Abstract
Keywords
Introduction
Data collection, particularly via state documents, serves as a crucial marker for recognizing identities and legitimizing minority groups into existence. For LGBTQ communities, data is particularly important as it relates to the lives and experiences of individuals who identify as LGBTQ (Guyan, 2022). Often, forms of data collection, such as national censuses can be hetero-centric, re-embedding normative conceptualizations of identity, particularly as it relates to sex, gender and sexuality (Krieger, 2000). One such instance where data gaps can occur is through the birth certificate, which is more often than not, the first form of data formally collected on an individual. Yet, the data gaps on birth certificates have permutations resulting in inequalities, particularly when it comes to LGBTQ families. It is well known that birth certificates act as identity affirming documents for individuals in society, but a birth certificate can also act as an identity affirming document for the parents, not just the child (Blyth et al., 2009; Clapton, 2014; Gerber and Linder, 2015). Accordingly, LGBTQ parents can have a particular relationship with data that is often mired in difficulties and in some cases renders them invisible by broader society and culture. This is made more complex by the fact that birth certificates vary depending on jurisdiction, so that recognition can be established and can then be erased if one emigrates or immigrates to a new place with different laws and policies (Gerber and Linder, 2015).
Cultural values shape and are shaped by the ways that data is imagined and put to use; embodied histories of power and oppression underlie assumptions about what data is, ‘who counts, in what ways, and why’ (Wernimont, 2018: xiii). This can be extended to the relationships that data imply, such as parent and child. Guyan (2022) defines queer data as data relating to sex, gender, trans identity/history and sexual orientation. As Ruberg and Ruelos (2020) argue, dominant standards of understanding and collecting demographic data – such as in research surveys or government censuses – are insufficient for accounting for the complexities of LGBTQ lives. Birth certificate data has been identified by many scholars for its centrality in providing complete and accurate information on demographics (Buescher et al., 1993; Roohan et al., 2003).
However, birth certificate data does not allow for the fluidity and multiplicity of gender and sexual identities that characterize the lived experience of many LGBTQ families. This article will explore the significance of the birth certificate for LGBTQ Irish families, particularly in light of the varying inequalities that emerge from the data gaps they create for both parent and child. In exploring these facets, this article draws upon qualitative semi-structured interviews with LGBTQ parents, exploring how they perceive the data gaps that emerge on birth certificates and the effects these gaps have on them as an LGBTQ family. Through exploring how the data gaps and omissions on the Irish birth certificate creates inequalities for LGBTQ parents and their children, this article analyses the data gathered from a ‘data for queer lives’ perspective.
Coined by Ruberg and Ruelos (2020), data for queer lives calls for shifting how we see and understand queer identity through data. Through these findings, we argue that systems of data collection, data structures and certification must be changed to build on data for queer lives: that is questions that more accurately and respectfully engage with the complexities of LGBTQ identities and experiences so that the data they produce can better serve LGBTQ people (Rueberg and Ruelos, 2020). This article defines data gaps as data for particular elements or social groups that are knowingly or unknowingly missing and which may lead to an incomplete picture of a social group or underrepresent certain groups (Giest and Samuels, 2020). Many of these LGBTQ families were attuned and aware of the effects of these data structures, the gaps that are present and the lack of data on their lives. In understanding the lived experiences of LGBTQ parents who must face these data gaps, the identified complexities can contribute towards recalibrating how birth certificate data is gathered and organised, particularly in relation to recognizing families beyond hetero-centric models.
This research is also cognizant of the shortcomings of seeking these forms of data inclusion for queer populations, especially for LGBTQ parents, who seek to gain recognition through changing the structure of the birth certificate. Data is often collected through heteronormatively inspired family categories, which can lead to inclusion of some LGBTQ families, but leave other parenting constellations, such as three parent families, outside of the data collection practices. Additionally, seeking inclusion in this way can also become an ‘institutional process that heightens an institution’s legitimacy and enhances the taken-for-grantedness of its norms and practices’ where there is assimilation into the system rather than changing it to be more inclusive overall (Joshi, 2014: 76).
Literature review
Critical data studies and queer data
As building blocks of information and knowledge, data are described as ‘the raw material produced by capturing and abstracting the world into measures and other representational forms’ (Kitchin and Lauriault, 2018). As research on data has continued to proliferate, particularly with the emergence of the field of critical data studies, scholars have noted how data has come to be understood as intersecting with a nexus of relationships, between people, technology, social systems and systems of governance. Much of the research that has emerged in critical data studies has focused on the structure of data and the gaps that can proliferate. Trace and Zhang (2021) argued that data gaps can emerge with contemporary technologies, particularly those that self-track. Pink et al. (2018) have researched data gaps, coining the concept of broken data, where data is in a processes of ‘decay, making, repair, re-making and growth’. Discussion of data generation have also resulted in the ‘problem of missing data’ (Dalton et al., 2016). Dalton et al.’s work examines the state of data being absent. As the authors note, data production is tied to complex socioeconomic factors that impact whether and to what degree a rich datasphere exists in the first place and whether data can be later extracted from a situation. Further, as Iliadis and Russo (2016) argue, the presence or absence of data relates to power, the power to be able to focus on something and scrutinize it or the power to have it remain hidden.
