# The Significance of Dispositions for Survival and Preparation for the Ordeals of the Asylum Process: A Study among Homosexual Asylum Seekers Excluded from the French Reception Scheme

Cyriac Bouchet-Mayer, Sylvain Ferez

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## To cite this version:

Cyriac Bouchet-Mayer, Sylvain Ferez. The Significance of Dispositions for Survival and Preparation for the Ordeals of the Asylum Process: A Study among Homosexual Asylum Seekers Excluded from the French Reception Scheme. Revue Européenne des Migrations Internationales, 2023, 39 (1), 10.4000/15ar7. hal-05508622

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https://hal.science/hal-05508622v1

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# Revue européenne des migrations internationales

vol. 39 - n°1 | 2023

Death and Migration: Perspectives from the Post-Soviet Space

Varia

# The Significance of Dispositions for Survival and Preparation for the Ordeals of the Asylum Process: A Study among Homosexual Asylum Seekers Excluded from the French Reception Scheme

Le poids des dispositions pour survivre et préparer les épreuves de l'asile. Enquête auprès des demandeurs d'asile homosexuels exclus du dispositif national d'accueil

El peso de las disposiciones sociales en la supervivencia y la preparación para el asilo. Investigación sobre los solicitantes de asilo gays excluidos del sistema de acogida

CYRIAC BOUCHET-MAYER ET SYLVAIN FEREZ

Traduction de Alexandra Poméon O'Neill et Katherine Booth

https://doi.org/10.4000/15ar7

Cet article est une traduction de :

Le poids des dispositions pour survivre et préparer les épreuves de l'asile. Enquête auprès des demandeurs d'asile homosexuels exclus du dispositif national d'accueil [fr]

## Résumés

English Français Español

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This article focuses on men applying for asylum on the grounds of their sexual orientation or gender identity who are not accommodated in the reception scheme provided for this purpose and who have to compensate for the lack of accommodation and proper socio-administrative support. The strategies they use to make up for these shortcomings are described based on ethnographic research conducted in two
associations supporting asylum seekers. These strategies are influenced by the diversity of administrative statuses, as well as the resources available to the individuals concerned. Ultimately, the article shows how economic, educational and socio-community dispositions affect the chances of obtaining refugee status for applicants who are not provided with accommodation.

Cet article s'intéresse aux hommes demandant l'asile au motif de leur orientation sexuelle ou identité de genre qui ne sont pas hébergés dans le dispositif d'accueil prévu à cet effet et qui, de fait, doivent compenser l'absence d'hébergement et de suivi socioadministratif sérieux. Les stratégies qu'ils mobilisent pour compenser ce déficit sont décrites à partir d'une enquête ethnographique dans deux associations accompagnant des requérants au statut de réfugié. Ces stratégies sont influencées par la diversité des statuts administratifs, mais aussi des ressources dont disposent les enquêtés. Cet article montre en fine comment les dispositions économiques, scolaires et sociocommunautaires pèsent sur les chances d'obtenir le statut de réfugié pour les requérants ne bénéficiant pas d'un hébergement.

Este artículo se centra en los hombres solicitantes de asilo por motivos de orientación sexual o identidad de género que no están alojados en el sistema de acogida previsto para ello y que, de hecho, tienen que compensar la falta de alojamiento y de grave apoyo socio-administrativo. Las estrategias que utilizan estos solicitantes de asilo para compensar este déficit se describen desde una amplia investigación etnográfica en el seno de dos asociaciones que acompañan a los solicitantes del estatuto de refugiado. Estas estrategias están afectadas por la diversidad de estatutos administrativos dentro de esta población, así como la diversidad de recursos de que disponen los individuos. Este artículo muestra en detalle cómo las disposiciones económicas, escolares y socio-comunitarias tienen un impacto particular en las posibilidades de obtener el estatus de refugiado para los solicitantes que no benefician del alojamiento.

## Entrées d'index

**Mots-clés :** asile, ressources, hébergement, accompagnement administratif, inégalités

**Keywords:** asylum, resources, accommodation, administrative support, inequality

**Palabras claves:** asilo, recursos, alojamiento, apoyo socio-administrativo, desigualdades

## Texte intégral

1. In the aftermath of the Second World War, the introduction of the right to asylum as a founding principle of the international moral order put states in a tricky situation: between, on the one hand, presenting themselves and their ideological-political models as defenders of human rights, and on the other, justifying immigration controls through protectionist economic—or security-based rhetoric. During negotiations on the drafting of the Geneva Convention, some countries, including France, successfully advocated for the addition of geographical and temporal clauses restricting its application to nationals of European territory and to events that occurred before 1951 (Noiriel, 1991).

2. The removal of these limitations at the turn of the 1970s coincided with the end of the postwar boom (the “Trente Glorieuses”) and full employment in France. Immigration, which had previously been utilised, became undesirable. Thus, the last three decades of the twentieth century were marked by the desire to restrict immigration for work and family reunification purposes (Legoux, 1995; Akoka, 2020). At the same time, the number of people seeking asylum in France for the first time rose from 1,620 in 1973 to almost 20,000 by the end of the decade (see Table 1 in the Appendix). It then fluctuated in line with international conflicts, from 17,405 in 1996 to 101,841 in 2019. This increase in the number of applicants was accompanied by a fall in the proportion granted refugee status: from above 90% until the end of the 1970s, the proportion plummeted in the 1980s and fell below 20% in 1990. It remained between 20% and 30% until 2015, before settling at around 35%.

3. The growing number of rejections had the effect of lengthening asylum procedures. Individuals rejected by the French Office for the Protection of Refugees and Stateless Persons (Office français de protection des réfugiés et apatrides – OFPRA) following an interview with an officer, can lodge an appeal with the National Court for the Right of Asylum (Cour nationale du droit d'asile – CNDA). After a hearing with the applicant accompanied by a lawyer, a panel of judges can either reject the appeal or overturn OFPRA's decision. Balancing respect for the right to asylum as a cornerstone of international law, and control of this administrative border, public authorities gradually developed the “National Reception Scheme”.

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4

Created in 1973 for the reception of “boat people” and Chilean nationals (Kobelinsky, 2015), this system was entirely coordinated by the association *France Terre d’Asile* between 1973 and 1991. Individuals in the process of applying for asylum and those who had already been granted refugee status were indiscriminately grouped together under the label of “refugees”. As such, they were entitled to accommodation and unrestricted access to the labour market. The year 1991 marked a turning point: it established the legal distinction between “asylum seekers” and “refugees”. The so-called Cresson Circular prohibited asylum seekers from accessing the labour market and set up reception centres for them (*centres d’accueil pour demandeurs d’asile – CADAs*) to separate them from refugees, who continued to be hosted in temporary accommodation centres (*centres provisoires d’hébergement pour les réfugiés – CPHRs*).¹ This legal distinction sealed the semantic shift initiated in the 1980s (Kobelinsky, 2012c). It cast doubt on the sincerity of asylum seekers, resulting in different rights for “genuine” applicants”—recognised as such by OFPRA or the CNDA—and potential “false” applicants” (Akoka, 2020). A policy of suspicion took hold in the main countries where refugee status is granted (Bohmer and Shuman, 2008). While Spire (2004) argues that the rise in asylum applications during the 1970s and 1980s stemmed from the closure of labour immigration channels, which had previously been less burdensome to access, forcing people who were no less eligible to turn to the right to asylum, this was not the political interpretation given. Applications were said to be largely unfounded, motivated by economic rather than politico-humanitarian reasons, justifying the determination to reduce refugee recognition rates (Noiriel, 2012).

