“I wish they realised we’re probably as committed or even more committed than most families when it comes to raising kids.”

Ching Chia is leaning back into her chair, watching the busy streets of Singapore’s Tanjong Katong neighbourhood from one of her family’s favourite brunch spots. The unmistakable smell of fresh durian is wafting through thick summer air as the squeals of nearby preschool children echo between colourful shophouses and colonial bungalows. Deep in thought, frustration slowly builds on her face. 

“We’re just trying to have a life, build a family, have a kid,” she says.

But she knows it’s not that simple. Not because of rising cai fan prices, or career pressures, but because her partner is also a woman. 

Same-sex marriage is not recognised in Singapore. Chia jokes she is legally just “really close friends” with her partner Cally Cheung, despite being married in Australia.  

“I first met her when I swiped her on Tinder. I think on the first date I had already asked her, ‘hey, are you open to starting a family?’,” she says. 

“She didn’t run away. So that was great.” 

The pair decided to start the process of having a baby in early 2022. But without the recognition of marriage, they are barred from accessing IVF, as single women are not allowed to do so in Singapore. It’s one of many conservative policies enacted to promote a ‘traditional’ family nucleus over others, and a policy which remains in place despite plummeting birth rates often being lamented in political circles. 

“In Singapore, policy makers are really obsessed with the idea that every family should have a father, a mother, a child, or two preferably because our fertility rate is so low,” says Chia. 

According to the Singaporean Department of Statistics, the country’s total fertility rate remained at a historic low of 0.97 in 2024, after falling below 1 for the first time in 2023. The department says a rate of 2.1 children per woman is required to sustain a population.  To increase birth rates, the Singaporean government introduced baby bonuses ranging from $A13,000-$A15,000 per child born. But this incentive does not extend to same-sex couples, who policy experts say face entrenched social conservatism and legal barriers when it comes to starting a family.  

Institute of Policy Studies senior research fellow Kalpana Vignehsa says, “the model of the traditional family, is still very much part of how policy is made today in this area”. 

“If you’re either not married or you’re in a same-sex relationship, then you wouldn’t be able to use your frozen eggs in Singapore for the purposes of trying to get them fertilised. 

“For people in those categories, they have no option. But if they wanted to use this process, they would have to do it in a different country. So there are people who do it in Australia, Thailand, or Malaysia.” 

For Chia and Cheung, a 7-hour flight to Melbourne was their lifeline. 

Creating a rainbow family

The process of conceiving a child overseas is difficult, and costly. Two rounds of egg harvesting and one embryo transfer in Melbourne cost the couple more than $A25,000.  

In contrast, married couples can access subsidised fertility treatments in public Singaporean hospitals for a fraction of the cost. Co-funding from the Singaporean Ministry of Health offers citizens a 75% reduction in cost per IVF cycle, a subsidy which aims to boost the country’s birth rate. 

Although Chia and Cheung were able to find their way around Singapore’s IVF policies, Chia says not every queer couple is able to afford the process. 

“It’s stressful, it’s super expensive, and there’s not enough support,” says Chia.  

“We were very fortunate that it took us only one try.” 

Returning to Singapore, Chia recalls searching for an accepting gynaecologist. She says the process can be difficult, with some doctors holding conservative or religious beliefs against same-sex parents.  

“We found this one who is in the area, she sees so many queer couples, so many,” she says. 

“She even wrote to the hospital for us, because if you’re giving birth in any of the public or private hospitals, only the husband is allowed in the operating theatre. If someone who is not the husband needs to be in an operating theatre, that person needs to be approved by the hospital board.” 

With the help of an affirming care team, Cheung gave birth to the couple’s daughter in 2023. But since she’s considered a single unwed mother, her child is seen as illegitimate according to Singapore law. Without marriage recognition, Chia could not be listed as a parent on the child’s birth certificate.  

“Legally, I’m nobody”

Ching Chia

“I’m a single person. If I die, I die as a single. My wife also would die as a single unwed mother. So, once our kid was born, we made sure that we had an airtight will.” 

Despite the challenges, Chia and Cheung are determined to raise their daughter in Singapore. Their lived experience driving the couple into advocacy, pushing to raise awareness of the legal and social barriers that queer families continue to face in the country. 

“It’s about fighting the good fight, making sure that maybe people after us have a good life, you know, an easier life,” says Chia. 

“If you asked me, ‘is it easier for us to have a life in Australia?’ Probably yes.” 

Proud parents in proud spaces

There are no official statistics on the number of same-sex parents in Singapore. The demographic is not recognised in government data, excluding queer parents from important conversations about parenthood. 

As founding members of the support group ‘Proud Parents,’ Chia and Cheung work together to help other queer parents and couples in Singapore. Through peer circles, resource-sharing, and storytelling, the group offers both practical advice—on navigating fertility treatments, legal paperwork, and schooling—as well as emotional solidarity for couples walking the same path. 

