatās OK?ā From that point on, she didnāt 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 Yearās 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 āEquality For Childrenā 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 itās legislation that will only cover certain methods of conception. Itās great to see progress in the right direction, but itās 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 canāt really put into words how damaging this has been for our family. To be reminded every day that you are āless than.ā That you are not equal. For your kids to be punished because their parents arenāt straight. In practical terms itās 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 werenāt 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 āEquality For Children.ā You can find her on Instagram at @ranaevonmeding.
Commentary
A conversation about queers and class
As a barback, I see our communityās elitism up close

In the bar, on the way to its now-Instafamous bathrooms, thereās a sign that reads, āqueer & trans liberation means economic justice for all.ā
I remember seeing that sign the first week the bar opened, and ever since I often find myself reflecting on that message. I stand fully in agreement. Thatās why laws protecting queers in the workplace are essential, for far too often we are targeted otherwise. It’s also why I love working at the bar, since it provides opportunities for queers from all over the spectrum to earn a living. At a time when I gave myself space to pursue art, it was the bar that enabled me to do so.
Itās one thing to support the LGBTQ community in spirit, but that spirit means jack in a capitalist society if viable economic opportunities donāt exist. Speaking of jack, thereās a fellow barback named Jack who I fangirl over often. Jack is a decade younger than me, but damn I wish I had his sex appeal at his age (or any age, for that matter). He also has a mustache that easily puts mine to shame.
Jack not only agrees but took things one step further. āEconomic inequality IS a queer issue,ā he told me, āespecially as we move into the most uncertain period of American politics I have ever lived through, it is apparent our identity is now a fireable offense.ā
Uncertain is right. Weāre fresh off the heels of a trade bonanza, one caused for literally no reason by our current commander in chief. Yet there emerged a strange division when discussing the trade warās āunintendedā consequences. For working class comrades like Jack and myself, weāre stressed about increasing prices in an already tough economy. But the wealthier echelons of our country had something else on their mind: the spiraling stock market. This alone highlights the story of our economic divide, where the same event produces two separate concerns for two distinct classes.
This is not to say the stock market is not important, but sometimes the media forget many Americans donāt own stock at all, including a vast majority of people between 18 and 29. In fact, according to Axios, the wealthiest 10 percent of Americans own 93 percent of the entire stock market, with the richest 1 percent holding $25 trillion ā thatās right, trillion with a ātā ā in market value. So, when the president reversed course on trade, it was less about high prices hurting everyday Americans and more about the dent created in the wealth of the wealthiest. And Iāll admit: that bothers me a lot.
If there is any takeaway from Trumpās trade war, it should be this: Economic inequality is the highest it has been in decades and, if left unchecked, will destroy the fabric of our country. We are steadily moving toward oligarchy statusāif weāre not there already, that isāand it seems to grow worse with each passing year and administration. But in a city of D.C. gays who often skew corporate, I wonder: Are we all on the same page here?
After becoming a barback, I have my doubts. From questions about what else I do, to comments encouraging me to work hard so that I can be a bartender one day, I quickly learned the gay world is not too fond of barbacking. Barebacking, sure, but not barbacking. And hey, I get itāweāre not the alcohol hookup at the bar. Still, we are part of the service industry, and while some people are incredibly kind, youād be surprised at how many turn up their noses at us, too.
Recently, Iāve come to realize my class defines me as much as my orientation does, if not more. Naturally, when you come from a rough neck of the woods like I do, itās easy to feel out of place in a flashy city like D.C., which Jack noticed, too. āAnyone from a working class background could testify to that,ā he said. āI donāt really know anyone from true upper class backgrounds, but Iād imagine their experience is one that leans into assimilation.ā
Assimilation is a key word here, for admittedly gays love to play with the elite. Often, we donāt have children, meaning more money for the finer things in life, but that also means we may not think about future generations much, either. Iāve written before that our insecurity growing up has us ready to show the world just how powerful gays can beāpower that comes in trips to Coachella and Puerto Vallarta, or basking in the lavish houses and toys we own. Thereās already a joke that gays run the government, and corporate gays kick ass at their jobs as well. So, given the choice between fighting inequality and keeping a high-paying job, I must admit I have a hard time seeing where D.C. gays stand.
Admittedly, it worked out in our favor before, given that many corporations catered to our economic prowess over the years. But look at whatās happening now: Many corporations have kicked us to the curb. Protections are being stripped from queers, particularly for our trans brothers and sisters. Law firms are bowing down to Trump, offering hundreds of millions in legal fees just for their bottom line. All of this will hurt both queers and the working class in the long run, so again I ask: Corporate gays, where do you stand? Because if you remain complicit, thatās bad news for us all.
