Joseph Tito On Fatherhood, Pride & Speaking Out: “We Can’t Stay Silent”

Joseph Tito is not your average dad. A TV producer, influencer, and proud gay father of twin girls, his extraordinary journey to parenthood—from immigration limbo in Kenya to bestselling author—has captured international attention. Fresh off a book signing during NYC Pride, Tito returns to Toronto with more to say than ever. In his newest book, Random Thoughts: Sh^t We Don’t Talk About, he tackles tough conversations about identity, love, loss, and the quiet battles so many face alone. We caught up with Joseph to talk about his latest literary success, the alarming rollback of LGBTQ+ rights in the U.S. and Italy, and why his story is far from over. —Noa Nichol

Your journey to fatherhood has captivated people around the world—what was the most unexpected part of navigating surrogacy and immigration as a gay single parent?

Where do I even begin? Honestly, I thought I was prepared—I read all the articles, had all the spreadsheets, even packed the hospital bag like I was going into battle. But nothing could prepare me for the emotional rollercoaster that is surrogacy… layered with immigration bureaucracy, solo parenting, and the whole “oh by the way, you’re doing this in a country halfway across the world with zero guarantees you’ll make it home.”

I was stuck in Kenya with two newborns, no exit strategy, and a passport full of prayers. I had to fight tooth and nail to get Stella and Mia home. It wasn’t just about parenting—it was about proving I was allowed to be their parent. I expected challenges, sure. But the world’s reluctance to acknowledge my family as real? That hit harder than I ever imagined. And yet… here we are. Stronger. Messier. But real as hell.

Your recent book, Random Thoughts: Sh^t We Don’t Talk About, just became an Amazon Best Seller—what inspired this particular collection, and what conversations are you hoping it sparks?

I started writing Random Thoughts in my 20s, back when I thought I was having a quarter-life crisis—but plot twist, it was just the prequel to my midlife crisis. I shelved it for years, and then life hit me hard—fatherhood, grief, joy, identity, burnout, healing. Suddenly, the “random” thoughts weren’t so random anymore. They were my truth.

It’s messy, unfiltered, and full of the stuff we whisper to ourselves but rarely say out loud. My hope? That someone picks it up and realizes they’re not alone. That perfection is a myth. That we’re all just trying to survive the chaos with a little dignity and maybe some wine. It’s a permission slip to be a hot mess—and still be worthy of love, success, and belonging.

You’ve been open about the challenges facing LGBTQ+ rights globally. After your experience at NYC Pride, how would you describe the current climate in the U.S. and in Italy?

Let me be blunt: it’s terrifying.

Italy—the country I was born in—has now criminalized surrogacy. If I were living there today, I could be thrown in jail for two years and fined one million euros—simply for being a father. Not a criminal. Not a trafficker. Just… a dad. That’s insane. And the Pope? He’s out here calling surrogacy “deplorable” and pushing for a global ban. Like we’re smuggling children instead of raising them with love.

And in the U.S., don’t let the rainbow flags fool you. Planned Parenthood funding has been cut. Trans rights are under attack. And at the rate Trump is going, it feels like LGBTQ+ rights are being rolled back one bill at a time. Pride was never just a party—but now more than ever, it’s survival. We’re not safe just because the parade has confetti. We’re safe when love stops being legislated.

Italy has recently criminalized aspects of surrogacy. As someone born there and directly impacted, what do you want people to understand about how these laws affect families like yours?

People think these laws are about protecting “traditional values”—but let’s be honest, they’re about control and goes against every that a “traditional family” stands for. They’re about fear. These laws don’t just prevent families from forming—they criminalize the ones that already exist.

Surrogacy was never about convenience for me. It was the only way I could become a father. And to be told that choice, that love, makes me a criminal? It’s not just cruel—it’s dangerous. Because when you start policing how people build families, you’re saying some kids deserve love… and others don’t. My daughters deserve better. And so do the thousands of families like mine.

How have your twin daughters shaped your perspective on activism, visibility, and what it means to be a gay parent today?

Before them? I didn’t give a sh*t.

I worked in Jamaica during Pasa Pasa, in Saudi Arabia—places where being gay wasn’t just taboo, it was punishable. But I kept my head down. I survived. I wasn’t out to prove a point—I was just trying to live.