5

Since 1991, the moral contract between the government and asylum applicants has involved the provision of material reception conditions (*conditions matérielles d’accueil* – CMA), i.e. accommodation in a CADA and an asylum seeker’s allowance (*allocation de demandeur d’asile* – ADA), currently €6.80 per day, for the duration of the application procedure, in order to compensate for restricted access to the labour market. This enables governments to showcase their control of this migration flow at the national level, as well as their respect for international law.

6

However, the 2020 Activity Report from the French Office for Immigration and Integration (*Office français d’immigration et d’intégration* – OFII), which is responsible for coordinating the National Reception Scheme (*Dispositif national d’accueil* – DNA), shows that the scheme had only 43,454 places in CADAs. Added to the 56,590 temporary accommodation places reserved for asylum applicants, the total reached 100,044. This was insufficient to accommodate the 132,826 applications initiated in 2019, bearing in mind that many applications take several years to process, particularly in cases of appeals to the CNDA. The OFII’s 2019 Activity Report indicated that fewer than one in three applicants received accommodation under the DNA. Places are allocated based on the level of “vulnerability”, assessed by OFII staff using a questionnaire.² In the EU Reception Directive, “sexual orientation or gender identity” are identified as vulnerability factors, due to the risk of discrimination or violence (Chaouite et al., 2016). Women, families and people with disabilities or specific medical conditions are also considered to be more vulnerable. However, officers’ assessments are influenced by their cultural and racialised representations of homosexuality (Fassin and Salcedo, 2015; Trawalé, 2017) and by the elements disclosed by applicants, who may not refer to it spontaneously.

7

When applicants do not receive accommodation, the ADA is increased by €7.40 to compensate, making a total of €14.20 per day, i.e. €426 for thirty days. However, the lack of uniformity of resources during the procedure is not limited to material and financial elements. CADAs are places of assistance, offering social, administrative and legal support. While this assistance is associated with a form of control over daily activities and infantilisation of asylum seekers by social workers, it nonetheless enables a reconfiguration of bodies marked by suffering (Kobelinsky, 2015 and 2012a) and increases the chances of obtaining refugee status (Valluy, 2009). CADAs thus offer “rare” resources at a time when securing status is the primary concern (Fassin, 2001).

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Although the literature highlights the disparity in the granting of refugee status between those who receive accommodation and those who do not, it provides little explanation of the
underlying processes. Does the support provided by social workers enable individuals in accommodation to be better prepared, or does the selection of individuals for accommodation in CADAs, based on fairly vague vulnerability criteria that leave significant room for interpretation, operate as a pre-selection of the profiles more likely to be granted asylum? Research shows that social workers play an essential role, particularly as “story brokers” (Berg and Millbank, 2009; Noura, 2013; d’Halluin-Mabillot, 2012b; Clappe, 2019). As lay specialists in asylum, they pass on the “tricks of the trade” for producing a narrative that conforms to expectations and contribute to a form of acculturation in relation to the categories of perception underpinning asylum judges’ decisions (Millbank, 2002; Morgan, 2006; Kobelinsky, 2012b; Fassin and Kobelinsky, 2012). Thus, in addition to the material inequalities linked to the lack of accommodation, there are also inequalities in terms of socio-legal-administrative support.

9

The research cited explores the social processes that govern the operation of asylum institutions, such as life in the CADAs, the role of social workers and interpreters, and CNDA decision-making practices. Most studies ultimately focus on the categories of perception of asylum actors—and in particular how common-sense representations guide judges’ decisions— or on the effects produced by the reception scheme, with the emphasis on the institutions themselves. In this context, applicants for refugee status are often considered as a uniform entity.

10

This article examines the situation of asylum seekers who escape institutional awareness because they do not receive CADA accommodation. The aim is to shed light on the diversity of their profiles, both in terms of their social, economic, and cultural resources (Bourdieu, 1980; Lahire, 2005), and their administrative and material circumstances. The respondents are considered as acting according to the resources available to them, their perceptions, and the structural constraints that shape their strategies to obtain refugee status. How do they organise themselves to compensate for the shortcomings of the national reception scheme and to survive? How do they navigate the administrative procedure and prepare for the various stages? What resources do they mobilise? How does the mobilisation of these resources impact their asylum application journeys and their chances of obtaining refugee status? The article thus seeks to demonstrate the role of social, economic, and cultural resources in accessing refugee status, independently of the persecution experienced or feared.

Box 1: Methodology

This article is based on data collected as part of ongoing doctoral research. An ethnographic study was conducted in two associations between March 2018 and September 2021: an association for the prevention of HIV and sexually transmitted infections where the doctoral researcher was responsible for developing a programme aimed at individuals seeking asylum on the grounds of their sexual orientation and/or gender identity; and an asylum rights association for LGBTI individuals where the doctoral researcher accompanied volunteers in their activities. These two field sites made it possible to access accounts, which varied in depth and detail, of the lives of men seeking asylum on the grounds of their sexual orientation and/or gender identity. “Fragments” of the life stories of about a hundred individuals were collected during thirty weekly drop-in sessions aimed at advising and sorting individuals with a view to offering tailored support depending on administrative and social urgency. Accompanying volunteers in the individualised support offered to twenty-seven asylum seekers provided access to more detailed life stories. This support is mainly focused on assistance in filling out applications and writing out life stories, as well as learning to articulate those stories orally. They also provide an opportunity to discuss applicants’ immediate living conditions. Finally, even more in-depth life stories were collected during eighty-three hours of interviews with sixteen men living in the Île-de-France region, eleven of whom were without accommodation in a CADA.³ The semi-structured interviews, which were repeated over time, covered the experience of sexual orientation in the country of origin, as well as the journey of exile: migration, the experience of the asylum procedure and, in some cases, the early stages of life as a recognised refugee.

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11

The findings demonstrate the extent to which the social, socio-economic and socio-cultural resources mobilised to compensate for the lack of accommodation—and sometimes of financial allowances—as well as of socio-legal-administrative assistance, have an impact on the strategies deployed to access refugee status. In this context, they shed light on the mechanisms of selection among asylum seekers, whose operation is not solely based on the criteria set out in the Geneva Convention.

