WHAT
A Transdisciplinary
Journal of
Queer
Theories and Studies
EVER
whatever.cirque.unipi.it
Nausica Palazzo
Editor’s introduction
Meet the queer families:
A roadmap towards legal recognition
‘What is family?’ is an impossible question. Singular definitions in the legal
realm are predominant in the West. Such definitions are no longer tenable.
The concept of family has been put under strain by both empirical and
normative evolutions concerning the ways in which we do family. Empirically, many families are drifting away from the traditional model of family.1
When it comes to what we define ‘traditional family’, on closer examination, modern arrangements resemble ‘mosaic families’ – that were historically prevalent in continental Europe due to high mortality rates – much
more than they do resemble nuclear families.2 They crumble, recouple, and
reassemble by uniting various pre-existing nuclear families.
More generally, family arrangements have reached unusual levels of
complexity. Queer families are slowly gaining social and, to a limited
extent, legal visibility. By queer families I refer to all familiar bonds that
eschew the paradigm of the archetypical marital family: one that is conjugal, nuclear, dyadic, exclusive, and based on a for-life commitment. This is
consistent with a definition of ‘queer’ as being ‘… whatever is at odds with
the normal, the legitimate, the dominant. There is nothing in particular to
which it necessarily refers’ (Halperin 1995: 62).
See e.g. in the United States, Pew Research Center, ‘As Millennials Near 40, They’re Approaching Family Life Differently Than Previous Generations’ (May 2020)’ https://www.pewsocialtrends.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/3/2020/05/PDST_05.27.20_millennial.families_fullreport.pdf; I offer a primer on these evolutions at the level of family patterns in the Euro-American
context in Palazzo 2021: 7-10.
2
Viktor Orbán’s Ideal Family Wasn’t The Norm Then, Nor Is It Now, in Hungarian Spectrum,
5 April 2021, https://hungarianspectrum.org/2021/04/05/viktor-orbans-ideal-family-wasnt-thenorm-then-nor-is-it-now/
1
nausica.palazzo@mail.huji.ac.il
The Hebrew University of Jerusalem
Whatever, 4 2021: 293-302 | CC 4.0 BY NC-SA
doi 10.13131/2611-657X.whatever.v4i1.144
Nausica Palazzo
‘What is family?’ is also a wrong question. It seems to suggest that
family is an entity of its own with an essence, that family is something. By
contrast, applying the key tenets of queer theories, the logical conclusion is
that we (merely) perform practices that deserve the tag ‘familiar’ (see, e.g.,
Chambers 2012; Plummer 2005). We do family instead and attach meaning
to these practices. Queer theories would in fact help us denaturalize the
notion, which has long seen as a seemingly natural object. In my view, it
would lead us to the conclusion that family should be rather linked ‘to a set
of family functions, such as parenting or the formation of an economic unit
between adults’ (Palazzo 2021: 4; see Swennen & Croce 2021).
‘What is family?’, however, is also a necessary question. It is the inevitable starting point for inquiries outlining how family arrangements are
becoming increasingly varied and experiencing suffusion. Their increasing
complexity has less to do with ontology than it has to do with epistemology and our ability to grasp it. Queer theories have had the welcome effect
of exposing the multitude of ‘possibilities, gaps, overlaps, dissonances and
resonances, lapses, excesses of meanings when the constituent elements
of anyone gender or anyone’s sexuality aren’t made (or can’t be made)
to signify monolithically’(Sedgwick 1993: 8). Likewise, they are unveiling
how the contours of categories are also increasingly blurred. This is, for
instance, visible when it comes to the distinction between friendship and
family (Pahl & Spencer 2004).
‘What is family?’ is hence a necessary question for navigating an ocean
of practices that can be frightful to many. One must acknowledge that
queer theories might generate a horror vacui, i.e. fear deriving from lacking
reference points in a fast-paced world that leaves us constantly breathless.
I shall provide examples regarding the need for retaining the question as a
starting and reference point of this intellectual sailing. First of all, if suffusion is inherent to these affiliations, how do we distinguish familiar from
non-familiar practices? Is the answer different if children come into the
picture as opposed to only having adult-adult relationships? Can we stretch
categories to the point of reshaping notions of death and overcoming the
finiteness of our mortal bodies? Consider the issue of posthumous grandparenthood. Through this practice, grandparents seek to retrieve the sperm
of the deceased son to have a grandchild from the surviving wife or third
party. While being prohibited everywhere, not only is the practice allowed
in Israel, but it is also leading to growing litigation when grandparents and
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the surviving spouse have different ‘views’ about the decision of whether
to pursue it (Hashiloni-Dolev & Triger 2020).
Such evolutions pose unprecedented challenges for lawyers. Assuming
that lawmakers feel the urge to regulate these affiliations, how can a lawyer grapple with anti-dogmatic needs and subjectivities potentially allergic
to categorizations? How can she meaningfully grapple with that ‘horizon
of possibilities’ that cannot be described in advance (Halperin 1995: 62)?
To complicate matters further, while queer sociology as a discipline is now
relatively established (see, e.g., Seidman 1996; Stein & Plummer 1996)
queer legal theory is less developed (Leckey 2014). Queer subjectivities
have an ambivalent relationship with law. When browsing scholarship and
interacting within queer groups on social networks, a lawyer is left wondering whether she is simply out of place. There is widespread skepticism
towards law’s ability to regulate non-normative identities – and rightly so
in many cases.
Some queer theorists would argue that those who do not align with
dominant social and legal norms should eschew encounters with law. On
this view, law is either unable to yield transformative effects and/or legal
recognition is inherently dangerous. The danger would lay in its suffocating the vitality of the identity at stake (Marella 2017). By entering
the realm of law, non-normative identities face the risk of normalization,
civilization, and assimilation into the dominant paradigm (Barker 2006:
249). An example in this regard is the rich literature on (or, more correctly, against) same-sex marriage (see e.g. Feinberg 2013; Ettelbrick
2008; Bernstein Sycamore 2008). Reference is made to the rich strand
of scholarship warning against same-sex marriage becoming the target
of LGBTQ activism (Polikoff 2009; on the limits of seeking ‘equality’
as a gateway to reinforcing dominant paradigms see Franke 2011: 1183;
Dell’Aversano 2019: 13). These scholars suggest recalibrating the target
to include the liberation of diverse, plural lifestyles (see, e.g., D’Emilio
2006: 10). To sum up, queer thinkers have laid out an articulated and
nuanced critique to law’s ability to recognize contemporary complex
(‘queer’) identities.
Yet, ‘angrily he rattles the bars of the iron cage. But he has no plans or
projects for tuming the cage into something more like a human home’:
these are the words that Micheal Walzer directs to Foucault (1988: 209).
Such words nicely capture the frustration at the theory’s penchant for
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deconstructing without constructing. In the realm of law, the issue revolves
around understanding whether there can be a queer approach to legal recognition. Many argue yes (as to Italy’s emerging debate see Lorenzetti
2019: 396; Mastromartino 2017). It is true that the key contribution of
queer theories is to unveil the power structures beyond law’s seemingly
neutral categories as well as its disciplinary effects. Yet, deconstruction
cannot exhaust the whole spectrum of possibilities. Some scholars believe
that law can have a role in facilitating the expression of queer identities.
For instance, aware of the shortcomings of marriage, queer scholarship has
laid ground to the recognition of modern families through various nonmarital regimes. Some scholars placed emphasis on domestic partnerships
(Redding 2011), others on special registration systems (Croce & Swennen 2021; Aloni 2013), others yet on mixed systems of registration plus
ascription of family status in courts (Polikoff 2009). In my view, this link
between nonmarital regimes and queer families holds promise for the regulation of queer identities and must be consolidated further.
These scholarly developments are welcome. When browsing a popular
Italian Facebook group on polyamory and relationship anarchy one can
see that some members feel neglected by law.3 Tullia Della Moglie, an Italian poly activist, nicely expresses her unease with the current situation:
‘Love is not only a more or less romantic or erotic feeling, love can also be bills
coming in, daily routines, smelling feet at night, laundries, children to take care
of, a Netflix subscription… It is not mandatory to plan to cohabit with each partner, but I don’t like the idea that doing so it’s impossible either. I don’t like the
idea that any “additional” relationship is doomed to be an Airbnb stay once a
month’. (author’s translation from Italian)
She then argues in favor of some form of legal recognition for this to
become reality. An appetite for law especially arises whenever queer families encounter situations of vulnerability. These situations materialize anytime lack of legal recognition bars access to the services and privileges set
forth in the law. Think of tenancy rights upon the death of a partner or
the enjoyment of the protection against marital status discrimination in
hiring, accessing services, etc. Lack of access to these resources bars the
The facebook group name is “Poliamore e anarchia relazionale_Gruppo di discussione sulle
non monogamie”.
3
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enjoyment of equal status and respect in society compared to those people
who check the boxes of the archetypical marital family.
This themed section has a double-barreled ambition. It first wishes to
introduce queer families to the general public, especially in Italy, where
this law journal has its headquarters. With some exceptions, the topic of
the relationship between law and queer families is largely understudied
(Marella 2017; Fioramonti 2017; Grande & Pes 2018; Lorenzetti 2019;
Rizzuti 2020). The second aim of the themed section, therefore, is to offer
reflections on the relationship between queer families and law.
The collection will look at the topic of queer families and the law from
various angles. The attempt being made is to embrace instead of concealing the complexity of the questions surrounding the topic. The adopted
approach is interdisciplinary and comparative. As to the former modifier,
in this area, one should strive to establish a sustained dialogue among legal
research and disciplines within social sciences and humanities – notably
social philosophy, psychology, literature, and gender studies. This collection
is based on the premise that not only can law draw empirical and conceptual nourishment from such disciplines, but that it also needs them to interpret the reality it is supposed to regulate. A second methodological choice
is to look at the problem through a comparative lens. The thematic section
glances over different geographical contexts. These include Italy, the space
of the European Union and European Convention of Human Rights, and
Canada. In so doing, it restricts its reach and findings to these territories.
Ultimately, the section adopts three working languages – Italian, English,
and French. It does so on the assumption that our relationship with reality
is mediated by language (‘The limits of my language mean the limits of
my world’, Wittgenstein 1921: 5.62) and that multiplying languages can
expand the scope of the perception of the reality we seek to speak.
All articles within this themed section engage with the topic of the law/
queer families relationship. This topic should be nested within the larger
framework of queer theories and their connection with law. To sum up, a
recurring question is: ‘Is law a good idea?’. In turn, locating the question
whether law is a good idea in the context of family is a useful resource to
seek an answer, however plural, inconclusive, and tentative.
The issue begins with the article ‘How queer!? Canadian approaches
to recognizing queer families in the law’ by Lois Harder. In her article,
Harder introduces us to a jurisdiction that is at the forefront in granting
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legal recognition to queer parents, Canada. She offers a tale of success but
also caution. Harder starts off by describing what from a queer perspective
one could define a ‘success story’: in Canada, all provinces and territories
allow the registration of an ‘other parent’ on birth registration certificates;
more crucially, three provinces – Ontario, British Columbia, and Saskatchewan –, permit the legal recognition of three or more intentional parents.
The issue is all the more relevant after on April 23, 2021, the Supreme
Court of British Columbia recognized the third non-biological parent in a
polyamorous relationship in addition to the two biological parents (British
Columbia Birth Registration No. 2018-XX-XX5815, 2021 BCSC 767).
Yet, she also warns us of the limits of these reforms. Harder is especially
concerned that, while it is undoubtable that multi-parenting challenges the
dyadic, heterosexual model, it also ‘trade[s] on conjugality and biological
relationship to a considerable extent’. In her observation that there are many
more families eschewing even these queer family forms (what she dubs
‘queerer forms of non-normative family life’), she implicitly expresses unease
with law being able to mirror the uncategorizable universe of queer families.
The second article, by Benjamin Moron-Puech, takes a more positive
stance towards legal recognition. Moron-Puech offers a thorough overview
of the absent or insufficient legal recognition of what he dubs ‘familles
MISSEG’ (‘MISSEG families’). By the term, he refers to all families that are
minoritized on account of sex characteristics, gender identity or expression
or sexual orientation. He adopts a new queer definition of family to encompass all familiar bonds that suffer from the non-recognition of law. These
include inter alia families with trans* or intersex persons, and polyamorous relationships. Moron-Puech offers us an overview of the European
landscape by looking at how both the European Court of Human Rights
and Court of Justice of the European Union fail to fully recognize such
affiliations. His work is ambitious in its assessing both the horizontal relationship of adults and the vertical parent-child relationship. In his analysis,
Moron-Puech observes how the vertical relationships seem to attract more
legal protection compared to adult-adult relationships. This is especially
due to the gravitational pull of the best interest of the child.
Research on polyamory is the focus of the third and fourth contribution. This research is fascinating as it powerfully loosens the shackles of
monogamy. Monogamy is so central to Western societies as to being heralded as the reason of a supposed economic and social superiority of the
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West, compared to ‘Oriental’ societies (Henrich, Boyd & Richerson 2012).
Until relatively recently the monogamous paradigm was only challenged
by polygamy, and particularly by the polygynous practices of Muslim and
some Mormon communities that had settled in the West. These practices
were largely seen as incompatible with egalitarian Western values, and
thus dismissed on this account. They especially garnered criticism from
scholars pointing to the patriarchal structures of power characterizing
them (see e.g. Moller Okin 1999; Bala 2009; Strassberg 2010). Similar
objections are now overcome by the practice of polyamory. Unlike polygamy, polyamory is based on the egalitarian, ‘contractual’ values of continuous negotiation and consent as well as logics of personal satisfaction.
This is why research on this point is seen as better suited to interrogate
the monogamous paradigm engrafted in law (but see Palazzo & Redding
forthcoming on both sides’ potential to challenge the paradigm).
Two authors engage with cutting-edge topics related to law and polyamory. Francesca Miccoli looks at the topic of the institutionalization of
plural marriage. Starting from arguments from the right that there will be a
slide down the so-called slippery slope, Miccoli draws a comparison with the
legal recognition of same-sex marriage. In so doing, she explicates the opportunities as well as obstacles for polyamorous unions to follow in the footsteps of same-sex couples. Miccoli doubts, as many queer theorists did, that
marriage can accommodate these intimate affiliations. She is, by contrast,
more open to the possibility of pursuing more flexible nonmarital regimes.
Aurelio Castro offers a much-needed psychosocial analysis of the legal
recognition of polyamory. He foregrounds the centrality of psychosocial
analysis to informing arguments aimed at legally recognizing same-sex
couples. Research on non-monogamous lifestyles seeks to shed light on
the ‘quality’ of the relationship as well as their suitability for parenting.
In this regard, Castro rightly recalls how, despite heterosexual couples not
being required to demonstrate their suitability for parenting, both samesex and polyamorous families are called to demonstrate as much. He thus
seeks to fill this gap in literature. Castro shows how these families present
many challenges (as any other family unit). At the same time, however,
polyamorous families also seem to offer many advantages and become a
source of wellbeing for the parties involved. He ultimately shares a cautiously optimistic view of law, by framing legal recognition as a delicate
‘process-compromise’ (citing to Grande & Pes 2018).
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What this strand of scholarship does not challenge, however, is the
romantic coupledom paradigm, what Robert Leckey dubs ‘compulsory
romantic love’ (Leckey 2014: 10). Alice Parrinello’s piece does as much.
