conceptions of the family beyond the heterosexual nuclear model, although these
too have shown a strong tendency toward diversification, notably with family
recomposition after separations.

Reinventing the family also means changing, not only the meaning of the paren-
tal couple, but also its content. The legalization of ART offered female same-sex
couples the means to reflect on the meaning of their parenthood, and to work toward
new norms. The latter have been diversifying, although the work of construction
happens within the intimate sphere. Lesbian plans for parenthood arise through a
series of choices negotiated between partners. These include choosing who will
bear the child, who will provide the egg, who will be the sperm donor (sperm bank,
friend, stranger, etc.), and the method of insemination. These choices relate both to
the biological and the societal. And yet the choice of a known or anonymous donor
does not necessarily remain confined to the private sphere. Once again, it raises
questions about the couple's personal relationship to the biological, but can also
provoke the societal gaze to which, de facto, lesbian parental couples are exposed.

From a legal perspective, having an unknown donor totally prevents children
from knowing who provided the sperm needed for their birth. The irreversibility of
this choice is at the heart of a debate that sometimes extends far beyond the couple.
Having a known donor leaves children free to choose, whereas an unknown donor
affirms both legal filiation and the female couple's exclusive status as the child's
parents. And yet – whether or not it is expressed – the child's origin is a question to
which the couple must constantly respond, as in the case of single mothers or fathers.

Lesbian motherhood offers the possibility of doing without the figure of the
father in planning family life. But this remains a precursor at best, as society expects
a biological father to exist, if not to be present. Respondents in our sample who
made the choice not to involve a male parent in any way explained that others often
found this choice more troubling than they did.

Family and friends are not absent from this debate. It is also often discussed in
the LGBT circles, both among lesbians and among gay men, particularly as this
question raises that of gay fatherhood, which is legally possible but limited in prac-
tice. The respondents systematically spoke of the contribution of the sperm donor,
known or unknown, whether or not it was directly relevant to them.

In the sample analysed here, men also took part in the discussion around the
existence of a father. Among those who expressed a desire for children during the
interviews in 2015, the topic of ways of becoming a father brought out the desire to
be a coparent (to share parenting with a person or a couple outside your relationship
and/or household).

6.4.2.2 The Lesbian Nuclear Model

A new challenge for lesbian women is to experience their motherhood without let-
ting the judgments of others affect their choices, and to take full advantage of what
the law offers them. With the choice of an unknown donor, the two members of the
couple are the sole and exclusive parents of the children.
Sigrún, for example, while not denying the involvement of a 'biological father' in the conception of her two children, explained that the children had no 'dad'.

‘Yes, we talked about it and we both wanted to have him unknown. We have had to debate that because people of course don’t agree. People have different views on the issue. But we chose to have him unknown because these are just our children and some sperm donor in Denmark, or wherever he is, would never be our children’s father… These are our boys and we will always be their moms and there is no dad in the picture. Even though there is this biological father then it is just some information on paper you can’t do anything more with.’
IS10 Sigrún

The respondents offered several reasons for their choice of an unknown donor. For Lilja, it was a matter of centering the birth of her child within the couple. She totally rejected the presence of a father, biological or social. She did not bear the child, but she conceived parenthood as a duality, because “*as the “other mother”*, I would just *find it difficult*” while rejecting the figure of a biological father, she also did not want a “social” father drawn from a circle of friends.

‘I just want to have a child with my partner and maybe it is also difficult to know immediately when you have the baby that you will have to share it every other week with a person who doesn’t belong to the relationship. Maybe this is a kind of selfishness, I don’t know. But I just can’t see it as a realistic option.’ IS05 Lilja

In discussing the choice of a donor, known or unknown, Lilja nonetheless found it difficult not to think of the figure of the progenitor. She saw this as a point of vulnerability for her as a lesbian – one that she thought she had already left behind.

‘There is an emotion which arises when you are choosing donor sperm. This may be the first time in my life that I feel my sexual orientation inhibits me in doing something. You know, wanting to do something on your own and just not being able to. Needing to get some man to… and that is just a weak spot. And I don’t know why. I just found it really difficult and you know, should you try and match him with your appearance or not and everything like that.’ IS05 Lilja.

Because she is not the biological mother, she also raised the issue of her relationship to the child’s physical appearance, imagining herself in a day-to-day context where heteronormative society looks for the parent’s features in the child.

Erla also mentioned this question of the gaze of others. Her story shows that while the negotiation takes place within the couple, they must also face their family and friends.

‘You know that 50% of the child’s genetic material wasn’t mine but belonged to someone we didn’t know at all. People wanted to ask. Who is he? Where does he come from? Do you know something about him? You know, do you know how the child you are having will look? You know, all these things that were just in the air but people were afraid to ask about them.’ IS12 Erla

Kolbrún, who at the time of the survey was undergoing ART, also chose an unknown donor, after deciding against coparenting. She explained that she wanted to parent exclusively with her partner. She thought that this might be considered selfish, and that the presence of a third parent could be beneficial for the child, but she expressed fears about such multiple relationships.
‘I used to think that it would be normal and fine to get some gay friend to be the donor. That was then, and after I paid more thought to it, then I came to the conclusion that it is not fair towards the other parent. You are a non-biological parent, how can you be sure that you are anything to the child unless you are there for at least five years? And you cannot guarantee that your partner will still like you after three years and then you are just no good. The child cannot remember you and what are you going to do?

...There is no solution to this, this is just life. But yes. After a lot of consideration I find it extremely important that this is an option and this is an option that I would choose.

**S: Unknown donor?**

**K:** Yes, like anonymous. But yes, this is a selfish point of view, because maybe it would be best for the child to have three parents. But since you are investing all this time and energy and everything, you want to have some minor chances of playing some role in the child's life.' IS27 Kolbrún

This sensation of selfishness relates to several possible scenarios. The first is ART's facilitation of parenthood without the involvement of a man. Haukur clearly expressed this as he reflected on his limited opportunities to become a father. This subject is clearly at the heart of debates around male parenthood in homosexual circles.

‘I also find it, you get a little annoyed with lesbian couples. We have had heated discussions about this, among other things. You feel like they should stand by you. And I experience this as a little selfish, knowing.... I have a close relative, a lesbian and she and her wife went through artificial insemination in Denmark and they have, as so many other lesbian couples that I know, not wanted any known donors. That the kid can never find out anything about its father. We have had this hot discussion once in a gay pride party where there were mostly women there who had kids and the discussion was: There is no father. But for sure there is a father!’ IS17 Haukur

### 6.4.2.3 The Persistence of the Biological Tie

Like Lilja and Sigrún, Auður chose ART in order to avoid involving a third adult in her family sphere. Contrary to them, however, she and her partner chose a known donor. They thus did not choose to definitively eliminate the reference to the biological in their family by blocking the child's access to its origins, although they did not wish to involve a father. They felt that their child should have access to the donor's identity if the child so desired.

‘We both wanted to experience being pregnant and we just somehow wanted to have the child without there being a third party involved. Of course we have the donor but just that it isn’t someone we know. But we decided to use, you must know [unclear], to use a known donor because even though we don’t have to know who it is then we didn’t want to take the possibility away from him [the child] if he would want to know one day. But we just figured that we wanted to have a stranger because if I don’t know who it is and I look at the child, then I only see my girlfriend in him. I don’t see anyone else. Like “Ah, he has Peter’s nose” or something. I would feel like I was the third wheel.’ IS09 Auður

This choice was reinforced by the couple’s desire to have a second child from the same donor, with Auður as the biological mother. By choosing to use the same
donor for both children, Auður was also creating a common "biological father" for the two, to make them biological half-siblings.

‘I would like to become pregnant later on. We both wanted to experience being pregnant so even when we went to Art medica then we were just “Do you want to begin? Should I begin?” We were almost deciding it in the office. Just, okay, she began, just because she is one year older than I. That was the only deciding factor. And we will try and use the same donor when I have a child. So we are very 50/50 in everything we do.’ IS09 Auður

Another situation where lesbian couples have maintained an attachment to biologi-
cal filiation is the use of IVF with double donation. In Iceland, the law allows con-
comitant sperm and egg donation. This offers lesbians the possibility of one of the
mothers bearing the other’s embryo, and thus of shared “biological” involvement in
filiation. This can be understood as a desire to recreate two realities drawn from
heterosexuality, expressed in this case through the mother – understood as necessar-
ily biological – and the father, whose paternity is either presumed (in the case of a
husband) or recognized (for other couples). In the case of egg donation within the
couple, both women consider themselves de facto biological mothers, conferring a
‘natural’ status that is otherwise seen as absent from lesbian parenthood. This has
no legal effect under Icelandic law, which establishes filiation simply through the
recognition of parenthood within legally recognized couples, but it is a choice that
some couples make in order to naturalize their family. Élin made this choice.

‘We have gone through IVF so we take an egg from [her partner] and fertilise it so she is of course the biological mother but I am of course like I always say jokingly you know that I am the surrogate mother except of course just like I get to then keep the baby but people of course have all kinds of like you know doesn’t she think it’s sad not carrying the child or say to me don’t you think it’s sad that the baby won’t look like you and you and you know we don’t care at all about that you know but um I think it’s amazing to be able to do it the way we are doing it.’ IS21 Élin

Élin's discourse features a mixture of the justification of equality with a denial of the importance of the views of others. This debate around maternity brings out the social primacy of the biological in the form of the child's resemblance to the parents. It highlights what the law allows and what society sees.

As we saw above, Lilja did not choose this way of family-making, but she finds
it difficult because everything is referred back to the biological.

‘I think it’s just this fear of not connection [with the child]. Fear which is maybe completely irrational and disappears immediately when you have a child in your arms... and also the fear of hearing “Oh, she is just like her mother.” That the child looks biologically like one of the mothers... it is insanity to consider yourself parent if it is not your biological child.’
IS05 Lilja

The interviews performed thus show that the lesbian respondents fully invested in ART in all of their richness (Insemination and IVF), drawing on the complete range of possibilities they offer. A single desire, to become the parents of a child, took form as different realities.
### 6.4.3 Challenges to the Legal Framework

#### 6.4.3.1 The Three-Adult Family

Coparenting is increasingly common, despite the fact that it still conflicts with the law, which recognizes only two parents for a given child. This configuration means a backward step for the children in social terms – a discrepancy in recognition between their legal parents and their social parents. This is the choice that was most often mentioned by male respondents speaking about the desire for children, notably because of the difficulty of adoption. It is also a model that could be adopted when ART was not available, and thus has a relatively long history. It is, if not accepted, at least known.

Sóley (IS18), who at the time of the survey was in an informal couple with a woman, conceived a child with a male friend, Bjarki (IS07). The two close friends developed the plan when Sóley was single; she met her partner only after the insemination had taken place. After several failed attempts at ART with Art Medica, she ultimately became pregnant through personal insemination (which took place outside the medical system, through the use of a syringe and her friend's sperm collected in artisanal fashion), and gave birth to a son.

Personal insemination allowed her male friend to recognize the child without the need for adoption, as in the case of a non-cohabiting heterosexual couple jointly declaring the birth on the national register. This is exactly what they wanted. Indeed, the desire for a child originated with the father, Bjarki, who wanted to coparent, participating in raising the child. Sóley's partner, however, has no legal rights with respect to the child. When the father has recognized the child, the mother's partner can only have rights if the father gives them up. Furthermore, the two women are not bound together by law, not even through a registered cohabitation. The three are raising the child together under these unsatisfactory conditions.

The example of Sóley and Bjarki is atypical of homosexual families which are not protected by the law, in that the two friends had made their plans to become parents in a situation of mutual trust, and the third person was added during the process. They did not sign any contract, or even establish any documentation to compensate for the absence of legal protections for their family.

> 'We have received a lot of criticism, or not criticism, but like questions and..., and doubts from people, we, from both sides. "Hey, hey people don't you have a contract? Didn't you sign anything?", you know, and stuff like that.' IS18 Sóley

Sóley met her partner in the final months of the process, who then became involved, accompanying Sóley through the different steps, notably medical; but only two people were involved in making the original plan. Sóley's partner spent much of the first months after the child's birth abroad; this period was thus mainly a shared experience for Sóley and Bjarki as a pair; the latter took paternity leave. This almost conventional model of coparenting, one woman and one man, is less subversive socially than it is legally, and led others to express contempt for their situation. Sóley also perceived that this similarity with the heterosexual model had an effect
on her daily life. She is often perceived as the mother of Bjarki's child, and the two
as a heterosexual couple.