Relating to the power dynamics of data and its ability to exclude and include, queer data has always been noted as contentious within systems of power and in traditional data gathering processes. As Browne and Nash (2010) argue: ‘If, as queer thinking argues, subjects and subjectivities are fluid, unstable and perpetually becoming, how can we gather “data” from these tenuous and fleeting subjects’ (p. 1). The relationship between queerness and data has been interrogated by some researchers in terms of the complexities and nuances that can exist with queer communities and forms of data collection and data structures. As Gieseking (2017) contends in the context of big data, it can ‘further oppresses the marginalized by creating a false norm to which they are never able to measure up’. Extending from this, Gieseking notes that ‘the stories and the data of the marginalized remain “small data” in their number, respect and meaning without fair representations’.
Some research has focused on data and queer communities, with a particular focus on the national census. Krieger (2000) maintains, in relation to the US 2000 census, that ‘embodied in the question of counting is who counts, and how’ and that these forms of data collection ‘are enmeshed in the social and political realities of the society in which the census is conducted’ (p. 1687). Guyan’s (2021) work similarly looks at how queer populations are constructed, or not, through census data collection, as he notes that those ‘in charge of the census can deploy collection tools to locate data that confirms the identity characteristics they wish to bring into being. At the same time, the design of collection tools can ensure that particular characteristics or ways of thinking about identities are “designed-out” of the process’ (p. 3). Browne (2010) has discussed how not being counted in the census can further silence the demands of minority or marginalized groups and provide an ‘evidence-based ‘ justification for their exclusion.
In Ireland, data about queer lives and experiences have yet to enter public discourse. Some activist and NGO groups have made a call for questions about sexual orientation to be included in Ireland’s national census in 2026 (McCrave, 2019). Issues regarding the birth certificate in Ireland and LGBTQ parent families are particularly acute given the centrality of the document in strengthening practices of state governance. A birth certificate is a basic requirement for accessing services of the state for a child, including the Child benefit payment, a passport, and for their parents, it confers legal rights around making decisions for the child, such as healthcare and guardianship. The birth certificate and the way it is structured within the Irish context displays the same exclusionary tendencies for the LGBTQ community as evidenced with the research on the national census in other contexts, which is why an expansion in the data gathering mechanisms and structure and organisation of the birth certificate would allow for more inclusive representations of parenthood. In Ireland, birth certificates employ a structure that has remained largely unchanged since the nineteenth century (Coward, 1982). A date, a place, and a mother and a father is listed, as well as the forename and later the surname of the child. Whilst the terms ‘mother’ and ‘father’ are ill defined in Irish law, those registering the birth of a child only allow for a person who identifies as a woman, and who gives birth to be registered as a mother. Whilst the certificate has remained unchanged, policies surrounding how birth is reported has changed over time, albeit slowly.
Birth certificates and LGBTQ family data
Birth certificates have been noted by researchers as being one of the foundations to public health and that understanding data around live births can ‘affect health policies and efficient resource allocation’ (Brumberg et al., 2012). Birth certificates and the data they generate posit a number of individual and societal benefits, among which include citizenship, social welfare (Harbitz and Tamargo, 2009) and access to health services (Brito et al., 2017).
The birth certificate also has several societal and individual benefits for parents. Blyth et al. (2009) explored how the birth certificate served as a way of granting parental rights to parents on the physical birth certificate and in particular, they note how donor conception needs to be documented in the birth certificate in some way. Clapton’s (2014) research has focused on how aspects of parentage on the birth certificate needs to be revised, especially pertaining to how ‘unknown fathers’ are documented. In making this argument, they consider how parentage on the birth certificate has particular properties, value and meaning that are central to the identity of the parent. Other research states that birth certificates confer rights to parents and serve as a crucial marker for connecting them with their child, granting a series of rights pertaining to inheritance, but also a legal right in making decisions for them in terms of healthcare and being next of kin on documents in education (Hunter, 2019). Research within the Irish context has been more minimal and has tended to focus on the relationship between unmarried fathers and their children (Tobin, 2020) along with the implications that surrogacy can have on parental recognition in Irish law (Tobin, 2019). However, there remains a dearth of research regarding the effects of the birth certificate and its registration process on LGBTQ parents.
Wong (2007) argues that the recognition of one’s identity is necessary for one’s sense of self and that non-recognition can be harmful. In a similar vein, he asserts that we should not assume that the identity of any group is permanent and can be subject to change. Wong’s argument in relation to marginalized groups relates closely to changing family models and dynamics. As a result of legal recognition of new queer family dynamics, the birth registration system in Ireland, because of its data infrastructures, engenders gaps and missing data, as the birth registration system is not equipped to incorporate or consider LGBTQ parent families. The birth certificates structure aligns with Schönpflug et al.’s (2018) argument that ‘data-generating and data clearing procedures are influenced by heteronormative presumptions about families or parenthood’ and ‘also protective motives concerning the private sphere of LGB(TI)Qs’ (p. 22). Given that LGBTQ parent families have begun to emerge publicly, demanding rights and formal recognition, research has attentively shifted to focus on LGBTQ-parent families. Goldberg and Allen’s (2013) edited collection demonstrates the breadth of research relating to parenting and methodological approaches to researching LGBTQ parents. In particular, the inclusion of LGBTQ-parent families in data sources, such as population-based representative survey or large scale cohort studies has been an object of focus (Russell et al., 2020).