With her literary analysis of three narratives drawn from contemporary
LGBTQ Italian literature, she castes a glance on non-conjugal families of relatives supporting each other in their adult life. These unions are also known
as extended families. Empirical research suggests that the predominance
of the extended family in the pre-industrialization era is largely a myth.
By contrast, its influence nowadays is increasing. In Canada, for instance,
so-called multi-generational households are the fastest growing household since 2001; in the US, Bengston also noted the increasing incidence of
these households attributing it to the collapsing of the nuclear family and
to higher longevity rates (Bengston 2001). Here, more than everywhere
else,4 is visible the underlying tension between tradition and modernity in
family arrangements. Stacey (1996) has indeed dubbed the popularity of the
extended family as a movement ‘backward toward the postmodern family’.
There is something deeply radical (‘postmodern’) in a decision to (re)
constitute this kind of familiar bond in one’s adult life. Parrinello compellingly illustrates this point. Not only does she deconstruct the romantic
paradigm, but also the trope according to which queer persons must move
to the city to find happiness. Parrinello links this pro-urban rhetoric to
homonormative discourses still integral to the construction of the acceptable queer citizen. In so doing, she debunks the ineluctability of moving to
the city/founding a family of choice as opposed to living in the countryside/being allegedly constrained by a biological family.
It is my hope that this section can become the wellspring of more reflections about queer families’ uncomfortable, yet likely necessary, encounters
with law.
Nausica Palazzo
nausica.palazzo@mail.huji.ac.il
The Hebrew University of Jerusalem
Another area in which this tension is visible is also assisted reproductive technology (ART).
When it comes to ART, modernity manifests itself in the technology required to help parents
conceive their child, while tradition manifests itself in the unfaded attachment to biological parenthood and blood relations. See Hashiloni-Dolev & Triger 2020: 9.
4
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Barker N., 2006, “Sex and the Civil Partnership Act: The Future of (Non) Conjugality?”, in Feminist Legal Studies, 14: 241-259.
Bengtson V.L., 2001, “Beyond the Nuclear Family: The Increasing Importance of
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Croce M., Swennen F., 2021, ‘Cont(r)actualisation: A Politics of Transformative
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Ettelbrick P., 2008, “Since When Is Marriage a Path to Liberation?”, reprinted
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Leckey R., 2014, After Legal Equality, Routledge, Abingdon.
Lorenzetti A., 2019, “Diritto e queer: spunti di riflessione”, in Materiali per una
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storia della cultura giuridica, no. 2: 381-397.
Marella M.R., 2017, “Queer Eye for Straight Guy. Sulle possibilita di un’analisi
giuridica queer”, in Politica del Diritto, 3: 386.
Mastromartino F., 2017, “Contro l’eteronormatività. La soggettività queer di
fronte al dilemma del riconoscimento giuridico”, in M.G. Bernardini, O. Giolo
(cur.), Le teorie critiche del diritto, Pacini Giuridica, Pisa, 231-247.
Moller Okin S., 1999, Is Multiculturalism Bad for Women?, Princeton University
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Palazzo N., 2021, Legal Recognition of Non-Conjugal Families: New Frontiers in
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under the Law, Beacon Press, Boston.
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WHAT
A Transdisciplinary
Journal of
Queer
Theories and Studies
EVER
whatever.cirque.unipi.it
Lois Harder
How queer!?
Canadian approaches to recognizing queer families in the law
Abstract: Canada is at the global forefront in providing legal recognition to queer parents. To
date, three of its ten provinces (British Columbia, Ontario and Saskatchewan) will grant parental
status to three or more intentional parents and enable their identification on birth registration. All
provinces and territories permit the registration of an “other parent” on birth registration, and all
jurisdictions enable queer couples to adopt. Notably, these legislative accomplishments have not
attracted a great deal of political resistance. The relatively slow process of reforming parentage
law to adapt to same-sex marriage and common law relationships, favourable court rulings and
the combination of the need to address parentage in situations involving both assisted reproduction and queer families have been significant factors in the Canadian story. Moreover, the terms of
the legal provisions continue to rely largely on conjugality and biology as the basis of parentage
claims. These developments have clearly been important for some queer families, but they exist
within fairly conventional parameters, begging the question as to how queer Canada’s parentage
recognition really is.
Keywords: Family law; LGBT studies; social theory; Canada.
Canada is at the global forefront in providing legal recognition to queer
parents.1 To date, three of its ten provinces (British Columbia, Ontario and
Saskatchewan) will grant parental status to three or more intentional parents and enable their identification on birth registration. All provinces and
territories permit the registration of an “other parent” on birth registration
(in addition to the birth parent; or in cases of surrogacy, in place of the birth
parent). And all jurisdictions enable queer couples to adopt. Nonetheless,
Australia, the Netherlands, New Zealand, the United Kingdom and the United States all have
provisions for a non-biological same-sex partner to be named a parent. Australia, New Zealand
and the UK maintain a two-parent limit (on Australia see Budimski & Nioloudakis 2020; Law
Commission of New Zealand 2005; UK Human Fertilisation and Embryology Act 2008). Some US
jurisdictions have recognized three parents, but, to date, these determinations have not been part
of a pre-conception agreement, or by operation of law (Jacobs 2016). Further, the Netherlands
has legislation recognizing up to four parents, but they are differentiated, with biological parents
having greater parental rights than ‘custodial’ parents (Dixon 2019; Trachman 2019).
1
lharder@ualberta.ca
University of Alberta
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Lois Harder
there are a number of inconsistencies and contradictions in the Canadian
queer parentage landscape that complicate this rosy glow of progressiveness. Tellingly, these legislative accomplishments are not especially marked
by the scars of bitter divisiveness, pitting homophobic and transphobic
resistance and ardent fathers’ rights advocates against queer families.
Rather, the laws recognizing multiple parents have, in fact, encountered
relatively little overt political resistance (Kelly 2014: 580; Snow 2017: 341).
Does the fact that Canadians are so blasé about multiple parents indicate
an especially queer-inclusive political zeitgeist? Or, by contrast, does this
lack of political ardour suggest that multiple parentage, as currently articulated in the law, isn’t really so radical – so queer – after all?
Legal recognition of queer relationships and families is a quintessential
paradox. Queer identities are queer precisely because they resist definition, challenging normative conceptions of how people are expected to
represent themselves and relate to others. Queerness is an ongoing critical
engagement with social intelligibility. It is unfixed. As Judith Butler has so
captivatingly argued, if the term “queer” is to be a site of collective contestation… it will have to remain that which is, in the present, never fully
owned but always and only redeployed, twisted, queered from a prior usage
and in the direction of urgent and expanding political purposes” (1993: 312).
Yet such fluidity is antithetical to law and to legal recognition; domains in
which clear definition is regarded as essential for effective adjudication.
Moreover, in the absence of clarity, judges work to insert it, constraining
language and rules in the service of order, as much (or more) as justice.
Meanwhile, queer families who seek the protection that legal recognition
affords – people who “desire the state’s desire” – are also pursuing a certain
solidity and security (Butler 2004: 111). They desire “to vacate the lonely
particularity of the nonratified relation and, perhaps above all, to gain both
place and sanctification in that imagined relation to the state” (Butler
2004: 111). This is a difficult political space to inhabit, and, undoubtedly,
queer parents and families inhabit it differently depending on their values
and the conditions that enable and constrain their capacity for family life.
Moreover, as the temporal qualification that opened this essay suggests,
the contours of queer familial political space change over time, even within
bounded national and sub-national jurisdictions.
In this paper, I examine the legal regimes that govern queer family recognition in Canada, arguing that despite the progressiveness (or
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permissiveness) of Canadian approaches to recognizing non-normative
families, legal parentage remains significantly circumscribed by genetics,
biology and conjugality.2 The fight for legal recognition of queer families has
had some significant effects, obliging governments and legal challengers to
reveal the taken-for-granted assumptions that have undergirded family law
for centuries. These revelations have been fundamental to broadening the
legal landscape of queer inclusion. Yet, to the extent that queer inclusion
derives from liberal, privatized norms of familial relationality (whether
biological or conjugal) and intentionality, the Canadian regime is less
transgressive than it might first appear. Of course, this is a relative claim,
and I do not wish to diminish the very real gains that queer parents have
enjoyed, nor the distance they still have to travel in many Canadian provinces and territories. Yet the fact that many, indeed, the majority, of queer
families, do not find their dynamic family forms represented in the law,
reveals the degree to which legal recognition is still insufficiently inclusive
in certain contexts, at least for those who seek or would benefit from such
recognition. By contrast, for queer families who are politically disinclined
to seek legal sanctification, these emerging regimes may be increasingly
constraining and normalizing.
The paper proceeds by providing a broad outline of the development of
parental status recognition in Canada, with particular emphasis on legal
developments concerning reproductive technologies and queer parents.
After outlining the historical context for parentage recognition and its
recent developments in Canada, I turn to two illustrative cases in which
courts in Ontario and Newfoundland and Labrador have seen fit to recognize three parents – a lesbian couple and their known donor; and a polyamorous heterosexual threesome. I then turn to legislative efforts in BC,
Ontario and Saskatchewan to recognize three or more parents. The child’s
best interests, the functional dimensions of care-giving, and the need to
Comparative scholarship on reproductive technologies, parentage and queer inclusion describes legal and political regimes along a permissive-restrictive continuum, apparently, according to Snow, to avoid the normative claims associated with the language of conservative/liberal,
traditional/non-traditional, and natural/unnatural (Snow 2016: 7). Leibetseder and Griffin (2020),
however, seem to eschew this concern to “avoid normative trappings” (Snow 2016), mobilizing
their comparative framework to reveal the various normative assumptions that underlie laws in
Estonia, Austria and the UK with regard to queer access to parentage recognition and reproductive technologies. Since I argue from an openly normative position, I do not feel beholden to these
terms of art, though I mobilize them when they are helpfully illuminating.
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address parentage issues that arise from assisted reproduction have been
critical to the political and legal traction of these reforms, suggesting that
the state’s interest in both recognizing the dynamics of contemporary family formation and facilitating privatized support may outweigh the symbolism of traditional, moral arguments about the monogamous, reproductive
family.
Parentage law in Canada
The state’s interests in regulating the status of parents are articulated in the
rights that flow from guardianship, inheritance and citizenship laws. These
interests include:
a. Assigning responsibility for care (emotional and physical nurturance; necessaries of life; health care; education etc.)
b. Conferring decision-making authority on behalf of a child
c. Conferring support obligations in the event of divorce or relationship
breakdown
d. Granting the capacity to act in legal proceedings on behalf of the child
e. Determining rights of inheritance
f. Determining citizenship
While none of these activities inherently rely on a biological relationship
to be fulfilled, families – based around presumptive biological relationships
underpinned by the legal framework of marriage – provide the foundation
from which these obligations flow. Thus, the state’s interests in ensuring
the care of children align with the state’s governance of kinship – or who
constitutes a family.
As alluded to above, in Canada, parentage determinations fall under
provincial authority, while marriage and divorce are a federal jurisdiction.
When Canada passed the Civil Marriage Act in 2005, marriage between
same-sex partners became legal across the country. Provinces and territories were much slower, however, to adapt their parentage laws to this
new reality. This disconnection is interesting for what it reveals about the
relationship between marriage and parentage. Historically, of course, legal
definitions of parents tracked marriage very closely.
In the English common law tradition and the French Civil Code – structures of legal ordering that, predictably, take heterosexism and gender binarism as a given – men are understood to maintain a paternal presumption
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in which a husband is the father to any children of his marriage: pater est
quem nuptia demonstrant (Freeman & Richards 2006: 72; Mykitiuk 2001:
779). This presumption finds its origins in the indeterminacy of paternity
and the certainty of birth from the mother. Since paternal certainty through
DNA testing is a very recent development, the law’s paternal presumption
via marriage did the work of securing the relationship between father and
children. Thus, a child born within the context of a marriage, but whose
biological inheritance came from someone other than the husband, nonetheless was understood to be a son or daughter to the mother’s husband.
And while a man might attempt to rebut his paternity in such circumstances, such efforts were rare and courts were largely unpersuaded (Bala
& Ashbourne 2012: 529-30).
Historically, the paternal presumption also distinguished between legitimate children, defined as those of the marriage, and illegitimate children,
those produced outside of marital relations. A child born out of wedlock
was rendered filius nullius (child of no one). Illegitimacy meant that an
actually existing, living being could not command the status of a legal person nor could that non-person claim rights to lineage, to inherit or pass on
their own wealth (Mykitiuk 2001: 782). While mothers could create bare
life, only husband-fathers could confer full humanity and full entry into
the social realm.
Today, most of Canada’s various provincial and territorial family law (or
child status) acts define fathers as, in the first instance, biological fathers.3
That declaration of parenthood is subsequently qualified by numerous provisions describing paternal/parental presumptions, provisions that have
become considerably more extensive given the demise of the status of illegitimacy, the prevalence of cohabitation, and, slowly and unevenly, the recognition of same-sex partners as non-biological parents by virtue of a child
being born within the context of the relationship and with their consent.
These presumptions include (male) persons who were the spouses of, or
cohabited with, women (persons) who gave birth during the course of the
relationship, within 300 days of the relationship’s end, or who married or
See, for example, Alberta Family Law Act S.A. 2003, c. F-4.5 [Alberta FLA], s. 8; British Columbia Family Law Act S.B.C. 2011, c.25 [BC FLA] s. 26; Manitoba Family Maintenance Act CCSM
c F20 s. 23 [Manitoba FMA]; Ontario Children’s Law Reform Act R.S.O. 1990, c. C. 12 [Ontario
CLRA] s. 7; Art 525 Civil Code of Québec [CCQ]; Newfoundland and Labrador Children’s Law Act
RSNL 1990, c C-13 [NLCLA], s.10.
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began cohabiting with the mother (birth parent) and acknowledge that they
are the father (parent) of the child.4 These laws do not mandate DNA testing
to ensure paternity within a family headed by a heterosexual couple. Rather,
the admissibility of DNA tests is only contemplated when paternity is contested. Moreover, if paternity (parental status) is successfully contested,
Canadian law declares that no person shall be presumed to be the child’s
father (parent).5 Fatherhood then, may be defined as biological, but that is
the work of the law, rather than nature itself. More specifically, legal fatherhood is determined by the relative formality of the connection between
men and mothers. In more updated legislation, this formal connection is
expected between the birth parent and their spouse or conjugal partner.
Scientific advances have also troubled the certainty of maternity. Reproductive technologies have made it possible for three people to claim motherhood: the person who intends to care for a child, the person who contributes the genetic material, and the person who gestates the embryo and
gives birth (Boyd 2007: 69; Mykitiuk 2001: 791). In Canadian jurisdictions,
this complicated field of potential maternal claims has been resolved by
identifying the gestational parent as the mother, or birth parent, in the
first instance. In those provinces that include provisions for surrogacy and
intentional parents, the birth parent is able to waive their parental rights in
a relatively straightforward and expeditious process after the birth of the
child, if the intended parent(s) and the birth parent have fulfilled various
formalities in advance of the conception.6
See, for example, AB FLA, s. 8; BC FLA, s. 26; Manitoba FMA, s. 23; ON CLRA s. 7; Art 525
CCQ; NLCLA, s. 10. Since only Ontario and Saskatchewan use trans-inclusive language, and several other provinces rely on the heterosexual norm with exceptions framed as “other parent” in
situations involving assisted reproduction, I have attempted to represent the range of language
that appears in these statutes.