In another model of coparenting, Sveinn has two children with a female hetero-
sexual friend. They also conceived the children using a syringe, at home, when they
had reached their thirties; both were driven by a very strong desire for children.
Both of their children were conceived in this way, even though the younger child
was born after the law expanding access to ART had been passed:

'We didn't think about it. We were surprised that it had gone through. I think we didn't even check. Also because if we had taken advantage of the laws it would have cost us half a million. But instead we bought a syringe for 330 crowns.' IS08 Sveinn

The mother of Sveinn's children does not have a partner, but he is in a confirmed partnership with a man. He is the biological parent of both children, as the desire for children was more his than his partner's. His conjugal status did not affect or influence his choice to be a parent: '*If I hadn't been in a relationship then I would have had kids at a similar time. I would just be a single father.*' In practice, his husband has no rights with respect to the children. This choice does not currently pose any problem for them in daily life, but he thought it was difficult for his partner's parents.

'Because somewhere is this need to procreate and it is creating a legal uncertainties for a lot of gay couples and it is destroying relationships around us. And I have felt that it is an issue in my home. It can be difficult to deal with, for instance for the grandmothers and grandfathers who are not related by blood. It took them a longer time to connect because people are afraid of starting to love something and then it is taken away from them.' IS08 Sveinn

He offered a normative account of his choices around parenthood, explaining that he thinks it is good for children to have a mother and a father. In framing his own parenthood, he sees the feminine, maternal figure as very important for children. He nonetheless presented the situation by saying: '*I'm married to a man, ... and we have two children with a woman.*'

Contrary to Sóley and Bjarki, who made no plans concerning the organization of daily life, Sveinn and the mother of the children wrote down the material aspects of their planned parental situation together.

'We were preoccupied with writing everything down, to have everything down on paper, even before the child was conceived, so we would have a written agreement about, you know, right of access, finances and everything. We would have shared custody and just everything 50/50 except the children would have their domicile at her house.' IS08 Sveinn

His only worry in relationship to the law concerns his husband's rights with respect to the children. After the initial worries, they were reassured by the initial experiences with the child in public, where they found him to be identified as a child like any other, with an extended family.

'We both thought, since we both know how it is to grow up being different, are we bringing a child into a world where it won't be left alone because it has gay parents? But we stopped thinking about it very quickly. It just came and went in an afternoon. Especially when the kids were in kindergarten. Everyone has two homes and three fathers. It has never been an issue. We had role models. Our friends went down this path with a lesbian couple 16 years ago or something. We spoke to them a little bit.' IS08 Sveinn
His words recall that coparenting existed before the changes in family law, but also highlight the importance of models and their visibility.

### Novelty Within Tradition in Four-Adult Parenting

Hrafnkell (IS23) was married and planning to have a child with his husband. Their preference was for coparenting with a female couple. This choice was motivated by a conception which he explicitly recognized as relatively traditional, with both masculine and feminine figures as parents of the child: ‘I think all children benefit from having maybe also a little like, some male role models, and female of course.’ On the other hand, he saw having four parents as a significant protection for the child. He described himself as being in a stable relationship; he had been with his husband for 16 years, and, ideally, he hoped to find another similar couple. Two men and two women: this configuration does not challenge the reality of today’s recomposed families, whether heterosexual or homosexual, where couples form, dissolve, and reform around each adult’s respective children.

### 6.4.3.2 Transgender Parenthood

There have as yet been few studies on transgender parenting (Fortier 2015; Marchand 2017; Stotzer et al. 2014), and those few have often approached it from a psychological, clinical, or even legal angle. It raises questions of its own particular order, just as broad as those around homosexual parenting. The present chapter will not survey these questions, as only one of the respondents was in this situation. However, it is worth briefly considering a few points that recall certain problematics around homosexual parenthood discussed above.

The legal framework around transgender identity is not settled, and was still less so at the time of the survey (in particular concerning the control of the state – which defined transsexualism as a psychiatric illness – over different steps in the transition). Like the children of homosexuals born of heterosexual relationships when homosexuality was stigmatized, children born to transsexual parents, or who become transsexual themselves, continue to face the judgments of others in daily life. For some, the transition of the male or female biological parent to the other sex calls into question the terms “mother” and “father”. Having a woman as a father or a man as a mother is currently a new situation – one that is poorly understood. This does not facilitate the processes of coming out and transition.

Águst had children within heterosexual relationships, before coming out and beginning a gender transition. The very existence of children in the household – from different fathers who were largely or entirely absent – led Águst to delay the transition, out of the fear that social services would take them away.

Águst is legally registered under his birth gender and the official documents of his children, which leads to difficult situations in daily life.
or legal guardian. I have even spoken about this at the county magistrate's office. She totally agreed with me. I don't know what it takes to change this.' IS29 Águst

Águst sees this situation, which is a matter of ongoing debate, as a problematic one.

Because of Iceland's adaptability to individual cases, and the fact that only one informer was interviewed, no generalization can be drawn from Águst's experience. However, given the restricted number of structures – indeed, perhaps only a single one – with some relation to the services that interact in cases of transsexualism, Águst's situation likely reflects the state in which society has reacted to transsexual identity. While the law establishes filiation, it does not construct parenthood. In France, for example, a married transgender woman who kept her male reproductive organs came to be referred to as the 'biological parent' on the birth certificate of her child (Dervieux 2018). This was a compromise allowing the child to be considered to have been born to two mothers. This refusal to consider that two mothers can give birth to a child does not arise in Iceland, where the recognition of maternity applies to both members of married lesbian couples in the ART process for same-sex female couples within the legal healthcare system but it seems not to have been considered in the case of two fathers.

### 6.4.4 Male Parenthood in Question

The interviews with male respondents who had not had children in a heterosexual relationship raised other questions. The opening of ART to female same-sex couples offered lesbian women a point of entry into, and even a default option for, desired parenthood. Gay men, however, continue to find themselves in often complex, difficult, and sometimes ethically challenging situations (the same, moreover, as those facing women with difficulty procreating) with regard to access to the child.

'How can we have children? Here is a clear difference between gay and lesbian couples. They can have as many as they want without any hindering or anything. I think that the current discussion is like "Yes you have all rights, you can have children if you want." Yes, it is one thing to be allowed and another to be able to. There has been the right to adopt for years, but not a single gay couple has managed. So Iceland does not have to risk those [international] adoption contracts it has. I think this is a process we have to think about. Even if we do not want to have children right now, we have to take this discussion; this is a five-year process or something.' IS17 Haukur

The men who were interviewed often spoke of coparenting – for example with a single woman, or a lesbian couple. However, since lesbians gained legal access to ART, this has proven quite complicated. Haukur complained of a lack of organization to promote male parenthood.

'I think this is missing, a club or something. Should I post an ad to Frétablaðið [Icelandic newspaper]: "A gay couple wishes to donate sperm to a nice woman on the condition that the child will know its father"? Where do I post this? Where do you bring this up in a conversation?' IS17 Haukur
<figure><img src="image_26.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 6.2** Adoptions by type of adoption (1995–2015)</figcaption></figure>

Source: Hagstofa Íslands https://www.hagstofa.is/, retrieved April 2019 Stepadoption refers to an adoption of partner's child (or previously adopted child of partner). Primary adoption refers to an adoption of a child other than the child (or previously adopted child) of the partner

#### 6.4.4.1 Elective Filiation: Adoption

‘If I have kids, then it is adoption.’ IS16 Andri

Both women and men spoke about adoption as a means of becoming a parent, but the difficulty of adopting pushes women to choose other solutions first. References to adoption came mainly from men.

Adoption confronts the Icelandic state with an issue that is not entirely under its control. There are few children to adopt in Iceland, as in most countries with a welfare state. Icelanders thus resort to international adoption, which itself is in decline (Mignot 2015), and which as a result is increasingly selective about the countries and individuals who are granted access. Adopting countries depend on the stance taken by the children's country of origin on homosexuality and same-sex couples.

In Iceland, both adoption overall and international adoption in particular have been in decline for the last decade (Fig. 6.2).

In Iceland there is only one organization with the accreditation to organize the legal process of adoption, *Íslensk ættleiðing* (Icelandic Adoption). Iceland has few agreements with countries where there are children for international adoption, and the conditions of some do not allow adoption by homosexuals, regardless of whether they have a partner<fnref n="2" />. In 2015 it was allowed for children from only one country, Colombia, for children who are older or who have particular characteristics. This

<footnote n="2">²http://www.isadopt.is/is/lond, accessed April 2019.</footnote>
situation does not encourage those in Iceland to construct their plans for parenthood based on this highly theoretical possibility. *'Like the situation is today, you don't really look into adoption. This is just a closed door.'* IS01 Kjartan. This raises the possibility of adoption as a single parent, which may be better accepted than adoption by a homosexual couple.

> ‘We can, according to Icelandic laws, adopt as a couple. And there are examples of such, although it is just one or two. The thing is, no one has adopted as an individual, even though that is legal. And that is... I saw a post the other day, in the adoption group that no one has ever tried. So that is why we are going to a meeting with the adoption agency to find out which option would be better.... if we are going to adopt as a couple. As things are today, it has to be within Iceland...' IS28 Hjörtur

Hlynur too spoke of the difficulty, or even impossibility, of adoption for male same-sex couples, both within Iceland and internationally.

> ‘...I don't know of any homosexual couple in Iceland adopting, because it's so hard for them, because the countries don't want to allow us to adopt, and it is so hard getting an Icelandic child, it is not really possible, to get an Icelandic child.' IS30 Hlynur

While the law permitting adoption for same-sex couples was passed in 2006, it was not until 2013 that the first male homosexual couple adopted a child (Valgerðardóttir 2013). The child was a girl born to an Icelandic mother living abroad and an unknown father, putting this case in a separate category, which is difficult to generalize.

### 6.4.4.2 Men Demand That Surrogacy Be Both Legal and Ethical

Despite the obstacles facing them in becoming parents, none of the men interviewed seemed willing to resort to surrogacy in the existing legal situation. Their position here concerned not only the law, but above all ethics. Most of the respondents saw the recent laws as a form of support for parenthood, but not a prerequisite for the decision to become a parent, whereas with respect to surrogacy, opinions diverged. For the respondents, a law was needed to ensure that the practice would not be abusive for the surrogate mother.

Egill ruled out this possibility completely: *'I don't think it is that important to pass my genes along in order to put another person through carrying a child and then have it taken away from her. You know, I just think that would be too selfish.'* IS11 Egill. Sveinn was not as categorical, but remained cautious: *'I think that surrogacy should be all right where it is ethically OK. Where you are not abusing people.'* IS08 Sveinn.

Stefan spoke very frankly of surrogacy in India, which he associated to poverty and the exploitation of women, a topic that is discussed internationally (Rozée Gomez and Unisa 2014). *'I couldn't take part in systemic injustices tied to surrogacy. I can argue about it or participate in discussions about it but to go and find an Indian woman and destroy her life or something. No, that wouldn't happen.'* IS14 Stefan.

Similarly, Hrafnkell (IS23), who is seeking a way to have a child, thought that more work should be done to create a law regulating altruistic surrogacy, but who said he *'wouldn't want to take that route'* because he did not wish to take advantage
of a woman in a situation he did not properly understand, referring to surrogacy
in India.

Respondents thus emphasized ethical questions, despite the fact that this form of parenthood is legal, and thus regulated, including for non-citizens, in a number of nearby countries – either on an altruistic basis (in Great Britain for example) or a commercial one (United States of America) – and that it is very common among American and European gays (Berkowitz 2013). In Iceland the debate is highly charged: it confronts, on the one hand, a situation where men with a strong desire to be parents are not able to do so with, on the other, a highly feminist society oriented toward social progress but also toward taking great care with the use of the female body. ‘*There have to be really strict laws and supervision and... so um, it’s at least something you can’t rush into.*’ IS24 Vigdís.

At the time of the survey, the Parliament had plans to discuss a framework for altruistic surrogacy, but this parliamentary process was then indefinitely adjourned.