The birth certificate, and the perspective of LGBTQ parents of the document, is a gap in much of this emerging research despite the fact that the birth certificate serves as a potential site to collect this population level data and work in part towards being representative of the diverse and queer family models to have emerged in Ireland. A data for queer lives focus would could be considered in terms of the design of the birth certificate and the process of birth registration. Ruberg and Ruelos (2020) contend that demographic data do not sufficiently account for the complexities of LGBTQ lives, and they argue that a more inclusive, ‘queerer’ approach is required to understand the realities of gender and sexuality through data, allowing people to account for the complexities of their identities and affirm the identities of LGBTQ people more broadly. This inclusive, queerer approach to data collection is referred to by the authors as ‘data for queer lives’. Thinking about data from a queer perspective, as Ruberg and Ruelos argue, can have ‘direct implication for the design of data collection and classification’.
Legal frameworks of non-conventional parentage and birth certificates
The centrality of the data gathered by birth certificates is underpinned by the fact that international rights conventions have amplified birth registrations as a core children’s right via right to identity: according to the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, ‘Where a child is illegally deprived of some or all of the elements of his or her identity, States Parties shall provide appropriate assistance and protection, with a view to re-establishing speedily his or her identity’ (1989).
Additionally, recent rulings in the European Union have underpinned the centrality of the birth certificate in providing legal connections between parent and child. In a case pertaining to a same-sex couple who received a birth certificate from Spain seeking for it to be recognized in Bulgaria, the Court of Justice of the European Union ruled that EU Member States are required to recognize, for the purpose of EU free movement law, the familial ties established in another EU Member State between a child and their parents who are a same-sex couple (Court of Justice of the European Union, Judgment in Case C-490/20 Stolichna obshtina, rayon ‘Pancharevo’, 2020).
Parental rights cases involving surrogacy have also stretched the boundaries of how parental rights are granted. In 2021, the European Court of Human Rights ruled in the case of Valdís Flölinisdóttir and Others v Iceland. The outcomes of the case stated that the refusal to recognise couples as parents of a child born via surrogacy is not a violation to parental rights. The court adjudged that Iceland had acted within its own discretion to grant parental rights, particularly regarding surrogacy which is illegal in the country (Valdís Fjölnisdóttir and Others v. Iceland, 2021). These recent rulings indicate the legal battles to have emerged around non-conventional parentage and birth certificates.
Broader research in legal studies has approached the question of recognition of non-conventional families from varying standpoints, focussing on the ways in which the law and the legal system more broadly confers recognition. Cammu (2020) explores the legal experiences of parental constellations, that is, when two or more adults decide to conceive and raise a child together. They argue that the ‘lack of legal framework for multiple parent families has consequences for how individuals in parental constellations externalized their status as parents of a child. Park (2013) similarly critiques the ‘biocentric ideology’ that underpins parental relationships, particularly how biocentrism – or the privileging of a genetic connection between a parent and child – can decentre or reduce the privilege of other parents who may not have that genetic connection. Swennen and Croce (2017) contend that the conventional heteronormative family kinship categories which are static, predefined statuses, should be replaced with a model wherein the state enables kinship categories to be defined by citizens themselves, arguing that this model would be better in reflecting new and emerging forms of kinships and family structures. Croce (2021) similarly posits that juridification, which is the increasing use of the law to tackle social and political issues, could be effectively used by social actors, such as non-conventional family networks, to reach out to legal institutions to have their claims heard, whereby legal institutions could accordingly rethink their activity in a way that ‘opens spaces for social actors to verbalize what they do, how they organize their networks and what they think they need in order to make it continue to exist’ (1036).
The question of inclusion has also become a source of contention, particularly in the context of state governance and institutional transformation. Joshi (2014) points to the complications that can emerge from thinking of institutional inclusion through legal means as the ultimate outcome of social justice for sexual minorities, arguing that ‘inclusion may do more to hinder the achievement of social justice than it does to facilitate it’ (215). Seeking inclusion for the LGBTQ parents in this case sees them aligning with heteronormative values established by the state through its legislature and structures and can sometimes be simply related to gaining access to an institution rather than changing it.
Birth registration in Ireland
Whilst countries around the world have modified the structure and practices surrounding the ways in which they document the event of birth and associate children with parents via the birth certificate, Ireland’s birth certificate has remained largely unchanged since it was introduced under Victorian law, in 1864. In the first recording of births in Ireland in 1865, a birth mother and father were listed, along with the child’s forename, date and location of birth. A witness to the birth was also recorded. The child’s surname and the father’s occupation were eventually added. The mother’s occupation as well, in addition to the maiden names of the birth mother and father’s mothers (the grandmothers’ maiden name) as well as the date and location of birth. Whilst small updates have been made to the structure of the certificate, the process of reporting birth has remained stagnant for close to a century: a birth mother must attend a government registration office to report the birth. Child benefit payments do no commence until a birth has been registered at the registration office. As such, government registry officers who record birth information serve as gatekeepers for parents – these officers check identification of parents, and rely on their interactions with the parents in order to process the birth registration successfully.
In terms of how birth certificate data is collected in Ireland today, the woman who gives birth to the child is considered to be the mother of the child regardless of genetic relationship and must be present for a birth certificate to be issued, unless she is married to the father of the child. If the mother is married to the child’s father and the marriage took place in Ireland, either parent can act as an informant and report the birth to the Civil Registration Office (Health Service Executive, 2018). If the mother and father are not married, or married outside of Ireland, both parents must attend the Registry Office to sign the required forms and supply identification. The fields on the current birth certificate registration form are listed as ‘mother’ and ‘father’ only; there is no allowance made for more than one mother, more than one father or more than two parents (Department of Social Protection, 2020). The instructions on the birth registration form state that for any child conceived from a donor assisted human reproduction (DAHR) procedure taking place after 4 May 2020, documentation can be provided so that upon registration the parents can choose to have the labels ‘mother’ and/or ‘father’ changed to ‘parent’ once they supply particular documents, however, the mother is still considered to be the women who gives birth to the child.