5
See, for example, Manitoba FMA s. 34; ON CLRA s.7(3). This rebuttable presumption also
applies to same-sex partners who wish to dispute their consent to parent, or to clarify their lack
of intention to be a parent. Yet while rebutting the presumption may block parental designation,
it is less clear that it blocks “parent-like” obligation. In the case of Doe v. Alberta 2007 ABCA 50
(CanLII), for example, a woman in a heterosexual couple desired a child, while her male partner
did not. They attempted to establish an agreement through which the male partner would be
explicitly excluded from any responsibilities for the child. The judge held that such a contract
was invalid, and that while the male partner could not be understood as a parent (the child was
conceived with the assistance of an anonymous sperm donor and he clearly did not consent to be
a parent), their shared residence and the relationship between the adults would necessarily create
bonds between the man and the child.
6
In BC, this process is administrative (BC FLA s. 29, 31). In Alberta, Ontario, Nova Scotia and
Saskatchewan, the process requires a declaration from the court. AB FLA 2003, s .8.2 ON CLRA
4
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Most recently, Ontario and Saskatchewan have adopted trans inclusive
language for their parentage provisions, dispensing with the designation
of mother and father altogether. For example, both provinces declare the
“birth parent of a child…to be a parent of the child”, and that if a child was
conceived through sexual intercourse, “the person’s sperm [that] resulted
in the conception of the child”, holds a rebuttable presumption of parenthood.7 As I discuss below, it was this removal of the status markers of
“mother” and “father” that led to the most significant political contestation
in the Ontario legislative reform process. The objection here was not about
trans inclusion or multiple parent provisions, but rather the affront to the
cultural meanings of these kinship designations (Cross 2016).
Despite these technological developments and the extension of relationship recognition to include same-sex marriage, as well as cohabiting
relationships for different and same-sex partners (presumptively monogamous), most Canadian provinces have, as noted, been remarkably slow
to respond to their implications for parental status determination (Rogerson 2017 9192). The extension of a parental presumption to the same-sex
partner of a birth parent has been hard fought and remains unavailable in
child status law (even if it is possible to be registered as a child’s “other
parent” on the birth registry) in four provinces and two territories.8 And,
in the uneven recognition of surrogacy arrangements, gay male couples
have also struggled to have their parenthood recognized. As Robert Leckey
observes, the prohibition against surrogacy in Quebec means that gay men
are required to use the adoption process to create families, regardless of
genetic contribution (2009: 267). Further, situations in which people want to
co-parent outside the dyadic model, involving various biological, genetic or
otherwise interested parties, have only been addressed in British Columbia
(2013), Ontario (2016) and Saskatchewan (2020), and largely constrained by
s. 10 (7); Nova Scotia, Birth Registration Regulations, NS Reg 390/2007, s. 3; Saskatchewan Children’s Law Act S.S. 2020, c. 2, s. 62(7) [SK CLA].
7
See Ontario, Children’s Law Reform Act, RSO 1990, c C.12,[Ontario CLRA] s. 6,7; Saskatchewan,
Children’s Law Act, 2020, C-2. [Saskatchewan CLA] s. 58, 59.
8
Manitoba, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland and Labrador, NWT, and Nunavut.
Note, however, that the Newfoundland and Labrador Supreme Court has recently used its parens
patriae powers to recognize three parents to a child born within the context of a polyamorous
relationship. CC (Re), 2018 NLSC 71 (discussed below), and that the Manitoba court has held that
the Family Maintenance Act is in violation of the equality protections of the Charter of Rights and
Freedoms, and that the legislation must be in compliance by November 2021. See: JAS and CMM
et al v. (Manitoba) Attorney General MBQB, 20-01-24769.
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the bounds of conjugality and biological/genetic contribution. Otherwise,
a two parent limit prevails in Canadian jurisdictions.9 How do we understand this hesitancy to recognize more varieties of parentage, how does
that hesitancy relate to the purposes of parentage, and what happened in
those jurisdictions that have, in fact, gone beyond the parental dyad? The
remainder of the paper considers these questions, first, in the context of the
family of liberal democracy and then turning to case law and legislation,
demonstrating the possibilities and inferring the limits of queer inclusion
within the laws of parental recognition.
The liberal democratic state and family status
In many respects, the relationship between the liberal rights that underpin contemporary democracy and the institution of the family has been
extremely awkward. The family has long been understood as a site of privacy; a space beyond the reach of the state (qua: “the state has no place
in the bedrooms of the nation,” as former Canadian Prime Minister Pierre
Trudeau famously stated). In its historical formulation, the monogamous,
heterosexual family supported the emotional needs of men under the model
of paterfamilias and the doctrine of coverture, in which, through marriage,
two would become one, and that one would be the husband (Cott 2000:
11-12). The sanctity of the hearth and home supported men’s rational deliberation and action in the public sphere of politics and commerce (Ferguson
2012: 14, 22-24; Pateman 1988). Despite the clear power imbalances that
such an arrangement relies upon, the family has, nonetheless, been understood as, “pre-political” or a space in which claims of rights and appeals to
equality clash with intimate bonds of love and care (Stevens 1999: 55-56).
As we know, from our current vantage, this tension between family privacy and democratic equality has been steadily challenged. Over the last
150 years, for example, women have fought to realize democracy’s promise
of equality and freedom that this conception of family privacy had denied
them. These triumphs have included married women’s property rights, the
right to vote, the ability of married women to enter into contracts on their
Notably however, multiple parties may be designated as “standing in place of a parent” or
as “guardians”. The first of these has arisen from situations of separation and divorce, in which
a step-parent may desire a continued relationship with a child, or the state may impose support
obligations on the basis of a finding of a “parent-like” relationship (Chartier v. Chartier 1999 1 SCR
242). Guardians have considerably more legal responsibilities, but their status generally ends
when the child reaches the age of majority.
9
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own behalf, and to divorce without fault. Technological developments such
as contraception have enabled women to exercise control over their reproductive lives, the spacing of their children and the size of their families.
These struggles for equality within the family have extended to the
concept of equality among families, and the fight by LGBTQ+ folks to
have their families recognized in the law. From the decriminalization of
homosexuality to protection against discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation and gender identity, to legal status for same-sex cohabiting
and married couples, access to reproductive technologies and adoption for
same-sex partners, parental registration and, increasingly, parental status
designations by operation of law, LGBTQ+ Canadians have seen a steady
improvement in their ability to form families under conditions of their
choosing and to have them appropriately recognized.
One might note, here, that the efforts of women and sexual minorities
to have their autonomous personhood and close personal relationships
recognized has required a refashioning of the state’s governance of the
private realm, rather than an unprecedented incursion of the public into
the private, as some conservative commentators have suggested (Cere &
Farrow 2004). It is not a “natural fact” that a man should be the head of
the household, or that households are “naturally” formed by monogamous
heterosexual couples and their offspring. Instead, this family form was
achieved through law and politics and actively reinforced through prohibitions on alternative family forms and on autonomy within the family.
Efforts to redefine family roles and structures do require political will and
legal reform, but it is inaccurate to define these efforts as an inappropriate
incursion of the public into the private. Instead, the demand for equality
within and between families is a desire for an extended access both to the
benefits that accrued to the family patriarch as well as the dignity and
autonomy that family status itself, conveys (Boyd 2013: 268).
Democratic values have also impacted families with regard to the status of children. The demise of illegitimacy, as already observed, was an
important development in ensuring fundamental equality regardless of the
circumstances of one’s birth. Further, the advent of children’s rights, notably in the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, and the emergence of
“child’s best interests” as the appropriate standard for adjudicating issues
of custody, adoption, support and access have established children as subjects with inherent rights, rather than subordinating them to the rights and
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interests of parents.10 Of course, the question of how to determine a child’s
best interests presents its own set of challenges, often deeply entwined
with normative conceptions of the functional family. The recognition that
a child’s best interests can be assured by loving parents, regardless of their
gender identity, or the mode of the child’s conception, has been fundamental to the ability of same-sex and queer parents to form families (Kelly
2009a). Yet, the inconsistency and difficulty of parentage determinations
in situations involving conception through reproductive technologies,
and especially when those situations involve queer partners undermines
Canadians’ access to equality in the realm of sexual orientation and family
status. Moreover, children may face unequal treatment with regard to the
security of their parentage and the obligations that flow from that status,
depending on their mode of conception. In Caron, for example Canada’s
Ministry of Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship denied citizenship to
an infant on grounds that he was not genetically or gestationally related
to his Canadian mother.11 Born abroad with the assistance of reproductive
technologies and in the context of a same-sex relationship, he was nonetheless denied Canadian citizenship because of a failure of the Canadian
Citizenship Act to contemplate either queer parentage or the implications
of reproductive technologies. In the summer of 2020, however, the parents
succeeded in having this assessment overturned, and the Minister for Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship indicated his enthusiasm for expanding
the definition of parent in the Citizenship Act to include queer couples,
stating that “Canada is grateful to them for the courage and strength they
have shown in righting this wrong” (Mendocino cited in Burns 2020).
Hesitancy and the slow train of recognition
I began this article with the observation that there has been relatively little
overt, organized resistance to extending parental status to same-sex partners, and yet it has also been very slow in coming. Certainly, this lack of
alacrity might be read as a kind of resistance in itself. However, as the
complicated parental claims that emerge from the assisted reproduction
scenarios combine with a desire for queer parenting, it is also evident that
the task of legal codification is challenging. Canadian jurisdictions have
The Supreme Court’s decision in King v. Low [1985] 1 S.C.R. definitively established child’s best
interests as the appropriate judicial standard.
11
Caron c. Attorney General of Canada 2020 QCCS 2700 (CanLII)
10
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landed on the determination that the person who gives birth is a parent
in the first instance, regardless of their genetic relationship to the child or
their conjugal relationship to the person who provided the sperm (Wiegers 2012/13: 192-93). The birth parent can sign away their parentage – as in
a surrogacy arrangement, but the surrogacy agreement is not recognized
as a valid contract in any Canadian jurisdiction, and thus does not provide
intentional parents with a legal claim to the child in the case of a dispute.12
By now, most provinces have clarified the law surrounding the parentage
claims of genetic donors. People are not considered parents by virtue of
donation alone (Wiegers 2012/13: 185-90).13 On one reading, considering
the heterosexual context, this provision can be understood as a protection
of the sanctity of the procreative family. Despite the use of donor sperm,
the husband or male partner of the birth mother thus maintains his claim
to paternity – at least so long as he agrees to the arrangement. In a more
queer-friendly interpretation – if also a homonormative one – such provisions can be seen to protect lesbian couples from the unwanted intervention of a known donor into the familial scene (Kelly 2013: 3-4). As we
have seen, the non-biological partner of a birth mother is increasingly recognized as the child’s other parent, creating increased security for lesbian
partners. Yet when it comes to the parentage of gay men, people without
a dyadic conjugal connection to a birth parent, and people desiring to parent beyond the two parent framework, Canadian parentage provisions are
much more diffuse, uneven and unhelpful.
As this brief summary indicates, the expansion of parentage recognition
has been most readily achieved when the reforms have been fairly easily
accommodated within the terms of existing legal regimes. Since many legal
reforms have emerged from case law and legal arguments are constructed
around analogies to existing practices, the echo of heterosexist practice in
contemporary parentage norms is unsurprising. It is also true that queer
The Canadian legal framework governing reproductive technologies is framed around the
recommendations of a Royal Commission on Reproductive Technologies that reported in 1993.
Since reproductive technologies were a new phenomenon at the time, the Commission was extremely concerned that women be protected from exploitation. And while they did not recommend
a complete prohibition of surrogacy, their distaste for the practice was strongly articulated. It is
also true that surrogates very rarely renege on their agreements (Nelson 2018: 188 and 194).
13
At the time that Wiegers’ article was published, this claim was true in 5 of 10 provinces.
Subsequently Ontario and Saskatchewan have added such provisions to their legislation and
Manitoba seems set to act similarly.
12
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folks who desire legal recognition are more likely to hew to the dyadic
norm. Thus, parentage reforms have been most readily achieved when the
demand aligns with the contemporary limits of the legal imagination.
Child’s best interests, parens patriae, and three-parent
decisions in Ontario and Newfoundland and Labrador
Another important element in the response to demands for recognition of
expanded family forms is the normatively freighted assessment of a child’s
best interest. Canada’s first foray into the prospect of a three parent family
is instructive here. In the Ontario case of AA v BB, [2007] ONCA 2 [AA v
BB 2007], a lesbian couple conceived with the help of a friend and all three
parties to the arrangement felt that it would be in the child’s best interests
that they all be declared parents. According to Ontario law at the time,
however, only the birth mother and the father were permitted to be parents.
The non-biological co-mother would only be permitted to be recognized as
a parent if one of the other parents reneged their parental status and she
was permitted to adopt (AA v BB 2007, par 13]. Importantly, the child’s care
was primarily conducted by her mothers, while the father, who was in a
heterosexual relationship, had less frequent engagement with the child. Yet
despite the functional operation of the family, the law placed primacy on
the biological parents and wrote the non-biological mother out of the script
entirely. While the trial judge was sympathetic to the claimants’ argument,
he ultimately felt constrained by the use of the definitive article “the” in the
legislation, finding that the law “contemplates only one mother of a child…
the use of the words ‘the father’ and ‘the mother’…connoting a single father
and a single mother” (AA v BB 2007, par 18). Moreover, the trial judge held
that the limit of two parents was the express intent of the legislation, and
thus, that he could not use the parens patriae jurisdiction to fill a gap in the
legislation (AA v BB 2007, par 28).14 By contrast, the appeal court judge held
that there was a gap in the legislation; that it would not have occurred to
legislators at the time the act was passed that three parents were a possibility, and thus that he would indeed use the court’s parens patriae jurisdiction
to recognize three parents (AA v BB 2007, par 38). Since the motivation
for the act had been to redress the harms of the status of illegitimacy and
Parens patriae refers to the court’s inherent jurisdiction to protect a child from danger or to
bridge a legislative gap (AA v BB, par 27).
14
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to ensure the equality of children regardless of the circumstances of their
birth, that logic could be extended to the child whose parentage was under
consideration in this case (AA v BB 2007, par. 38).
AA v BB thus represents a very specific set of circumstances and was
determined by a judge prepared to foreground the needs of the child and
the actual operation of the family over more traditional, putatively biological, configurations of the family. Certainly, the traditional view made
an appearance in the case, both in the form of the intervenor status of the
Alliance for Marriage and Family, and in the two person, heterosexual limit
on parentage inferred in the legislation by the trial court judge. This very
specific ruling then, had limited applicability to future cases. Legislation
would be required if queer families were to have more secure access to
parentage recognition.
The issue of the “child’s best interests” is crucially important and much
debated. In Canada, the “child’s best interests” is now the definitive standard for adjudicating issues of custody, adoption, support and access (King
v Low [1985] 1 S.C.R. [King]).15 As Wanda Wiegers explains, the Supreme
Court’s decision in King held that “although parental claims were entitled to serious consideration, they could be outweighed by an assessment
of which party would best secure the ‘healthy growth, development and
education of the child’” (2009: 23, citing King, par, f). Children were not
to be regarded as chattel, but as “citizens in becoming” (Dobrowolsky &
Jenson 2004) whose interests did not necessarily align with the beliefs
and commitments of their parents – at least insofar as those beliefs and
commitments might undermine their future capacity to be productive contributors to society.