6.5 Normalization, Integration, or Assimilation?

‘I’m not sure it has anything to do with being a lesbian, or just being an Icelandic woman, I think it has more to do with that. That, we, in Iceland, we are so consumed with having children. And we are very consumed about having a man and having children. Or being in a relationship and having children.’ IS18 Sóley

Progressively, legal struggles to gain acceptance for homosexuality have led homo-
sexuals into a tendency to conform to heterosexual social norms, and in particular
those around the family. This is an international trend which originated in the pro-
cess to obtain equal rights, notably the right to have a family. Contrary to marriage
equality, which the respondents described more as a symbolic right than as a need,
they described rights around parenthood as vital to their lives. Contrary to what
might have been expected, few expressed an aspiration to keep their distances from
these norms. The principal exceptions were the oldest individuals in the sample and
those in the most marginal position with respect to the dominant trends. One exam-
ple is Aþena, who, possibly due to a disability that meant she was not in the easiest
situation to assume the characteristics of a “normal” population, expressed a some-
what skeptical position:

‘We have to stop forcing homosexual individuals into this heterosexual norm. You know, it is ok to be homosexual because you have a wife and a child and everything is normal. When I came out that was the focus at the National Queer Organization. We are normal people and something like that. It poses a bit of a problem. We can be homosexual as long as we are normal.’ IS06 Aþena

Aþena also subversively transformed the desire to be a mother, which others see as
a normalization, by provocatively emphasizing the role of her disability in any
future parenthood. Nonetheless, the responses seem to show that the most reflexive
of the respondents, from Aþena to Ólöf, experienced their own desire for mother-
hood as a confession.
Kolbrún thought that the attention to laws around marriage and parenthood had diverted the queer movement not only from an ideal of equality for all – including for those who do not wish to marry and have children – but also from struggles toward true integration, rather than normalization. Moreover, more or less in direct opposition to the first LGBT demands, the emphasis on parenthood and the right to have a family has led to pressure to fulfill this goal. In a familialist society, it seems that this choice was not contested, but according to Kolbrún, it marginalized those who do not identify with these aspirations, and who feel they have been robbed of a culture that was once their own.

"[This politics was thought up] by some spin doctors, some women from the Social Democratic Alliance [Samfylkingin] 15 years ago and this is politics that was thought up by straight people. Beautiful thought, no evil motives... But what it does is that it marginalizes all the others within the queer community. And it was not until recently that people have started to... like Samtökin 78 to take up the trans issue, which I think is great. But to take this minority which some are thinking about and making it into the central issue. I sometimes feel stupid, because I do not have a child yet. I sometimes see the Facebook discussions of those women that I was hanging out with 15 or 20 years ago and it is just like the sewing circle in [name of a city]. And I think to myself, we have lost something. Is this what we wanted in the first place? I am not saying... I know a lot of cool mommies, but there is something, we have lost something for a higher reward. It is time that we start to look inwards and stop caring about what other people think.' IS27 Kolbrún

Researchers have recently begun to study the increasing numbers of women in European societies who voluntarily do not have children (Beaujouan et al. 2017). In this context it seems paradoxical that some women experience the greater freedom that should result from the law in Iceland instead as a form of pressure, and even an obligation, to conform to the current norm. Studies on women choosing not to have children have revealed a certain subversiveness on their part, a desire to emancipate themselves from the reproductive function urged on them by the state, turning instead toward greater individual fulfilment and even economic comfort. Icelandic lesbians, however, seem to be moving in the opposite direction. This desire for parenthood, articulated by both male and female respondents, may be an effect of the law that will subside with time, decreasing as it has among heterosexual women. And indeed, the most recent trends<fnref n="3" /> show a decline in birth rates and progressively increasing age at first birth, which remains low among Icelandic women in comparison to the rest of Europe (Garðarsdóttir 2008), possibly indicating that this traditionally familialist society has taken a new turn.

It is also possible that this period of transformation, with the particularly favourable climate that surrounds the birth of a child, has seduced younger cohorts who (may still?) have found coming out to be difficult, by suppressing the idea of difference between heterosexual and homosexual parenthood in social mechanisms and collective awareness. The rejection of homosexuality and difference often results from a fear of the unknown, which is lessened in a small society with strong family ties (Digoix 2013a). Supportive legislation is important for multiple reasons. New

<footnote n="3">³https://www.icelandreview.com/society/in-focus-dropping-fertility/, 2019 based on Hagstofa Íslands, 2019</footnote>
family laws have conferred on homosexuality a certain visibility as a sexual behav-
iour like another, and enabled the establishment of models. They favour the accep-
tance of homosexuality, facilitating the process of coming out: parents find they can
see the future of their children as “normal”, insofar as Icelandic society revolves
around the very strong spirit of the family line. Parents expect their children to have
children, and homosexuals’ parents too. Over time, lesbians had come to take it for
granted that having children would be difficult or even impossible. But a period of
legal change has made it possible for homosexuals to reinvest in this familialist
society. Homosexuals, both women and men, have desires for children just as het-
erosexuals do, whether or not they are clearly expressed or fulfilled. These desires
are sometimes vague, and not clearly stated as a personal or social desire. The oldest
respondents, who had experienced circumstances where there was less opportunity
to conform to the norm, were more conscious of this than the others. However, this
ideal of parenthood can be frustrated by nature, given the difficulty of having a
child, sometimes for women, but mainly for men. It remains to be seen how male
parenthood will be constructed in the coming years. Many questions revolve around
surrogacy: For most of the respondents, surrogacy can only be acceptable if it is
legally regulated. Some raised the possibility of family surrogacy (with a child
borne by a sister, for example) as a possibility, a compassionate gift. Discussion of
the law has been delayed, while international circuits have changed and developed
in more ethical directions.

Contrary to the totally assimilationist interpretation of Icelandic LGBT desires for parenthood, the work of planning for parenthood reflects a reappropriation of gay and lesbian specificity. This work is all more original in the case of lesbians, with the possibilities opened up by ART, and notably IVF techniques, including the double donation of gametes. It is also present, mostly (still) through extra-legal arrangements, in coparenting scenarios involving multiple possible combinations of components, in terms of parents and also of reproductive techniques. In this context, parenthood can involve the construction of pairs, sets of three, or double pairs; bring together heterosexuals and homosexuals, or homosexuals alone; people who are in a intimate relationship or are not; who live together or apart; with partners involved or not. Here, heterosexuals and homosexuals complement one another, tracing the outlines of a new egalitarian society.

Notwithstanding the notion that this attraction to parenthood may be transitory,
the interviewed residents of Iceland, whether Icelandic or not, female or male, do
not seem to have felt held back in their desire for children, contrary to what has been
found in empirical studies on desires for children in other countries (Gato et al.
2017). In Iceland, the negative characteristics which hold back gays and lesbians
elsewhere are either absent or not sufficiently strong. Their personal motivations
often reproduce the heterosexual model, the analogy on which Icelandic homosexu-
als drew in demanding full equal rights. Their experiences at workplace remain
positive, legal and social determinants are not barriers, and they are able to count on
the support of friends and family, as well as social structures surrounding parents,
notably schools (Digoix et al. 2018). Here, parenthood – not only the actuality of
being a parent, but even the desire to become one – overrides, or at the very least
surpasses, personal specificity. For society, individuals are parents first, before they are lesbian or gay. This process may be seen as assimilation or as integration, but it has the advantage of making coming out – which remains difficult, even if the difficulty of the experience is decreasing with time – less destabilizing. It will be interesting to observe developments over the next decade in order to discover further improvements in the quality of life of homosexuals.

## Profiles of the Interviewees

For reasons of anonymity, the names of the respondents have been changed. Place of residence is mentioned only where it was not Reykjavík and its suburbs.

**IS01 Kjartan**, 33, childless and in a non-registered cohabiting relationship, grew up outside the capital region. He and his partner had already discussed how they planned to have a child. Their preferred option was coparenting: they were very aware of the difficulty of adopting and mistrustful of surrogacy, particularly if it was not legalized. He was counting on the law to help him to become a father.

**IS02 Ólöf**, 50, childless, in a registered cohabiting relationship. Her position on lesbian parenthood was ambiguous: on the one hand, she defended it in the name of equal rights, while on the other hand, she described it as the decline of queer culture. She would have liked to have had a child at some point in her life, but her partner did not want children. She did not want to embark on becoming a parent alone, as she was from a generation where ‘*it was complicated, but doable.*’ She liked the idea of coparenting, and thought of it as a way to help men.

**IS03 Katla**, 40, single and childless. She did not have a partner and thought that this had ‘restricted’ her personally in considering having a child, whereas this was not a problem for heterosexual single mothers or fathers. She liked the idea of adoption, of helping a child, but knew that it is rare in Iceland.

**IS04 Þórdís**, 51, childless, was divorced from a sham marriage with a gay man used to stay in the country where she previously lived with her partner. At the time of the survey she lived with her partner and was raising her partner’s child. Although the partnership was not registered, she had parental authority. Her feelings were slightly mixed, between pleasure at the legal advances in favour of homosexuals and the conformism into which the gay community had fallen in its desires for children.

**IS05 Lilja**, 27, in a registered cohabiting relationship. She and her partner had begun the process of medically assisted reproduction. She had a strong desire for a child and ‘*would have had a child, even if it weren’t possible in Iceland.*’ She had used a forum to learn about ART methods and share information and experiences. She found Art Medica impersonal, but was satisfied with how she and her partner had been treated. If ART did not work she hoped to adopt, although she knew it was difficult. She did not wish to involve a third party.

**IS06 Áþena**, 23, single and childless. Áþena was a student and an activist. She enjoyed being provocative. She felt doubly stigmatized, as a queer woman and as
disabled. Her thoughts revolved largely around her disability, how she could manage it in society and its role in her future plans. She wished to have children, with or without a partner.

**IS07 Bjarki**, 38, single, coparent of a child with Sóley (IS18). He liked the idea of raising his child with the mother, a very good friend. He is from outside the capital region. Coming out had been difficult for him. He thought that there were too many ethical problems with surrogacy.

**IS08 Sveinn**, 41, married, coparent of two children with a heterosexual single woman. They conceived the children on their own, at home. He had divorced from a man and remarried. His husband had no rights with respect to the children. Sveinn, his husband and the children's mother shared the task of rearing the children, planning everything together. Their life revolved around the children.

**IS09 Auður**, 29, in a cohabiting relationship. She had had a child via ART with a known donor, because she and her partner wanted the child to have the option of learning about the donor. She wanted to get married for the sake of material security. All of her friends were heterosexual, and she felt very well integrated in society.

**IS10 Sigrún**, 33, married, two children via ART. She married for material security. Her parents and those of her partner were relieved to have grandchildren.

**IS11 Egill**, 28, single and childless. Egill had never been in a stable relationship. In his view, marriage and registered cohabitation are the same thing, and it is important to be in one of the two before having a child. He said that it was not easy for men to become parents, and that the law had changed little in this regard. He wanted the state to establish contracts with countries that allow homosexuals to adopt.

**IS12 Erla**, 29, in a registered cohabiting relationship. At the time of the survey, she was expecting a child borne by her partner. They chose ART through Art Medica. The legislation on this was very important for her, as it made the situation with respect to the child and her partner clear: with Art Medica, they had signed a contract, and they were mothers of the child from the beginning of the procedure. Genetics was not important to her, and she did not wish to resort to double donation of egg and sperm.

**IS13 Anton**, 50, born abroad, divorced from a woman, with two children from different heterosexual relationships, and a grandfather. Living outside the capital region. He had had difficulty owning up to his homosexuality and coming out. He had worked in occupations where homosexuality is stigmatized. His children had reacted well to his recent coming out. He considered himself a gay man but a 'straight parent', as until then he had presented himself as a heterosexual to his children.

**IS14 Stefan**, 49, divorced from a man and a woman, grandfather. He had two children from a heterosexual relationship when he was quite young, and had played the role of father for two others. When he came out to himself, he sank into alcoholism. He saw marriage as good for the recognition of homosexuals, but remained attached to heteronormative reality. He was formally opposed to surrogacy.
**IS15 Halldór**, 23, single and childless. His dream since his earliest youth was to marry and have children. He was very attached to the idea of family, structured by marriage. He said he would like to resort to surrogacy if it were legal, but in Iceland. He had female friends who had volunteered to bear the child.

