At 13 weeks, Where’s your husband?

At 20 weeks, let’s hope she remains a girl. These days, you never know.

40 weeks: Would you two be able to even raise a son?

The comments I heard while pregnant are not microaggressions. As a queer person giving birth, I was met with violent language from healthcare professionals.

This implied that if I wanted to conceive successfully, give birth and raise my child, I would have needed to be a heterosexual, cisgender, partnered woman. This language forced to me validate my parenting journey, and humanize myself as well as LGBTQIA+ youth in one of the most vulnerable phases of my life. This language made me aware that I would spend more time educating others than actually receiving care. This language would be used not only in medical settings, but also in educational, community, and legal settings.

As a future parent, I expected to be treated with ease, prioritised, and empathized as I tried to find the best way to build and nurture my new family. My experiences, however, would remind me that the truth is: Black births and being a queer person can be deadly. People often get very involved in our apparent attempts to push the limits of God and Science. They can’t be invested in ensuring we survive.

Did you know that Black birthing people are

Silence is the only way to express our pain and loss.

Did you know many insured LGBTQIA+ Families are unable to access their fertility benefits for IVF or IUI procedures because they must first spend 6-12 month trying to conceive before they can use the coverage?

Heterosexual couples who are on the same plan can also access the benefits, because they have the ability to try and conceive during the specified time period. Families take out second mortgages or get deeply in debt to pursue the same dreams as their straight counterparts.

Did you know only 2 % of the donors at major cryobanks were Black?

People who are qualified to help us make our family’s dreams a reality are turned away, either because they “are not in demand” or they cannot provide three generations of their family history which this country has stolen from them.

This is just one of the many layers that make up the obstacles Black LGBTQ+ parents face in their parenting journeys. Discriminatory providers, racist policies and misinformation are prevalent during fertility treatments, adoptions, fostering or even the blending of families.

In May 2019 founded xHood as a community to help solve this issue. I wanted to tackle the distrust that Black Queer people have towards the adoption, surrogacy, family medical and reproductive industries due to the racism, homophobia and transphobia we’ve experienced. I knew the key to success was to learn from those who had dared to persevere.

We have evolved as a team and continue to work on this problem with our community of nearly four thousand. We have learned to support each other better in this journey. This is done by connecting our community with people who are truly invested in the success of their journey as they go through conception, adopting, and raising a family. Our village is in need of a much larger population.

xHood connects our members to a variety of resources, including fertility specialists, adoption attorneys, financial planners and grief counselors. We also provide mental health support. Our online community offers deep connections year-round, as do our monthly virtual classes and workshops and our annual Black Parent PRIDE Summit.

Our members have access to resources to help them overcome the barriers that prevent them from having their dream family. We also connect our members with providers who are committed to racial, queer and gender competence.

People often refer to us as Black folx and assume that we are weak, without resources, but also superhumanly strong. We can carry the weight of the entire world.

No More

Motherhood. Fatherhood. Parenthood. xHood is the perfect gift for all parents, regardless of where they are in their parenting journey.