Understanding children as autonomous beings is all well and good, of
course, but the work of interpreting their best interests is hardly an objective
exercise. Infants are obviously unable to articulate their own wishes with
regard to the architecture of their families, and thus judges, parents and
various interested parties necessarily fill the void. Fiona Kelly’s research
has demonstrated, for example, that fathers’ rights activists have had
impressive success in persuading judges that paternal presence is essential
to a child’s best interests (Kelly 2011: 30-42; 2009). The Canadian judicial
The child’s best interest is referenced with regard to parentage determination, for example
in Ontario’s CLRA 13(5) and Saskatchewan’s CLA 11, which state that the court shall not make a
declaration of parentage unless that declaration is in the best interests of the child.
15
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record is redolent with examples of judges “finding fathers” for lesbian and
sole mother families over the express wishes of the mothers and their originary agreements with known donors (Kelly 2009b; Boyd & Arnup 1995).
Thus, arguably, the fact that the parties to AA v BB were actively seeking a
way to include both the co-mother and the father as legally recognized parents made their argument especially persuasive. Undoubtedly, it was also
helpful that the family was as queerly proximate to the normative ideal as
it is possible to be. The co-mothers were in a long-term monogamous relationship celebrated in a public ceremony and the father was involved in a
long-term relationship with another woman (AA v BB [2003] CanLII 2139
ONSC [AA v BB 2003], par 2). They were all professionally successful and
financially secure (AA v BB 2003, par 3-4). Tellingly, the lower court judge
expressed his concerns about the precedent he might be setting by recognizing three parents for children “not before this court.” For one thing, he
opined, this would open the door to stepparents and extended family who
might be making their claims in “less harmonious circumstances” (AA v BB
2003, par 41). Furthermore, he queried, “if a child can have three parents,
why not four or six or a dozen? What about all the adults in a commune or
a religious organization or sect?” (AA v BB 2003, par 41). His concern with
this proliferation of parents was, however, more about social policy issues
and the havoc that such an arrangement would wreak for custody and
access litigation, than for the child’s well-being (AA v BB 2003, par 41). The
appeal court judge was less concerned about these implications, finding, as
already noted, that contemporary developments in family form (same-sex
parents) and reproductive technologies had outstripped that capacity of
the legislation to provide the equal status for children that was its aim (AA
v BB 2007).
An (arguably) more radical use of the court’s parens patriae jurisdiction
to ensure a child’s best interests by recognizing three parents, played out
in the recognition of a polyamorous family in Newfoundland and Labrador in 2018.16 In Re CC [2018] NLSC 71 Carswell Nfld 110 [Re CC], Justice
Fowler relied heavily on the reasoning in AA v BB 2007 to find that the
child’s best interests would be best served by recognizing all three parents
Polygamy is a criminal offence in Canada. One important distinguishing feature of polygamy is a formal celebration of the marriage. By contrast, polyamory is not illegal, but neither is
it recognized in law. Marriage and legally recognized cohabiting relationships are limited to two
people.
16
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in a situation involving a biological mother and her two male partners,
both of whom had equal likelihood of being the child’s father (Re CC, par
37). Indeed, as Justice Fowler noted, “the fact that the biological certainty
of parentage is unknown seems to be the adhesive force which lends the
paternal identity of both men as the fathers of A” (Re CC, par 34). In this
familial arrangement, the mother had sexual relationships with both men,
but the men did not have a sexual relationship with each other. As with AA
v BB, provincial authorities opposed the recognition of a third parent on
grounds that the Children’s Law Act implied a two parent limit on families,
as evident in the paternal presumption, provisions relating to paternity in
cases involving artificial insemination, birth registration under the Vital
Statistics Act, and definitions of parent and child in the Family Law Act (Re
CC par 12-16). Justice Fowler held, however, that the law would not have
contemplated the situation of a polyamorous family when it was originally
drafted, three decades previous (Re CC par 30), that the best interests of the
child were well served by recognizing as parents all three of the adults in
his household, and that Justice Fowler had the authority to use the court’s
parens patriae jurisdiction to fill the gap in the law with regard to recognizing contemporary family forms and realizing the law’s objective of
ensuring the equality of children regardless of the circumstances of their
birth (Re CC, par 33).
As noted in the earlier discussion of the traditional workings of paternal presumptions, in a case of disputed paternity, most provincial statutes
provide that no party shall be presumed to be the child’s father, creating
a situation in which someone can petition the court to be named as the
father (or parent).17 Given this situation, and reflecting Kelly’s observations
regarding the tendency of the court to “find fathers” for both sole mothers
and lesbian partners, Justice Fowler’s “best interests” argument for recognizing both of CC’s fathers is telling. He stated: “I have no reason to believe
that this relationship detracts from the best interests of the child. On the
contrary, to deny the recognition of fatherhood (parentage) by the Applicants would deprive the child of having a legal paternal heritage with all
the rights and privileges associated with that designation” (Re CC, par 35).
Despite the abolishment of the status of illegitimacy, its shadow is evident
in Fowler’s observation, as is its patriarchal subtext.
17
See, for example, Newfoundland and Labrador’s Children’s Law Act, s. 10(2).
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Legislative responses: British Columbia,
Ontario and Saskatchewan
As both AA v BB and Re: CC indicate, the courts can provide some relief for
specific families in the presence of a sympathetic judge. Yet legal challenges
are expensive, and their precedential impact is not assured. Moreover, as
the legal concept of parens patriae itself indicates, these decisions were
aimed at filling a legislative gap; to address social developments that were
not contemplated by law makers at the time of a statute’s initial passage,
for example. It is hardly a stretch to infer from the court’s use of parens
patriae, the strong suggestion that the legislature take definitive action to
fill the void. Nonetheless, it would take the Ontario legislature almost a
decade after AA v BB, and the threat of a new Charter of Rights challenge, to
reform the laws governing parental status. The province of Newfoundland
and Labrador has yet to act. Elsewhere, however, Canada’s most western
province of British Columbia opted to recognize three (or possibly four)
parents in its 2011 reform of the Family Law Act.18
Under the terms of the BC FLA, a child may have three (or possibly
four) parents when conceived through assisted reproduction and with a
written agreement involving all of the intended parents, prior to conception.19 Furthermore, the people who can be named parents include the
birth mother, her partner and a donor or the intended parent or parents
and the birth mother (BC FLA s. 30(1)(b)). As Kelly notes, “the scenario
commonly envisaged…is one in which a couple conceives a child with the
assistance of a sperm donor or surrogate with the shared pre-conception
intention that the donor or surrogate be the child’s third legal parent”
(Kelly 2014: 567). She goes on to note that the legislative commentary
“around the section clearly anticipated it being used primarily by lesbian
and gay couples and their donors and surrogates” (Kelly 2014: 567). The
law defines intended parents as people in a conjugal relationship with
each other, but there is also an association between conjugality and parentage in the provisions relating to a person who is married or in a marriage-like relationship to the birth mother (BC FLA, s. 30). Thus, the BC
law is quite conventional, envisaging the three parent model in situations
Although passed in 2011, the Act did not come into effect until 2013.
BC FLA, s. 30. The conjugal partner of a donor may also be a parent, hence the possibility of
a fourth parent.
18
19
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of a monogamous relationship plus a donor or surrogate (Kelly 2014: 567;
Kolinsky 2015: 829).
Given the intensity of the debate surrounding LGBTQ rights in many
parts of the world, and in Canada in various quarters as well, the fact that
there was virtually no political resistance to the introduction of the three
parent provisions is remarkable. In Kelly’s analysis of the public consultation process that led to the legislative reforms – a process that unfolded
over several years and that was designed to comprehensively overhaul the
province’s family law legislation – she also notes the curiosity of this lack
of contention. Ultimately, she concludes,
One can only presume that the provisions were considered uncontroversial –
simply a reflection of “the changing reality” of Canadian families – though it is
also possible that they were overshadowed by the other substantial changes to
BC family law that the FLA introduced. (Kelly 2014: 580)20
While certainly path-breaking in both an historical and comparative sense,
British Columbia’s Family Law Act is in many ways, quite constrained,
and potentially double-edged. Because the model continues to privilege
biological parentage, its queer-inclusiveness is subtended, and may even
assert a conservative understanding of the significance of gender binarism
for a child’s best interests. That said, it should also be noted that LGBTQ
individuals and partners are not obliged to make use of the three parent
provisions. And given the plethora of means for constituting families, the
particular strictures of the BC FLA may not be especially helpful in any
event. A more creative response would eventually emerge from Ontario.
Although the Ontario legislature was very slow to respond to the
changing family dynamics that its courts were prepared to recognize, with
the passage of the All Families are Equal Act – a set of reforms to the Children’s Law Reform Act, the province implemented likely the world’s most
queer friendly legislation recognizing multi-parent families. Moreover, this
legislation has become a model for other Canadian jurisdictions, with its
multi-parent and trans inclusive language recently adopted by a socially
conservative government in Saskatchewan, and with some potential to
Those changes included the division of matrimonial property, the extension of property rights to common law couples, and the addition of “family violence” to the best interests of the
child test (Kelly 2014: 580 fn 75).
20
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be adopted in Manitoba as well.21 Ontario was eventually compelled to
act when its Liberal government, headed by a openly queer Premier, was
confronted by a constitutional challenge to both its parentage provisions
and the Vital Statistics Act in the form of Grand v (Ontario) Attorney General [2016] ONSC 3434 [Grand]. The judgement in this decision primarily
focuses on the provincial government’s inability to sort out how to respond
to the applicants’ demands that their parentage be recognized in law. The
case involved nine families, with seven children amongst them, of different
family configurations, but all LGBTQ parents or intended parents (Grand
par, 2). The case was resolved when the government agreed that it would
amend at least some elements of its legislation to be compliant with the
equality provisions of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (Grand par, 15).
The All Families are Equal Act extends the presumption of parentage to
the partner of the birth parent, and makes specific provisions for parentage in cases of surrogacy, including opportunities for “up to four intended
parents”. Donors are not parents simply by virtue of donation alone, and
variations in family form that involve parents beyond the birth parent and
their conjugal partner require carefully stipulated pre-conception agreements (ON CLRA, s.8 (2); 9). Biological parents and conjugal partners are
clearly foregrounded here, but it is also possible for intentional parents to
engage a surrogate and use donated gametes and thus have no biological
relationship to the child or conjugal relationship to the birth parent.
The legislation attracted attention from conservative religious groups,
media commentators and transphobic members of both the social conservative and gay community. Notably, however, the legislation passed unanimously, when the leader of the Progressive Conservative party (PCs), Patrick Brown, demanded that party members who did not support the bill
absent themselves from the vote (Canadian Press 2016). He even went so
far as to postpone the swearing into office of a recently elected PC member
until after the vote on the legislation, in order to prevent the new Member
of the Provincial Parliament from voicing his considerable objections to
the reforms (Canadian Press 2016). In an attempt to embarrass the PCs
Manitoba was poised to overhaul its parentage legislation in 2015, however a new Progressive Conservative government was elected before its passage (Snow 2016: 15). In the Fall of 2020,
however, a Manitoba superior court judge held that portions of the Family Maintenance Act that
limited parentage to biological parents was unconstitutional and required the legislature to revise the legislation within one year (JAS et al., v Attorney General (Manitoba) File 20-01-24769).
21
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for the homophobic and transphobic views of some of their members, the
governing Liberals were willing to delay the vote in order to ensure that
the new member could be in the legislature, but this tactic was unsuccessful (Canadian Press 2016).
The fact that all parties supported the reforms to the legislation meant
that the bill’s opponents had a very limited platform to air their views,
although some sense of their objections can be gleaned from committee
testimony and opinion pieces in the press. In an editorial in the National
Post, for example, a lawyer for a group opposing the legislation voiced
concerns about the lines of affiliation created between parents and children
brought into relation through a pre-conception agreement (Sikkema 2016).
He asked, “what is it that makes a child ‘contemplated’ by a ‘pre-conception parentage agreement’ or surrogacy agreement the intended parents’
‘own kid’, other than their signatures?” (Sikkema 2016). Given the degree
of planning, coordination, negotiation and rationality required to form
families through pre-conception agreements and, possibly, multiple-parent
families, this is a rather curious position. If the law is prepared to designate
hapless heterosexuals as parents by virtue of birth and their relationship
to each other, and without resort to home visits and tests of suitability, as
adoption requires, it is difficult to understand why planful, intentional parents should not also be granted parental status immediately upon the birth
of their child. Indeed, the contrast in intention between these planful parents and any number of heterosexual couples who are suddenly surprised
by a pregnancy cannot be overstated.
As noted earlier, the primary focus of objection, interestingly, was not
the expansion of parental recognition beyond two people, but the replacement of the terms: “mother” and “father” with “parent”. Familiar arguments
opposing “social engineering”, invoking the policies of totalitarian regimes,
and the absent electoral mandate to deny biological sex made an appearance, as did the trivialization of the identities of “mother” and “father” (Kay
2016; Cross 2016). And while the PCs did attempt to amend the legislation
by permitting parents to choose “mother”, “father”, or “parent” when registering their child’s birth, their motion was not supported by the Liberals
or the New Democratic Party. The legislation now refers to “parents” generally and identifies their various roles in terms of birth parent, biological
parent, person whose sperm is used to conceive a child, surrogate, birth
parent’s spouse, a person living in a conjugal relationship with a birth
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parent and intended parent (CLRA s. 6-11). These are, of course, legal definitions that pertain in the context of birth registration and for other vital
statistics purposes. How people represent themselves to the world and to
their children remains very much a function of their own desires, social
norms and perceived need for social intelligibility.
The most recent Canadian legislative development on queer parentage
is that of amendments to the Children’s Law Act of Saskatchewan. As noted
above, the province effectively transposed the Ontario law to the Saskatchewan Act, clarifying parental standing for people forming families with the
assistance of reproductive technologies and surrogacy, extending the paternal presumption to the spouse of a birth parent, and enabling up to four
people to become parents on the basis of a pre-conception agreement.22 The
act also used gender neutral terms for parents. This act passed with virtually no objection from either within the governing Saskatchewan Party – a
conservative party that has been in power since 2007, nor, unsurprisingly,
from the New Democratic Party – its social democratic opposition.23 The
passivity of this response is notable, not least because, unlike many other
provinces, Saskatchewan has had a long-standing resistance even to the
extension of the paternal presumption to the same-sex partner of a birth
mother.
The case of record on this score was PC v. SL [2005] SKQB 502, (CanLII)
[PC v SL]. The dispute involved the determination of parentage for a child
born within a lesbian relationship. The parties disagreed as to whether
the child was the product of a parental project or rather, as the biological
mother argued, was the unintended result of casual sexual relations with
a male friend. But both the province and the judge in this case cleaved to
the association of biological relationship with paternal presumption. The
Attorney General argued, and ultimately the judge held, that the Charter
claim regarding the sex discrimination of paternal presumption caused no
harm to the dignity of lesbian co-mothers. The presumption was rebuttable and evidentiary, thus conferring no parental rights (PC v SL par, 17).
Moreover, the paternal presumption arose from the gender specificity of
paternity; parentage was a matter of fact. A woman plainly could not have
provided the seed (PC v SL par, 17). The court was willing to acknowledge
Sask CLA 2020 s. 58-62.