In instances where a donor-conceived child was born from a DAHR procedure that took place in a DAHR facility in the Republic of Ireland before 4 May 2020, then the birth mother may (upon presentation of required documents) re-register the birth in order to have two female same-sex parents recognised on the birth certificate. However, this only changes the birth certificate, it does not automatically grant the second same-sex parent guardianship rights – this requires a legal process managed by the Court system. These procedures were first described in the Republic of Ireland Child and Family Relationships Act (2015), which became law on 4 May 2020. The act does not allow two same-sex parents to be listed on a birth certificates in cases of surrogacy, two male same-sex parents, or same-sex parents who attend DAHR facilities abroad (Maguire, 2020; Tobin, 2017). In October 2020, two same-sex female parents were allowed to be listed on a birth certificate of children born via a reciprocal IVF procedure that took place at a facility in Ireland resulting in a live birth.
This process is in contrast with other jurisdictions, such as US States, Canadian Provinces and Australian States that provide more straightforward routes to legally recognised parentage for same-sex couples (Gerber and Linder, 2015; Quinn, 2018). In contrast, Ireland’s closest geographic neighbour with whom they share a land border, the United Kingdom, requires far fewer steps for same-sex parents (male or female) to be listed on a child’s birth certificate. Accurate birth certificate data can contribute information to the importance of vital statistics for state policy and the protection of vulnerable communities. In the Irish context, however, the birth certificate does not recognise the variances in family structures that have begun to emerge in the country.
Method
Our aim was to gather data from the lived experiences of a population (LGBTQ parents in Ireland) and their experiences of engaging with the data structures of the Irish birth certificate. In doing so, we wanted to explore the issues that emerged as parents were confronted with this document and how they creatively and critically attempted to negotiate their LGBTQ family status in the context of hetero-centric governmental and legislative structures in Ireland.
Interviews were conducted via zoom during April–May 2020. Participants were recruited using a purposive snowball sample of people who identify as LGBTQ, who are currently in a same-sex relationship and who currently have children. Snowball sampling was selected as the sampling procedure as a result of its ability to access hard-to-reach populations such as LGBTQ parents. The method is particularly useful for accessing populations that ‘feel stigmatized and are particularly sensitive and vulnerable, requiring a degree of trust in order to become a willing participant’ (Parker et al., 2019). This network-based form of sampling was helpful in terms of accessing LGBTQ parents. Gay and lesbian are the dominant identity terms used in this article, as that is how the participants identified. None of these terms presuppose the existence of a clear group or identity, but they refer to some widely used discourses and categorizations. LGBTQ is also used within the article to signal its common use as a term for sexual and gender minorities. The sample was collated initially through preliminary interviews with informants who were personal contacts and who openly identified as both gay and lesbian. Thereafter, a snowball sampling was deployed, with other potential participants suggested by respondents, and these were subsequently pursued for further interviews.
The participants in this study, whilst representative of LGBTQ-parent family variations in Ireland more broadly, does not necessarily mean that the findings are transferable to other settings. One limitation of snowball sampling is selection bias, which can often lead to a research sample becoming homogenized, given that the referral process can result in participants coming from the same background (Parker et al., 2019). To that end, every effort was made to ensure that an equal number of participants was recruited in terms of those who identified as mothers and those who identified as fathers. Whilst there are slightly more mothers in the sample, this reflects a broader estimation that fewer gay fathers live in Ireland (Mullally, 2020). Similarly, all of the participants identified as cisgendered. Despite attempts by the researchers to find trans and non-binary parents by reaching out through varying organizations, this population of LGBTQ-parents in Ireland is small and difficult to access. To that end, the findings generated cannot necessarily be mapped more broadly onto the experiences of trans and non-binary parents.
A series of questions were designed for an interview schedule based on a preparatory literature review. All interviews were audio recorded, transcribed and de-identified. Confidentiality was assured, with any details that might reveal the identities of the participants changed. Interviews were conducted until saturation was observed.
Data was gathered via use of a semi-structured interview guide. The interview guide included questions designed to gather data about the parent’s understanding of the purpose of, and their value associated with a birth certificate for their child, as well as probe the experience of the participant in obtaining a birth certificate and/or citizenship for their child from Ireland. All interview transcripts were coded in nVivo 12. The interview guide was used to develop codes for the first round of qualitative coding. The second round of coding included codes that emerged from interview data as well as codes developed from memoing after the first round of coding.
Findings
Participant profile.
Recognition and exclusions of identity through data
As aforementioned, the data gathering structure of the birth certificate in Ireland is confined within heteronormative terms to father and mother dominantly. The structure of this data gathering mechanism results in the operationalization of exclusions for many LGBTQ-parent families as a result of the failure for the birth certificate to gather accurate data about a child’s family structure. As many participants noted Our children have two parents, but only one of those parents is on the birth certificate and that is being treated differently to other straight couples in the country (Participant 1). Parentage of the children is not reflected on either of their birth certificates (Participant 7).