12

The first section of this article presents three categories of administrative and material situations identified during the study. It then examines the various means mobilised by the respondents to compensate for the shortcomings of the reception system, firstly in terms of accommodation and financial allowances, and secondly in relation to socio-administrative support. The final section shows how dispositions operate as highly unequal resources, depending on the applicant.

# The three Administrative Situation Categories of Asylum Applicants without Accommodation under the Reception Scheme

13

According to the OFII activity report, almost 118,000 individuals received the ADA in December 2020. For the same period, Eurostat reported that 151,200 people were in the process of applying for asylum in France. While the lack of detail in these summary documents and the difficulty accessing raw data make it impossible to determine exactly what is being counted,⁴ it can be concluded that at least 33,000 people were not receiving the ADA. This means that more than one in five asylum seekers had neither accommodation nor a financial allowance. The report also states that in December 2020, 53% of asylum applicants receiving an allowance also received accommodation, bringing the number of individuals receiving the ADA who were not accommodated to almost 55,000, or more than one in three. However, we have no way of knowing what proportion of them were receiving a full or partial allowance.

14

In total, at the end of 2020, around 88,000 of the 151,200 individuals in the process of applying for asylum were not receiving accommodation, i.e. almost six out of ten.⁵ This article focuses on the specific lived experiences of this under-researched population of unaccommodated asylum seekers, to which eleven of the sixteen interviewed asylum seekers belonged. This population can be divided into several groups depending on the interplay of their legal, administrative and material situations.

15

The first group is made up of asylum applicants who do not have accommodation but receive the ADA. This group includes respondents affected by the DNA's shortage of accommodation, who, like Aliou, arrived by plane with a visa (either for work or tourism) and submitted their asylum application within three months of entering the country. The absence of accommodation normally results in an increase in the ADA from €6.80 to €14.20 per day, unless the applicant refuses an offer of accommodation or declares that s/he is being housed by relatives. Sadam, for example, had his ADA withdrawn because he refused an offer of accommodation in a village in Alpes-de-Haute-Provence in order to stay close to the network of acquaintances he had built up over six months in the Île-de-France region. Sangare preferred to hide from the OFII the fact that he was living on the street and instead claimed to be staying with a family member in order to make a "good impression".

16

A second group is composed of applicants who receive neither accommodation nor the ADA but are in a regular administrative situation. This was the case of Christian, who came from a well-off background, campaigned for the rights of LGBTI individuals in his country of origin and arrived in France by plane on a tourist visa in 2018. Having left a comfortable economic situation, with savings, a three-month visa and acquaintances in France where he had regularly visited since childhood, he "took the time to find his feet" as he put it. He began by visiting people he had not seen for a long time, and then started to explore how he could stay. A few

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weeks after his arrival, when he decided to call the hotline introduced by the 2018 “asylum and immigration” law, the phone rang and rang... but no one answered. For more than ten days, he called from morning to night, to no avail. He eventually turned to an association specialising in supporting asylum seekers to ask for help. Christian’s is not an isolated case. Drop-in sessions are organised to help applicants contact the OFII to make an appointment. By the time Christian did get an appointment, he had just passed the ninety-day time limit for presence on French territory and was therefore no longer eligible for the CMA. This was also the case for Osman, who was registered under the standard procedure following a Dublin procedure after eighteen months of “absconding”.⁶

17

The third group includes applicants who do not receive either accommodation or the ADA and are in an irregular administrative situation. This is the case of Souleyman, who was subject to the Dublin Regulation and declared to have “absconded” because he refused to return to Italy. He was waiting out the period so that his case would be processed by France:

> *“I didn't want to stay in Italy. I couldn't understand what was being said to me in Italian. I don't speak Italian. But they arrested us and took us somewhere to a camp where they took everyone's fingerprints. So I gave them there.”*

18

This group also includes respondents whose applications have been rejected by both OFPRA and the CNDA, like Baldé, and who are trying to put together a file to apply for a re-examination of their case. In addition to having to provide for their basic needs, they live under threat of confinement in an administrative detention centre and deportation to the EU country responsible for processing their application (where they have no ties and do not speak the language) or to their country of origin (Le Courant, 2015).

19

We have thus identified three types of administrative situation among those not receiving accommodation: 1) those who receive the ADA and are in a regular administrative situation in France; 2) those who do not receive the ADA and have legal status for the duration of the procedure; and 3) those who do not receive the ADA and are in an irregular administrative situation while waiting to be able to reapply for asylum. The analysis now turns to the strategies used to compensate for material hardships and the lack of socio-administrative-legal support, resulting from the absence of accommodation. We then examine whether these different profiles are associated with compensatory strategies, which in turn depend on the resources available to each individual.

## Survival Strategies to Deal with the Shortcomings of the Reception Scheme

20

All three groups face the need to find accommodation. Given the administrative conditions imposed on them, none of the respondents had the means or sufficient guarantees to rent even a small room in Paris. Several options are available. The first, and often the only concrete suggestion made by institutional, associative or medical-social actors, is to call the Samu social on 115:

> *“So the doctor said to me: 'Call 115, to get a place to sleep.' ...And the next day, he suggested I call 115 again. So I called 115, and no one answered—it just rang and rang, but they didn't answer...With 115, you have to wake up at 5am to call again, to get an appointment for that night. If they don't have any places, they just say they don't have any places.”*

21

After spending days calling a number to apply for asylum, Badra felt he was in a never-ending loop to obtain accommodation for just one short night. Talkative and outgoing, he obtained advice from Samu social workers: when he was unable to find accommodation for the night by phone and the weather was cold, he went to Nation to mix with the homeless people waiting to be picked up by 115 vans for emergency shelter. If that failed, he fell back on the stairwell of a migrant workers' hostel with a faulty front door. Souleyman resigned himself to spending the night outside and looking for places to rest during the day:

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> "At first I used to call 115, but you spend all day calling and you're not sure you'll get a place. And it's every day! I decided to stop. A small group of us sleeps in the metro near La Prairie... Otherwise, I try to sleep in the day at friends' places in a CADA, but well... it's complicated because they're not really allowed. They're afraid of losing their place, I understand that."⁷

22

The 115 hotline is thus a scheme used by respondents without accommodation who have no other option than these very temporary solutions. Like Souleyman, all of them mentioned that they had relied on solidarity for accommodation at some point. When they arrived in France, many of them had family or friends who put them up for a period, usually a few weeks. During the more than two years of the asylum procedure, Christian turned to several types of accommodation arrangements:

> "I was staying with one of my childhood friends who... said he could help me while I found a place. So he put me up for August, September and October. He came one evening and told me to leave, without any warning. So I ended up sleeping on the street for two or three days until I found another apartment."

23

After finding himself on the streets, Christian ran into an acquaintance from his home country, who offered to put him up for a month. While his first host was homosexual like himself, he hid his sexual orientation from the second:

> "I just avoid talking about it... for fear I'll say something wrong, something that could put me at risk."