See the record of legislative debate and committee consideration on the Children’s Law Act in
Saskatchewan, Hansard, 29th Legislature 2016-2020.
22
23
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that parental rights were about more than biological connection (PC v SL
par, 21), but nonetheless, paternal presumption was the issue at hand, and
it was simply impossible for the court to “aspire to affect the fundamentals
of biology that underlie the presumption purely in the interests of equal
treatment before the law” (PC v SL par 20). The “fact” that paternal presumptions had created the legal fiction of a biologically related father was
beside the point. A child was the issue of a mother and a father, even if not
exactly that specific father (Harder & Thomarat 2012: 76-77).
In 2009, Saskatchewan did revise its vital statistics legislation to allow
an “other parent” to be listed on a child’s birth certificate. However, birth
registration in itself only establishes a rebuttable presumption of parentage rather than conferring the legal status of parent in itself (Rogerson
2017: 96). Thus, while other provinces slowly worked to address the inequities of parentage legislation, and the judicial record increasingly amassed
victories for sexual orientation equality rights that stood in sharp contrast
to the dignity claim in PC v SL, Saskatchewan’s legal regime fell further
and further behind.
Ultimately, this situation could not hold. In 2018, upon the request of
an academic and a lawyer, the Saskatchewan Law Reform Commission
undertook a consultation process on the province’s laws governing assisted
reproduction and parentage. Certainly, queer families were understood to
be included in its ambit, but the emphasis on assisted reproduction more
broadly, meant that the specific recognition of queer parents was downplayed. The Commission’s report and, of course, Ontario’s example would
become the basis for the revised Children’s Law Act. And while legislative
debate did mention the advocacy of a queer couple as a central motivating
force – indeed, one member of the couple, Nicole White, was a leading
activist for same-sex marriage and ran, unsuccessfully, for the New Democratic party in the province’s 2016 election – the breadth of applicability
to both straight and queer families, and its championing by the governing
party, were likely the key factors in explaining the lack of conservative
political resistance.
Conclusion
This paper has focused on the extent to which Canada’s approach to parentage recognition is, in fact, especially inclusive: especially queer. Comparatively speaking, this analysis is located in a space of impressive privilege.
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Canadian jurisdictions offer real examples of positive recognition and continued development that justify the country’s positive reputation for queer
inclusion. Yet on closer inspection, it is also true that parentage law operates within some strong normative constraints. Perhaps the most preeminent of these limits of queer parentage recognition is the legal form itself.
Codification and widespread applicability are the lifeblood of legislation,
civil and common law. This foundation in generalizability is constitutively
at odds with the creative and fluid forms of queer families. “If the expression queer is a proud form of manifesting difference, inasmuch as it can
cause inversions in the chain of repetition that confers power to preexisting authoritarian practices,” then Canada’s emerging parentage regime
qualifies (Pereira 2019: 418). But queer is a relative term. To the extent that
queer families desire legal recognition, there is a required sacrifice to legal
norms, even as those families push against established boundaries.
Canada’s slow and piecemeal development of laws governing queer parentage offer some interesting points of comparison and strategic lessons for
legal reformers both within and beyond provincial and national borders.
The evidence suggests that legislatures may eventually be compelled to act
if there are judicial decisions that are likely to cause constitutional and/or
political difficulties for the governing party. On the basis of a “child’s best
interests”, judges may be willing to use the court’s parens patriae jurisdiction to address gaps in the law and extend recognition to a growing array
of family forms.24 That may be especially true when the terms of family law
have fallen so far behind both evolving family forms and technological
change that the injustice of the governing statutes can no longer be countenanced. And when the need for reform has reached such a state, resistance
to change may be quite limited. In Canada, the combination of the need to
respond to the parentage needs of legally recognized same-sex partners and
the increasing use of reproductive technologies has created at least three situations in which provincial governments could extend recognition to queer
families with virtually no political consequences for the governing party.
In contemplating up to four (or possibly more) parents, these legislative
Robert Leckey (2019) argues that, with the passage of parentage legislation, courts may be less
inclined to use their parens patriae powers, since the legislature has recently had an opportunity
to consider how it would address various situations and made its determinations. That said, he
also notes examples in which, despite recent legislation, the court did feel prepared to identify a
gap in the legislation.
24
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developments certainly go well beyond the dyadic, heterosexual model. Yet
they also demand considerable resources, the use of reproductive technologies, and a great deal of planning, and they trade on conjugality and biological relationship to a considerable extent. Such arrangements can certainly
assist some categories of queer families, but there are many more that will
continue to form and persist outside of these strictures. It is these queerer
forms of non-normative family life where innovation and dynamism offer
the next horizon for the creative potential of supportive intimate life.
Lois Harder
lharder@ualberta.ca
Department of Political Science, University of Alberta
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AA v BB [2003] CanLII 2139 ONSC
AA v BB [2007] ONCA 2
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Doe v. Alberta 2007 ABCA 50 (CanLII)
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Legislation
Alberta Family Law Act S.A. 2003, c. F-4.5
British Columbia Family Law Act S.B.C. 2011, c.25
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WHAT
A Transdisciplinary
Journal of
Queer
Theories and Studies
EVER
Benjamin Moron-Puech
whatever.cirque.unipi.it
Des difficultés juridiques des familles MISSEG en
Europe, dites aussi « familles arc-en-ciel »
English title: Legal difficulties for MISSEG (also called “rainbow”) families in Europe.
Abstract: This text sums up the various legal difficulties that “rainbow families” do or may encounter in European countries nowadays. By “rainbow families” — a broader notion than samesex couple — we mean families whose founding couple include one or more LGBTIQ individuals.
This text deals with issues concerning both the relationship between the couple’s members (access to a form of legal union, protection of the couple’s patrimonial and extra-patrimonial interests) and the relationship between the couple and their child or children (ability to have children
and to establish and maintain a relationship with them).
Keywords: family law; sexual orientation; gender idendity; sex characteristics; family life; discrimination.
À l’heure où l’Union européenne vient d’adopter une stratégie pour l’égalité à l’égard des personnes « LGBTIQ1 » qui lui faisait défaut depuis longtemps et incluant en particulier un volet sur les « familles arc-en-ciel »2, cette
contribution se propose de faire le point sur les difficultés juridiques que ces
familles rencontrent ou sont susceptibles de rencontrer aujourd’hui dans les
pays européens. Les médias ou les institutions ont attiré l’attention du public
sur certaines des difficultés juridiques rencontrées par ces familles, qu’il
s’agisse de la difficulté pour les membres d’un couple à s’unir ou à demeurer
ensemble lorsque les unions contractées dans un pays ne sont pas reconnues dans un autre État où la « famille arc-en-ciel » souhaite s’établir, ou
encore des difficultés d’accès à la parenté, tant en fait (pour la procréation)
qu’en droit (pour l’établissement de la filiation). Toutefois, restent quelques
L’acronyme est ici mis entre guillemets, l’auteur lui préférant celui de MISSEG. V. infra, note
7 notamment.
2
Commission européenne, Union of Equality: LGBTIQ Equality Strategy 2020-2025: 12 nov. 2020,
COM(2020) 698 final.
1
benjamin.moron-puech@u-paris2.fr
Université Panthéon-Assas
Whatever, 4 2021: 329-356
doi 10.13131/2611-657X.whatever.v4i1.129
Benjamin Moron-Puech
angles morts que souhaite mettre à jour cette contribution3, en adoptant une
approche systématique et globale4 des difficultés rencontrées par ces familles.
Cet article s’adresse à la fois aux actaires*5 de la science du droit, soucieuz* de s’informer sur les difficultés avérées ou prévisibles que rencontrent
notamment en Europe les « familles arc-en-ciel », et aux actaires du droit
positif (législataires*, fonctionnaires, ONG militantes ou non) soucieuz* d’assurer à ces familles une dignité égale à celle des familles dites traditionnelles.
Le texte commence par quelques propos introductifs précisant l’expression de « famille arc-en-ciel » (I). Passés ces prolégomènes, l’article passe
en revue les difficultés rencontrées par ces familles en distinguant celles
concernant le lien de couple – la famille horizontale – (II) de celles concernant les liens entre le couple et les enfants – la famille verticale (III).
1. Précisions sur l’expression de « famille arc-en-ciel »
L’expression de « famille arc-en-ciel » n’est sans doute pas des plus précise
juridiquement et a tendance, dans l’esprit du public, à renvoyer avant tout
aux familles homoparentales, alors qu’elle recouvre également les familles
transparentales et interparentales, ainsi que les familles dont les membres
fondataires* – le couple – peuvent être plus de deux (polyunions). En outre,
cette expression apparaît quelque peu connotée du point de vue militant,
ce qui rend son emploi délicat dans le contexte de la science du droit. Il est
vrai cependant que cette expression présente l’avantage de la concision et
permet assez simplement aux actaires du droit de faire comprendre à leur
auditoire de quelles familles ils parlent, d’où l’emploi de cette notion dans
certaines normes internationales6, même si persiste un certain flottement
sur les familles concernées, réduites bien souvent dans l’esprit du public
On laissera donc de côté la question bien connue de la liberté de circulation des « familles
arc-en-ciel », largement traitée par ailleurs en doctrine (en dernier lieu Trifonidou et Wintemute 2021) et dont il ne nous semble pas enfin qu’elle soit le meilleur moyen d’assurer une réelle
inclusion de ces familles. V. en ce sens Moron-Puech 2020.
4
Par opposition à une approche isolée, laquelle examinerait simplement par exemple les familles homoparentales.
5
Le présent texte s’efforce d’user d’un langage inclusif. Pour cela, il y est recouru à un genre
commun, capable d’inclure tous les genres, en suivant les régularités proposées par Alpheratz
2018. Les premières occurrences des mots ainsi accordés sont précédées d’un astérisque. Pour
cette même raison, l’expression « droits de l’homme » ne sera pas employée ou à tout le moins
mise entre guillemets.
6
Commission européenne, préc. ou Assemblée parlementaire du Conseil de l’Europe, Vie privée et familiale: parvenir à l’égalité quelle que soit l’orientation sexuelle, résolution 2239 (2018), 10 oct.
2018, §4.5.
3
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aux seules familles homoparentales. Dans cette contribution, même si l’expression de « famille arc-en-ciel » a été retenue entre guillemets dans l’intitulé de cet article (afin de permettre au lectorat de saisir immédiatement
de quoi il allait être ici question), elle ne sera pas utilisée dans la suite de ce
texte pour les deux raisons évoquées plus haut (imprécision et connotation
militante). Lui a été préférée l’expression abrégée familles MISSEG7, désignant les familles minorisées à raison de l’orientation sexuelle, l’identité
ou l’expression de genre et les caractéristiques sexuées d’an* ou plusieurs
de leur membre fondataire*8. En effet, cette dernière expression ne présente tout d’abord aucune des faiblesses de celle de « famille arc-en-ciel ».
Ainsi, elle est à la fois plus précise, car couvrant explicitement l’ensemble
du spectre des familles concernées, et moins connotée au niveau militant
car renvoyant à des notions relativement établies en droit international des
droits humains9. Ensuite cette expression permet d’insister sur l’origine des
difficultés rencontrées par ces familles, à savoir un processus de minorisation liée à trois notions autrefois rassemblées derrière la notion unique de
sexe : orientation sexuelle, identité et expression de genre et caractéristiques
sexuées. Ce faisant, à l’instar de la démarche retenue par la Convention
internationale des droits des personnes handicapées à propos de l’origine
du handicap10, cette expression permet d’insister sur l’origine sociale de ces
MISSEG pour Minorités Sexuées, Sexuelles et de Genre.
Sont donc ici exclues du concept de famille MISSEG les familles composées d’un enfant appartenant aux MISSEG. Ces familles rencontrent en effet des difficultés d’un autre type, affectant
non pas le lien entre les parenz* et l’enfant, mais l’étendue de l’autorité parentale : dans quelle
mesure et selon quelles modalités les parenz peuvent-als* décider des caractéristiques sexuées,
de l’orientation sexuelle ou de l’identité de genre de leur enfant ? Sur cette question v. not. Moron-Puech 2013.
9
Les notions d’orientation sexuelle, d’identité et d’expression de genre et enfin de caractéristiques sexuées sont ainsi reconnues dans différents instruments internationaux. V. pour l’Assemblée parlementaire du Conseil de l’Europe, les résolutions 1728 (2010), Discrimination sur la base de
l’orientation sexuelle et de l’identité de genre, 29 avr. 2010 ; 2048 (2015), La discrimination à l’encontre
des personnes transgenres en Europe, 22 avr. 2015 ; 2191 (2017), Promouvoir les droits humains et éliminer les discriminations à l’égard des personnes intersexes, 12 oct. 2017 ; 2239 (2018), Vie privée et
familiale : parvenir à l’égalité quelle que soit l’orientation sexuelle, 10 oct. 2018. V. pour l’Union européenne : Parlement européen, Résolution sur la feuille de route de l’UE contre l’homophobie et les discriminations fondées sur l’orientation sexuelle et l’identité de genre, 4 févr. 2014, no P7_TA(2014)0062 ;
Résolution sur les droits des personnes intersexuées, 14 févr. 2019, no 2018/2878(RSP). V. pour l’ONU,
Conseil des droits de l’homme, Résolution 17/19, Droits de l’homme, orientation sexuelle et identité
de genre, no A/HRC/RES/17/19, 14 juill. 2011 ; Résolution 32/2, Protection contre la violence et la discrimination en raison de l’orientation sexuelle et de l’identité de genre, A/HRC/RES/32/2, 15 juill. 2016
et Haut-commissariat aux droits de l’homme, Intersexe, note d’information 2015.
10 V. le préambule, § e) : « e) Reconnaissant que la notion de handicap […] résulte de l’interaction
7
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difficultés, à rebours de l’idée selon laquelle ces difficultés proviendraient
des personnes elles-mêmes. Soulignons également que l’expression permet
d’insister sur le processus de minorisation qui, partant d’an* membre de
la famille, est susceptible de rayonner vers les autres membres de celle-ci
selon un dispositif semblable à celui à l’œuvre dans la discrimination par
association, discrimination également bien identifiée dans le contexte du
handicap11. Enfin, relevons que l’usage de cette expression présuppose un
concept de famille relativement ouvert. Si cette approche ouverte peut être
contestée politiquement, religieusement, voire juridiquement – du moins
au regard de certains droits nationaux d’Europe de l’Est12 –, cette approche
inclusive peut néanmoins être soutenue par des normes internationales
reconnaissant à ces groupes de personnes la qualification de famille13.
2. Les difficultés concernant les liens de couple
Les couples comprenant une ou plusieurs personnes appartenant aux minorités sexuées, sexuelles et de genre (ci-après couples MISSEG) sont susceptible de rencontrer plusieurs difficultés. Après avoir évoqué ces difficultés
(A.), l’on indiquera comment ces difficultés sont résolues ou pourraient
l’être par les ordres juridiques (B.).
a. Présentation des difficultés
Les difficultés rencontrées par les couples MISSEG sont de deux ordres. Les
unes tiennent à la non reconnaissance pure et simple de leur vie familiale,
les autres à une reconnaissance diminuée. Dans le premier cas les couples
MISSEG ne peuvent pas voir leur vie familiale reconnue, dans l’autre leur
vie familiale est reconnue mais de manière dégradée.
entre des personnes présentant des incapacités et les barrières comportementales et environnementales qui font obstacle à leur pleine et effective participation à la société sur la base de l’égalité avec les autres ».