I donāt want to sound accusatory, and I hate being a doomsday type, so allow me to end this on a better note. Strength is not about celebrating when times are good. Arguably, true strength emerges when times get tough. These are tough times, my friends, but that also makes now the perfect opportunity to show the world just how strong we are.
At a time when the world is pressuring us to turn our backs on each other, we must defy them to show up when it counts. Corporate gaysānow more than ever, at a time when the economy is turning its back on queers, we need you. We need you to stand up for the queer community. We need you to make sure no one gets left behind. We need you to show up for us, so that we can show up for you, too.
Ten years ago, the economy didnāt turn queer out of nowhere. The economy turned queer because we made it turn queer.
And if we did it once, surely we can do it again.
Jake Stewart is a D.C.-based writer and barback.
Opinions
On Pope Francis, Opus Dei and ongoing religious intolerance
Argentine-born pontiff died on Monday

āGood Fridayā set the stage for Saturdayās anti-Trump/MAGA āHands Offā protests serving as a timely lead-in to binge-watching Alex Gibneyās two-part HBO political documentary, āThe Dark Money Gameā on Easter Sunday. In āWealth of the Wicked,ā nefarious Opus Dei āSvengali Leonard Leo strategically seduces politically disappointed Catholic Federalist Society billionaires into subsidizing a scheme to ‘pipeline’ malleable conservative judges to take over the Supreme Court and overturn reproductive rights.
A key victory for āOperation Higher Courtā came in 2010 when SCOTUS ruled 5-4 in Citizens United v Federal ElecĀtion CommisĀsion, that corporations and unions have the same First Amendment free political speech rights as individuals ā as long as their unlimited cash donations go to 501 c(4)’s or Super PAC slush funds and not directly to candidates. Twelve years later, in 2022, they got their payoff with the overturning of Roe v Wade by Leo-promoted Catholic justices.
But Leoās political conniving is not the only exploitation of moral corruption. The documentary exposes conservative Christians too.
Gibneyās anti-hero is a former rabid anti-abortion lobbyist named Rev. Robert Schenck. He tells of turning to a fellow conservative in Cleveland, Ohio after Trump won the Republican presidential nomination in 2016 and asking: āAre we really going to do this? Weāre going to choose this man whoās inimical to everything we believe?ā The other evangelical replied: āI donāt care how bad he is. Heās going to get us the court we need.āā
Schenck explains the unholy alliance between Christian conservatives and Big Business. āWhenever you talked about government regulation, the argument was eventually ā āthese same characters who control my business are going to start trying to control your church. So, itās in your best interests that we defang this monsterā ā and that brought a lot of religious conservatives over.ā
And thereās this: āWe have a little aphorism built on a Bible verse: āThe wealth of the wicked is laid up for the righteous.ā So, yeah, letās baptize the billionairesā money. We can do that ā and it eventually brought together this alliance.ā
Schenck later reveals an intense epiphany that resulted in regret for how much harm he caused. Not so for Leo.
This is an excerpt from Gareth Goreās comprehensive book Opus, for Rolling Stone Magazine:
āDURING THE DONALD TRUMP YEARS, conservatives ā led by Leonard Leo ā took control of the Supreme Court … At one Federalist Society event, his good friend Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas jokingly referred to Leo as the third most powerful man in the world, presumably behind the pope and the president of the United States.ā
On Monday morning, Pope Francis died. I liked this pope, compared to the others. I covered Creating Change during the AIDS crisis when author Paul Monette delivered his brilliant, scathing denouncement of the Catholic Church, then unexpectedly ripped up a portrait of Pope John Paul II. Pope Benedict XVI was just crotchety cruel. But Pope Francis ā named for St. Francis of Assisi ā had that big smile and genuinely seemed to care about migrants, the vulnerable and the marginalized ā like us. He even used the word ‘gay’ instead of ‘homosexual.’
Pope Francisās reply to a question about a Vatican āgay lobbyā on a flight from Rio de Janeiro to Rome made global news. āIf a person is gay and seeks God and has good will,ā he said in 2013. āWho am I to judge? We shouldn’t marginalize people for this. They must be integrated into society.”
What did this mean? Welcoming inclusion into a family that officially considers us ‘intrinsically disordered?’
And then there was Pope Francis’s interaction with Juan Carlos CruzĀ ā a whistleblower in Chile’s clerical sex abuse scandal.
“He said, ‘Look Juan Carlos, the pope loves you this way. God made you like this and he loves you,'” Cruz told The Associated Press.
Meanwhile the Catholic Church Catechism affirmed, “this inclination, which is objectively disordered, constitutes for most of them a trial.”
Ergo, a behavioral choice.
Therein lies the problem.