In fact, the process by which the birth certificate data gathering mechanism is gendered also served as a form of exclusion, with the exclusion having varying permutations depending on whether you were a gay or lesbian LGBTQ-parent. Due to the fact that the Irish birth certificate always requires a birth mother’s name to be listed, this engenders further exclusions for many gay fathers in LGBTQ-parent families. The father’s name [on a birth certificate] is irrelevant as far as they’re [the Irish birth registration system] concerned, so when they didn’t have a mother’s name, it raised the flag and then they got back to us. We were in talks with them for like over a year […] about documentation that we had to get. They wanted us as a family to go to the Irish court system, pay, what would set us back tens of thousands of euros to claim the declaration of parentage to prove that this was our child. The Irish court system wanted us to verify this was our child (Participant 31)
Whilst these exclusions result in significant legal gaps occurring within the Irish legal system regarding full recognition of LGBTQ families, many of the respondents noted that the lack of data on the birth certificate also resulted in there being a significant cost to these exclusions, particularly in terms of economic costs, where parents frequently had to pay for solicitor’s letters, affidavits and broader legal fees in terms of getting recognition of parentage onto the birth certificate. One family paid to have their surnames changed by deed poll so they would have the optics of looking like a family on paper, due to one parent’s name often being omitted from the birth certificate (Participant 21).
Often, parents framed these exclusions around ideas of citizenship and nationhood, specifically around how they feel invisible as a citizen and in the eyes of the state. Many of the LGBTQ parents noted that their queer family dynamics did not let them become fully recognised in the eyes of the Irish state. Participants viewed the data on the birth certificate as a historical document that told their story with the state. Not having the document fully recognize their family resulted in many of them feeling like they were not part of the nation, and to some degree, felt abandoned by their country: I think the birth cert gives a message of exclusion and that the child in an LGBTQ family doesn’t matter (Participant 11). It suggests that the state doesn’t care about my child as much as it does another child, so yeah, it’s a negative message (Participant 15)
It is significant to note the ways in which the birth certificate and its data structures has exacerbated inequalities and exclusions with LGBTQ parents, as whilst the child may be excluded from the state for varying reasons, as explored below, the lack of representative data on the birth certificate creates vulnerabilities for parents, where in many cases only one parent can be recognised due to the inability of the document and the birth registration process to recognize same-sex parentage on par with heterosexual parentage. The 2015 Child and Family Relationships act attempted to provide recognition of female same-sex parentage on Irish birth certificates that is dictated by a very narrow process, whereas heterosexual parentage is not dictated by the same narrow process: the route to a birth certificate for heterosexual parents is more streamlined and simple. These exclusionary frameworks played a major role for many LGBTQ parents: It was more so obviously for my wife, I was going to be on the birth certificate but we realized that she would be absolutely nowhere on it, even though we were married (Participant 9). We didn’t really become fully aware of the inequalities until after [our child] was born. When we instructed a solicitor to do a will and stuff for us, the solicitor actually said, it sounds like you have no parental rights at all and your wife needs to do a will and a legal power of attorney (Participant 11).
The latter participant’s experience was reflective of how parents experienced these exclusions when attempting to negotiate the birth certificate exclusions through legal frameworks. Often it was at this point that they felt excluded by the document, framing it as making you ‘less than’ and ‘unequal’ in comparison to a partner who is on the birth certificate (Participant 11)
The ramifications of the birth certificate data fields and data collection process here clearly collides with the LGBTQ-parent family, in that it served to excludes parents that could not be named as a ‘birth’ parent on the actual document. The notion of the birth certificate listing ‘birth’ parents in Ireland has largely remained unchanged since birth reporting commenced under English Victorian law in the early nineteenth century, when ART was not a reality. This data gathering mechanism failed to be representative of queer families and created vulnerabilities for a parent and the child, as noted by several of the participants: While my partner is named on the birth certificate I am not, and that means I don’t have rights in the eyes of schools, if I need to pick the child up if they’re sick, or from hospitals, if I need to make a healthcare decision. I don’t have a legal role in that decision as parent, just my partner who is named on the birth cert (Participant 17) I am just not recognized in any way as a parent, it makes me feel like I have no role in my child’s life (Participant 21).
As noted here, feeling less connected to their child legally, in the eyes of the State and otherwise was a significant framing by LGBTQ parents here in terms of their experience with the birth certificate data exclusions. Many understood this position to be precarious and acknowledged that the only way to cope was to ‘try and fight for change’ (Participant 1)
The significance of exploring the ways in which these exclusions materialize, indicates how data gaps and data gathering mechanisms on birth certificate results in significant exclusion that have detrimental outcomes for LGBTQ families in terms of their visibility and recognition within the state. A data for queer lives approach, which includes data structures that more accurately and respectfully engage with the complexities of LGBTQ identities, would expand not only the ways in which data gathering happens on a birth certificate, restructuring the document, but have a very significant on recognizing an LGBTQ-parent family, making them feel included within the State and less precarious in terms of their position as parents.
Data gathering and data gaps
A significant issue for nearly all participants was the form of the birth certificate, particularly the way in which it was designed to collect data. The actual structure of the document served to restrict or obfuscate the reality of an LGBTQ family being represented, but also served as an obstacle in accounting for the full details of information. Interestingly, parents tended to frame birth certificate design structure in one of two ways: as an exclusionary practice of a heteronormative state versus an issue where the state is not up to speed on current forms of reproduction, such as Artificial Reproductive Technology (ART) and surrogacy.
The heteronormative imperatives of the birth certificate structure were evident through the fact that the document in all circumstances requires a named birth mother and generally will not allow for two LGBTQ parents, or more than two parents in general, to be recognised. In addition, the registry officer plays the role of gatekeeper in ensuring that these hetero-centric standards are maintained, as they record the information from parents, which leads to the creation of a birth certificate: I need the Irish government to recognise a birth certificate that has two men on it, which is something that they just won’t do. In an ideal world, the Irish birth certificate would have the option of Parent 1 and Parent 2, not mother and father (Participant 23).