11
ONU, Comité des droits des personnes handicapées, Observations générales no 6 sur l’égalité et
la non-discrimination, § 20.
12 Voir en particulier la Pologne où se développe un discours politique hostile aux MISSEG, avec
le soutien de l’Église et d’une partie de la société civile. Doit en particulier être mentionné le rôle
de l’ONG Ordo juris, à l’origine de modèles de Chartes régionales des droits familiaux adoptée
ensuite par nombre de municipalités.
13
Pour l’Union européenne, voir Commission européenne préc., ainsi que les normes produites
par la Commission et le Parlement européens listées dans Moron-Puech 2020. Rappr. CJUE
[grande chambre], Coman, 5 juin 2018, C673/16, § 48. Pour le Conseil de l’Europe, v. la résolution
2238 (2018) précitée et CEDH, Schalk et Kopf c/ Autriche, 24 juin 2010, no 30141/04.
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1. S’agissant tout d’abord de la non-reconnaissance de leur vie familiale,
les couples de MISSEG font face dans un certain nombre de pays européens à une impossibilité d’entrer dans une forme d’union juridiquement
protégée. En effet, il est courant de réserver ces unions à des conditions
qu’on peut qualifier de sociologiques et subordonnant celles-ci à un genre14
particulier des époux (un genre masculin et un genre féminin) ou encore à
des couples comprenant un nombre limité de personnes (deux). Ces conditions, assises sur une conception naturalisante et reproductrice du couple,
excluent un certain nombre de couples MISSEG, à savoir ceux composés de
plus de deux personnes ou composés de deux personnes ayant des genres
identiques ou dont l’an ou les deux membres du couple auraient un genre
juridiquement reconnu autre que le masculin et le féminin. Pour tous ces
couples résidant dans des pays retenant une conception dite traditionnelle15
du couple, il sera alors impossible d’accéder à une forme d’union reconnue
par le droit et susceptible de protéger leurs liens familiaux.
Même lorsque ces couples parviennent à protéger juridiquement leur
union dans un État plus ouvert, ils peuvent néanmoins être exposés à des
difficultés en cas de séjour dans un État ne reconnaissant pas leur union.
En particulier, l’an* des membres du couple non national de cet État risque
de se voir priver du droit d’entrer ou de séjourner dans cet État16. Cette
situation peut être rapprochée de celle où l’an des membres du couple est
emprisonnæ et où l’autre membre de ce couple ne se verrait pas octroyer
Nombre de législations renvoient au terme de « sexe ». L’examen minutieux de la jurisprudence relative aux mariages d’une personne transgenre ou intersexuée révèle que bien souvent
il est moins question de caractéristiques sexuées que d’expression ou d’identité de genre. Pour
la France, cf. Cass. Ch. réun., 6 avr. 1903 : D., 1904, I, p. 395 et s. 1re civ. 4 mai 2017, no 16-17.189,
admettant l’union d’une femme avec une personne intersexuée perçue comme ayant un genre
masculin. Adde pour le mariage de deux personnes transgenres ayant un sexe distinct à l’état
civil mais paraissant du même genre : TGI Nanterre, 10 juin 2005, confirmé par CA, Versailles,
8 juill. 2005, no 05/04694 : D., 2006, p. 772. L’arrêt d’appel est fondé non pas directement sur la
condition de différence de sexe/genre, mais sur l’absence d’intention conjugale, motif pris que
les épouz* poursuivraient un but militant de légalisation du mariage homosexuel. Pourtant, les
épouz avaient bien une intention conjugale, en parallèle de leur éventuel but militant qui ne pouvait pas être considéré comme le but exclusif de l’union (Bonnet 2006). Dès lors, il est permis
de penser qu’en dépit du visa de l’article 146 utilisé pour le défaut d’intention matrimoniale, c’est
bien la prohibition des mariages entre personnes de même sexe – ou plutôt de même genre – qui
sert de fondement à la décision.
15
Rappr. le vocabulaire utilisé par la Cour qui, après avoir paré de « concept traditionnel de
mariage » (CEDH, Schall et Kopf c. Autriche, § 51), en est venue à user de l’expression « famille
traditionnelle » (CEDH, Taddeucci et McCall,, § 92).
16 V. les faits de l’affaire Coman précitée.
14
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les droits réservés au couple marié afin d’assurer la préservation du lien
de couple17.
2. Une autre difficulté que peuvent rencontrer les couples MISSEG apparaît lorsqu’il leur est permis de bénéficier d’une reconnaissance juridique
de leur union, mais avec des effets dégradés par rapport aux effets produits
par l’union d’une famille dite traditionnelle. Tel est le cas des pays fermant
le mariage aux couples MISSEG et ne leur ouvrant – encore que bien souvent cela ne soit ouvert qu’aux couples composés de deux personnes – que
des unions produisant moins d’effets que ce dernier. Dans de tels pays, les
couples MISSEG seront ainsi moins bien traités que les couples mariés, tant
en matière personnelle que patrimoniale.
En matière personnelle, cette absence d’accès au mariage peut conduire
à priver les couples MISSEG de certains dispositifs réservés aux couples
mariés tant en droit civil qu’en droit pénal. En droit civil, les membres
d’un couple marié se voient souvent réserver le bénéfice de règles leur
permettant de porter le nom de famille de leur conjoinx*18, ce qui est de
nature à faciliter la reconnaissance de leur union par les tiærs*. Existent
aussi des règles pour faciliter la représentation d’an conjoinx par an autre
qui ne serait plus en état de décider seulx*, ce qui est de nature à protéger
lu membre vulnérable du couple19. Des procédures simplifiées d’acquisition
de la nationalité peuvent aussi être réservées aux personnes mariées20. De
même, en droit pénal, l’existence d’un couple peut avoir pour effet d’aggraver ou d’alléger la responsabilité dans un objectif de protection du couple
ou de ses membres. Or, parfois, ces mécanismes ne sont prévus que pour les
couples mariés, ce qui est alors susceptible d’exclure de ces dispositifs les
couples MISSEG. Au titre des dispositifs d’allègement on peut mentionner
la dispense de témoignage dont peut bénéficier an membre du couple dans
les procédures concernant l’autre membre du couple21 ou encore l’absence
d’incrimination pénale de vol, escroquerie et autres infractions aux biens
au sein d’un couple marié22. Quant aux dispositifs d’aggravation, il s’agit
Rappr. CEDH, Petrov c. Bulgarie, 22 mai 2008, no 15197/02, jugeant discriminatoire le refus
des autorités bulgares d’accorder à une personne détenue le droit d’appeler téléphoniquement sa
concubine.
18 Rappr. art. 225-1 c. civ. français réservé aux couples mariés.
19
Rappr. art. 217 c. civ. français réservé aux couples mariés.
20 Rappr. art. 21-2 c. civ. français réservé aux couples mariés.
21
Rappr. §4.4.4. de la résolution 2238 (2018) précitée.
22 Rappr. art. 311-12, 312-9, 312-12, 313-3, 314-4 c. pénal français limité aux couples mariés.
17
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des dispositifs réprimant les violences au sein d’un couple plus durement
que les autres violences23.
En matière patrimoniale, plusieurs dispositifs sont l’apanage habituellement des couples mariés tant du vivant des membres du couple qu’après
la mort de l’an d’entre auz*. Du vivant du couple marié, nombre de règles
œuvrent au rapprochement patrimonial du couple. Tel est le cas des règles
de nature civile et fiscale facilitant la transmission de biens entre les
membres du couple marié24, de celles imposant une contribution de chacan*
aux charges du ménage25 ou encore de celles permettant l’association de
l’époux à l’activité professionnelle du conjoinx, au point parfois de pouvoir
prendre part aux élections professionnelles de cæt* derniær*26. Doivent être
également mentionnées les règles contribuant à la protection patrimoniale
des membres du couple marié, telles celles sur l’obligation alimentaire27, la
pension alimentaire due en cas de séparation du couple28, ou encore l’extension de droits sociaux, parmi lesquels le droit au logement ou le droit aux
assurances de santé (tant le droit d’être couvert par l’assurance du conjoinx,
que le droit aux différents avantages accordés aux conjoinz*, comme par
exemple le congé pour maladie d’an proche) 29. Des dispositifs de protection
Rappr. §4.4.4. de la résolution 2238 (2018) précitée. Comp. not. art. 222-13 c. pén. français bénéficiant à tous les couples.
24 Rappr. art. 1527 al. 1er c. civ. français disposant que les avantages résultant du régime matrimonial choisi par les époux ne constituent pas des donations, d’où la conséquence qu’ils échappent
à toute fiscalité.
25 Rappr. art. 215 et 515-4 c. civ. français limités aux couples mariés et unis par un pacte civil de
solidarité.
26 Rappr. art. 511-8 c. rural français ne mentionnant que le « conjoint » mais interprété par la
Cour de cassation comme bénéficiant au concubin (Cass., 2e civ., 15 juin 2001, no 00-60.486). Contra
pour les élections générales Cass., 2e civ., 5 mars 2008, no 07-60.229.
27 Rappr. art. 212 c. civ. français évoquant le secours que se doivent mutuellement les épouz*.
Pour une exclusion de l’obligation alimentaire dans les unions autres que le mariage, v. Cass 1re
civ., 28 mars 2006, no 04-10.684.
28 Rappr. art. 270 c. civ. français pour les couples mariés et sans équivalent pour les autres
unions.
29 Rappr. la résolution 2238 (2018) précitée, appelant les États à ne pas discriminer les couples
s’agissant du droit au bail (§4.3.2.) ou de l’accès aux droits liés aux assurances sociales (§4.3.3. et
4.4.2.). Adde CEDH, P.B. et J.S. c. Autriche, 22 juill. 2010, no 18984/02 jugeant discriminatoire le
refus de considérer le concubin homosexuel comme un ayant-droit susceptible de bénéficier de
la couverture sociale de son concubin ou CJUE, Frédéric Hay c. Crédit agricole mutuel de Charente-Maritime et des Deux-Sèvres, 12 déc. 2013, C-267/12, jugeant discriminatoire sur le fondement
de l’orientations sexuelle une convention collective n’ouvrant le bénéfice de jours de congés spéciaux qu’aux couples mariés et non aux autres couples qui n’avaient à cette date pas accès au
mariage.
23
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patrimoniale réservés aux couples mariés peuvent également exister en cas
de décès d’an membre du couple, afin par exemple de permettre à l’autre
membre de conserver le logement (via un droit d’occupation pris en charge
par la succession30 ou encore un droit à la transmission du bail vis-à-vis du
propriétaire31) ou de bénéficier d’une pension de réversion32. D’autres dispositifs contribuent à poursuivre après la mort l’union patrimoniale, qu’on
songe aux règles de droit des successions pouvant faire du seulx conjoinx
mariæ* an héritiær* de plein droit, exonéræ* qui plus est en tout ou partie de fiscalité successorale et pouvant également bénéficier de l’attribution
préférentielle de certains biens (logement, entreprise familiale). Peut enfin
être rattachée à cette catégorie de droit, la possibilité parfois réservée au
conjoinx mariæ de voir indemnisé le préjudice lié à la mort du conjoinx33.
b. Résolution des difficultés
Les couples confrontés aux difficultés du type de celles évoquées plus haut
ne sont pas désarmés, ainsi que le prouve en Europe le contentieux national ou international fondé sur le principe de non-discrimination découlant
en particulier des normes du droit de l’Union européenne34 et du Conseil
de l’Europe35, éventuellement articulées avec le droit au respect de la vie
privée et familiale36. Pour que les couples MISSEG puissent se prévaloir
d’une discrimination, plusieurs conditions doivent être réunies37. SchémaRappr. art. 763 c. civ. français réservé aux couples mariés.
Rappr. CEDH, Karner c. Autriche, 24 juill. 2003, no 40016/98 considérant comme discriminatoire une norme privant le membre d’un couple homosexuel d’un droit à la transmission du bail
ouvert aux couples hétérosexuels.
32 Rappr. §4.4.6. de la résolution 2238 (2018) précitée appelant les États membres à ouvrir aux
couples de MISSEG le bénéfice de pensions de réversion.
33 Rappr. Cass., Crim., 13 févr. 1937 (3 arrêts) : DP, 1938: 1, p. 5, refusant à la concubine le droit
d’agir en responsabilité civile.
34 Articles 2 du Traité sur l’union européenne et 21 de la Charte des droits fondamentaux de
l’Union européenne (CDFUE).
35 Article 14 de la « Convention de sauvegarde des droits de l’homme et des libertés fondamentales » (CSDHLF).
36 Il arrive parfois que la vie privée et familiale éclipse le problème de la discrimination, la Cour
profitant d’une censure sur le terrain de l’article 8 pris isolément pour ne pas avoir à examiner
l’argument de la discrimination. Pour une illustation v.. CEDH, Goodwin c. Royaume-Uni, 11 juill.
2002, no 28957/95, où la Cour n’examine pas le grief d’une personne transgenre tiré du refus discriminatoire de l’accès au mariage et aux droits liés à celui-ci. La Cour estime en effet qu’il lui
suffit de constater une violation de l’article 8 résultant du refus des autorités du Royaume-Uni de
reconnaître le changement de la mention du sexe à l’état civil de la personne requérante.
37 V. not. CEDH, Taddeucci et McCall c. Italie, 30 juin 2016, no 51362/09, § 87 ou CEDH [GC], Molla
Sali c. Grèce, 19 déc. 2019, no 20452/14, § 135-136. Pour le droit de l’Union européenne, les exigences
30
31
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tiquement38, il faut démontrer primo que des personnes placées dans une
situation analogue font l’objet d’un traitement différent ou bien que des
personnes placées dans une situation différente font l’objet d’un traitement
comparable et, secundo, que ce traitement n’est fondé sur aucune justification objective et raisonnable, c’est-à-dire qu’il ne poursuit pas de but légitime ou qu’il n’existe pas de rapport raisonnable de proportionnalité entre
les moyens employés et le but recherché.
Pour cette deuxième condition, il faut également tenir compte de la
marge d’appréciation reconnue aux États, en particulier dans la jurisprudence de la Cour européenne des droits de l’homme (CEDH)39. Une telle
marge peut en effet conduire à un contrôle plus ou moins exigeant de la
Cour selon que la marge soit restreinte ou au contraire large. Selon la
Cour, cette marge d’appréciation est plus restreinte lorsque la discrimination repose sur « le sexe ou l’orientation sexuelle » ce qui, compte tenu de
l’approche large de la notion traditionnelle de sexe, paraît devoir englober
tant l’expression ou l’identité de genre que les caractéristiques sexuées40.
D’un autre côté, cependant, « la marge d’appréciation accordée à l’État
au titre de la Convention est d’ordinaire ample lorsqu’il s’agit de prendre
sont proches ; sur la jurisprudence en général de la CJUE, v. Hernu 2020 et pour des illustrations
à propos des familles MISSEG, voir les trois affaires Maruko, Romer et Hay citées infra.