24

This was the case for most of the respondents who were hosted free of charge, through family or diasporic solidarity. One of the respondents, of Congolese origin, befriended a woman passenger on the plane from his diaspora who, seeing that he had nowhere to go, invited him to stay with her and her husband for a few days to look after the children while he settled in. However, he was suddenly thrown out when, feeling safe enough to do so, he confided in them about his sexual orientation.

25

Very few of the respondents stayed with the same person for the entire duration of the asylum procedure. However, this was the case for Osman, who was taken in by a friend he had met back in his home country and who had been living in France for ten years. He hosted Osman throughout his three-year asylum procedure:

> "He said: as we both work, me and my wife, you can stay in the living room, do the housework, do the household stuff and that's it."

26

As supportive as they may be, these accommodation arrangements generally involve financial compensation, linked to domestic services or childcare. They generate dependency on the host and are rarely sustainable.

27

Another form of accommodation involves a sexual arrangement. Several respondents used dating apps to find a place to sleep for the night, and sometimes for longer, when dates are successful. These temporary accommodation arrangements expose them to the risk of assault. For example, one man who tested positive for HIV as part of the prevention programme studied was tricked on dating sites and raped by six men. In some cases, long-term relationships are formed. Laye, for example, had several lovers who hosted him alternately. Some of them even left him their apartment when they were away. Adam met a man from a well-off social background, thirty years his senior and married. He was housed in an apartment originally intended for rental, and had food and holidays paid for. Adam proudly said that he had a "husband", portraying himself as a "co-wife" in competition with the lawful wife. He was both mocked and envied by other asylum applicants in more unstable situations. Stability is an important theme in the respondents' accounts. It makes it possible to find calm in the upheaval caused by exile and to focus on the asylum procedure.

28

Finally, some individuals, such as Christian and Aliou, find sublet arrangements, of varying durations, based on a moral contract with the host. The financial remuneration of the host also helps to rebalance the relationship of domination and gives the respondents concerned greater freedom for manoeuvre and decision-making, even when sexual favours are solicited by the

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host. This independence increases with the amount of rent paid and the tenant's social resources, from which the host infers their ability to find an alternative solution. Respondents who had sublet arrangements were able to rely on a network of acquaintances who informed them of an opportunity, generally to take the place of a former asylum applicant who had been granted refugee status.

29

As subletting requires a financial capacity that exceeds the ADA,⁸ the individuals concerned have additional income, acquired in various ways. While some manage to stay within the law by using their educational and professional resources to get involved in associations that compensate them for voluntary work, most resort to daily, undeclared work. Certain locations in Paris are known for this, as Samba explained:

> "It's back there. There's a roundabout, I've forgotten the name of the street. We line up there like prostitutes! Excuse the expression, but... [laughs] they know very well that the people who are there are there to get work. Because I had a friend who explained to me that if I wanted to get work, I had to go there... You go there very early in the morning, like 5 or 6 am, and then the company vans drive by and pick their workers. The problem is that you have to get picked... But it's good, you get good money compared to other jobs, and you get paid straight away."

30

Christian worked undeclared for a security agency that paid him in cash. At the end of the month, he had to "chase" his employer to get his wages. Ahmed was working as a dishwasher in restaurants for five times less than the minimum wage. Others work using identity documents and bank details borrowed from someone in the community, as Christian explained:

> "I give Ben's identity card and Ben's bank details... So with Ben we have an arrangement... Some take 60%, some take 30% or 25%. The nice ones take 25%, but often they take 40% of your salary and then give you the rest... Some tell you as soon as the money is transferred to come and collect it on a certain day. But others say, 'Yeah, the money's been transferred, but I don't have the time, I'm working, I'll call you when I have time to give you your money'."

31

The salary they receive is reduced by a percentage for tax and, often, a "risk premium". Ultimately, the various housing conditions described above all give rise to situations of dependency. Whether friendship-based or sexual, they produce uncertainty and can lead to homelessness at any time. They generate situations that weigh heavily on the minds of respondents and occupy a large portion of their daily lives. Subletting appears to be the most stable solution: as the host generally needs the rent money, it produces less dependency, even if the absence of a contract excludes any form of legal protection. The stability of accommodation is also linked to sources of income, which vary in terms of legality and pay. Networks of acquaintances play a decisive role here. A gap thus emerges between those who spend their time trying to ensure their survival by looking for accommodation and money to buy food, and those who manage to build up relatively stable subsistence network and free up time to devote to the asylum application procedure.

## Mastering the Administrative Procedure in the Absence of Support

32

Asylum applicants who have not been allocated accommodation in a CADA face additional hardship linked to the lack of administrative and legal support. While Kobelinsky (2012c and 2012d) describes excessive control in CADAs and the sense of being smothered and infantilised experienced by applicants in relation to the support offered by social workers who open their letters, explain them to them and file them, the opposite is true for those who do not receive accommodation. These individuals have to go to the first reception point for asylum seekers (*structure du premier accueil du demandeur d'asile – SPADA*) where they are officially domiciled to collect their post, try to decipher its content and practical implications and conserve it.⁹ Baldé explained that he had thrown away his documents, which had become

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illegible due to the rain and damp after several months on the streets, while Moussa said that they had been stolen along with his bag while he was asleep. For fear of losing them, Richard left his documents with a sex host he met on an app, with whom he had a relationship for a while, but who no longer answered his calls. In the context of associative support, it is also very common for volunteers to act as substitutes for social workers.¹⁰

Thus, asylum applicants who do not receive accommodation have less time and fewer resources to devote to navigating the asylum procedure and preparing for the various stages. To compensate for the lack of support, each individual tries to access resources through community and associative networks. As Samba explained:

> "[When I arrived] I was innocent, I didn't know anything, nothing... But because I sleep in the street... we sometimes stay all night like that, chatting. People explain things to you. You pick up on what people are saying. Little by little, I began to know things."

It is within the migrant community that the respondents most often learn about the very existence of the right to asylum as well as the basic workings of the procedure. However, it is not uncommon for applicants arriving at the association to be partway through the procedure, saying that they had failed to mention their sexual orientation, because they were unaware that it could be a legitimate ground for requesting asylum.¹¹ When asked by a volunteer his reason for applying for asylum, one applicant responded:

> "Which one? The one I told OFPRA or the real one? ...I actually didn't know it was possible to apply for asylum because I'm gay, and my friends helped me write the story in French, so I made up a story about being involved in political conflicts... Then I met someone two weeks ago, on the apps, who told me to come here, that you can help me."

While the existence of the right to asylum is learned from migrant communities, particularly for those with limited writing or oral communication skills, the fear of stigmatisation often leads applicants not to mention their sexual orientation. For those without accommodation, it can sometimes take several months to build up networks of contacts in the LGBTI community, the medical profession or representatives of asylum institutions to whom they will confide. By declaring that they lied, they cast doubt on their sincerity, both among asylum officers and judges, as well as with volunteers, which contributes to delaying their application and access to support from associations.¹² Referral to the association is often easier for people with educational resources, such as Aliou:

> "When I was back home, I saw on the internet that you could apply for asylum if you're homosexual... When I arrived, I went to the LGBT centre, and they told me about the association. I came to the welcome meeting on a Saturday, and that was that."

