As a gay Black man who one day wants a biological family, TreVaughn Roach-Carter long ago reconciled that his path to parenthood wouldn't be a typical one.

He's embraced it—so much that he wanted to help other queer families with their journey.

In 2019, the San Francisco resident began the journey to become a sperm donor, making it through the first of two initial appointments with The Sperm Bank of California before he hit a roadblock.

"They had invited me back for a second test just to make sure that everything is viable," Roach-Carter told The Reckoning in early November. "Before I could even make my appointment for the final test, I got the email that the FDA doesn't want gay sperm."

The incident, first highlighted in a Washington Post article that's gained national attention, has spotlighted what critics call an outdated, discriminatory policy that potentially impacts Black men – and would-be Black families – most of all.

That US Food & Drug Administration policy, enacted in 2005, restricts donations from men who have had sex with other men within the previous five years, citing HIV transmission risk. The ban drew widespread criticism as a misguided directive aimed at "stigmatizing all gay men rather than adopting a screening process that focuses on high-risk sexual behavior by any would-be donor, gay or straight." 

Nearly two decades later, the ban's fallout seems even more focused. According to data from the CDC, Black queer men accounted for 26% of all new HIV diagnoses in 2019. At the same time, sperm banks report a nationwide shortage of Black male sperm donations, which comprise less than 2% of the supply at the country's four largest sperm banks.

Both factors combine to make a perfect storm for would-be parents in cities like Atlanta, home to a sizeable population of Black and queer men who are prohibited from donating when needed. 

"It's some bull," says Yetunde Battle-Goggins, an Atlanta woman who, along with her wife Kamaria, has spent six years trying to start a family after first struggling to find a suitable Black donor.

She bristled at the idea that in an era of advanced HIV testing, the ban may have made her effort that much harder.

"It would be nice to know you have a choice of more than six Black donors," she says. "I'm like, this is what we're banning?"

When preparing to create a family, most people envision mini versions of themselves. This simple wish has proven incredibly complex for Black would-be mothers like Battle-Goggins. The marriage and family therapist was recently married when, in 2016, she and her wife began the journey to motherhood, starting with finding a Black sperm donor.

"We wanted a donor who had similar characteristics to us," Battle-Goggins says. "We just thought it would be easier than having a child that was ethnically unrelated."

However, just a few months into the search, their brown baby dreams hit a snag. Checking sperm banks across the country, the women discovered few options for Black donors. For a successful pregnancy, Battle-Goggins says she was encouraged to choose from donors with a proven history of live births - further winnowing down their list. 

After the lone Black donor the women liked was deemed genetically incompatible, Battle-Goggins says they settled on a biracial donor.Knowing that potential donors in her city could be ruled out is a frustrating reality, she says.

"It really irks me," Battle-Goggins says of the ongoing restriction. "It would open up a whole other arena of donors."

Generosity vs. Policy

Roach-Carter was nowhere near the start of his journey to parenthood in 2018 when the idea struck him to donate. The San Francisco State University creative writing student hadn't yet finished his degree or entered the working world. Yet the Modesto native from a big extended family says he already knew he wanted several children of his own one day. When that day comes, he figured, it could involve a non-traditional route like in vitro fertilization.

"I know various people for different reasons take these avenues to have children, and I know when I want to have kids, it's going to be similar," he says. "I might as well contribute and help people in any way I can because I'd want people to help me."

Roach-Carter says he approached The Sperm Bank of California that year, only to be told he needed to finish his degree to become a more eligible candidate. A year or so later, he returned with his degree in hand and began the process of becoming a donor, which included filling out forms detailing his sexual orientation. Shortly after his first visit, he says he got a curt email.

"It was them being very apologetic saying the FDA does not allow men who have sex with men to donate sperm and how The Sperm Bank of California has specifically been trying to fight them on this," he says. "I felt annoyed and kind of upset—a little betrayed by the FDA."

The Reckoning contacted The Sperm Bank of California but did not respond to phone calls before this article was published. 

The 2005 restriction specifically placed a moratorium on donations of human cells, tissues, and cellular tissue-based products from men who have had sex with other men within the previous five years. According to FDA spokesperson Carly Kempler, the restrictions are based on 1994 Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) guidance surrounding HIV transmission.

But Roach-Carter, who regularly tested for HIV and used PrEP at the time he tried to donate, questioned why officials continued to shape current policy around 1994 research.

"It's a very outdated policy considering that we can test for the sort of dangers and diseases that the FDA is claiming to be afraid of," he says. "The fact that they're not allowing it feels very targeted."

It isn't the first time federal policies rooted in '80s and '90s understandings of HIV have drawn criticism. 

In March, a coalition of Massachusetts healthcare professionals urged the FDA to rescind a policy that limits queer men from donating blood within 90 days of having sex with another man. That rule is already an improvement from the 1983 lifetime ban, lifted in 2015. 

A similar change to the sperm donation restriction is not out of the question, but only if the data supports it, Kempler says.

"The FDA remains committed to working with others to develop the scientific information needed to update donor eligibility policies and recommendations for cell and tissue donors that are fair and equitable," Kempler told The Reckoning in an email. Adding a pilot study entitled "Assessing Donor Variability And New Concepts in Eligibility" is currently investigating whether donor deferral can be based on individual risk assessment instead of broad timelines.

 "[The] FDA routinely reviews approaches regarding donor screening," Kempler says. "This process must be data-driven."'

Roach-Carter hasn't given up on his quest to start a family and help others do the same. He's looking into Facebook groups and other LGBTQ+ community organizations that connect him with people who love - and want to build families - just like him. 

Such "known donor" scenarios can involve much more paperwork and significant expense for both families and donors, but Roach-Carter is unphased.

"If and when someone wants to have a family and is willing to accept my help," Roach-Carter says, "I am willing to give it."