Mr Stuart Aubrey (Scarborough) (10:02 am): 

Surrogacy reform is something deeply personal to me, as I know it is to many in this Parliament and across Western Australia. As the member for Scarborough, I represent 31,000 electors and roughly 50,000 Western Australians who live in my community. I work hard as their local member to engage, understand and empathise with all their views, whether they align with my own or not. I know that I cannot perfectly reflect the view of everyone in my community, but I work hard to listen and make informed decisions in the best interests of them and WA.

With this legislation, I have done my best to empathise with and understand the perspectives of all those affected, yet I have had to accept that despite trying to see it from every angle, it is not possible for me to truly grasp the entirety of its impacts. There are perspectives that I simply cannot inhabit. I am not a woman. I will never carry or give birth to a child. I will never stand beside my partner in a hospital room as they give birth. I am not a child born through a surrogacy arrangement.

I will never be part of a heterosexual couple facing infertility. These and many more are lived experiences and perspectives of Western Australians that I can only listen to, learn from and respect when I consider the legislation before us. But, further to this, I draw on the expertise of the clinicians, legal professionals and ministers who have shaped these reforms over many years. I draw on the passion of advocates who have fought for them year after year. I draw on the strength of members of my home community of Scarborough, whose trust I carry into this chamber, and I draw on the power of our Parliament and democracy—a power that is rooted in the diversity of those who serve within it. It is a testament to this Parliament that I, an electrician, can stand here alongside a paramedic, a police officer, a naval officer, academics, teachers, lawyers, political hacks—yes, we all need them!—social workers, journalists, a chief chemist, town planners, farmers, small business owners and many more. For all the adversarial moments in this place, its true strength lies in the breadth of experience it brings together for Western Australia.

In this debate, I owe it to my community, to the other WA communities I proudly reflect and to myself to share my own perspective and to speak with confidence and courage, drawing too on my lived experience. As one of the younger members of this house, as the only electrician and one of only two tradespeople, as a surf lifesaver, as an atheist, as someone who is neurodivergent and as a gay man who is personally impacted by this legislation, I hope that sharing my perspective can help members in this chamber and Western Australians to better understand some of the real impacts of this reform and how it will change the lives of people like me in Western Australia.

Raising a family has never really been a dream of mine because it has not been possible—not under our state's laws—so on occasions when I am asked by well-meaning loved ones whether I want a child one day, I would always put on a fake smile and respond with, "I am open to the idea of having children if it's something my future partner wants." But that was just a talking point designed to hide the real truth. It is a truth that I would not burden others with. It is a truth that cuts a little every time I am asked. It is a truth that is a reminder that the law sees me and those like me differently—that, no matter who I was or what I contributed, I did not fit in the eyes of the laws of my home state. But unexpectedly, several years ago, my sister made me an offer I will never forget. She offered to have some of her eggs frozen so that one day a child could be born who shared the DNA of both my family and that of my future partner. In that moment, I had not genuinely thought about being a parent, and I did not give her offer the consideration or recognition that such an extraordinary act of love deserved.

When this legislation was announced and tabled in Parliament, it was like an invisible barrier that had always been there finally began to crack enough to let me see a different life on the other side, and even though I cannot step through that barrier just yet, the fact it is no longer impenetrable and the hope that it will not be rebuilt has changed everything. In this short time, there has been a subtle but monumental shift in my reality—my perspective of the world.

It was a Wednesday when this legislation was introduced, and it was family buffet night in the parliamentary dining room. I typically avoid these nights. It has never felt like a place I belong. But when I walked in last Wednesday to see many members spending time with their loved ones, I no longer felt like an outsider. I dismissed this feeling initially as nothing more than the swell of emotion that comes with a monumental day like that. Only a couple of hours later, I was back in my community at the annual general meeting of Doubleview House, a local playgroup. As I spoke with the parents in the room and we talked about the children the playgroup supports, I could now relate and engage on an equal footing, because I can now see myself as one day being a parent.

Only last week, I spent some time with my family—my sister, Rhian, and her husband, Rohan, my two nieces, Peyton and Darcy, and my nephew, Jack. I help with the school and daycare drop-offs. I heard and watched KPop Demon Hunters way too many times. That song "Golden" now haunts my dreams! I am a proud "FGuncle", or fun gay uncle, and, just like me, they are total ratbags and I love them dearly. Even with them, I noticed that, with that barrier starting to break, there was a shift. I no longer felt the weight of needing them to be my only window into what parenthood would feel like. I could just be their Uncle Stu.

None of you in this chamber created this barrier, but for as long as I can remember, it has been the invisible burden that I and those like me have carried. There are many more like it that many in this room may never see, and I know there are many that you all carry that I may never see. I have never tried to put it into words before because I did not want to hand people in my life a burden they could not carry and could not understand. I did not want to put myself through the pain of explaining it when I knew they had no power to change it. You all have that power now. This is not the first time that I have known a moment like this, a moment when an invisible barrier quietly made its presence known. It echoes in my memory and the moments like my sister's wedding, a day of so much joy and happiness for my family and for someone I love dearly, but that carried a moment of pain, a stark reminder that I was different. Marriage, according to law in Australia, was "a union of a man and a woman to the exclusion of all others voluntarily entered into for life". At that time, when marriage equality was not even on the horizon, my sister and many of my friends were getting married. I heard that statement over and over again, and each time it came with shame, shame that I could be so selfish to feel pain during moments of such excitement and joy for people who I hold dear, pain they had no control over and could never fully understand.

I kept it all to myself—I buried it; I ignored it. I told myself not to think about marriage, not to raise my hopes, let alone dream about it, because it simply was not an option. That invisible barrier still burdened me, reminded me I was different. That was, of course, until 2017 when as part of WA Labor I was a proud supporter of the Yes campaign for marriage equality. Those loved ones whose weddings I had celebrated now had the power to help remove the barrier that had caused me pain in some of their happiest moments. I made sure they knew my perspective, not by telling them their joy had paused me pain but by telling them that the same joy and happiness their marriages had brought them was something I wanted the chance to experience too. Marriage equality now stands out as a moment of national pride. "Marriage", according to law in Australia, is defined as "the union of 2 people to the exclusion of all others, voluntarily entered into for life". With the changing of those few words, a barrier fell and the weight of those painful memories lifted. Love is constant; the law is catching up.

This legislation is not just a legal change that removes barriers to access surrogacy in WA; it is a shift in what I can even imagine for my future. Even if I never step past that barrier, just knowing that it has started to come down has made the world feel a little more like it fits, a little more like I belong. I will not pass judgement on how members in this place or the one across the courtyard choose to vote, but knowing the strong chance of this debate spiralling into hateful and divisive rhetoric, I ask you all to think of your own families, the laughter around your dinner table, the arms that hold you tight in tough times, the pride you feel watching your loved ones grow and to ask yourselves why we would not want more of that love in this world. If that day comes, if you use your powers to give me the chance, I know I will be a loving father. With my full support, I commend this bill to the house.

In the media...

• Official Media Release. Read...
• The West Australian September 11. Read...
• OutinPerth September 13. Read...