When Eli Ramos, a biracial, nonbinary, nonbiological parent, and their wife Melissa first picked a donor from a cryobank, it was “equal parts fun and weird.” Since then, however, Ramos has learned “how deeply rooted the fertility industry is in systems of exclusion and eugenics,” a learning that has caused them to reflect further on the ethical and policy issues around donor conception. In this self-published volume, they share their experiences, their thoughts on the broader issues, and how they have chosen to move forward.
Ramos’s questioning began when they connected in a Facebook group with other parents who used the same donor. They were happy for the chance to connect with their children’s donor siblings and to learn from the perspectives of donor conceived people. But they also learned that the supposed limits on the number of children from any given donor are not at all fixed; that legislation protecting against fertility fraud isn’t widespread; and that issues of identity and contact with donors get infinitely more complex in an era of online searches and genetic testing.
Ramos shows how they have grappled with these issues and what they mean for their own son, sometimes finding answers but other times living with the ambiguities. They are clear that the approaches they have taken are not necessarily the ones that other families will choose; the value is less in their answers than in their sharing of the process. As parent of a donor conceived child myself, I found much that was thought-provoking here, and I share their broad desire for reform around donor conception.
I do, however, wish Ramos had specified when the perspectives they share from donor conceived people were from those with queer parents as opposed to non-queer ones; they risk blurring important distinctions. As COLAGE notes in its excellent “Donor Conceived: A Guide for People Who Have LGBTQ+ Parents and Were Born via Donor Conception and/or Surrogacy,” “The experience of DCP with LGBTQ+ parents is unique and presents specific challenges and joys. We recognize that DCP with straight parents may not agree with or understand our perspectives on these issues.” (See more here.)
I also had a chuckle over Ramos’s statement that, “There are new, more ethical ways of family building that are becoming more popular. More donor-conceived people are advocating for known donor arrangements, especially one where a family member or close friend could act as a donor.” Fact is, for queer families, known donor arrangements aren’t a “new” way, but were how many in the first generation of intentional queer families got pregnant, back in the 1970s. (See Radical Relations and Considering Parenthood, among other sources.)
I appreciate, however, that Ramos raises many important questions about the fertility industry and the need for reform, and that they show us how the questions raised by donor conception play out in the personal context of their own family and son. They and their wife “hope to follow his lead while removing obstacles from his path—to equip him with language, confidence, and a deep sense of belonging and love. We don’t need to have all the answers, but we must be a steady, safe place to land when he’s seeking them.” That’s a goal to which all of us should aspire.
Those interested in the topic may also wish to explore the stories from donor conceived people and their parents captured in Random Families: Genetic Strangers, Sperm Donor Siblings, and the Creation of New Kin, which offers an additional range of perspectives on connecting with donor relatives.