Similarly, other parents felt that the Irish state was ‘heteronormative more broadly’ and as a result, this filtered down into the ‘administrative structures of the state’ (Participant 14). In particular, some parents, especially gay fathers, noted how the hetero-centric structure always ‘required a mother’, reflecting the ‘pronatalist structure’ of the document (Participant 26)
Conversely, other participants framed this issue of data gathering differently, noting how the structure of the birth certificate – and its lack of recognition of current forms of reproduction – proved a point of contention: Who are the parents of the child needs to be on the birth certificate and it’s no harm in having a separate section saying, [there was] a surrogate carrying the child and who was the surrogate. That would make the birth cert form easier and more accurate (Participant 10).
This inability to recognize the likes of ART and surrogacy proved difficult, with some participants commenting that ‘the state being so outdated in its approach to reproduction is reflected in the birth cert structure and it just invisbilizes you’ (Participant 26)
Despite the different framings of this issue by parents, the inability to ascertain a full and accurate birth certificate nonetheless resulted in a data gap for LGBTQ families, a data gap which may lead to an incomplete picture or underrepresent certain groups (Giest and Samuels, 2020). This has demonstrable negative effects when these families attempt to access services of the state, such as social welfare like the child benefit. As one gay father noted We’ve tried to register for the child benefit for our child and we went to the office and were told, it can only paid to mothers, and we said “well there is no mother in this situation, the child is being raised by two men”, and [they said] you won’t get child benefit then, because child benefit is only for mothers. You can’t pay it to fathers is what they told us (Participant 10)
In this example, the birth certificate is the evidence presented to begin the child benefit payment, and only the birth mother listed on the birth certificate can receive the child benefit payment. For this participant in particular, the hetero-centric structure of the birth certificate resulted in him having to engage in a legal battle to ascertain full rights for accessing the child benefit monthly payment, resulting in a significant economic cost through legal fees. The data gaps led many LGBTQ parents to being disadvantaged socially in terms of accessing what would have been civil rights for couples in heterosexual families. The data that is not gathered on birth certificates regarding LGBTQ families is also a major issue when attempting to register for a passport. The Irish passport registration system requires a birth certificate with a named mother and father to register new born children with a passport. Whilst only one parent listed on the birth certificate must be an Irish citizen in order to pass Irish citizenship to the child, both parents must be present to have the passport application certified for submission. As a result of the structure of how data is gathered on the Irish birth certificate, this results in many LGBTQ-parent families being unable to obtain a passport for their child: The kids don’t have access to passports, we have to go through a whole legal process to get them passports. And obviously the birth certificate is not recognized here, the birth certificate from [the country where the child was conceived] is not recognised here because they don’t accept same sex parenting. We have to go do DNA tests because they need to find out who is the father, but that means the other father will not be named (Participant 29).
The latter participant’s point speaks to the fact that the Irish legal system and the way the Irish birth registration system is established, due do its hetero-centric imperatives and design, results in lack of consideration of birth documents from other jurisdictions. Ireland abolished birth right citizenship in 1999; citizenship can only be obtained if it is passed down from parent to child. Otherwise, a child born in Ireland can apply to become a naturalised citizen only after meeting residency requirements (http://www.justice.ie/en/JELR/Pages/PR21000057). Considering this regulation, the way in which parentage is captured by the birth certificate plays an important role in the process of obtaining an Irish passport. Therefore, the procedure of registering for an Irish passport, and its data management process, is heterosexist in its approach that often, when LGBTQ-parent families come to register the birth of their child in Ireland after having them in another jurisdiction, there are a number of legal frameworks and obstacles through which they have to navigate: The UK birth certificate confirms that he’s our [child]. It was really when we were, trying to get an Irish passport that the situation became a bit more convoluted. The Irish state recognizes us as his guardians because we were granted a parental order by the UK, but not as parents, because we haven’t gone to the Irish court system. In Ireland, we had to prove a genetic link which proves scientifically [their our child], the Irish should have recognized the UK birth cert, but still the Irish state doesn’t recognize us as parents (Participant 28).
In that sense, the lack of representative data on a birth certificate does not only exclude LGBTQ parents in Ireland from particular civil rights, it also excludes LGBTQ parents who have conceived their child in another jurisdiction and accordingly will not recognize that birth certificate, given the heterosexist imperative of Irish passport registration system. Accordingly, there are incongruities pertaining to the data collection of LGBTQ-parent families on the birth certificate and as Browne (2010) notes, these exercises of data collection can reveal a differential privilege regarding who can become a lesbian, gay or bisexual citizen in the eyes of a state. This study extends beyond Browne’s assertion, as it also demonstrates who can become a family in the eyes of the Irish state.
Acts of resistance
Whilst the data structure of the birth certificate, along with the data gaps and its exclusions, resulted in vulnerabilities for both parent and child, many parents coped with these exclusions by responding to the data gaps in creative ways that attempted to develop some recognition in the eyes of the state, albeit this was often cosmetic and superficial. Often, parents framed these experiences in terms of resistance Many who were in two parent families where one was on the birth certificate and the other was omitted, changed their surname by deed poll to ensure that it was consistent with how their child’s name appeared on the birth certificate. Whilst there were no legal protections to this, this was a resistance strategy deployed to protect the child in future and be documented as a family, in some way: I changed my name by deed poll, just so it would be consistent with how my child’s[surname] looked on the birth cert (Participant 4). While it doesn’t protect me legally, I changed my name by deed poll, just to give some sense of normality and resist the archaic structure (Participant 26).