38 La seconde condition fait l’objet de certains aménagements, aux contours différents selon
qu’il s’agit du droit de l’Union européenne ou de celui du Conseil de l’Europe. En droit de l’Union,
en présence d’une discrimination directe, l’article 2, 5. de la directive 2000/78 sur l’égalité professionnelle limite les buts pouvant être mis en avant d’une part et fait de cette deuxième condition
non une condition de l’action mais un moyen de défense que le gouvernement peut invoquer en
présence d’une base légale d’autre part. Quant au droit issu de l’interprétation de l’article 14 de
la CSDHLF par la CEDH, il a été jugé que lorsque la discrimination repose seulement sur l’orientation sexuelle, aucune justification ne peut être apportée d’une part et la deuxième condition
constitue en réalité un moyen de défense que le gouvernement peut invoquer (CEDH, Taddeucci
et McCall, préc., § 89-90).
39 Le concept de marge nationale d’appréciation, bien que plus visible dans la jurisprudence de
la CEDH, est pertinent également au regard de la CJUE qui, s’efforçant également de concevoir
son action comme subsidiaire de celle des juges nationaux, emploie également des instruments
équivalents (Barbou Des Places et Deffains 2015). Cela étant, pour le sujet nous occupant, il
apparaît surtout formalisé dans la jurisprudence de la CEDH. Pour la Cour de Luxembourg, l’on
verra plus simplement qu’après avoir confié aux États le soin de déterminer si les situations des
familles dites traditionnelles étaient comparables à celles des familles MISSEG, elle a progressivement décidé de réaliser elle-même cette comparaison, ce qui pourrait se comprendre comme le
passage d’une marge d’appréciation large à une marge d’appréciation restreinte, pour s’inspirer
des notions développées par la CEDH.
40 Pour une utilisation de cette règle de détermination de la marge d’appréciation à propos
d’une personne transgenre, voir CEDH, Hämäläinen c. Finlande, 16 juill. 2014, no 37359/09, §109.
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des mesures d’ordre général en matière économique ou sociale », comme
c’est le cas s’agissant de l’accès des couples MISSEG à des formes d’union
juridiquement protégées. Dès lors, il semble bien que la marge d’appréciation dans de telles circonstances doivent être qualifiée de « normale », de
sorte qu’elle ne devrait guère affecter le contrôle de proportionnalité qui
nous semble pouvoir être opéré ici sans tenir compte de la marge d’appréciation, à l’instar de ce que fait par exemple la Cour interaméricaine
des droits humains qui refuse d’importer ce concept européen de marge
d’appréciation41. Ainsi, pour rechercher s’il existe ou non un traitement
discriminatoire des couples MISSEG, on s’en tiendra ici aux seules deux
conditions énoncées plus haut. Ces conditions seront vérifiées en distinguant selon que le principe de non-discrimination est invoqué pour obtenir l’ouverture aux couples MISSEG d’unions civiles (mariage ou autres
formes d’union) (1.) ou seulement l’extension à ces couples d’avantages
réservés aux couples mariés (2.).
1. L’argument selon lequel le principe de non-discrimination imposerait d’ouvrir aux couples MISSEG les unions civiles réservées aux couples
dits traditionnels a été pour la première fois sérieusement examinée par
la CEDH dans son arrêt Schalk et Kopf c. Autriche précité. Dans cet arrêt,
la Cour a en effet pour la première fois jugé que la première condition
d’application du principe de non-discrimination était remplie. Pour la
Cour, « les couples homosexuels sont, tout comme les couples hétérosexuels, capables de s’engager dans des relations stables », de sorte qu’ils
« se trouvent donc dans une situation comparable à celle d’un couple
hétérosexuel pour ce qui est de leur besoin de reconnaissance juridique ».
Affirmée à propos d’un couple homosexuel cisgenre et diadique42, cette
affirmation paraît pouvoir être étendue aux couples comprenant une ou
plusieurs personnes transgenres et/ou intersexuées, ainsi qu’aux couples
comprenant plus de deux personnes et pour lesquels il n’existe à notre
connaissance aucune donnée suggérant que les personnes s’y engageant
seraient incapables de le faire de manière stable. En effet, pour justifier
que les couples homosexuels (cisgenres et diadiques) étaient dans une
situation comparable à celle des couples dits traditionnels la Cour s’est
A. A. Cançado Trindade, El derecho internacional de los derechos humanos en el siglo XXI,
§390 2008 cité par Follesdal 2017.
42 Par cisgenre, on entend désigner les personnes non transgenres, tout comme par diadique on
entend désigner les personnes non intersexuées.
41
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appuyée sur le fait que « les couples homosexuels sont, tout comme les
couples hétérosexuels, capables de s’engager dans des relations stables ».
Or, une telle prémisse est également transposable aux couples homosexuels
comprenant une personne transgenre ou intersexuée43, ceux-ci paraissant
en effet, tout autant que les couples homosexuels, « capables de s’engager
dans des relations stables ». Il est également permis de penser qu’elle est
transposable aux couples composés de plus de deux personnes, même si,
au-delà d’un certain nombre de membres, la stabilité risque d’être difficile
à attendre. Dans ces conditions, l’on peut conclure que les couples MISSEG
s’engageant dans des relations stables sont dans une situation comparable
aux couples dits traditionnels s’agissant de l’accès à une union et du bénéfice de règles issues de cette union et destinées à leur protection. La première condition du principe de non-discrimination est donc remplie
S’agissant de la seconde condition, la position de la CEDH a évolué à
son égard. Dans un premier temps, la CEDH a jugé cette condition non
remplie et conclu que l’article 14, combiné avec les articles 8 ou 12, n’imposait nullement aux États (i) d’ouvrir le mariage aux couples MISSEG ou
(ii) de créer pour eux des formes d’unions juridiquement protégées. Sur le
premier point (i), la Cour a jugé que l’article 12 reconnaissant à l’homme et
à la femme le droit de se marier ne saurait, compte tenu des méthodes d’interprétation retenues par la CEDH, lesquelles octroient un rôle important
aux États membres pour statuer sur les questions sensibles, être interprété
comme consacrant un droit au mariage pour les couples homosexuels44,
même si elle a dans cet arrêt accepté que ce texte puisse conférer d’autres
droits à ces couples45. En outre, adoptant une lecture systémique de la
CSDHLF46, la Cour a refusé, sur le terrain de l’article 8 combiné à l’article
14, de reconnaître aux couples homosexuels un droit au mariage qu’elle
Il n’existe pas à ce jour de jurisprudence s’étant prononcée en détail sur l’application du principe de non-discrimination à ces couples. V. en particulier l’occasion manquée qu’aurait constitué
l’arrêt Goodwin évoqué plus haut.
44 CEDH, Schalk et Kopf, préc., §54-60. V. en dernier lieu CEDH, Oliari c. Italie, nos 18766/11 et
36030/11, § 192 : « The Court notes that despite the gradual evolution of States on the matter (today
there are eleven CoE states that have recognised same-sex marriage) the findings reached in the
cases mentioned above remain pertinent. In consequence the Court reiterates that Article 12 of
the Convention does not impose an obligation on the respondent Government to grant a samesex couple like the applicants access to marriage. »
45 Solution réaffirmée not. dans CEDH, Orlandi et autres c. Italie, 14 déc. 2017, nos 26431/12 et al., §145.
46 Pour une critique de cette lecture voir Willems 2021.
43
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leur refuse sur le terrain de l’article 1247. De même, sur le second point (ii),
la CEDH a refusé de reconnaître qu’un État membre aurait dû créer, plus
tôt qu’il ne l’a fait, une forme d’union civile enregistrée48. Ce faisant, elle
a implicitement jugé que la seconde condition n’était pas remplie, en se
dispensant de réaliser un contrôle de proportionnalité au motif (discutable)
qu’il convenait de laisser sur cette question aux États membres une large
marge nationale d’appréciation49.
Dans un deuxième temps, toutefois, à partir de l’arrêt Vallianatos de
201450, la CEDH a accepté d’examiner sérieusement la seconde condition.
Ainsi, dans cette dernière affaire, la Cour a conclu qu’était dépourvue de
but légitime et de proportionnalité la législation grecque ayant réservé aux
couples hétérosexuels une union civile produisant des effets dégradés par
rapport au mariage. Autrement dit, la Cour a considéré que dès lors qu’un
État décidait de créer une forme d’union civile autre que le mariage, il
devait l’étendre aux couples homosexuels. L’année d’après, dans l’affaire
Oliari, la Cour a franchi un cap supplémentaire dans une hypothèse où
cette fois il n’existait aucune forme d’union civile autre que le mariage.
Dans Oliari, la Cour a considéré que l’article 8 pouvait imposer à l’Italie
une obligation de reconnaître aux couples homosexuels une forme d’union
juridiquement protégée51.
La Cour l’a fait toutefois dans un contexte particulier, laissant planer
quelqu’incertitudes sur l’extension de cette solution à d’autres contextes
(Wintemute 2020 : 184-185). En effet, la caractérisation de la discrimination a été réalisée à partir d’éléments ne se retrouvant pas dans la totalité
des États membres, mais seulement en Italie, à savoir le fait que, en dépit de
décisions des juridictions internes ayant enjoint au législateur de créer une
CEDH, Schalk et Kopf, préc., § 101 où la Cour rappelle que « la Convention forme un tout, de
sorte qu’il y a lieu de lire ses articles en harmonie les uns avec les autres […]. Eu égard à sa conclusion ci-dessus, à savoir que l’article 12 n’impose pas aux Etats contractants l’obligation d’ouvrir
le mariage aux couples homosexuels, l’article 14 combiné avec l’article 8, dont le but et la portée
sont plus généraux, ne sauraient être compris comme imposant une telle obligation ».
48 Idem, §106
49 Pour une critique de cette utilisation de la marge nationale d’appréciation, en tant que technique alternative au contrôle de proportionnalité, voir Moron-Puech 2017a §54 et s.
50 CEDH [GC], Vallianatos et autres c. Grèce, 7 nov. 2013, nos 29381/09 et 32684/09.
51
CEDH, Oliari, préc., §185. L’argumentation est fondée sur le seul article 8, alors même qu’un
grief distinct était articulé sur une violation de l’article 14 combiné avec l’article 8. La Cour n’a
toutefois pas jugé utile d’examiner ce grief, estimant que sa censure sur le fondement de l’article
8 suffisait.
47
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forme d’union civile pour les couples homosexuels, ce dernier ne s’était
pas exécuté. Or, pour la Cour, ce défaut de respect d’une décision de justice
constituait ipso facto un défaut de but légitime52.
Cela étant, il est permis de penser que la Cour a par la suite généralisé
cette solution. C’est ce qui nous semble pouvoir être inféré de la lecture
de l’arrêt Taddeucci et McCall c. Italie de 201653. Bien que cet arrêt ne porte
pas sur la question du caractère discriminatoire de l’absence d’union civile
ouverte aux couples MISSEG54, il contient une proposition laissant penser
que les magistraz de la Cour sont prêts à admettre que pèserait sur les États
une obligation positive de reconnaître les couples de même sexe. C’est en
ce sens que nous comprenons les propos de la Cour selon lesquels « [m]
ême à supposer qu’à l’époque des faits [2004 ou 2009] la Convention n’imposait pas au Gouvernement [italien] de légiférer pour ouvrir une union
civile ou un partenariat enregistré aux couples de même sexe engagés dans
une relation durable, afin de reconnaître leur statut de leur garantir certains droits essentiels, cela ne change rien au fait que […] ». En présentant
comme peu probable l’absence d’une telle obligation positive en 2004 ou
2009, la Cour ne laisse planer aucun doute sur sa conviction qu’une telle
obligation existerait bien à la date où elle rend l’arrêt Taddeucci et McCall
c. Italie. Cela n’a rien de surprenant lorsqu’on se rappelle le contrôle très
rigoureux de la légitimité du but et de la proportionnalité de la mesure réalisé dans Vallianatos et dont on voit mal comment, appliqué à la situation
d’un État ne reconnaissant aucune forme d’union, il pourrait aboutir à un
constat de non violation du principe de non-discrimination. Au demeurant,
l’on relèvera qu’un an après l’arrêt Taddeucci et McCall, la Cour va rendre
une décision confortant cette interprétation. En effet, dans l’affaire Orlandi
c. Italie, pour juger contraire au droit au respect de la vie privée garanti
par l’article 8 le refus des autorités italiennes de transcrire en union civile
un mariage contracté à l’étranger par deux personnes homosexuelles, la
CEDH va se fonder uniquement sur l’absence de but légitime invoqué par
les autorités italiennes, sans mentionner l’existence de décisions de juges
nationaux obligeant ces autorités à créer une forme d’union civile55. Certes
Idem, § 184.
CEDH, Taddeucci et McCall c. Italie, préc.
54 Il s’agissait de statuer sur le caractère discriminatoire d’une disposition réservant aux couples
MISSEG un droit particulier (en l’espèce un droit de séjour).
55 CEDH, Orlandi, préc., § 209.
52
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l’affaire concerne encore l’Italie, mais la motivation est désormais aisément
généralisable à d’autres États.
Dans ces conditions, il est permis de penser que depuis 2016, c’est-àdire la date de l’arrêt Taddeucci et McCall – voire plus tôt –, il existe en
droit européen une obligation d’offrir aux couples homosexuels et, par
extension, aux couples MISSEG une forme d’union reconnaissant pleinement qu’ils forment une famille. En revanche, cette forme d’union n’a pas
à être un mariage, celui-ci continuant à être considéré, même en 2017 dans
l’arrêt Orlandi56, comme pouvant être réservé aux couples d’homme et de
femme. Est-ce à dire, ces unions étant formellement différentes, qu’elles
peuvent être également substantiellement différentes, de sorte qu’il serait
permis de priver les couples MISSEG de certains avantages réservés aux
couples hétérosexuels mariés ? Au premier abord, l’on pourrait être tenté
de répondre par l’affirmative, la CEDH ayant considéré à plusieurs reprises
que la forme juridiquement reconnue ouverte aux couples MISSEG n’avait
pas à produire les mêmes effets que le mariage57. En réalité les choses sont
plus complexes, la CEDH et la CJUE se montrant disposées, dans des affaires
concernant non plus l’absence d’égal accès aux unions juridiquement protégées mais l’absence d’égal accès à un avantage donné, à appliquer le principe de non-discrimination.
2. L’application du principe de non-discrimination aux avantages
réservés aux couples dits traditionnels pose des difficultés différentes de
celles rencontrées plus haut. Cette fois ce n’est pas la première condition
(la comparabilité ou différence des situations) qui pose problème, mais la
seconde (la justification objective et raisonnable). En effet, la jurisprudence
n’a guère eu l’occasion d’examiner en détail cette seconde condition. En
particulier elle n’a pas eu à examiner sa seconde composante, à savoir la
« justification raisonnable », dont on a indiqué plus haut qu’elle reposait
sur un contrôle de proportionnalité. Ainsi, les affaires examinées par la
CJUE concernaient des cas de discrimination directe58 où cette deuxième
Idem, § 192.
CEDH, Schalk et Kopf c. Autriche, préc., § 108 ; Chapin et Charpentier c. France, 9 juin 2016, no
40183/07.
58 La qualification de « discrimination directe » dans ces affaires a été discutée en doctrine et
plusieurs explications ont été proposées de cette interprétation audacieuse de la notion de discrimination directe à propos de règles formulées d’une manière neutre à l’orientation sexuelle
(Calvès 2020 : 109).