**IS16 Andri**, 34, married and childless. The couple had married without a precise plan for having children, but with a desire to do so and the idea that a couple had to be married for 5 years to adopt. He saw adoption as the solution he would choose in order to 'save' a child, but he knew that this was difficult because few countries allow gay couples to adopt. He thought that relations with the mother in a coparenting situation would be complicated if she were a friend. He thought that men should fight for access to parenthood.

**IS17 Haukur**, 28, childless. He is from a little village and lived outside the capital. He did not live with his partner, and although they were preparing to marry, he wanted to do 'something else' other than the heterosexual norm. Speaking of the social pressure of having a wife and children, he said that being gay had, in a way, kept him at a distance from that pressure. He thought that the law was not sufficient, as it allowed homosexuals to have children, but doing so was nearly impossible for men. He spoke of adoption. He also said he would like to give his sperm to a female couple and be a father, for his personal fulfilment and to help out, without necessarily coparenting as defined by rules for joint custody.

**IS18 Sóley**, 41, had a child with Bjarki (IS07). She grew up outside the Reykjavík area. She did not live with her partner. She did not have a very clear-cut position concerning her legal situation, was not thinking of marriage, and did not have a contract with Bjarki, although he was her child's legal father and they had shared custody. She did not feel she had faced prejudice against her coparenting situation, but said they had been criticized for not enshrining it in a legal agreement.

**IS19 Ásgeir**, 22, single, childless, living outside the capital region. Spoke of a desire for a child during the interview. A child with his own DNA. He related marriage to family, but for him, having a partner was not necessary. He wanted to have a good relationship with the child's mother. If surrogacy were legal, he would want to choose it.

**IS20 Ingibjörg**, 27, in a non-cohabiting relationship, childless. Said she would marry only to have access to the associated rights. She wanted to have children and thought she would have succeeded even without changes in the law. She was thinking of ART because adopting is a very long and complicated process, and she wanted to have the child within the legal system, without a father.

**IS21 Elín**, 27, engaged. She was preparing for marriage because she had had problems conceiving a child, although doing so was a priority. She had chosen to have a child by means of IVF with double donation of sperm and her partner's egg, so that both would be biologically connected to the child. She found Art Medica very competent.

**IS22 Carl**, 45, divorced from a woman. He is not Icelandic but had been living in the country for more than 10 years. He had married a woman in his country of origin because he wanted a child, but had divorced very soon afterward. He was still reluctant to speak about his homosexuality to those around him. His family
was not very accepting of his homosexuality, but his parents wanted a grandchild. He had a very marked desire to be a father. He wanted to have and raise a child.

**IS23 Hrafnkell**, 37, married for nearly 10 years, childless but planned to have a child in the very near future. He preferred coparenting as there were examples around him where it worked very well. He complained of the difficulty of finding a reliable network for establishing a coparenting situation. He supported altruistic surrogacy.

**IS24 Vigdís**, 51, single, two children from a heterosexual union, grandmother. She came out at age 35. Had chosen to revive a group for children and parents to better manage her parental situation. She had not wanted children in her heterosexual relationship: the first happened by chance, the second to accompany the first.

**IS25 Ísak**, 27, single, childless. Ísak lived outside the capital region. He said that legal mechanisms such as marriage facilitate the decision to have children, although this was more turned toward women than men for the time being. He saw surrogacy as acceptable only if it took place under ethical conditions. He had thought a little about coparenting, and had followed the debates on surrogacy, but did yet not feel ready.

**IS26 Sunna**, 41, divorced from a woman, had a child with that woman and a step-daughter. Her son was born within that relationship. Formalizing her union in a confirmed partnership was not important for her, but at the time when her son was born, having a wife was a condition for access to ART.

**IS27 Kolbrún**, 41, divorced from a woman, in a registered cohabiting relationship, living outside the capital region. She did not have children but was trying to do so using ART. She explained that this is difficult outside the capital region because the only clinic, Art Medica, is in Reykjavík. She chose an anonymous donor because she was thinking of the non biological mother. She felt under pressure to have children, and thought this was a shame.

**IS28 Hjörtur**, 27, in a relationship, living in outside the capital region. Before coming out to himself, he saw himself having children and sometimes a wife. He was planning to have a child, and before registering with his partner, he was planning to make an appointment with the adoption agency to see if his chances of adopting as single would be better. Thought it was a shame that Iceland was so lacking in links to countries that allow adoption by homosexual couples. He was against surrogacy, above all in commercial form.

**IS29 Águst**, 32, divorced from a man before his transition. Had three children in heterosexual relationships before coming out and then thinking of transitioning. Waited to be certain he would be able to keep his children before beginning the transition. Wanted another child. Thought that surrogacy could be a beautiful gesture if it were undertaken altruistically and ethically, but would not use this method. Preferred ART with a sperm donor.

**IS30 Hlynur**, 53, divorced from a woman and widower of a man. Two children from his heterosexual relationship. His wife had reacted very badly to his coming out, and refused to allow him to be with his youngest son for some time. The divorce was very difficult because of his homosexuality. He was hoping to have grandchildren.
# References

## Icelandic Laws

Barnalög nr. 76/2003

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Lög nr. 21/1990 um Lögheimili

Lög nr. 40/1992 um breyting á almennum hegningarlögum nr. 19/1940

Lög nr. 55/1996 um tæknifrjóvgun og notkun kynfrumna og fósturvísa manna til stofnfrumurannsókna

Lög nr. 87/1996 um staðfesta samvist (abrogated in 2010)

Lög nr. 65/2006 um breytingu á lagaákvæðum er varða réttarstöðu samkynhneigðra (sambúð, ættleiðingar, tæknifrjóvgun)

Lög nr. 130/1999 um ættleiðingar

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Lov om registreret partnerskab af 7. juni 1989

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<figure><img src="image_27.png" /></figure>
Chapter 7
# Postface. After Legal Recognition

<figure><img src="image_28.png" /></figure>

Check for
updates

Wilfried Rault

**Abstract** This postscript highlights the key features of this book, especially its combination of different approaches using legal, demographic and sociological analysis tools, and the comparative perspective that is present throughout. The approach is particularly useful, because the three disciplines that structure the book do not view same-sex families in the same way. Another strand in the book is a more direct reflection on marriage. While marriage has been the symbol of the recognition of sexual minorities in recent years, the book shows that it cannot fully embody it, and invites us to think “beyond marriage”. The last part of this postscript will suggest research themes that could usefully be investigated, provided that suitable tools are used – particularly the tools of quantitative sociology, since the social and scientific visibility of same-sex parenthood does not always mean statistical visibility.

**Keywords** Same-sex couples · LGBT families · Europe · Marriage · Methods

Research on same-sex parenthood has been going on in Europe for some 30 years. The trend owes much to the movement for political, legal and social recognition that began in the Scandinavian countries in the late 1980s, starting with Denmark in 1989. It then spread to most countries of Western Europe, taking different forms in different countries, and is now emerging in some East European countries. Although most of the earliest provisions recognizing same-sex unions, such as registered partnerships and civil unions, included no provision for filiation and parentage, it was due to them that same-sex-parented families (called “same-sex families”) were included in the political agenda and gradually became objects of study in the social sciences. But these kinds of family were not new. Lack of legal recognition and a term to call them by never prevented LGBT families from existing. They were “nameless families” in the words of Pierre Bourdieu (1996) – low-visibility families.

<footnote>W. Rault (✉)
French Institute for Demographic Studies (INED), Paris, France
e-mail: Wilfried.rault@ined.fr</footnote>
Often, they were due to lesbians and gays in same-sex relationships having had chil-
dren through a previous heterosexual relationship, the only legitimate form of private
life at the time. Sometimes they came from other kinds of arrangement. Homosexuality
being strongly stigmatized, even sometimes repressed, these individual configura-
tions had to keep to the shadows. That made political mobilization difficult.

That changed in a big way in Western Europe in the late twentieth and early
twenty-first centuries with the legal recognition of same-sex unions, which led to
the social and sociological construction of “same-sex parenthood” as a category. A
central factor in this trend was the fact that the new legal devices were often inspired
by the institution of marriage which, a few decades ago, still associated family (and
sexuality) with marriage, whose necessity was still only weakly contested.
Gradually, the political demand for recognition of same-sex unions raised the ques-
tion of homosexual people’s families, as couples and families both became socially
visible for the first time. As the legal vacuum in which same-sex couples lived was
brought to light, so was the existence and legal and social situation of the families.
The countries that had pioneered the recognition of same-sex unions necessarily
started thinking about extending existing provisions for heterosexual couples and
their families to same-sex couples. Discussion around the couple inevitably opened
the way to discussion of filiation and parentage. Should the existing provisions be
simply transposed to same-sex couples, knowing that these provisions were not
limited to recognizing the union but were also intended for officialising filiation? Or
should they be amended so that they concerned only the (same-sex) union, remov-
ing certain provisions that were assumed (erroneously) to not concern them? It was
often the latter option that was taken at first, so that things had to progress in two
stages: first same-sex unions were recognized, then discussion of filiation began<fnref n="1" />.
The first step seems to have been necessary for envisaging the second. Socially
necessary because it made the issue of children visible, and changing the juridical
possibilities for couples also helped to change representations of the family. This
two-step change (three steps where civil partnerships were introduced before same-
sex marriage) was also in many cases the fruit of a political strategy, since demand-
ing recognition of same-sex union and the same-sex family at the same time was
unlikely to succeed, especially in countries where hostility was strongly expressed
or where the government majority had lowered its initial intentions.

So, gradually, same-sex parenthood or homosexual parenthood became a com-
monplace notion and, in parallel, a topic for social science and a research subject, in
sociology especially. The trend was led by a number of young researchers, who took
up this new subject within a research community whose forms of resistance have
made it difficult for to acknowledge their originality and relevance. LGBT research
can itself be faced with a degree of heterosexism, even today.

The first researchers in Europe to address the issue of same-sex families looked
at the challenges of legal recognition. They conducted original, qualitative surveys
of low-visibility family configurations, describing the families, their diversity, their

<footnote n="1">¹Iceland differed from other pioneer countries in that the law introducing registered same-sex unions in 1996 already included the possibility of exercising parental authority over the same-sex spouse's children (see Chap. 6).</footnote>
contours, how they functioned day to day and how their daily lives were affected by
the lack of legal recognition. These studies helped to further weaken the strict asso-
ciation of parenthood with heterosexuality, and the widespread representation of
homosexuality as being incompatible with parenthood collapsed. But they also
helped to renew research into parentage and filiation in general, a field that had
already been shaken up by the increase in separations and blended families since the
1970s. In both cases, the research conducted gave expression to questions raised by
the dissociation between day to day parenting, legal recognition (filiation and par-
entage) and biological parenthood. These issues are particularly salient, in various
ways, for same-sex families. The research also questioned assumptions such as that
children have two parents (can you have more than two?), and that heterosexuality
is the only bedrock on which the private sphere can be built (can one have two par-
ents of the same sex?). Finally, it raised the basic question of “What is a family?”,
which became a new political issue.

This book, edited by Marie Digoix, while following in the footsteps of these
founding studies<fnref n="2" />, refreshes the view of same-sex families by taking into account
today's context, where the existence of such families is widely acknowledged,
although this still varies considerably between countries and they are not always
recognized by the law. This postscript first addresses the book's original contribu-
tions, particularly its combination of a multidisciplinary approach and European
comparisons. Thirty years after the first official registration of a same-sex union, the
book provides some hindsight on changes in the ways homosexuality and same-sex
parenthood in Europe is addressed in law, demography and sociology. Another
strand in the book is a more direct reflection on marriage. While marriage has been
the symbol of the recognition of sexual minorities in recent years, the book shows
that it cannot fully embody it, and invites us to think “beyond marriage”. This cen-
trality of marriage, and of legal issues more broadly, has structured research into
same-sex couples and LGBT parenthood to a large extent. The current state of prog-
ress in legal rights is propitious for research in other directions. The last part of this
postscript will suggest research themes that could usefully be investigated, provided
that suitable tools are used – particularly the tools of quantitative sociology, since
the social and scientific visibility of same-sex parenthood does not always mean
statistical visibility.