Here, it is evident that parents dealt with the exclusions and their consequences by trying at the very least to resist the document itself and create inclusion on their own terms in a way that at the very least in broader society, ‘would never be questioned as a result of having different names’ (Participant 31).
Going into the birth registration office also served as an opportunity to negotiate and resist the data structures, all the whilst attempting to gain some sort of recognition. One parent noted Even on that day when I was registering [my child], I asked could they put [my wife’s] name under the father’s name, just to get legally onto the birth cert. But that wasn’t possible (Participant 7). I used the birth certificate form in the registry office and included as much information I could by writing outside of the boxes and making new ones. The information may not have been recognised, but it was a way of at least including it and resisting the structures in front of me (Participant 12).
In these instances, parents coped with the exclusions by attempting to negotiate the application of the birth certificate itself, in an attempt to more fairly reflect their family dynamics.
More specifically, parents actively resisted prescribed protocols and data structures of the birth certificate system and employed pragmatic strategies to achieve some level of recognition for their status as an LGBTQ family. Many of the participants resisted through the provision of solutions about the birth certificate and its current form, noting that it was anachronistic, outdated and needed to undergo significant transformations: Already there are long form birth certificates and short form birth certificates. So maybe that’s an idea that that sort of information about parentage and surrogacy could be supplementary and maybe only on the long form but not the short form (Participant 22). By having a very conservative design on birth certs and that reflects the conservative position of lawmakers in Ireland around families that the norm is mummy and daddy and their offspring and beyond that the rest are just seen as abnormal kids (Participant 30).
Other participants noted that the fields of information on the document needed to be expanded to be more representative of LGBTQ families: I think there should be as much information on the birth certificate as possible, so if there was a surrogate involved, if there was a donor-conception involved, any information that is relevant and is available (Participant 1)
In particular, the participants mentioned above (P1, P22, P30) described themselves as activists, who wanted to resist the birth certificate structure and publicly campaign to get the Irish government to change the design of the document.
However, not all participants agreed with concept of adding fields to a birth certificate to recognise the format of conception. Whilst all parents agreed on a data for queer lives approach in that the birth certificate should recognize both same-sex parents equally and that parenthood should be recognized formally as an identity for same-sex parents, there was resistance within the community regarding the amount of information that should be on the document, evidenced through diverging perspectives. Some parents considered that intended parents
1
, should be the only information included on the birth certificate: I think whoever identifies as the parent at the time of birth. I think that’s only fair definition. It should be two people […] So what makes a parent is who is intending on being there as a parent and the daily life of the child as much as possible. That’s who should be on the birth cert (Participant 8).
Whilst intended parents as a new category was generally well received, some parents felt that it was important that the full account of a child’s birth was documented, such as the child’s biological heritage, if they were donor conceived and if they were conceived through ARTs: I don’t think that it will be the same for everyone, it could it be a thing of like where Part A of the birth contains the details of the biological birth mother and biological birth father of a child and then Part B could be the main bit for intended parents (Participant 11) It should include how they were conceived. I definitely think a child has a right to know (Participant 18).
Others were against making this information available on the birth certificate: I don’t think like it’s relevant […] Once [our child] turns 18, they can find out about the donor if they want to’ (Participant 9) I don’t think [the surrogate] should be listed at all. We have an identifiable donor, so our [child] can find them at the age of 18 if they wish to, but [the donor] is not involved in the care. [They’re] not [the parent]. They were just a donor and should not be on the birth cert (Participant 19).
Whilst opinions about what information should be listed on a birth certificate were varied, the ways in which these opinions were communicated emphasize the important role that a birth certificate can play in parental identity, particularly the way in which participant 19 linked recognition on a birth certificate with involvement and care of the child. Whilst there is agreement about fostering a ‘data for queer lives’ approach in terms of expanding the design of the birth certificate, these findings represent that there is disagreement and some resistance to proposed approaches regarding how to move forward. Whilst some parents considered it was important for the child to know their heritage, others resisted this, considering it as including too much detail on the birth certificate, which might result in their child being treated differently. So whilst inequalities visibly emerge for the parents, some felt that including too much data would expose children to future discrimination. Whilst there is a disagreement, there is an overall need for data for queer parenthood, it speaks to the common fact that the birth certificate needs to be restructured as a document.
Discussion: Data for queer lives becomes data for queer parenthood
As Ruberg and Ruelos (2020) argue in light of thinking about data for queer lives, the birth certificate can also be read as a ‘valuable, concrete demonstration of the ways in which dominant norms of conceptualizing data, which typically imagine an individual’s identity to be static and discrete, are ill-suited to the complex, shifting lives of LGBTQ people, which by nature resist hegemonic identity categorization’. What is evident from this study, is that a data for queer lives approach to how data is gathered from birth certificates, and how birth certificates are designed as a data gathering mechanism, needs to undergo significant transformation regarding the diversification of family structures, particularly as it relates to LGBTQ families, especially in terms of recognizing same-sex parents. Most previous research has focused on the birth certificate from the perspective of national contexts (Jewkes and Wood, 1998) or conferring parental rights (Blyth et al., 2009), but much of the research overlooks the perspective of parents, particularly LGBTQ parents. As Blyth et al. (2009) note, birth certificates have many duties and the arguments relating to changes to the document often stem from individuals and how they hierarchize or prioritize different parts of the birth certificate. This was also present in our findings which discussed parental perception.