LGBTQ people are seen largely as individuals with sinful same sex sexual ‘inclinations.’ So when the pontiff touted ‘the equal dignity of every human being,’ and rebuked Vice President JD Vance with the ‘Good Samaritan’ parable, whereby love ābuilds a fraternity open to all, without exceptionā ā we are still the exception.
Francis was all also human ā having to apologize at one point for using a gay slur. But what of the bigger things like, did he know about the Opus Dei takeover of the U.S. Supreme Court when he chastised Vance about deporting migrants? Did he know that the Archdiocese of Los Angeles agreed to pay $880 million to 1,353 people last October, who allege they were victims of clergy sexual abuse? With a previous payment of $740 million, the total settlement payout will be more than $1.5 billion dollars. Is Leo chipping in to replenish that?
And itās not over. Earlier this month, Downey Catholic priest Jaime Arriaga, 41, was charged with several counts of child sexual abuse which allegedly happened when he was serving as a transitional deacon at the Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church.
Longtime U.K LGBTQ+ activist Peter Tatchell ā whoās campaigned against Catholic homophobia for 58 years ā says Pope Francisā legacy is complicated.
āI extend my condolences to Catholics worldwide on the passing of Pope Francis. While we often disagreed on issues of LGBTQ rights, I acknowledge his more compassionate tone towards sexual minorities. His recent moves to allow blessings for same-sex couples, albeit with limitations, signaled a small but significant shift in Church doctrine,ā Tatchell said in a statement.
āHowever, for millions of LGBT+ people globally, the Catholic Church remains a force for discrimination and suffering. Under his leadership, the Vatican continued to oppose same-sex marriage and trans rights. Catholic bishops lobbied against the decriminalization of homosexuality in many parts of the world. The Vatican still upholds the homophobic edicts of the Catechism, which denounces the sexual expression of same-sex love as a āgrave depravityā and āintrinsically disordered.ā Francisās legacy is, therefore, a mixed one ā offering some progress, but leaving deep-rooted inequalities largely intact.
āThe struggle for LGBT+ equalityĀ against a homophobicĀ church must continue. We urge the next Pope to go further ā to end the churchās support for discrimination, both within the faith and in the widerĀ society.ā

Brad Tennis loves running. For years, the meditative rhythm of his feet on pavement brought him peace like nothing else could. And it turns out, he was quite good at running as he even qualified for the Boston Marathon. But while Brad was chasing his goals, unbeknownst to him, his heart was slowly deteriorating.
In November 2018, out of the blue, Brad was diagnosed with arrhythmogenic right ventricular cardiomyopathy or ARVC, a rare heart condition that causes the heart muscle to break down over time. ARVC increases the risk of abnormal heartbeats and chance of sudden cardiac death. Brad was fitted with an internal defibrillator and told he could no longer run. Doctors warned him that endurance exercise would only accelerate the disease.
After processing the news of this condition, Brad felt like himself for a while. But in 2020, he started experiencing Implantable Cardioverter-Defibrillator (ICD) shocks to halt life threatening arrhythmias. Despite numerous surgical and medical interventions, the shocks began to get more frequent. By 2023, the toll of the disease, the ICD shocks and the treatments led to progressing heart failure. By the end of 2023, he was feeling breathless on stairs, having trouble playing physically with his children and finding it difficult to keep up at work. His world was shrinking.
In February 2024, Brad started the process with Johns Hopkins Hospital to be listed for a heart transplant. A couple of weeks later, he had another shock, more testing and then a doctor put him on ECMO (extracorporeal membrane oxygenation), a life support machine that is used when a person’s heart is failing. Soon after, he got the news of a lifetime: āThereās a heart available and today is the day!ā
The organ transplant marked the beginning of a new journey. Brad focused on recovery ā building up his strength, learning his new body and adjusting to life with a new heart. Last summer, he was cleared to exercise again and is enjoying playing with his kids ā something he deeply missed.

“I would never say I’m back to feeling normal. I’m always going to have to carefully manage my stress and my activities to protect my health and my new heart,ā said Brad. āBut the transplant was lifesaving and means that I will be there to build a life with my husband and my kids.”
Brad is still moving forward. He and his family are enjoying life again ā and heās even bought a new pair of sneakers with the hope that heāll be able to return to running regularly.
āOrgan donation and transplant have reopened doors that I had thought were closed forever,ā Brad shares. āItās given me the chance to be present and have a full, happy life with my husband, son and daughter.ā
His husband, Drew, adds, āEvery day, I’m reminded of Brad’s strength, resilience and bravery.ā
Brad doesnāt take this lifesaving gift for granted and is grateful to his organ donor hero. āI think itās an amazing thing ā to give life and give hope. Even in tragedy, someone gave me a gift… a second chance. Everyone can register to be a donor and save lives like Bradās at infinitelegacy.org.
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