## 7.1 More Viewpoints for Better Understanding

### 7.1.1 Roads to Legal Recognition

The key features of this book are its combination of different approaches using
legal, demographic and sociological analysis tools, and the comparative approach
that is present throughout, either direct comparison as in the first two chapters, or

<footnote n="2">²See Gross (2015) and Goldberg & Allen (2013) for a broad overview of research on LGBT parents.</footnote>
indirect in the surveys conducted in different countries. The approach is particularly heuristic, because the three disciplines that structure the book do not view same-sex families in the same way. The legal approach looks at the *legal provisions* available in European countries, and their history from the earliest legal recognition measures (Waaldijk) up to 2019. So the book has been produced in circumstances very different to those obtaining when the first studies of same-sex families in Europe were made. Recognition of the couple has advanced in all of Western Europe, but differently in different countries, and same-sex families are also more commonly recognized, both legally and socially. An overview of the European continent shows a transformation that seems fairly uniform, especially in comparison to the world as a whole. But if we compare the legal data compiled between 2005 and 2016, as analysed by Kees Waaldijk, it is hard to speak of a European policy of recognizing same-sex couples and families, because national histories, though often similar (especially if we look at groups of countries, e.g. Scandinavia) also show a distinct pathway specific to each country, its social history and its political power balance.

Thirty years after the first same-sex partnership legislation was enacted, in Denmark, the situation in Europe is mixed. Legal equality had been achieved in some countries by 2017, when the process was just beginning in others. Each country's situation is the fruit of its particular history. In some places change has been very gradual, through a succession of new legal provisions, while elsewhere several flagship measures have been taken more of less at the same time, radically changing the legal situation for sexual minorities. The contrast between Great Britain and France is an example. In Great Britain, several legislative changes were concentrated around the adoption of civil partnership, some concerning gays and lesbians more broadly, not just couples and families<fnref n="3" />. In France, the first form of recognition for same-sex couples, the pacs, in 1999, was legally timid but nonetheless a symbolic turning point. It has been amended a number of times in the 20 years since then, often in ways that make it more like marriage. Even so, when marriage was made available to same-sex couples, although provision for making ART available to women couples was considered, it was not included in the final bill<fnref n="4" />. Apparent similarity between European situations masks a diversity of legislative trajectories. As Commaille and de Singly (1997) suggest with regard to family policies in Europe, the results of a comparative analysis are founded on distance of observation. A remote, overall view gives the impression of a certain unity, but when one zooms in on particular countries or groups of countries, or compares two countries, one sees national particularities rather than uniformity. A look at legislation timelines reveals both the similarities and the disparities, and also the different processes. In some countries, for example, local authorities advocated for forms of

<footnote n="3">³See Weeks (2011), who tells how the adoption of the Civil Partnership in the United Kingdom in 2005 was accompanied by numerous other measures concerning the LGBT population. Ignacio Pichardo-Galán highlights a more or less similar process in Spain, in 2004.</footnote>

<footnote n="4">⁴For France, see e.g. the analyses by Camille Robcis (2013) and Michael Stambolis-Ruhstorfer (2018).</footnote>
recognition and implemented them before national laws were introduced, or in par-
allel. Marina Franchi and Giulia Selmi stress the importance of such initiatives in
Italy. In some other countries, local authorities have intervened only symbolically.
In France, in the late 1990s, some municipal councils introduced “cohabitation con-
tracts”, which had no real legal force but were a way of expressing support for rec-
ognition of same-sex couples. In Spain, some regional authorities devised forms of
civil union before same-sex marriage was introduced nationally in 2004. So diver-
sity is evident not only in the strictly legislative trajectories but also before recogni-
tion of same-sex couples is even put on parliamentary agendas.

Similarly, a comparative observation of social movements triggered by these
political and legislative changes reveals many differences between European coun-
tries, as well relative similarities in the demands. While in some situations, espe-
cially in northern Europe, the adoption of measures to recognize same-sex couples
aroused no very hostile movement, in other countries there was virulent opposition
(often supported or indeed instigated by certain Roman Catholic movements),
though none became a dominant force in the country concerned. A possible devel-
opment from Kees Waaldijk’s work might be to analyse the extent to which legisla-
tive trajectories are tied to political background and the political colour of the
government. Numerous differences and similarities appear in this regard. For exam-
ple, while many Social Democrat/Socialist/Labour majorities have sought to bring
in laws establishing LGBT rights, they have done so to differing degrees and with
varied results, contradicting the idea that any “left-wing” majority would automati-
cally want to actively promote moves towards equality for sexual minorities. In
Spain and the United Kingdom, for example, these majorities were particularly
keen for change, whereas in other countries, although the majority was theoretically
in favour, there was a lack of consensus for putting recognition of same-sex unions
on the political agenda, the measures were more timid, more gradual (in France) or
proved impossible to enact (Italy). Opposition movements also differed from each
other. In France, Spain and Italy they were more or less united around an extremely
hostile “naturalist” rhetoric, sometimes structured in terms of combatting “gender
theory” (Garbagnoli and Prearo 2018), which was a way of expressing condemna-
tion of homosexuality without using explicitly homophobic language. Political and
social opposition was less virulent in the United Kingdom, Germany and the
Scandinavian countries. Parliamentary bills sometimes met with assent by political
groups that had not initiated them, and were sometimes adopted by broader majori-
ties that included more conservative parties, or some of their members. In Germany
in 2017, a quarter of Christian Democratic Union MPs voted for making marriage
available to same-sex couples, so ensuring a majority in favour of the bill. But
although people of various political persuasions have backed policies that helped
transform the family and private life in Europe, recognition of sexual minorities
seems still to be a sharply divisive issue. In the short term, the political context plays
an important part in the adoption or revision of laws to increase the social inclusion
of LGBT people, but it is probably not the only contextual factor that counts. Other
social factors seem to be involved in more diffuse but no less fundamental ways.
The map of LGBT rights in Europe seems to correlate inversely with maps of gen-
der inequalities<fnref n="5" />. A comparatively low level of inequalities between the sexes and the degree of individualism reflected in the law on family and private life seem to be correlated with legislative changes in favour of gays and lesbians. The countries where individualism was strongest, notably those of Northern Europe, were the earliest to give legal recognition to same-sex couples. Religious context seems to be another factor: the countries where Catholic institutions are most powerful have rarely been in the vanguard for recognizing same-sex couples and families.

## 7.1.2 From Law to Demographic Behaviour

The second approach is a demographic one, focusing on types of union in Europe and considering how these legal provisions are being used in practice, through a comparative study of several countries (Cortina and Festy). It provides a different way of studying the legal contexts, looking at whether or not the various forms of union are used. As often in demographic research, this approach first raises a methodological issue: what data do we have available? Do they allow us to make international comparisons? Here too, the available data mainly give an impression of diversity. Public records, civil registers, censuses and survey data reflect different statistical cultures and have different advantages and limitations as data sources. Some, such as civil registers, are by definition intended to be exhaustive, but are sometimes limited by the number of data points they record. Conversely, survey data characteristically have a wealth of variables in a number of sociological and demographic dimensions, but their use poses other problems: response rates are not always satisfactory, samples are small, there are recurrent problems in analysing the LGBT population via surveys of the general public, and there are problems of a more technical nature that may be due to errors in filling out the forms (Festy 2007). From this standpoint, the analysis of gay and lesbian populations is exemplary of the study of sources in demography, in that it requires a rigorous examination of the types of data that can be used. The approach used by Clara Cortina and Patrick Festy, irrespective of the results it produces, shows what demography can contribute to a study of sexual minorities and their unions. Their comparison of several situations brings out a number of questions. How closely are behaviours linked to national contexts? Can we speak of “European behaviour patterns”? Do they change

<footnote n="5">⁵For example, looking at the Gender-Related Development Index drawn up by the United Nations Development Programme, we find that most countries in the world with a low inequality rating have legal provisions for recognising same-sex couples (2014 data). But there are exceptions to the rule. Italy has a high rating but a low level of recognition for gay and lesbian couples and families, yet the United Kingdom, Spain and Portugal have slightly lower inequality ratings but high levels of legal recognition. It is perhaps the historical depth of policies in favour of sexual equality that are most determinant here. Anecdotally, between France, Iceland, Italy and Spain, the countries covered in this book, the order in which legal recognition has been given to same-sex couples is exactly the same as the order in which women's suffrage was achieved.</footnote>
in line with legislative changes? The approach complements Kees Waaldijk's legislation mapping and shows us how legal rights and actual practice seem to connect. It makes certain comparisons possible – between same-sex couples first of all. Do gay couples and lesbian couples differ in the ways they use available forms of partnership? How are the differences to be interpreted? Comparison with opposite-sex couples too: are matrimonial behaviours converging? The data implicitly suggest certain strategic approaches to the law: legal arrangements seem to be chosen more often if they bestow particular rights, especially if they are necessary steps towards parental rights, tax allowances or welfare rights. But legal reasoning is not the only factor driving people's decisions about legal union. Political and cultural contextual factors also shed light on behavioural trends.

### 7.1.3 The Import of the Law

The third approach in this book, using the tools of qualitative sociology, gives a better picture of people's experience, through interview surveys in three European countries (Digoix, Thibeaud, Franchi and Selmi). Through their recent histories of legislation, these countries give a good illustration of the diversity of pathways to recognition of same-sex couples and families, in terms of timing (with Iceland in the vanguard with the Scandinavian countries and the Netherlands, France following on and Italy coming last) but also how the changes were made. In some cases, existing provisions for heterosexual couples (partnership, civil union, marriage) have been extended to same-sex couples, while in others provisions have been created for same-sex couples independently of any history of these forms of union. This has made it easier in some situations than in others to dissociate filiation from couplehood. An overall view of the country studies allows comparison with the legal and demographic approaches of Chaps. 2 and 3. In this way some individual experiences can be seen in light of broader contexts. Where the legal framework is particularly narrow, as in Italy, individual behaviours seem to be more influenced by the constancy of the “institutional work” of the family (Bourdieu 1993): people pay special attention to anything that can be used to give meaning to the family entity in day-to-day interactions (notably interactions with institutions like local authorities, schools and health structures) and ritualized occasions (celebrating a civil union, naming spiritual parents, etc.). This approach is less needed where institutions, marriage especially, become more inclusive: legitimacy is acquired through their practice, and sometimes by staging the event. It is not even always necessary to use these provisions; their very existence has a powerful legitimizing impact. This is perhaps a paradoxical effect of a legal right. When it exists, it legitimizes situations that make it less indispensable in daily life. Thus when two people of the same sex can be legally recognized as full parents, filiation is socially acknowledged and its justification in law seems less indispensable.
From the study of different situations we can see both similarities and differences between them as regards individual trajectories, from aiming for parenthood to achieving it and then living it day to day. We see how experiences are structured by the legal and social context. Undeniably, the possibilities a country provides for filiation frames the choices its citizens make, regardless of their personal aspirations. It is up to each person to give meaning to the 'choices' they make. In situations where a multi-parent family (more than two parents) is easier to achieve than same-sex parenthood using ART or surrogacy, parents and future parents point to its advantages, such as the richness of the child's parental network. Where ART is possible, it is sometimes chosen precisely because the conjugal entity matches the parental entity, or because if it is repeated with the same donor the children will be biologically linked. Sometimes this points to "homages that heresy pays to orthodoxy" (Bourdieu 1996). The multi-parent option, which is particularly transgressive with regard to the classic conjugal/parental couple, is presented as a way of bringing "sex differences" into the child's educational framework. ART, whose transgressiveness lies in its removal of "sex differences", is preferred because it maintains the conjugal/parental couple formula.