“It’s about creating resources for others who want to start a family in Singapore,” says Chia. 

“I think the ultimate goal is really for people to rethink what they want with their lives. Not letting the laws hold you back.” 

The support group works closely with ‘Proud Spaces’, a broader initiative that creates safe, affirming environments for queer people and families. By hosting workshops, public talks, and social gatherings, the space fosters visibility and connection in a society where LGBTQ+ parenthood often remains hidden. 

“Last year we held a Halloween party for kids at Proud Spaces, it was very fun, they dressed up and everything,” says Chia. 

“We bring everyone together, it’s been fun.” 

Proud Spaces centre manager Joanne Chen is no stranger to the Singaporean LGBTQ+ community, she worked on the Pink Dot organising committee for more than eight years. She now brings her event expertise to the brand-new, fifth-storey loft space, covered in pride flags. 

“Since the opening last year, we have had more than 5,000 people come through our space,” she says. 

“We have hosted more than 170 events so far. A majority of them organised by the LGBT community groups in Singapore, of which right now there are more than 65 active ones.” 

Behind Chen, a young drag queen is practicing their makeup, lit up only by the golden afternoon rays flooding through the space’s two-storey industrial windows. The sound of muffled pop music bounces between concrete walls, interrupted only by the clicks of Joanne’s keyboard and hushed conversation. The room feels like a warm embrace, an atmosphere carefully crafted over the course of a year. 

“Initially when we started the space, we had a lot of people who were quite concerned about the safety of having a permanent visible space. So, that kind of resulted in the first couple of months being a little bit slower,” she says. 

“After about three to six months, people started seeing that having an open space that you can find, that you know is always there, it feels nice. To be able to have a place where you can just go to, apart from your home or your workplace.” 

Nestled into the corner of the main community space lies a small library filled with imported books of all genres—titles where two mums or two dads aren’t unusual, but simply part of the story.  

“In Singapore, children’s books are pretty as expected. There is a lack of, representation in terms of just inclusive content, not just LGBTQ, all other kinds of content like race or religion,” says Chen. 

She glances to the central area of the space, an open area currently occupied by rows of desks. She says this is where most of the social events take place. Including ones hosted by Proud Parents.  

“We host events for them like drag queen storytelling, craft making sessions, and bouncy castles. Where we just get the kids all together,” she says 

“Then the parents at the same time come together to just mingle with other queer parents and just share their journey and what they’ve been going through.” 

For many of the parents who gather here, these events are more than just playdates. They are opportunities for real connection. 

Shifting attitudes

Though legal recognition for same-sex families remains absent, there are signs of gradual change in Singaporean society. The repeal of Section 377A in 2022—removing a colonial-era law criminalising sex between men—marked a symbolic step forward, even as the government simultaneously moved to enshrine heterosexual marriage into the constitution. 

“After the repeal, as much as we celebrated it, there was also a downside to it. Which is that the government then re-emphasised that marriage is between a man and a woman,” says Chen.  

“I do see now, more groups coming forward and becoming slightly more comfortable with being visible. Which helped Proud Spaces grow. I think before Proud Spaces a lot of community groups were functioning under the radar, because they were afraid.” 

Younger generations, raised with more global exposure and social media, appear especially open to broader definitions of family. A 2019 survey by the Institute of Policy Studies found a steady rise in Singaporeans expressing acceptance of same-sex relationships compared to a decade ago. 

Chen says many of the volunteers at Proud Spaces are young and passionate about LGBTQ+ issues, an attitude leaving her hopeful for the future. 

“I feel a lot of the young, especially volunteers that I interact with, they’re all very invested in a purpose bigger than yourself. I think this is something different from the older generation, which includes me as well,” she says. 

Conducting research into the lived experience of parenthood, Dr Vignehsa says her work on the ground shows there’s shifting levels of acceptance of LGBTQ couples, and them having children. 

“I think the attitudes are definitely shifting. Whether or not that turns into policy change? We don’t have any indication of that at this moment. 

“It’s expected that the younger cohorts will have attitudes that are perhaps more similar to their international peers as time goes on.” 

Institute of Policy Studies senior research fellow Poh Lin Tan says same-sex parenting will most likely continue being a big area of contention for Singapore. 

“Certainly, the norm against non-marital childbearing is still prevalent,” she says. 

“But I do think that governments are going to have to start paying attention to what the other options are. We have to start thinking about depopulation as a big issue.” 

Chia is optimistic about the future. A group chat of more than 120 same-sex couples buzzes near constantly on her phone. 

“The reality is there’s so many alternative family structures. There are people raised by grandparents, raised by aunties, because maybe their parents are gone. Not everyone’s going to look picture perfect,” she says. 

“What I can hope is that maybe, ten years down the road, policy makers will start to realize that alternative family structures are a thing.” 

This story was produced as part of the Curtin Journalism 2025 Singapore Study Tour and supported by funding from the federal government’s New Colombo Plan.