The association's support is organised in the form of weekly drop-in sessions, during which volunteers provide general information, offer guidance on the social and health issues raised and, above all, prioritise the urgency of administrative support needs so that a volunteer can be assigned to provide individualised support. Priority is given to: 1) those who have not yet submitted their asylum application, to provide support in completing their file and writing their life narrative; 2) those who have received a summons to attend OFPRA, to prepare for the interview.

Support with completing the application can be crucial for individuals who speak a foreign language or who have reading and writing difficulties. In every case, such support provides reassurance in the face of the anxiety of not correctly filling in what the institution asks of them. When writing the life narrative, it is often a matter of syntactical support, reorganising the text so that it flows smoothly, ensuring that the events mentioned are situated in time, and that the narrative reflects the applicant's personal lived experience rather than a general account of the situation of homosexuals in the country of origin. This advice is also tested in sessions to prepare for the OFPRA interview, in which explanations are given of how the interview will be conducted and the subjects that will be discussed:

> "At OFPRA, it will happen like this. You'll be in an office a bit like the ones we were in yesterday, and there'll be a protection officer and a translator with you. They'll ask you

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<figure><img src="image_11.png" /></figure>
> questions in three parts. Firstly, about your family: brothers, sisters, where you went to school, what your parents did... Then, the reasons that forced you to leave your country, in this case your sexual orientation. And then they'll go back a bit... from the beginning, how did you realise that you liked boys? How did that happen? How did it happen with the first person, the first boy? Without asking about the sexual details, because that's your business. What precautions did you take to avoid being caught? How were you caught? What happened? Who knows? How did they find out? Then how did you leave? How did you pay? How did you travel? What are you afraid of if you have to go back? ...You don't have to worry, the protection officers are kind and considerate during the interview. They're not the police."

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In addition to reducing the anxiety caused by the interview, individualised support helps to ensure the credibility of the answers to the questions or the events recounted (Noura, 2013), which must be sufficiently precise to allow the listener to visualise the story:

> "You, your life, you have it in your head. We don't have it, and we like stories... and so do they [the officers]. Each time, it has to be like a film. ...We don't know it, and we want to imagine the scene, we want to understand. Where was it? What time was it? Roughly, not to the minute. Where were you going? Where were you? Like a film, like a story. OK? That's really important. At OFPRA, when an application is rejected, the reason is always: 'because it's not personal enough', 'because there aren't enough details...' ...You have to prove that it's just you and him who lived through that, who can tell what happened. It's nobody else's story, so you have to tell us YOUR story."

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To this end, practical exercises are carried out: the applicant practises describing scenes from his or her story or an image selected from the internet, usually in the position of the narrator, but sometimes also that of the listener. As well as learning the strictly formal aspects of how to narrate one's personal story, these one-to-one support sessions are also spaces where applicants learn to identify nuances that they may not have initially perceived; for example, the difference between the moment they realised they were attracted to people of the same sex and the moment they had their first sexual experience.

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The associative space also includes moments of physical and digital socialisation where applicants can talk to each other, ask for information about places for homosociability and dating apps, and create a network. These associative homosociability spaces, which extend beyond the association itself, provide access to different culturally situated ways of defining oneself, expressing oneself, telling one's story and talking about one's gender and sexuality (Fassin and Salcedo, 2015; Trawalé, 2017). These are all useful discursive resources to win over what French law calls the "intime conviction" (the internal, subjective belief) (Fassin, 2013) of the officer during the interview (Morgan, 2006; Kobelinsky, 2012b). Other socialisation spaces can also be harnessed.

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For example, Christian and Keda volunteered with *Secours catholique* to help other asylum seekers, whatever the reason for their application. Although they had not yet been summoned by OFPRA, their procedural expertise was such that they were entrusted with explaining it to other applicants. Acting as true “asylum interpreters” (Clappe, 2019), their expertise was recognised both within and beyond the associative framework. When the researcher asked Christian how he found the resources to help other people, even though he had been waiting to be summoned by OFPRA for almost two years, he replied:

> "Well, I've always helped people in my country too, as you know. And it's also a learning experience for me. It's true that I spend time and energy, but well... everything I invest there is for me too, I learn a lot about how things work, the procedure, OFPRA, the CNDA."

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Here, activism appears to be a strategy for obtaining refugee status (Di Cecco, 2021), but also an investment in the future, aimed at preparing for professional integration. Christian volunteered with five associations. Speaking about one of them, he said:

> "You know, at [name of association], last time we invited the director of OFPRA, and he came... We welcomed him and he came to answer our questions. It was great. Aliou even took a photo with him! He said: 'I'm going to show this to OFPRA, you'll see!' [laughs]."

<figure><img src="image_12.png" /></figure>
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For the respondents with the greatest educational and socio-community resources, this involvement with associations offers spaces for learning, both as users and as volunteers. These associations are also places where mutual support networks are created, which can be decisive for both survival and for obtaining refugee status. The experiences of others provide information on what works or not, and the opportunity to pick up a certain number of codes. However, getting involved in the associative sector requires not only knowing about it or being directed towards it, but also being able to devote the time, especially in the case of multiple commitments. There is also the matter of reconciling the time spent in these associations with the risk of making one's sexual orientation visible, especially when revealing one's sexual orientation can be synonymous with exclusion from the social spaces where the basic necessities of life are ensured (Trawalé, 2017).

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Thus, disparities are observed in the experience of the asylum procedure according to the educational, socio-community and socio-economic dispositions of applicants. While some simply follow the instructions they receive and understand, others multiply and cross-reference sources of information, networks of acquaintances, etc. In the study sample, this second approach, although very costly in terms of energy, paid off: among the respondents, all those with this profile were granted asylum by OFPRA, whereas none of the others obtained refugee status.

## What Resources to Compensate for the Shortcomings of the Reception Scheme?

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The previous two sections show the extent to which compensating for shortcomings of the reception system becomes a full-time job for individuals without accommodation. The inactivity and waiting imposed on CADA residents (Kobelinsky, 2015, 2012a and 2010) contrasts with the hyperactivity of those not accommodated in such facilities. This hyperactivity is linked to the vital needs of food and shelter, but also to the need to compensate for the absence of social and administrative support. The time it takes to grasp all the legal and administrative subtleties related to asylum, and the categories of perception of the actors responsible for granting it, is variable and unequal among respondents.