These sociological approaches also complement the legal and demographic chapters in that they highlight the complexity of people's relationships with the law and describes the meaning it has for people on a more subjective level. Not everyone who uses the newly-created legal provisions sees them, or uses them, in the same way. The choice of a particular form of union may reflect different attitudes in different couples. Some marry or choose a civil union or registered partnership out of conviction, but many take a considered, critical view of the form they have chosen. Choosing one form over another can also be felt as a constraint because it is the only way to benefit from certain provisions or because, in the absence of a suitable provision, a half-measure is better than none. Civil unions as introduced in France and elsewhere were revealing in this regard. Some chose them precisely because they were the first form of legal recognition, even though they maintained a hierarchy of sexual identities at various levels, while others decided not to use them precisely because to do so would be to endorse a law that minoritises gays and lesbians. Similarly, those who opt for marriage do not always see it as an unambiguous choice. It is a sign of equal rights, but some still see it as a concession to the existing order, still first and foremost an institutionally staged endorsement of heterosexuality and heteronormativity. So much so that some people won't consider marriage even though it brings legal recognition of filiation. An example of this is two Icelandic women who have a little girl born through ART, and only one of whom is recognized as a parent (see Chap. 6). This new legal context, which pertains in many European countries, also generates cognitive dissonance in that it introduces injunctions and uses of the law that people are not always at ease with. This applies, for example, when marriage is the only way to get recognition of filiation. And this is not only the case for gays and lesbians. Research could usefully be done on the concessions made in any use of the law.
## 7.2 Marriage Overshadowing Other Concerns

Marriage is a strikingly central feature of the picture painted in *Same-sex Families and Legal Recognition in Europe*, whichever discipline is used to approach the subject. But the book also invites us to reconsider its place. It is undeniable that making marriage available to same-sex couples has seemed emblematic of the recognition of same-sex couples and families, both because it represents social inclusion of gays and lesbians, something that was unthinkable even a short while back, and because it marks a complete turnaround in the way governments and societies view homosexuality — which a few decades ago, to varying degrees according to countries’ political and legal situations, were met with opprobrium<fnref n="6" />, stigmatization and repression or indeed penalization. In the 1960s and ‘70s, the gay and lesbian movement was demanding the abolition of marriage, regarding it as one of the oppressive tools of a heterosexist, bourgeois patriarchal society. Distance from the norm brought with it a particularly strong critique. Since the 1970s, this has been constantly diminishing. Several changes occurred that gradually made the demand for marriage thinkable. First, its social significance changed. From the ‘60s and ‘70s, marriage was no longer a necessity and came to be seen as one among several ways to organize one’s private life. Gradually it ceased to be a mandatory prerequisite for living as a couple and even for having children. People were marrying at later and later ages, usually when they were already living together and often only after the arrival of a child or children. Its institutional nature was also weakened by the increasing frequency of divorce and the fact that more people had several couple relationship in the course of their lives. It lost its status as an indispensable norm for becoming a couple and starting a family, and was used in a wider variety of ways. At the same time, the coming of AIDS put a spotlight on the legal vacuum in which same-sex partners were living. Gay and lesbian movements were demanding a protective legal framework from the 1980s, and even earlier in Northern Europe. But marriage was rarely the first form of recognition demanded, given its many unappealing connotations – heteronormative, religious, familialist, moralizing in matters of sexuality. But as these connotations faded, opening the possibility of marriage seemed a logical next step from the creation of the first forms of recognition such as registered partnerships. At that stage, criticizing marriage became more complicated, as it seemed to play into the hands of those opposed to recognition of same-sex couples and families. Same-sex marriage has been or is in process of being adopted in several European countries, but its place in the process of recognizing homosexuality and same-sex parenthood is worth investigating. First of all, we should remember a rarely mentioned fact: although marriage is often regarded as a fairly

<footnote n="6">⁶In some cases, repressive measures were repealed almost at the same time as provisions recognizing same-sex couples were brought in. In the United Kingdom, Section 28 of the 1988 Local Government Act was repealed a year before civil partnerships were introduced. Under that Act local authorities were prohibited from mentioning homosexuality, for example in schools, on the grounds that this was effectively to “promote” it.</footnote>
homogeneous, universal reality, it is actually a different social and legal reality in different countries. (Even scientific studies that make international comparisons often fail to ask about the content of what is being compared). The LawsAndFamilies database (Waaldijk et al. 2017), which records the legal consequences of different forms of union in some 20 European countries, and Kees Waaldijk’s analyses of it, reveal some of these aspects. Not all European marriages entail the same legal provisions. In the same way, the institutional staging of marriage follows various different rationales. While in France marriage has to involve a ritual in a town hall, conducted by a mayor or her/his representative in the presence of witnesses, the interactions involved can vary widely in their solemnity, and elsewhere a marriage can be conducted by a non-governmental institution, religious or otherwise. Its ideological content also varies widely. In some countries there is no mention of faithfulness, while in others there still is, a sign of the secular state’s partial appropriation of the Catholic or more generally Christian marriage. Some scripts mention parenthood and suggest that the purpose of a marriage is to prepare for the arrival of children<fnref n="7" />. They can also include provisions that other forms of union do not: in some countries, only marriage entails the possibility of taking the partner’s surname or adding it to one’s own, whereas in other countries this is also allowed with other forms of union. Similar disparities exist with other types of union: registered unions and civil partnerships do not bestow the same rights in all countries where they exist, which is by no means everywhere in Europe. The same applies to recognition of de facto same-sex couple situations. This book suggests that prudence is called for: when we speak of marriage, we are not talking about quite the same thing in all contexts.

### 7.2.1 Is Marriage a Sufficient Condition for Equality?

The introduction of same-sex marriage is often considered to be the end point of the drive for equality that began in the 1990s. The chapters of this book invite us to reconsider this representation and take a more nuanced view of the idea that marriage is the alpha and omega of recognition for same-sex couples and same-sex families. In many countries, particularly the pioneering countries of Northern Europe, even without marriage the situation was already close to equality. When marriage was introduced, it represented a symbolic step because the pre-existing legal provisions already ensured almost equal legal recognition.

<footnote n="7">⁷This aspect is particularly explicit in France since the Law of 5 March 2002, with a text that must be read out at town hall weddings, regardless of the age of the couple getting married: “Parental authority is a set of rights and obligations whose purpose is the interests of the child. It is the duty of parents, until the child comes of age or achieves adult status, to protect its safety, health and morality, provide it with an education and enable it to develop, with all the respect due to his or her person”. Ironically, it is in one of the European countries where births outside marriage and marriage at older ages are commonest that this text has to be read out. The State’s staging of marriage has little to do with demographic reality.</footnote>
Associating marriage with equality can also be misleading because the introduc-
tion of same-sex marriage has not always brought legal equality. Sometimes the
form of same-sex marriage introduced lacked some of the provisions of heterosex-
ual marriage, notably with regard to filiation. In some countries this is still the situ-
ation. But above all, the introduction of same-sex marriage does not provide for
recognising the full diversity of same-sex family configurations. In some countries
such as Belgium the debate over LGBT rights has resulted in a clearer dissociation
between marriage and filiation; in many others marriage still binds filiation to con-
jugality. It may seem ‘suitable’ for two-parent configurations, which are quite like
the heterosexual couple. But many same-sex parenthood configurations are not (or
not only) based on this kind of parental couple; sometimes two couples are involved,
or a couple and a single person, or several singles fulfilling parental roles. Thus in
any given family unit, some individuals may have their parental role recognized
where others cannot. This creates a distinction between non-statutory parents and
those that are granted official parent status (Descoutures 2010). This lack of recog-
nition causes numerous problems. To start with, unrecognized parents are in a more
legally vulnerable situation than recognized parents. Secondly, in day to day inter-
actions with schools, health services and other individuals, unrecognized parents
can be denied even though they play a full part in the parenting work. They are also
in a more vulnerable position for confronting post-separation life if the couple
breaks up. The asymmetry in parental status between partners can also have an
impact on their relationship. And finally, such lack of recognition can be deleterious
for a person’s self-image. Further, focusing recognition on same-sex couples has
probably retarded the visibility of the various other LGBT family configurations.
Even now little or nothing has been done to examine the possibilities for juridical
organization of other relational arrangements on the fringes of the couple proper,
although they are visible in the scientific literature.

7.2.2 Legal Equality and Hierarchy of Sexual Orientations

Another effect of the predominant place of marriage in the development of rights for non-heterosexuals, recognition of same-sex couples and same-sex families may be that it masks the persistence of a social hierarchy of sexual orientations. From country to country it is easy to see that recognition and acceptance are not played out solely in the legal sphere. They are constructed in daily life and in all social interactions. Interview-based research, especially when based on a sample that includes diverse generations, shows that in many countries coming out has become easier over time. But individual narratives show that it is still a major turning point in people's lives and is likely to be met with disapproval. There is a gap between public discourse, which now favours tolerance and acceptance, and individual experience, which still frequently involves prejudice and rejection. Although legal equality is a weapon against differential treatment of individuals and families by institutions such as schools and hospitals (which can refuse to recognize certain family configu-
‘non-standard’ parents seem still to be regarded as odd. Sexual minorities are not the only ones to suffer such intrusive behaviour; one-parent families also seem to be particularly affected. Perhaps it is because their recognition has not been fully achieved. Same-sex marriage has not made homosexuality an insignificant matter. Other forms of public action are sometimes introduced to foster a genuine acceptance of minority sexual orientations. Examples are forms of systematic inclusion of gays and lesbians, more inclusive media representations, more closely targeted initiatives, especially in schools, where discussion spaces are designed for teaching respect for diversity among students and their sexual affinities. This kind of initiative exists, for example, in the United Kingdom, with information kits for school students about different sexual orientations, gender roles and identities, conjugal configurations and forms of family. But such initiatives, whether at the planning stage or operational, are often met with opposition, especially in countries where legislative progress is gradual and still very partial, like France and Italy. Maintaining heterosexuality as the norm is still at issue.

### 7.2.3 Beyond Marriage

The central focus on marriage in the movement to achieve recognition of same-sex couples and families has also drawn attention away from some of the changes going on. The movement has not only shifted the boundaries of marriage and the family by including some previously excluded configurations, it has also broadened the normative spectrum by amending some provisions or creating new legal forms. One example is the dissociation of marriage from filiation in some countries. Similarly, opposite-sex couples can sometimes opt for forms of partnership that did not exist a few decades ago. In Belgium, the introduction of legal cohabitation before marriage was opened to same-sex couples created a new kind of partnership that was not tied to conjugality but could fulfil a different kind of demand for organizing the relationship between two people who might have no intention of marrying, including pairs without a love relationship or sentiment. In France, the *Pacte civil de solidarité* (pacs) was created in the first place to meet same-sex couples’ demand for recognition without creating a provision specifically aimed at them. It proved a big success among opposite-sex couples, so that today there are almost as many such civil unions in France as there are marriages: in 2017, between persons of opposite sex, 187,000 civil unions and 227,000 marriages were registered. There are several likely reasons for this rise (Rault 2019). For some couples, a pacs is different from marriage but does not prevent them from marrying in the future, while for others, it is an alternative form of union which has none of the connotations we mentioned earlier. It is also easier to do in one’s own way whereas, despite recent changes, the couple’s kin groups often interfere considerably in a wedding. For some, the easy procedures for starting and dissolving a pacs make it more compatible with the fact that many people today go through several couple relationships and love relationships in their lives.
This type of alternative contract has been in the news in the UK in 2019. The UK had created a Civil Partnership for same-sex couples before it made marriage available to them; now that both are available to same-sex couples, opposite-sex couples looking for an alternative to marriage are demanding access to the Civil Partnership. These new provisions undeniably reflect a widening of legal options that stems indirectly from the creation of provisions for sexual minorities<fnref n="10" />. This trend presents two limitations, however: not all European countries are a part of it, and the new provisions are still built around the couple as the core unit (and usually the cohabiting couple), rarely considering other family configurations. Various arrangements more in tune with LGBT relationship cultures and that could also appeal to other fringes of the population could be explored more. The possibility of organizing interpersonal bonds in such a way as to include friends, former partners or others who are neither kin nor related by marriage, or of envisaging private life independently of the monogamous conjugal framework, remains to be constructed.

