More Than Pronouns: What Queer and Trans People Deserve from Fertility Clinics
For many of us who choose to build and grow our families, assisted reproductive technology (ART) like in vitro fertilization (IVF) has made that dream real. On World IVF Day (July 25), let’s remember that abortions and IVF are both forms of reproductive care that our communities deserve, but which are constantly under attack. Conversations around IVF took centerstage in 2024 when the Alabama Supreme Court decided “that embryos created through in vitro fertilization should be considered children.” In the backdrop of that decision, one of the largest fertility companies in the US, Kindbody, came under fire for gross mishandling of patients’ eggs, gametes and embryos. Many queer families are still navigating the impacts of this whirlwind. We need full-spectrum reproductive health centers we can count on nestled in a world where OBGYN, IVF, and abortion care all happen under the safe roof.
Have you ever wondered why you can’t just go to your OBGYN for both IVF treatment and abortion care? In a society that constantly creates policies that put our bodies up for contest, it is neither surprise nor coincidence that abortion care and IVF are constant battlegrounds. Christian nationalists want to globally define a “correct way” to go about pregnancy interwoven with their concept of the nuclear, “traditional” family. Whether you want to end that pregnancy, or you want that pregnancy through reproductive technology, both fall short of their ideal of two married cis-het people conceiving via sex at home. Neither option is positioned as general reproductive care. Our society has made these forms of care outlier issues that need their own clinics. They are not covered by insurance or regulated by the same standards which leaves room for startups like Kindbody to swoop in and line their pockets, inclusively.
Like many queer and trans millennials of color, I became a parent later in life. There’s already so much misinformation about conception for folks over the age of 35. Take this herb! You’re going to have a harder time. Your eggs are drying up. My partner and I heard it all. One of the biggest narratives we encountered was that “IVF is for people experiencing infertility.” There are people who are queer and trans experiencing infertility, and there are queer and trans people who just need assistive reproductive technology.
Many clinics and insurance companies consider someone infertile if they tried consistently for over a year to get pregnant at home without technology. I am not even conceptualized under that definition of infertility and yet I was constantly reminding multiple doctors that we have no idea if I am infertile. Luckily, my partner and I had the fortitude to calmly correct people, but not everybody has that. Especially for folks who are doing IVF multiple times.
So, I can understand why people were drawn to Kindbody – a place that looked perfectly inclusive and modern on paper.
Their website has a page dedicated to sharing LGBTQ+ client experiences, videos, and blogs. The aesthetic digitally and in-person pulls from a Millennial design book. They intentionally set up in areas that catch one’s eye: near fancy shopping plazas, mixed use buildings. Since most IVF clinics are in specially designed medical plazas, Kindbody stood out physically.
Kindbody came about as a disruptor in the ART space, the WeWork of IVF if you will. They put forth this grand vision of providing the modern, luxurious service at an affordable price while embodying the toxic tech values of “move fast and break things”. Their market value was high in a world of very stale clinics that you walk in and just know it was built in the 1900s. After dealing with these tried-and-true old-school clinics, I understand how Kindbody seems like an easy choice to queer and trans people. When these are our choices, queer and trans people are likely to choose the nontraditional option. It’s not hard to assume that the care will be better at a place willing to respect our identities. But apparently Kindbody’s care stopped at the pronouns. Kindbody saw a need in the queer and trans millennials and they exploited us and left irreversible harm in its wake.
Around 2019, Kindbody clinics started popping up all across the country, and fast. Medical buildings that house things like embryos have certain structural standards to maintain their integrity. Kindbody hired experts to evaluate buildings before they were opened to learn what renovations were needed to convert their unconventional locations into standards safe for embryo creation. Essentially, they chose not to put in the full investment necessary to protect clients. As a result, multiple Kindbody clinics are now closing across the country and families are being harmed in the process.
One couple arrived at a Kindbody clinic for their scheduled embryo transfer and waited…and waited. The procedure is usually quick and is the final stage of the long IVF process that had cost them $30,000– a standard price point for a single IVF cycle. Three hours later, a doctor told them that their one and only embryo was mislabeled and they wouldn’t be able to get care. I read the client’s review on Google because the clinic was near me, and I too thought the clinic’s upscale look meant upscale safety precautions. The worst part? That was just one of many horror stories from just one clinic. Kindbody’s reckless standards made it into the highly recommended podcast series: “IVF Disrupted, The Kindbody Story”. It’s no wonder several clinics have closed. But even that isn’t justice as several families are left wondering: what do we do mid-cycle? Where will our embryos be stored?
There are folks who are mid-procedure with no clinic to go to. People who have invested tens of thousands are learning through email that their primary source of starting a family has been shipped to another facility, in some cases to another state, because the clinic is closed.
Queer and trans folks are disproportionately affected by subpar clinics. We are more likely to need donor gametes. Meaning, a known donor might decide to stop after multiple cycles. Or, parents-to-be might use all the gametes an anonymous donor has given, with no way to request more. There are trans folks who store their gametes before bottom surgery, paying for storage monthly until they are ready. Imagine being in those situations with a place like Kindbody? There are typically so many more hurdles, logistics, costs and stakes involved for parents like us.
Queer and trans people want more than just pronouns on patient forms. We deserve care, safety and dignity. We deserve reproductive justice. World IVF Day gives us an opportunity to celebrate science and push for better. Kindbody, love the decor, but what would actually be helpful is for institutions within the ART space to be accountable to queer and trans people, not rely solely on government standards, but live out your values of “putting patients and their loved ones first” and help queer and trans people build their families without losing, mishandling, or destroying our embryos. Our world, where we receive our abortions and our IVF under the same general reproductive care roof may not be here tomorrow, but it is coming. And profit won’t be the priority, we will.