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The level of understanding of these subtleties depends on educational dispositions, which provide the foundational resources for engaging in a process of continually discussing and exploring the categories and limits of the legal framework, in order to grasp the reasons for rejections and optimise the chances of obtaining refugee status. The preparation described above ultimately resembles preparation for a competitive examination based on papers from previous years. Beyond variations in the ease with which applicants adopt a specific narrative format, there is a disparity in the degree of understanding of concepts such as gender identity and sexual orientation. It is a matter of grasping the nuances between a sexual relationship and a romantic relationship, between an actual relationship and a secret love, and being able to express what they like about a person. Additionally, applicants need to distinguish between clearly stated motivations and intentions attributed by others, in order to avoid any suspicion of exaggeration or even "lying" (Kobelinsky, 2012d). Thus, educational capital, objectified by level of study, disposes applicants to think more precisely about certain notions and to adopt a narrative rhetoric adapted to the culturally situated "categories of perception"¹³ of asylum judges (Trawalé, 2017; Fassin and Salcedo, 2015; Kobelinsky, 2012d).

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In addition to educational dispositions, there are socio-community dispositions. Prior to the migratory journey, community and associative involvement enables individuals to pick up certain codes related to gender and sexuality. Christian listed the bars and clubs he frequented "back home" and explained:

<figure><img src="image_13.png" /></figure>

> "We knew each other... children of professionals... We had a little club of friends, and we confided in each other about certain things... That little bond enabled us to be friends and then to discover things. That's how we started discovering small gay bars... We'd meet up there, and it was always the same people, along with the new generation."
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After describing his friends one by one, and the way their club nights unfolded, Christian talked about his involvement in associations and how he used his privileged social status to help those in difficulty, in conjunction with community-based associations. Applicants with limited educational capital are only able to integrate gender and sexuality categories in talking about themselves when they also have community and activist dispositions linked to involvement in homosociability networks in the major cities of their country of origin. In such cases, community capital makes up for the lack of educational capital. However, overall, these socio-community dispositions acquired “back home” tend to be held by respondents with the greatest educational and economic resources. Thus, the vast majority of respondents from disadvantaged social backgrounds with poor educational dispositions were involved in hidden homosociabilities limited to a single partner.

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Some of these individuals from disadvantaged social backgrounds can acquire socio-community or activist dispositions after arriving in France, through intensive involvement in LGBTI community spheres. Such involvement is more complicated for those who do not receive accommodation because of the time spent meeting basic needs. For those with the fewest educational resources, it seems much simpler and more profitable to integrate migrant communities that are better known and give access to a survival economy. Thus, among the respondents, only those with the strongest educational backgrounds managed to find stable forms of remuneration or accommodation outside the migrant community, enabling them to break with an experience divided between hidden homosexuality and public heterosexuality and to “come out of the closet” as expected in French LGBTI activist spheres (Trawalé, 2017).

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These respondents are more likely to have favourable administrative situations and to receive the ADA. In addition, they have greater access to complementary resources through their involvement in associations, which may be compensated with luncheon vouchers, for example. By activating LGBTI networks, either preexisting or developed since their arrival in France, they can find solidarity-based or low-cost accommodation solutions. The most affluent are often the most integrated in LGBTI communities and are generally more involved in voluntary and unpaid work (Clappe, 2021), notably due to their language skills, which they use as interpreters. This involvement enhances their understanding of the asylum process, the ease with which they talk about their sexual orientation and help to cultivate the figure of the “deserving migrant” (Di Cecco, 2021).

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These places of LGBTI sociability, where participation can serve to objectify sexual orientation in the eyes of decision-makers, can also lead to other spaces of community sociability. Osman, for example, remembered meeting a refugee there:

> "He installed Romeo and Grindr for me. He showed me how they work. He also told me about saunas... Little by little, I began to understand how things work, I talked to people. That's how I got involved in certain things here in France, in Paris."

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Saunas, clubs and associations are all spaces of homosexual (re)socialisation (Fassin and Salcedo, 2015) and frequenting them implies a certain stability of identity and a relative autonomy from migrant communities or those upholding opposing norms. However, those with fewer educational resources, and often fewer socio-economic resources, depend on their integration into a migrant community that provides accommodation and work in the security, catering or construction sectors. The disparity in subsistence conditions reflects not only the different training and skills that enable the better-off to access a broader range of professional opportunities, but also inequalities in access to information.¹⁴

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The over-representation of educationally and economically advantaged respondents in LGBTI community spaces is linked to different administrative statuses and networks of sociability. Those with the fewest educational and economic resources are also those with the most precarious administrative status. Those who do not receive accommodation or the ADA are: 1) applicants subject to a Dublin procedure, because they entered through another European country; 2) applicants who have not met the administrative deadlines. Differences in the conditions of migration and arrival on the territory are decisive here. Long, overland migration routes, which increase the risk of being subject to the Dublin procedure, are mostly taken by applicants with fewest economic resources and weaker involvement in LGBTI

<figure><img src="image_14.png" /></figure>
communities in the country of origin. Conversely, the majority of applicants with the strongest economic and social resources arrive by air and can rely on networks of acquaintances on arrival, sometimes within the LGBTI community itself.

An examination of the reasons for this disparity, beyond the economic dimension and the networks of acquaintances that facilitate the purchase of a plane ticket and the acquisition of a visa, leads to the observation that economic and educational capital are linked to LGBTI socio-community dispositions. Applicants with greater economic and educational resources in their home country have stronger homosociability networks. These networks not only help individuals to integrate identity dispositions that will prove to be transferable when preparing for the asylum interview, but also offer essential support in protecting them when their homosexuality is discovered, and in organising their departure from the country. Some even anticipate events and prepare for their departure before being officially discovered.

Conversely, those with fewest educational and economic resources are often in a hidden relationship with a single partner and have never left their home country until they are forced to do so. They appear to be in great difficulty and highly isolated when they are discovered, particularly because of their lack of affiliation with the LGBTI community. As a result, they are more frequently embroiled in long migratory journeys, leading to difficult administrative and material situations, condemned to "muddle through" within the spheres of migrant sociability, which tend to reactivate their fears of discrimination linked to their sexual orientation, encouraging them to conceal it and putting them in a precarious position.

Thus, administrative situations, subsistence strategies to compensate for the shortcomings of the reception scheme in terms of accommodation and economic resources, as well as support and preparation for the ordeals of the asylum process (d'Halluin-Mabillot, 2012a), all vary in the same direction, according to mutually reinforcing mechanisms and depending on educational, social and economic dispositions. The combination of all these mechanisms leads to a selection of asylum seekers according to socio-economic logics that go unrecognised and have nothing to do with the criteria of the Geneva Convention.

## Conclusion

In our sample, educational, socio-economic and community resources appear to play a decisive role in the performance delivered to OFPRA by applicants for refugee status who do not receive accommodation under the national reception scheme. Success in the main test used to distinguish between "true" and "false" asylum seekers – the exile of the "false" asylum seeker being spontaneously attributed to their economic situation (Kobelinsky, 2012d)—is above all influenced by administrative conditions, the ease with which individuals compensate for shortcomings in the reception scheme and capacity to prepare for it within the associative sphere. Yet, these three components depend to a large extent on educational, socio-economic and community dispositions.