The centrality of marriage and of the couple as the unit to be recognized raises the question of their injunctive and normalizing potential. This is addressed in several of the book's chapters. If the law loses its role in issuing authorizations and prohibitions, marriage and access to parental rights are ambiguous signs of progress. It may seem that they represent the socially desirable way for sexual minorities to organize their private lives; it may construct a model of sexual legitimacy and restrict the “sociality of the body” to what is considered acceptable (Butler 2004). One of the ambivalences of the advent of gay and lesbian rights is precisely that it focused on obtaining rights regarding the couple and the family, often aligning their demands with the rights enjoyed by different-sex couples. This has been the case in the great majority of European countries. In the surveys reported here, conducted in France, Iceland, Italy and Spain, respondents were often well aware of this. One Icelandic woman mentioned by Marie Digoix reports that it could be reassuring for her family to have “a straight element in [her] life”, while another respondent mentioned that her pregnancy was a “liberation” for her mother. To what extent might parenthood, like marriage, work to erase homosexuality? Interviews like these show also that the familialist ideology, defined by a symbolic dominance of the family unit over the individual, has been reconfigured, and that it is perfectly compatible with contemporary individualism. It is perpetuated not so much by institutions or by government policies explicitly dictating social behaviour – as they did a few decades ago with marriage and family policy – as by social norms and injunctions reflected in people’s day-to-day interactions. We might also ask how far the European trend in favor of gays and lesbian rights has contributed to construct distinctions between

<footnote n="10">¹⁰There are also less obvious examples of the way the heteronormative nature of marriage has been affected by opening it to same-sex couples. In France, before May 2013, the law on transmission of the family name, which allowed parents to transmit both their names to their children, stated that if the parents disagreed about the order of the two names, the father's name was to be placed first. Making marriage available to same-sex couples and allowing filiation for both same-sex partners made this provision null and void: in the event of parental conflict, the names are now put in alphabetical order (Article 311–21 of the Civil Code). Similarly, the articles stating that parental authority belongs to the father and mother has been amended to refer to “parents” (Article 371–1 of the Civil Code) – and it does not specify how many parents.</footnote>
‘legitimate’ homosexual or bisexual relationship configurations and the rest – i.e. between those more or less based on heterosexual institutions (legal recognition of the (co)habitating) couple and/or the prospect of procreation) and configurations that are structured more around sexual and/or friendship networks or even other kinds of interpersonal ties.

## 7.3 Improving Social Science Research Tools

The political centrality of the recognition of same-sex unions (notably through marriage) and of same-sex families is also reflected in the way social science research into homosexuality has developed. Whereas most such research used to focus on sexual behaviour, notably in the context of AIDS, when the recognition of same-sex couples and families became a political and media issue in the 1990s and 2000s, a lot of research was done on that issue. Many addressed the mismatch between the legal framework and actual family situations: could two parents of the same sex be legally recognized in the same way? When three or four people are joint parents, how do they construct and establish their parenthood from day to day? How does a non-statutory parent, to use Virginie Descouture’s term, find their place in a same-sex family? Another frequently chosen angle, which could be combined with an approach focused on legal recognition, was to study the actual forms of same-sex family configurations and the reproduction methods used. How do people decide whether to build a family by co-parenthood or donor insemination? Why opt for a known donor or an anonymous one? When two women each have a child by this means, do they choose the same sperm donor? Why? With two women partners, when one donates the egg and the other carries the pregnancy, what does this choice reveal?

The many studies taking such approaches have revealed the normative systems at work in such choices. They have been particularly fruitful for gender studies. For example, they have shown how reproduction, and also domestic and parenting tasks, are organized between same-sex partners, the usual gender-based division of labour in the home being inoperable. Several studies have questioned the legal asymmetry between parents, day-to-day parental roles and transmission, asking what impact same-sex parenthood has on gender and how gender is (still) liable to structure the formation and daily lives of same-sex families. In sociology, the choice of research subjects has been consistent with the methodological possibilities: qualitative surveys have been preferred precisely because they can be used to study realities that are statistically invisible or are rendered invisible by the statistical methods in use<fnref n="11" />. In this last section, we consider the possibilities for constructing new research

<footnote n="11">¹¹For example, in the exhaustive census used in France until 1999, when a same-sex couple was revealed in the questionnaire’s housing sheet, they were recoded as two friends sharing a dwelling (see Digoix et al. 2004)</footnote>
subjects and developing the necessary tools, with the focus on quantitative approaches, which have been little used so far.

Why develop new quantitative tools? New data could be used to formulate new research questions in different terms to qualitative approaches or procedures based on convenient samples<fnref n="12" /> and to take a more macro-sociological approach. Below we give a few examples.

### 7.3.1 Identifying the Impact of Context on the Declaration of Lifestyle and Identity

The chapters of this book show that in Western Europe over the past few decades, the increasing visibility of homosexuality and same-sex families has occurred in close step with changes in the legal and social context. One advantage of developing more quantitative instruments is that they could be used to discover how far this context encourages the declaration (or existence?) of homosexuality, same-sex coupledom and same-sex families. In some countries where it is possible to use these approaches they have shown a clear increase in declarations of such situations. As regards same-sex couples, which it can be complicated to enumerate accurately<fnref n="13" />, there are now studies that shed light on the strong increase in numbers of same-sex couples cohabiting where the situation is favourable. The approach requires the use of sources whose data gathering methods are fairly similar. Clara Cortina noted a major increase in numbers of same-sex couples in Spain between 2001 and 2011

<footnote n="12">¹² Innovative ad hoc procedures using samples of volunteers are methodologically problematic in terms of representativeness but have nonetheless enabled researchers to do some original work (see e.g. Gross and Courduries 2015). Such surveys often use relays (such as Internet sites, social networks and associations); this structures the samples differently to surveys based on the general public. This means that some thought must be given to the effects these forms of recruitment have on the results. Procedures of this type have enabled researchers to investigate several new issues, though always with prudence, given the limitations of their methods. They offer many possibilities, including creating detailed categories that are particularly relevant to the situations observed but would be difficult to use in a broader survey. For example, it might be important for the study to know whether a child arrived by previous heterosexual union, adoption, insemination with a known or unknown donor, surrogacy, joint parenthood with a single homosexual or heterosexual person, or joint parenthood with a couple, etc. They also make it possible to record details of the legal status of the adults in the family (legally recognized parent, parent by adoption with or without annulment of the biological parents' rights, etc.), to introduce a range of parental roles or to ask about the desire for children.</footnote>

<footnote n="13">¹³ When data are gathered by self-administered questionnaire, as in censuses, a mistake in filling in the form can turn an opposite-sex couple into a same-sex couple. This can compromise data quality. The concern to correct this kind of error has given rise to a considerable amount of experimentation. A combination of several methods can be used to reduce uncertainty, such as checking the sex of the respondent from other data (associated surveys, first name etc.) or introducing explicit questions as to whether the respondent is living in a same-sex couple (for France, see Banens and Le Penven 2016; Algava and Hallépée 2018).</footnote>
(Cortina 2016). In Germany, Andrea Lengerer and Jeanette Bohr (2019), using cen-
sus data, have also revealed a sharp increase: same-sex couples amounted to 0.3%
of all couples in 2000 and 0.6% in 2013. In France, that percentage rose from 0.6%
in 2011 to 0.9% in 2018 (Buisson and Lapinte 2013; Algava and Penant 2019). The
same trend is found in the US and Canada<fnref n="14" />, and also when one looks at other indi-
cators of homosexuality, self-identification or sexual practices<fnref n="15" />.

On the other hand, although there are some data on family configurations, lack
of adequate indicators makes it difficult to assess the situation in 2020. It is almost
impossible to determine how far the transformation of the law analysed in Kees
Waaldijk’s chapter has been accompanied by an increase in LGBT families. One
side-effect of the contemporary shift to legal recognition is that, because the law has
focused on recognition of the couple, mainly through marriage, the same-sex family
with cohabiting parents has become more statistically visible, while other configu-
rations are less easily covered by the indicators used in major surveys. To address
this, research approaches should separate parenthood from its association with mar-
riage and look beyond the framework of the single shared home. There are opposite-
sex couples that do not fit these two criteria, and the trend may be stronger among
same-sex couples. Given that questionnaires are still shaped by the marriage/cohab-
itation framework, this may make some forms of family more visible than others<fnref n="16" />.

A new approach to family ties in questionnaires would not only enable people to declare children born or living in same-sex configurations. It would also give respondents more ways to describe their family relationship network and speak of people who have acted as parents or held parental status. As things are, statistical survey questionnaires rarely explore the network of ascendants, and questions about parents are not always included. When there are such questions, they are often posed in terms of “father” and “mother”, limiting the scope to a heterosexual couple and only sometimes asking whether they are still together. One innovation would be to enable respondents to report more types of parental figures and relations who have been involved in their life course, from their own point of view.

<footnote n="14">¹⁴The number of same-sex couples increased by 61% between 2006 and 2016 in Canada and by 61% between 2009 and 2017 in the United States.</footnote>

<footnote n="15">¹⁵In France, surveys on sexuality and marriage (and also surveys on violence) show a rise between 1992 and 2013 in the numbers declaring previous same-sex partners (Rault and Lambert 2019). The trend is particularly marked for women. In Italy, where there has been no major survey on sexual behaviours, they are studied through approaches targeting narrower populations. An example is the Sexual and Emotion Life of Youth survey of university students (Castiglioni 2019). This surveys, run in 2000 and 2017, showed major changes in sexual behaviour over the period, especially as regards homosexual practices and identity.</footnote>

<footnote n="16">¹⁶Major surveys of the general public that identify non-cohabiting marriages and same-sex partner-
ships show that living apart together is markedly more frequent among same-sex couples. In
France, the 2011 Families and Housing survey showed that non-cohabitation was four times as
frequent among same-sex couples as among opposite-sex couples (see Rault and Lambert 2019).</footnote>
### 7.3.2 Investigating the Influence of Social Background

Quantitative tools would also enable research to explore the impact of social background on same-sex parenthood. The importance of background often emerges indirectly in interview surveys, especially in the way material constraints affect the founding of a family. For example, in countries where artificial reproductive technology is not allowed for women in same-sex couples or lesbians without a partner, use of ART inevitably raises the issue of material resources as well as those of health, social norms etc. Undertaking ART involves regular visits to a clinic in another country and can be very costly; surrogacy even more so. The research focus on legal and relational aspects has initially resulted in sidelining the material aspects and social background issues more generally, but these dimensions are often mentioned. There are also methodological reasons why it is complicated to address the material aspect: people who volunteer to take part in an interview survey are often from a narrow range of backgrounds. They are often highly educated<fnref n="17" />, and connected with political organizations or advocacy groups, even when they have not been recruited through their connection with an organization. So it may be that research sidelines some profiles and configurations that qualitative surveys are less likely to cover sociologically. And yet there are many questions about these families' social situations that are worth investigating. Does fulfilling a parenthood project depend on social and material resources? To what extent do social origins play a part in these projects?

The question is not only about the material possibilities for undertaking a parenthood project. From most statistical work on homosexuality, whether focused on same-sex couples, persons who say they are non-heterosexual or persons who have sexual relations with others of the same sex, it emerges that homosexuality indicators are often linked to social factors: high educational qualifications, to a lesser extent privileged social origins, greater likelihood of belonging to certain middle or upper classes, and younger average age. Do these distinctive factors, apparently connected with a minority sexual orientation, hold for same-sex parenthood? Are same-sex family configurations characterized by particular kinds of resources? The advances in social visibility and recognition highlighted in this book might go hand in hand with a relative democratization in access to parenthood as it becomes less dependent on a certain level of social resources. These questions can only be addressed by using suitable statistical tools.

The construction of new instruments should be encouraged because they would make it possible to address many more questions and make more comparisons. Spatial issues could also be explored: are there disparities in the distribution of

<footnote n="17">¹⁷This is also found in large statistical surveys that have indicators usable for studying part of the gay and lesbian population. Whether the indicators are to do with identity, sexuality (having same-sex partners) or conjugality (having a same-sex spouse), which reflect very different realities, the profiles of the people concerned always show high educational qualifications and, more often than the rest of the population, urban residence.</footnote>
same-sex families, as there are for same-sex couples? It would also be useful to take
generational approaches; the chapters in this book have shown that the different
generations approach parenthood projects in different ways. Country comparisons
and especially comparison with non-European situations – North and South
America, Asia etc. – would help reveal features that are specific to Europe or part of
Europe. An epistemological examination of comparison methods and the categori-
zations used would be essential for this kind of approach. Indicators of same-sex
parenthood, filiation, sexuality, gender identities and transitioning are by no means
routinely transposable to all situations and the meaning of the phenomena they refer
to is always context-dependent.