As noted by Blyth et al. (2009), changes to the birth certificate and birth reistration can be contentious, because one document is expected to fulfil several duties, yet people tend to preference some of these duties over others. For example the birth certificate is expected to be a record, of birth, provide evidence of citizenship and nationality, be a record of parentage and acknowledge parental rights, provide evidence for access to state entitlements, and be a record of biological kinship. In modern society, one document suffers to fulfil all of these goals, particularly when family structure diversifies. This was evident with the perspectives of LGBTQ parents in this study.
Practically, the structure of the birth certificate and birth registration procedure need to change, so as to account for the nuances of LGBTQ families. This can come down to changing the fields of information on the birth certificate to be more inclusive, such as changing ‘mother’ and ‘father’ to ‘parents’ or ‘intended parents’. Extending from this, the birth registration process itself needs to change, so that it is not so orientated around ideal of a ‘birth mother’, but orientated more so around intended parents and that these intended parents can legally fulfil the administrative duties involved in registering the birth of a child.
When combining exclusion, data gaps and resistance, we can see how ‘data for queer lives’ can become relevant to developing a framework of ‘data for queer parenthood’. Data for queer parenthood acknowledges that current structures do not work, but it also acknowledges that there is room for different rankings of duties associated with the birth certificate, as seen in acts of resistance, where some parents had different priorities regarding what sort of information should be included on the document. In the findings relating to data gaps, parents perceived the document as out of date with contemporary forms of reproduction or as the product of a hetero-centric state. Further, a data for queer parenthood approach would also encourage the structure of the birth certificate be updated to allow for different parenting constellations. This ‘data for queer parenthood’ perspective provides a new way to look at data about parenthood. It has the potential to be utilised in other data gathering activities that include parenthood also.
LGBTQ families are having to justify their existence as they seek to make change for a more inclusive birth certificate and whilst there is a growing movement in Ireland with organizations such as Equality for Children (Mullally, 2020), there is still a significant length to go in expanding and recalibrating the design of the birth certificate in a way that acknowledges data for queer lives, or rather, data for queer parenthood. Since the data was collected, Ireland has attempted to improve birth registration for children with LGBTQ parents. However, as described above, these options for female same-sex parents come with significant reporting requirements and do not present a birth reporting process equal to that which is provided to heterosexual parents. In addition, gay male same-sex parents still have no option to obtain a birth certificate for their child which recognizes both intended parents. Velte (2020) promotes a practical way forward where people engage in data practices but remain conscious of their limitations and inherent dangers. As Velte explains, ‘if the government is in the business of creating identity through data collection, and distributing life changes through those categorical identities, LGBT people should be a part of that regime’ (p. 124). Additionally, as Hines (2020) argues, ‘a diversity of fluid genders, sexes and sexualities exist – a refusal to count them in the census will not make them disappear’ (Hines, 2020). This latter point is true for the birth certificate and as this article demonstrates, these legacy documents that have been used to gather data need to be recalibrated, considering the opportunities now afforded for LGBTQ people to pursue parenthood. This is an issue that must be considered as the number of LGBTQ parent families’ increases. The design of the birth certificate must be reconsidered to enable a more accurate and fuller representation of LGBTQ families in Ireland.
Conclusion
This article has provided an account of the ways in which LGBTQ families are discriminated against as a result of the data structure and data gathering mechanisms of the birth certificate in Ireland. The value of the birth certificate in terms of being a data gathering mechanism can be seen from the ways in which it excludes LGBTQ parents. Whilst the birth certificate serves as a means for the Irish state to govern, particularly in terms of granting citizenship, passport access, conferring healthcare decisions of children to their parents and enabling inheritance from parent to child, this article indicates that a tenuous relationship exists between LGBTQ families and the data collection practices seen on the birth certificate. As a result of the Irish birth certificate’s inability to fully recognize most LGBTQ families, there are a number of consequences as indicated by the parents’ experiences accounted for in this article. Some LGBTQ parents experienced significant exclusions as a result of the data gaps on the birth certificate, with these exclusions resulting in a reduction of parental rights in relation to making decisions for their child. Other parents noted how the birth certificate structure invisibilized their families in the eyes of the state due to the hetero-centric design of the document. Others stated that the document itself needed to demonstrate an awareness of contemporary reproductive technologies and be open to recognizing varying parenting constellations. These questions will become more pertinent in Ireland and beyond as the number of LGBTQ parent families increase. The design of the birth certificate must be reconsidered to enable a more accurate and fuller representation of LGBTQ families in Ireland. These findings indicate that birth certificates need to be more flexible in their approach and a ‘data for queer parenthood’ approach is required in re-thinking how states gather data through birth certificates. This article does have some limitations. Whilst it is not generalizable due to its purposive sampling and the sample is relatively small, every effort was made on behalf of the researchers to find crucial cases that were diverse and reflective of LGBTQ families more broadly. This article demonstrates that fostering a data for queer lives approach is necessary if LGBTQ parents, and their children, are to be recognized fully in the eyes of the state, and be granted the appropriate rights that go with being an Irish citizen. The birth certificate, and data gathering mechanisms more broadly, need to account for the complexity, diversity and nuance of LGBTQ lives in data collection processes and develop approaches that encompasses data for queer parenthood.
Footnotes
Declaration of conflicting interests
Funding
ORCID iD