Educational resources influence the duration and conditions of migration. Some applicants can travel on a student visa or justify a trip abroad even before problems arise. Socio-economic resources also affect departure conditions. Purchasing a plane ticket or using a smuggler has a financial cost. A profession can sometimes justify the acquisition of a visa to leave the country. Finally, socio-community resources, particularly those linked to involvement in the LGBTI community in the country of origin, facilitate departure (including financially) once sexual orientation is revealed.

These three types of resources are often linked. Migration is easier, quicker and by air for applicants who possess a high quantity of all three. The fewer the resources, the longer and more perilous the journey. While the ordeal of long journeys is sometimes taken into account in the OFII's assessment of vulnerability, facilitating access to accommodation, this is not always the case. Applicants subject to the Dublin procedure swell the ranks of those without accommodation. To survive, they are forced to rely on a survival economy, whether or not they receive the ADA.

As with their differentiated migratory journeys, those with fewer educational, socio-

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<figure><img src="image_15.png" /></figure>
economic and socio-community resources have greater difficulty in gaining full or partial access to the ADA. Those with fewer educational resources face compounded challenges in obtaining information and going through the procedure within the time limits. Their awareness of sexual orientation-based asylum applications and of specialist associations also depends on an encounter with someone in whom they can confide and who can give them information. On the other hand, those with more educational resources have the capacity to search the internet autonomously, and those most connected to the LGBTI community can go to the LGBT centre for information, if they have not already received it through their own networks.

Because they more often receive the ADA, those with the best educational and socio-community resources are less burdened by their survival conditions during the asylum procedure. Most of them become involved in associations which, while also sites of unpaid labour exploitation (Clappe, 2021), are spaces for learning about the workings of the asylum procedure and the pitfalls to avoid, as well as constructing the figure of “deserving migrant” (Di Cecco, 2021) and of “gay migrant” when involvement is with an LGBTI association. They find it easier to combine their public and private identities when they become involved in associative, social or commercial homosociability spaces. These are places of homosexual (re)socialisation, where they can integrate ways of defining themselves and telling their stories that can be leveraged to varying degrees in the asylum process. Meanwhile, those with fewer educational and LGBTI socio-community resources are condemned to time-consuming efforts to access undeclared and unstable accommodation and professionalisation conditions. To do this, they can mobilise the resources of migrant and diasporic communities. Their dependence on them means reproducing the identity divide between public heterosexuality and hidden homosexuality. It also means maintaining a distance from homosexual sociability spaces and the specific resources they offer.

While those with the least resources are caught in a spiral of survival and a “double life”, the most privileged accumulate resources and invest precious time in trying to understand the criteria for granting status, but also in practising and learning to tell their story clearly, precisely and with enough distance to put themselves in the listener’s shoes and adapt it to be more effective. In these conditions, as the months go by, they refine their practical mastery of the cultural categories of perception and appreciation—i.e. judgement—to which they must conform in order to obtain asylum.

In short, the interplay and accumulation of resources and dispositions over the course of the journey contribute to deepening inequalities in the ordeal to obtain the grail of refugee status. Convinced that they are assessing the veracity of the facts recounted or the credibility of fears using methods of distancing and objectification (Akoka, 2020), asylum judges may be under the illusion that they are upholding the principles of international law and the durability of its application by excluding “false refugees” (Fassin and Kobelinsky, 2012). In fact, they are judging a performance whose quality or fit with their categories of judgement has more to do with an individual’s ability to master the rules of the game than with the reality of the persecution experienced or feared. Thus, unwittingly, they participate in filtering applicants according to their dispositions.

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Annexe

<table><caption>Table 1: Changes in the number of first applications and rates of protection granted by OFPRA and CNDA between 1973 and 2021</caption><thead><tr><td>Year</td><td>Number of first applications</td><td>Recognition by OFPRA (%)</td><td>Annulment by the CRR/CNDA (%)</td></tr></thead><tbody><tr><td>1973</td><td>1 620</td><td>85,8</td><td>50,0</td></tr><tr><td>1974</td><td>2 188</td><td>90,1</td><td>36,8</td></tr><tr><td>1975</td><td>8 150</td><td>93,6</td><td>43,9</td></tr><tr><td>1976</td><td>18 478</td><td>95,4</td><td>14,7</td></tr><tr><td>1977</td><td>17 007</td><td>93,8</td><td>37,5</td></tr><tr><td>1978</td><td>16 052</td><td>93,6</td><td>51,3</td></tr><tr><td>1979</td><td>17 034</td><td>85,0</td><td>53,4</td></tr><tr><td>1980</td><td>18 790</td><td>85,4</td><td>52,0</td></tr><tr><td>1981</td><td>19 863</td><td>77,7</td><td>21,8</td></tr><tr><td>1982</td><td>22 505</td><td>73,9</td><td>18,6</td></tr><tr><td>1983</td><td>32 359</td><td>70,0</td><td>7,1</td></tr><tr><td>1984</td><td>21 714</td><td>65,3</td><td>7,6</td></tr><tr><td>1985</td><td>28 925</td><td>43,3</td><td>4,6</td></tr><tr><td>1986</td><td>26 290</td><td>39,0</td><td>6,7</td></tr><tr><td>1987</td><td>27 672</td><td>32,7</td><td>7,6</td></tr><tr><td>1988</td><td>34 354</td><td>34,6</td><td>8,0</td></tr><tr><td>1989</td><td>61 422</td><td>28,1</td><td>7,8</td></tr><tr><td>1990</td><td>54 813</td><td>15,4</td><td>4,7</td></tr><tr><td>1991</td><td>47 380</td><td>19,7</td><td>6,0</td></tr><tr><td>1992</td><td>28 872</td><td>28,0</td><td>8,1</td></tr><tr><td>1993</td><td>27 564</td><td>27,9</td><td>9,1</td></tr><tr><td>1994</td><td>25 964</td><td>23,6</td><td>6,5</td></tr><tr><td>1995</td><td>20 415</td><td>16,3</td><td>4,9</td></tr><tr><td>1996</td><td>17 405</td><td>19,6</td><td>5,4</td></tr><tr><td>1997</td><td>21 416</td><td>17,0</td><td>6,3</td></tr><tr><td>1998</td><td>22 347</td><td>19,4</td><td>8,9</td></tr><tr><td>1999</td><td>30 907</td><td>19,3</td><td>9,1</td></tr><tr><td>2000</td><td>38 747</td><td>17,1</td><td>10,0</td></tr><tr><td>2001</td><td>47 291</td><td>12,4</td><td>10,6</td></tr><tr><td>2002</td><td>51 087</td><td>12,6</td><td>9,4</td></tr><tr><td>2003</td><td>52 204</td><td>9,8</td><td>11,5</td></tr><tr><td>2004</td><td>50 547</td><td>9,3</td><td>12,7</td></tr></tbody></table>