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<figure><img src="image_29.png" /></figure>
# Index

## A

Adoption, 4, 6, 7, 17, 21, 24, 25, 29–36, 40,
41, 53, 62, 63, 75, 76, 84, 85, 90,
97–99, 101, 104–108, 112, 118, 119,
121–123, 125, 128, 131, 132, 139,
142–144, 148, 150, 151, 158, 159, 170

AIDS, 2, 35, 163, 169

Alimony, 20, 25, 34, 37

Andorra, 14

Anti-discriminatory policy, 76

Artisanal home insemination, 120, 132, 139

Assimilation, 7, 80, 87, 119, 134, 145–148

Assisted reproductive technology (ART), 4, 7,
21, 24, 25, 29–36, 79, 84–86, 88, 90,
95, 97–99, 102–104, 106, 112, 113,
119–122, 129–140, 142, 147–151, 158,
162, 166, 169, 170, 172

Austria, 13, 14, 16, 18, 23, 24, 27–29, 31–33,
35, 38–40

## B

Belgium, 14–16, 24, 27, 30, 33, 49–54, 58–61,
103, 104, 165, 167

Biological relationship, 6, 36, 83, 99–106,
132, 135–138, 140–142, 170

## C

Care leave, 16, 22, 25, 35, 37

Catholic Ideology, 46, 74, 76, 87

Channel Islands, 14

Cirinnà law, 5, 74–76, 79, 80

Citizenship rights, 74–76, 85–87

Civil union, 5, 75, 90, 121, 155, 159, 161,
162, 167

Cohabitation, 3, 5, 12, 13, 15–17, 19, 24, 38,
40, 46, 53, 55, 57, 63–66, 68, 74–76,
82, 83, 85, 87–89, 107, 119, 121–123,
126, 128, 129, 131, 135, 138, 139,
148–151, 159, 164, 168–171

Coming out, 2, 118, 128–130, 134, 141,
146–149, 151, 165

Compensation, 17, 20, 23, 25–28, 32, 33, 40

Coparenting, 3, 7, 97, 100–105, 107–109, 113,
127, 131, 136, 139–142, 147, 148,
150, 151

Core rights, 38–41

Council of Europe, 11, 12, 15, 18, 23, 32,
35, 38–40

Criminal law, 20, 23, 25, 104, 105, 121

Croatia, 13–15, 18, 23, 32

Crude marriage rates, 47, 50–54, 56, 62, 67

Cultural intelligibility, 85–87

Cyprus, 13, 14

Czech Republic, 14–16, 24, 28, 31

## D

Denmark, 2, 11, 13, 14, 36, 53, 120, 129, 133,
136, 137, 155, 158

Desires for parenthood, 118, 119, 126,
128–132, 135, 139, 140, 147, 148, 170

DICO bill, 74, 75

DidoRe bill, 75

Different-sex couples, 3, 4, 12, 17, 29, 33, 34,
39, 47, 49, 55, 59, 64–69, 118, 119,
121, 123, 161, 167, 168, 170, 171
Discursive violence, 87

Dissolution, 13, 20, 21, 23, 25, 46, 63, 105, 111, 120, 124, 148–151, 163

Domestic violence, 4, 17, 20, 23, 25, 34, 40

Dominant discourse, 86

E

Equal rights, 41, 119, 126–128, 145, 147, 148, 162

Estonia, 13, 14

European Economic Area (EEA), 12

European Union, 3, 11, 12, 17, 18, 23, 32, 38, 74, 118

Exclusion, 12, 40, 73–91

F

Familialism, 7, 74, 125–127, 129, 146, 147

Family values, 79

Faroe Islands, 14

Finland, 13, 14, 16, 24, 28, 29, 31, 33, 50–52, 54, 58, 60

Formalisation, 12, 13, 16, 36–38, 53, 65, 98

Fostering, 74, 76, 79, 81, 87, 89, 167

France, 5, 6, 13–16, 18, 24, 27, 30, 33, 37, 48–56, 58–60, 95–114, 119, 142, 158–162, 164, 167–171

G

Gamete donation, 6, 7, 21, 35, 81, 83, 85, 87, 97, 103–104, 106, 113, 122, 133–138, 142, 147, 149–151, 162, 166, 169, 170

Gay and lesbian parents, 5, 49, 53, 55, 56, 68, 69, 74, 79, 80, 83, 85, 87, 97, 132, 142, 160, 166

Gay and lesbian union, 53

Gay men, 4, 34, 35, 74, 78, 79, 87, 98, 128, 135, 142

Gender, 6, 7, 34, 49, 62, 63, 65, 66, 75, 76, 78, 80, 82, 83, 86, 87, 99–101, 108–110, 112, 118, 121, 124, 126, 127, 134, 141, 159, 167, 169, 171, 173

Gender-neutrality, 33, 34, 48, 119, 123

Germany, 13, 14, 16, 18, 28, 29, 31, 33, 48, 64, 159, 170

Gibraltar, 14

Greece, 13–16, 18, 28, 31, 33, 38, 39

Greenland, 14

H

Hegemony, 77, 87

Heteronormative family model, 6, 78, 80–81, 85, 87, 127–131

Heteronormativity, 3, 6, 7, 74, 80–87, 136, 162

Heterosexual family, 34, 79, 86–89, 97, 103, 112, 118, 120, 126–128, 131, 132, 141, 142, 149, 151, 156

Heterosexuality, 2, 5, 7, 34, 36, 46, 48, 49, 53, 55–59, 61, 64, 68, 69, 74–77, 79, 84, 86–89, 95, 97–100, 102–107, 109–114, 118, 120, 124, 126–128, 131–135, 138–142, 145–151, 156, 157, 161, 162, 165–167, 169–171

Heterosexual norm, 145, 150

Homonormativity, 77, 86, 87

Homophobia, 74, 76, 79, 86, 87, 90, 110, 119, 130

Homosexual, 2, 35, 46, 97, 118, 156

Homosexual couples, 2, 7, 46, 49, 53, 55, 57, 58, 64, 118, 144, 151

Human rights, 12, 18, 23, 32, 35, 38–41, 105

Hungary, 14–16, 24, 28, 31, 33

I

Iceland, 5, 7, 12, 14, 16, 27, 30, 35, 37, 117–151, 156, 160–162, 166, 168

Immigration, 13, 17, 20, 21, 23–29, 32, 39–41, 57, 59, 67, 105, 120, 121, 124, 148, 172

Inheritance, 20–23, 25–28, 32, 33, 35, 37, 40

Integration, 119, 125, 127, 145–151

Ireland, 12–14, 16, 18, 27, 28, 30, 31, 33, 38, 78

Isle of Man, 14

Italian culture, 74

Italy, 5, 6, 13–16, 18, 23, 28, 31–33, 37, 38, 40, 73–91, 119, 159–161, 167, 168, 171

K

Kinship, 6, 17, 74, 77, 78, 80–81, 83, 86, 87, 91, 100, 166–168

Kinship rights, 5, 47

L

LawsAndFamilies Database, 3, 5, 11, 12, 16–18, 29, 34, 38, 40, 57, 123

Legal constraint, 84–87, 105

Legal parents, 21, 22, 24, 25, 29–33, 35–37, 122, 123, 129, 131–134, 139

Legal recognition, 2, 4, 5, 11–41, 48, 49, 57, 69, 74, 75, 77, 81, 83–87, 90, 102, 103, 121, 131, 155–173
Legal survey, 11–13, 17, 26, 33, 34, 37, 49, 169–171

Lesbian and gay rights, 74–77, 86, 159, 165

Lesbian couples, 4, 5, 7, 34, 47, 49, 53, 55, 56, 61, 68, 69, 74, 79, 83–86, 132, 134, 137, 138, 140, 142, 160, 161, 166

Lesbian motherhood, 78, 133, 135

Lesbian women, 74, 78, 79, 87, 130, 135, 142

LGBT parents, 86, 157

Liechtenstein, 14

Local government, 76, 79

Luxembourg, 13, 14

## M

Malta, 13–16, 18, 27–29, 31, 33

Marriage, 2, 12, 46, 74, 96, 118, 156

Monogamous couple-ideal of, 78, 82–84, 86

Motherhood, 78, 126, 127, 133, 135, 145

## N

'Natural family', 74, 75, 84

Netherlands, 14, 16, 27, 30, 33, 36, 48–50, 53, 54, 58–61, 103, 104, 113, 161

Networks, 74, 78, 79, 91, 97, 128, 151, 162, 166, 169–171

Next of kin, 17, 20, 25, 35, 37, 40

Nordic countries, 2, 46, 50, 52, 53, 58, 59, 62, 130

Normativity, 3, 6, 18, 46, 63, 74, 77, 78, 80, 84–87, 95–114, 118, 119, 125, 127–130, 132–135, 145–151, 163, 166–168, 172

Norway, 12, 14, 16, 27, 29, 30, 33, 50–52, 54, 57–60, 120

Nuptiality, 4, 46, 47, 53, 55, 56, 63–69

## P

Pacs, 5, 48, 49, 55, 56, 58, 59, 158, 167

Parent, 3, 13, 59, 74, 96, 119, 157

Parental authority, 22, 24, 25, 29, 31–33, 35–37, 41, 101, 121, 122, 125, 148, 159, 164, 168

Parental leave, 22, 24, 25, 29–33, 35–37, 41, 90, 121, 122, 125, 126

Parenting, 3, 13, 59, 74, 96, 117, 157

Pension, 19, 20, 23, 25, 34, 35, 37, 40

Policy, 7, 76, 77, 79, 124–126, 158–160, 168

Political discourse, 74

Portugal, 14–16, 27, 30, 33, 50–54, 58–61, 160

Presumption, 21, 25, 29–33, 35, 36, 104, 122, 134

Property, 21, 23, 25, 26, 34, 124, 133

Public discourse, 84, 87, 165

## R

Recognition, 2, 12, 46, 74, 99, 118, 155

Refined marriage rates, 56

Registered partnership, 3–5, 12–17, 19, 24, 26–33, 37–41, 47–63, 65, 69, 75, 90, 121–123, 125, 140, 151, 155, 159, 161–163, 167

Rent law, 17, 19, 23, 25–28, 32, 34, 35, 40

Resistance, 77–78, 80, 83, 87, 156

Role models, 140, 141

## S

Same-sex couples, 2–6, 12, 13, 15–19, 23, 24, 26, 29, 33, 34, 36, 38–41, 45–69, 74–76, 79, 83, 85, 86, 96, 97, 106–109, 119–122, 129, 132, 133, 135, 142–144, 156–161, 163–165, 167–173

Same-sex marriage, 15, 17, 33, 40, 47, 48, 53, 57–59, 63, 64, 69, 96, 99, 126, 156, 159, 163–165, 167

Same-sex parenting rights, 75

Same-sex parents, 3, 6, 33, 63, 64, 73–91, 96–100, 107–112, 128, 155

San Marino, 13, 14

Scandinavian countries, 121, 123, 125, 133, 155, 159, 161

Sexual citizenship rights, 75, 76, 85, 87

Sexual orientation, 2, 38, 39, 64, 95, 104, 105, 107, 121, 136, 165–167, 172

Slovenia, 13–16, 24, 28, 31, 33, 50–53, 58–60

Social benefit, 20, 23, 25, 34, 37

Social constraint, 7, 97, 99, 100, 112

Social importance of law, 2, 36–38, 46, 63, 87, 155

Social parent, 74, 75, 81, 84, 87, 139

Societal discourse, 78, 81

Spain, 4, 5, 13–15, 45, 53, 64–67, 69, 103, 119, 158–160, 168, 170

Support networks, 74

Surname, 21, 24–26, 34, 102, 164

Surrogacy, 3, 4, 34, 75, 79, 84, 88, 90, 97, 99, 101, 104–107, 109, 113, 122, 132, 144, 145, 147–151, 162, 170, 172

Sweden, 14, 16, 27, 29, 30, 33, 36, 48–52, 54, 57–61, 78, 120, 123, 133

Switzerland, 14
T

Tax, 21–23, 25–28, 32, 33, 35, 40, 57, 161

Testament, 20, 26, 32

Transsexuality, 141, 142

U

United Kingdom, 12–14, 16, 27, 28, 30, 31, 33, 50, 53, 58–61, 113, 145, 158–161, 163, 167, 168

V

Visibility, 2, 37, 79, 81, 89, 90, 96–98, 110, 119, 134, 141, 147, 157, 165, 170, 172

W

Welfare state, 36, 46, 74, 77, 86, 124, 143, 161

Women's rights, 33, 124