Becoming A Sperm Donor

My story

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Photo by Juan Manuel Sanchez on Unsplash

In 2022 I became a sperm donor.

I wasn’t planning to share this, to be honest. That’s why I haven’t said anything for the past three and a half years. But recently I felt the time was right.

I had a dream where the spirits of children who wanted to be incarnated asked me if I would help them come into form. I said yes without hesitation. Deep down, I knew it was a calling.

It’s strange because no one I know has done this. I had never researched it or even realised it was possible before that moment. The next day I simply Googled it, filled in a form, and shortly afterwards a clinician reached out to begin the process.

Fast forward to now, and there are three healthy babies so far. None of whom I know, because donors are not allowed to contact them. The children can initiate contact if they choose to once they turn 18. As donors, we sign away all parental rights.

This journey made me realise how naïve I had been about how easy it is to get pregnant. Many people struggle to conceive. Even after multiple rounds of IVF, pregnancy is not guaranteed.

According to recent data from the UK Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority (HFEA), around one in five IVF patients come from ethnic minority backgrounds, but only about one in ten sperm donors do. That means the demand for ethnically matched donors is roughly double the supply.

When I discovered this, I realised just how important it was that I had chosen this path.

Here are some of the reasons ethnic communities donate less frequently:

1. Cultural stigma and family pressure

In many families, infertility and the use of donor gametes are still treated as shameful or something that should not be spoken about. This makes people less likely to donate, or even discuss donation openly. Many worry about what parents or the wider community might say if they knew. Sex in general is seen as taboo in ethnic communities and isn’t discussed and therefore some fundamental realities of life stay hidden and have to be learnt later in life (if at all).

2. Low awareness and myths about donation

Many potential donors simply do not know how sperm donation works. They may not realise there are strict screenings, limits on the number of families, legal protections regarding parenthood, and identity release only after the child turns 18. Without clear information, people often imagine extreme scenarios such as hundreds of offspring, legal responsibility, or public scandal.

There is also limited outreach specifically aimed at ethnic communities, explaining donation in culturally relevant ways or in languages older generations may understand. As a result, understanding often spreads through rumours rather than facts.

3. Lack of representation and role models

Media stories, clinic marketing, and online content rarely show Indian or Black men as sperm donors or as people openly engaging with fertility treatment. This can subtly send the message that “people like us don’t do this.” Without visible examples of donors from these communities sharing their stories, many potential donors simply cannot see themselves in that role.

4. Religious and ethical concerns

Some ethnic men worry that donation may conflict with religious teachings or with cultural ideas about lineage, bloodlines, and traditional family structures. Others feel uncertain about how donor-conceived children fit within religious obligations or inheritance structures, which can make them hesitant even if there is no explicit prohibition.

5. Trust in institutions and confidentiality

Trust in medical institutions is not uniform. Some minority communities are more cautious about sharing genetic or personal information with clinics or healthcare systems, particularly given broader experiences of discrimination in healthcare. Concerns about confidentiality can also be a barrier. People sometimes worry that someone they know might somehow find out — through work, community networks, or data leaks — even though UK clinics are tightly regulated.

This whole journey has also made me question whether I even want children myself.

Growing up, I always assumed that having children would be part of my vision of a successful life. But recently I gave myself permission to ask a different question: what would life feel like without children?

Honestly, right now it feels freeing.

Maybe it is because I have donated and some primal part of my brain feels satisfied. I’m not sure. But what I do know is that raising myself and navigating everyday life already feels like deep work. At this stage of my life, I cannot imagine bringing a child into the world.

Perhaps that will change one day. But right now I am enjoying life without children.

I am continuingly discovering who I am and in so doing, realising how much love and energy I have always poured into other people. Maybe it is time to give some of that back to myself.

To nurture my inner child in the way it never was.

To understand what it feels like to be safe in my body and safe in my life.

It also raises a deeper question about what it truly means to be a father.

You can bring a child into this world, but that alone does not make you a father.

Fatherhood (and motherhood) is an archetype. An energy. A set of values embodied through presence, responsibility, and growth.

I have seen many people who are biologically parents but are not walking the path of fatherhood. In many ways, they are still stuck in their teenage years.

At the same time, I have friends who became parents and grew enormously because of it. For them it has been one of the most meaningful experiences of their lives. I also know people who quietly admit that if they could rewind time, they would make a different choice.

The point is not that one path is right and the other wrong.

The point is to pause and ask ourselves why we are making a choice.

Where is it coming from within you?

What is your intention?

Why are you doing it?

And most importantly, do what feels true for you.

Honour your truth, even if it does not make sense to someone else, especially if it does not make sense to others. That is often the clearest sign you are walking your own authentic path.

With love,

V