<figure><img src="image_18.png" /></figure>
<table><tr><td>2005</td><td>42 578</td><td>8,2</td><td>15,4</td></tr><tr><td>2006</td><td>26 269</td><td>7,8</td><td>15,5</td></tr><tr><td>2007</td><td>23 804</td><td>11,6</td><td>19,9</td></tr><tr><td>2008</td><td>27 063</td><td>16,2</td><td>25,3</td></tr><tr><td>2009</td><td>33 235</td><td>14,3</td><td>26,6</td></tr><tr><td>2010</td><td>36 931</td><td>13,5</td><td>22,1</td></tr><tr><td>2011</td><td>40 464</td><td>11,0</td><td>17,7</td></tr><tr><td>2012</td><td>41 254</td><td>9,4</td><td>19,7</td></tr><tr><td>2013</td><td>45 925</td><td>12,8</td><td>18,0</td></tr><tr><td>2014</td><td>45 454</td><td>16,9</td><td>19,0</td></tr><tr><td>2015</td><td>59 335</td><td>22,9</td><td>15,0</td></tr><tr><td>2016</td><td>63 935</td><td>28,8</td><td>15,2</td></tr><tr><td>2017</td><td>73 802</td><td>27,2</td><td>16,7</td></tr><tr><td>2018</td><td>92 338</td><td>26,6</td><td>18,4</td></tr><tr><td>2019</td><td>101 841</td><td>23,7</td><td>21,0</td></tr><tr><td>2020</td><td>68 963</td><td>23,7</td><td>24,4</td></tr><tr><td>2021</td><td>66 230</td><td>25,9</td><td>22,1</td></tr></table>

Interpretation: First applications refer to applications submitted to OFPRA for the first time. They do not include "accompanying minors", re-examinations, applications in relation to statelessness, re-opening of files or individuals subject to the Dublin procedure. OFPRA or CNDA (formerly the Refugee Appeals Board—Commission de recours des réfugiés – CRR) recognition rates represent the ratio between the number of applications examined and the number of protections granted (refugee status or subsidiary protection). It should be noted that the number of applications examined is different from the number of first applications and not all persons rejected by OFPRA automatically file an appeal with the CNDA.

Sources: Fassin and Kobelinsky (2012) for the years 1973 to 2011; OFPRA activity reports (https://www.ofpra.gouv.fr/fr/l-ofpra/nos-publications/rapports-d-activite) and CNDA activity reports (http://www.cnda.fr/La-CNDA/Donnees-chiffrees-et-bilans) for the years 2011 to 2021.

## Notes

1 Also known as CPHs.

2 The vulnerability criteria and assessment procedures are set out in Article 21 of Law No. 2015-925 on the reform of the right of asylum. This law transposes into French law EU Directive 2013/33/EU of the European Parliament and of the Council (26 June 2013) laying down standards for the reception of applicants for international protection (recast).

3 To preserve anonymity, the first names of the respondents and the places mentioned in the interview extracts have been changed.

4 It is not known whether minors are taken into account, or individuals subject to the Dublin procedure, including cases of absconding.

5 The issue here is not so much to calculate the exact number of applicants who do not receive accommodation and who may or may not receive the ADA, but to show that they are in the majority and that their administrative and material situations vary widely.

6 The European Dublin III Regulation, organised around the digital tracing of asylum seekers (Ceyhan, 2010), assigns responsibility for examining an asylum application to the first signatory state through which the applicant entered and to which s/he will be returned. If they refuse to be sent back, they are declared by the prefecture to have "absconded" and remain in an irregular situation for eighteen months before they can (re)apply for asylum in France.

7 We see here how the logic of control of accommodation centres, described by Kobelinsky (2015 and 2012b), manifests itself, contributing to isolating residents from certain spheres of solidarity and mutual aid (Alpes, 2017).

8 Accommodation costs are at a minimum in addition to telephone, transport and food costs. The 2018

<figure><img src="image_19.png" /></figure>
"asylum and immigration" law created an additional obstacle to this type of accommodation arrangement by transforming the ADA debit card into a payment-only card, preventing cash withdrawals.

9 The SPADAs are often located far from where asylum applicants are living, sometimes in another département (administrative district), and social workers, overwhelmed by the volume of cases and understaffing, are unable to provide high-quality support.

10 Renewing rights to complementary health coverage (complémentaire santé solidaire – CSS), applying for reduced-fare transport passes, appealing against OFPRA's decision before expiry of the time limit for referrals to the CNDA, etc.

11 Marked by the figure of the political exile, and by a conception of asylum as a right aimed at political dissidents (Akoka, 2020).

12 As Kobelinsky (2012d) describes in relation to social workers, without necessarily sharing in the blame directed at economic migrants, association actors are committed to unmasking “fake refugees” in order to protect the sustainability of asylum on the grounds of sexual orientation or gender identity and the rights of LGBTI individuals.

13 The expression “categories of perception” is borrowed from Fassin and Kobelinsky (2012), as is that of “asylum judges”, used to refer to all the actors responsible for granting or denying refugee status, including OFPRA officials.

14 For example, concerning the possibility and means of applying for an exceptional work permit after six months.

## Pour citer cet article

### Référence électronique

Cyriac Bouchet-Mayer et Sylvain Ferez, « The Significance of Dispositions for Survival and Preparation for the Ordeals of the Asylum Process: A Study among Homosexual Asylum Seekers Excluded from the French Reception Scheme », *Revue européenne des migrations internationales* [En ligne], vol. 39 - n°1 | 2023, mis en ligne le 01 novembre 2025, consulté le 13 février 2026. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/remi/28298 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/15ar7

## Auteurs

Cyriac Bouchet-Mayer

• IDREF : https://idref.fr/260239542

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ORCID: https://orcid.org/0000-0001-8848-3817

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VI
AF

• VIAF : http://viaf.org/viaf/106165322631016020049

Post-doctoral fellow in sociology, University of Montpellier, Santésih, 700 avenue du Pic Saint-Loup, 34090 Montpellier, France; Fellow at the *Institut Convergences Migrations* (ICM); cyriac.bouchet-mayer[at]umontpellier.fr

Sylvain Ferez

• IDREF : https://idref.fr/080146813

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ORCID: https://orcid.org/0000-0001-6376-0689

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VI
AF

• VIAF : http://viaf.org/viaf/29811228

isni

• ISNI : https://isni.org/isni/0000000052885104

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BNF : http://data.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/cb150228797

Senior Lecturer in Sociology, University of Montpellier, Santésih, 700 avenue du Pic Saint-Loup, 34090 Montpellier, France; sylvain.ferez[at]umontpellier.fr

Traducteurs

Alexandra Poméon O'Neill

Katherine Booth

Droits d'auteur

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Le texte seul est utilisable sous licence CC BY 4.0. Les autres éléments (illustrations, fichiers annexes importés) sont susceptibles d'être soumis à des autorisations d'usage spécifiques.

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