But then Stella and Mia entered the picture. And suddenly, silence wasn’t an option. I feel fear again—not for me, but for them. For the world they’ll grow up in. A world where people still question whether families like ours are valid. Where politicians debate our right to exist like it’s up for discussion.

They made me care in a way I never did before. Now every photo I post, every story I tell, every time I speak up—it’s for them. So they never doubt their worth. So they grow up knowing their family is strong, beautiful, and exactly as it should be.

As both a creative and a public figure, how do you balance storytelling and advocacy—especially when your personal life is often at the center of both?

It’s like walking a tightrope… in a windstorm… holding two toddlers.

I believe in sharing openly—because stories have power. They open hearts, challenge assumptions, and make people feel seen. But I also believe in protecting my family. Not everything is content. Some moments are sacred. Some days I don’t want to be brave—I just want to be a dad in sweatpants cleaning up spilled cereal.

So I share the truth, but I set boundaries. I tell the stories that matter, the ones that might help someone feel less alone. But I always check in with myself first: Am I sharing this to connect? Or just to perform? If it’s not rooted in honesty, I let it go.

You’ve now authored four books and been the subject of a documentary—what does it feel like to have your story archived and shared in so many ways?

It’s humbling. And a little weird, honestly.

But I keep reminding myself—this isn’t just my story. It’s everyone’s story who’s had to fight just to have a family. Everyone who’s had to navigate broken systems, cross borders, or challenge outdated laws just to hold their child in their arms.

I think it’s important for people to see us—to realize we’re not some abstract “issue.” We’re just a regular family. Doing regular things. Eating gluten-free pasta. Arguing about bedtime. Living our lives.

And I truly believe my story helped change Canadian policy on second-parent citizenship. That’s not about me—it’s about what happens when we speak up. When we turn personal pain into collective change.

What’s the biggest misconception people still have about LGBTQ+ parenting or surrogacy that you’d love to debunk?

That our families are somehow “less real.” That kids need a mom and a dad to be happy. Or that surrogacy is some designer-baby shortcut for rich people who don’t want to mess up their bodies.

It’s exhausting, honestly.

Surrogacy is one of the hardest, most emotional journeys I’ve ever taken. It was layered with legal battles, ethical decisions, medical risks, and a hell of a lot of soul-searching. And parenting? It’s not gendered. It’s not defined by who gave birth. It’s defined by love, consistency, and showing up when it’s hard. My kids aren’t missing anything. They have two dads who adore them and a village that would walk through fire for them. That’s not less than—it’s more.

You’ve built a community through your blog and social presence—how have your readers and followers influenced your work and purpose?

They’re everything.

When I was stuck in Kenya with no way home, it was my community who rallied. They shared my story, connected me with legal help, offered support, and literally helped bring me and my daughters home. That’s the power of digital connection—when it’s real, it’s life-changing.

And every message I get, every story someone shares with me, it’s like a reminder: You’re not alone. And neither am I. That’s why I keep going. That’s why I write, and post, and talk about the stuff most people avoid. Because community isn’t just followers—it’s family you meet online.

What’s next for you—whether creatively, personally, or in your ongoing mission to advocate for equality and family rights?

Right now, I’m pouring everything into The Dad Diaries—my memoir that traces my journey from jet-setter to fatherhood. It’s the real story: not just how I became a dad through surrogacy, but how it cracked me wide open. It’s about identity, chaos, grief, resilience, and the raw, beautiful mess of creating a family on your own terms. I go deep into what it meant to walk away from the life I thought I wanted—flying first class, chasing work in every timezone—to raising twins as a solo gay parent in a world that wasn’t exactly rolling out the red carpet.

We’re also developing a documentary alongside it—something global, urgent, and emotional. It’s going to spotlight LGBTQ+ families around the world and ask the uncomfortable but necessary question: “What if I took away your right to be a parent?” Because that’s not a hypothetical—it’s a lived reality for people like me in far too many countries.

So what’s next? More truth-telling. More risk-taking. And hopefully, a world where people stop seeing families like mine as exceptions—and start recognizing us as exactly what we are: just… family.