56
57
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condition n’a pas à être prouvée pour que la discrimination soit caractérisée59. Quant à la CEDH, dans les quatre affaires où il était argüé d’une
discrimination dans l’octroi d’avantages aux seuls couples dits traditionnels, elle n’a pas eu non plus à examiner cette seconde condition. Cela
s’explique soit parce que la première condition de la discrimination n’étant
pas remplie, la Cour n’a pas eu à mener plus loin le contrôle de conventionalité60, soit parce que, amenée à se prononcer sur la seconde condition,
elle a pu constater une absence de but légitime à la différence de traitement ce qui l’a conduit à considérer qu’elle n’avait pas en outre à mener
un contrôle de proportionnalité, qu’elle n’avait peut-être par ailleurs pas
envie de mener61 ! Ainsi, dans l’affaire Taddeucci et McCall, elle a considéré
que le but invoqué par le gouvernement italien – la protection de la famille
dite traditionnelle – ne pouvait pas être invoqué à propos du permis. De la
comparaison avec l’arrêt Vallianatos, où un tel but avait été accepté par la
Cour dès lors que l’avantage en question avait trait aux enfants, il est permis de penser que toutes les fois où le problème concerne le seul couple, la
protection de la famille traditionnelle ne pourra pas constituer un but légitime, autrement dit une justification raisonnable. Dans la mesure où aucun
autre but n’a été invoqué dans toutes ces affaires jugées par la CEDH (et
la CJUE) et dans la mesure où l’on peine à envisager lequel pourrait l’être,
il est permis de penser que cette deuxième condition pourra aisément être
caractérisée dès lors que l’avantage en cause concernera le seul couple,
indépendamment des enfants.
Cette facilité à caractériser la deuxième condition ne se retrouve pas en
revanche pour la première condition, à savoir l’existence d’une différence
de traitements pour des couples situés dans une situation analogue ou bien
Dans ces hypothèses il appartient au gouvernement de prouver qu’existe une justification
objective et raisonnable, ce qu’aucun gouvernement n’a pour l’instant cherché à faire.
60 Voir les affaires Courten c. France, Manenc c. France et Aldeguer Tomás c. Espagne évoquées plus
bas.
61
Comp. CEDH, Y.Y. c. Turquie, 10 mars 2015, no 14793/08 où la Cour, dans un contentieux relatif
à l’état civil d’une personne transgenre, où était invoqué le seul article 8, accepte de réaliser un
contrôle de proportionnalité stricto sensu, quand bien même elle avait déjà constaté l’absence de
but légitime à l’ingérence de l’État turc dans les droits de la personne transgenre. La Cour accepte
ici de poursuivre son contrôle car elle a un message progressiste à faire passer : l’annonce d’un
revirement de jurisprudence quant à la marge d’appréciation des État en matière de changement
de la mention du sexe à l’état civil (Moron-Puech 2015). Le revirement surviendra effectivement
dans l’arrêt AP, Garçon et Nicot, deux ans plus tard (Moron-Puech 2017a). Ici, à propos des familles MISSEG, la Cour n’était semble-t-il pas prête à faire passer un tel message progressiste.
59
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l’existence d’un traitement comparable pour des couples placés dans une
situation différentes. En effet, l’opération de comparaison des situations
ou des différences de traitement offre aux juges une importante marge
de manœuvre pour bloquer ou activer le principe de non-discrimination,
moins pour des raisons structurelles qu’en raison de la tolérance croissante
de la société vis-à-vis des couples MISSEG. Ceci s’observe tant lorsque le
juge compare la situation d’un couple MISSEG à celle d’un couple dit traditionnel bénéficiant de certains avantages, en se demandant si le premier est
dans une situation comparable au second (a.), que lorsque le juge compare
la situation de deux couples non mariés (l’un homosexuel et l’autre hétérosexuel), traités identiquement, et en recherchant s’il s’agit de situations
différentes (b.).
a. S’agissant tout d’abord de rechercher si un couple MISSEG est dans
une situation comparable à celle d’un couple dit traditionnel bénéficiant
de certains avantages, les choses peuvent paraître simples à la lecture de
l’arrêt Schalk et Kopf déjà mentionné. En effet, dans cet arrêt, la CEDH ne
se contente pas de juger que les couples homosexuels – et par extension
les couples MISSEG62 – « se trouvent dans une situation comparable à celle
de personnes hétérosexuelles pour ce qui est de leur besoin de reconnaissance juridique », elle ajoute que cette similarité concerne également le
besoin « de protection de leur relation de couple » 63. Cependant, cette
affirmation ne couvre pas la totalité des avantages découlant d’une union
juridiquement reconnue. Comme cela a été rappelé plus haut, à côté des
règles ayant pour but la protection du couple ou de ses membres (telles
celles sur les violences conjugales) ou de celles facilitant l’identification
du couple (telles celles sur le nom), il en est d’autres qui tendent au rapprochement des membres du couple. Or, l’arrêt Schalk et Kopf ne dit rien
de ces règles. Faut-il en déduire a contrario que la première condition du
principe de non-discrimination serait à leur égard écartée ? Non, il faut
bien davantage y voir une volonté de la Cour de ne pas se prononcer sur
ces règles dans cet arrêt, ce que confirme au demeurant un autre passage de
l’arrêt où la Cour se refuse, en l’absence de grief précisément formulé par
les requérants, à confronter au principe de non-discrimination chacun des
avantages réservés aux couples dits traditionnels64. Certes, en 2008, dans
62
63
64
Pour cette généralisation voir supra A.1.
CEDH, Schalk et Kopf c. Autriche, 24 juin 2010, no 30141/04, §93-94.
Idem, § 109.
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l’arrêt Courten c. Royaume-Uni concernant le refus d’octroyer le bénéfice
d’exemption fiscale au membre survivant d’un couple homosexuel, la Cour
a semblé accepter d’une manière générale que les couples mariés et non
mariés ne soient en principe pas dans une situation comparable dès lors que
« le mariage demeure une institution dont il est largement accepté qu’elle
confère un statut particulier à celles et ceux qui le concluent »65 (notre traduction). Cependant, deux ans plus tard, dans l’arrêt Manenc c. France, la
CEDH a accepté la possibilité que ces couples puissent être dans une situation comparable au regard de règles visant à rapprocher les patrimoines
du couple, en l’espèce une pension de réversion66. Si la CEDH a finalement
considéré que ces couples n’étaient pas dans une même situation, elle en
a décidé ainsi en s’appuyant non sur une considération générale, mais sur
une considération propre à l’affaire, à savoir l’absence de solidarité des
couples homosexuels – contrairement aux couples hétérosexuels – quant
aux dettes liées aux cotisations sociales ouvrant droit à pension de réversion. La Cour a repris cette même approche casuistique six ans plus tard,
dans une affaire Aldeguer Tomás, où elle a conclu à nouveau à l’absence de
similarité en s’appuyant sur des considérations propres à l’espèce67. Dans
ces conditions, la question de savoir si et à quelles conditions les couples
MISSEG peuvent, au regard de l’article 14 de la CSDHLF, être jugés dans
une situation comparable à celles des couples dits traditionnels ne connaît
pas dans la jurisprudence actuelle de la CEDH de réponse claire et générale
pour les règles œuvrant à un rapprochement des membres du couple. La
première condition paraît donc pouvoir être jugée remplie mais sans qu’on
ne puisse à ce jour savoir selon quels critères.
En revanche, une indication nette des critères à mettre en œuvre pour
décider si des couples homosexuels et hétérosexuels sont ou non dans des
situations comparables peut être trouvée dans des arrêts de la CJUE rendus
postérieurement aux arrêts Schalk et Kopf et Manenc de la CEDH68. Certes,
dans un premier temps, par sa décision Maruko de 2008, la CJUE s’est
montré prudente dans son appréciation de la comparabilité des situations
CEDH, Courten c. Royaume-Uni, 4 nov. 2008, no 4479/06.
CEDH, Manenc c France, 21 septembre 2010, no 66686/09.
67 CEDH, Aldeguer Tomás c. Espagne, 14 juin 2016, no 35214/09, § 87.
68 Les deux juridictions s’efforcent en effet d’aligner leurs standards, dans un contexte d’affirmation de principe de l’équivalence de protection des droits humains octroyée par les deux
ordres juridiques européens (V. CEDH [GC], Bosphorus, 30 juin 2005, no 45036/98 et art. 52, § 3
CDFUE).
65
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(Palazzo 2020), cela alors même que par le passé elle s’était montrée très
soucieuse d’empêcher toute discrimination dans les couples transgenres
quant au versement des pensions de réversion69. La CJUE en effet, un peu
à l’image de la CEDH dans l’arrêt Courten, a renvoyé au juge national le
soin de statuer sur ce point, en lui laissant une grande marge de manœuvre
puisqu’elle ne lui a donné aucune indication méthodologique70. Cependant,
dans un deuxième temps, alors que la CEDH venait d’indiquer qu’elle pourrait juger les situations des couples hétérosexuels et homosexuels comparables, la CJUE, tout en continuant à déléguer la tâche de comparaison au
juge national, a fixé dans l’affaire Romer de 2011 les critères à suivre pour
réaliser cette comparaison71. Pour la CJUE « la comparaison des situations
doit être fondée sur une analyse focalisée sur les droits et les obligations
des époux mariés et des partenaires de vie enregistrés, tels qu’ils résultent
des dispositions internes applicables, qui sont pertinents compte tenu de
l’objet et des conditions d’octroi de la prestation en cause au principal, et
non pas consister à vérifier si le droit national a opéré une assimilation juridique générale et complète du partenariat de vie enregistré au mariage »72.
Enfin, dans un troisième temps, la Cour a accepté de réaliser elle-même ce
contrôle, contribuant ainsi à une meilleure effectivité du droit européen
de la non-discrimination. Ainsi, dans une affaire Hay de 2013, la CJUE a
jugé la situation d’un couple hétérosexuel comparable à celle d’un couple
homosexuel pour l’octroi d’un congé lié à la conclusion de ces unions. Pour
la CJUE, dès lors en effet que cette prestation avait pour objet d’octroyer
CJCE, K.B. c. National Health Service Pensions Agency et Secretary of State for Health, 7 janv.
2004, no C-117/01. Arrêt rendu toutefois en application non pas de la directive discrimination citée
supra note 38, mais de l’article 141 du traité sur les communautés européennes d’une part et de la
directive 75/117/CEE du Conseil, du 10 février 1975, concernant le rapprochement des législations
des États membres relatives à l’application du principe de l’égalité des rémunérations entre les
travailleurs masculins et les travailleurs féminins d’autre part.
70 CJUE, Tadao Maruko c. Versorgungsanstalt der deutschen Bühnen [Maruko], 1er avr. 2008,
C-267/06, § 73 : « Il incombe à la juridiction de renvoi de vérifier si un partenaire de vie survivant
est dans une situation comparable à celle d’un époux bénéficiaire de la prestation de survie prévue par le régime de prévoyance professionnelle géré par la VddB. »
71
CJUE [GC], Jürgen Römer c. Freie und Hansestadt Hamburg [Romer], 10 mai 2011, C-147/08, § 52 :
« L’appréciation de la comparabilité relève de la compétence de la juridiction de renvoi et doit
être focalisée sur les droits et obligations respectifs des époux et des personnes engagées dans un
partenariat de vie, tels qu’ils sont régis dans le cadre des institutions correspondantes, qui sont
pertinents compte tenu de l’objet et des conditions d’octroi de la prestation en question. »
72 CJUE, Frédéric Hay c. Crédit agricole mutuel de Charente-Maritime et des Deux-Sèvres [Hay],
12 déc. 2013, C-267/12, §34 où elle réécrit de manière explicite le raisonnement suivi dans l’arrêt
Romer.
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des jours de congés aux personnes s’unissant civilement d’une part et était
subordonnée à la conclusion d’une telle union d’autre part, il fallait l’ouvrir
aux couples homosexuels s’unissant par un PACS, lequel était à la date des
faits la seule forme d’union juridiquement reconnue ouverte aux personnes
homosexuelles. Dans ces conditions, il est désormais permis de conclure
que, pour les règles œuvrant au rapprochement des membres du couple, les
couples MISSEG peuvent se trouver dans une situation comparable à celle
des autres couples. Pour qu’il en soit ainsi il faut que l’objet et les conditions de la règle en cause permettent son extension aux couples MISSEG.
b. S’agissant ensuite de rechercher si sont placés dans une situation différente deux couples non mariés, l’un homosexuel et l’autre hétérosexuel,
traités de manière comparable, la Cour a initialement aussi répondu par la
négative. Ainsi, en 2012, dans l’affaire Gas et Dubois73 – qui concernait une
question qui sera examinée plus loin – la Cour a considéré que, vis-à-vis
des couples hétérosexuels non mariés, les couples homosexuels non mariés
étaient dans une situation similaire, de sorte qu’ils ne pouvaient se plaindre
d’aucune discrimination dans le fait d’être traités d’une manière similaire
à ces couples. Le constat de cette identité de situation n’était cependant
aucunement argumenté74 et pouvait laisser penser que la décision n’était
pas dépourvue d’un certain arbitraire. Finalement, quatre ans plus tard,
dans l’affaire Taddeucci et McCall précitée, la Cour va faire l’effort d’argumenter et parvenir cette fois à une conclusion inverse, motif pris que les
couples homosexuels, contrairement aux couples hétérosexuels, n’ont pas
la possibilité d’accéder au mariage et rencontrent de ce fait un obstacle irrésistible pour accéder aux avantages réservés aux couples mariés75. Compte
tenu de cette motivation, il est permis de conclure que, en l’état actuel
de la jurisprudence de la CEDH, toutes les fois où un couple homosexuel
– et par extension un couple MISSEG – se trouve empêché de manière
insurmontable d’accéder à un avantage ouvert aux couples dits traditionnels se mariant, une discrimination peut être caractérisée. On le voit, dans
nombre de situations, il sera désormais possible de caractériser la première
condition d’une discrimination soit en comparant le couple MISSEG avec
un couple marié traité différemment, soit en le comparant avec un couple
non marié traité identiquement. Dès lors, compte tenu de la relative facilité
73
74
75
CEDH, Gas et Dubois, 15 mars 2012, no 25951/07.
Idem, § 69.
CEDH, Taddeucci et McCall, § 83.
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évoquée plus haut à caractériser la seconde condition de l’existence d’une
discrimination, il nous semble possible de conclure que le principe de
non-discrimination constitue un instrument efficace pour qu’à l’avenir76
soit étendus aux couples MISSEG les avantages concernant les rapports
entre les membres du couple aus-mêmes. Une conclusion assez différente
peut être tirée à propos de l’application du principe de non-discrimination
aux règles gouvernant non plus les rapports horizontaux entre les membres
du couple, mais les rapports verticaux entre le couple et le ou les enfants77.
3. Les difficultés concernant le lien entre le couple
et l’enfant
Comme précédemment, seront d’abord évoquées les difficultés affectant le
lien entre le couple et l’enfant (A.), puis l’on s’intéressera à la résolution de
ces difficultés (B.)
a. Présentation des difficultés
Les difficultés rencontrées par les couples MISSEG dans l’établissement
d’un lien avec l’enfant peuvent être de deux ordres. Il peut s’agir d’abord de
difficultés tenant à l’impossibilité d’établir un lien biologique avec un enfant
engendré (1.). Il peut s’agir ensuite de difficultés affectant le lien juridique,
qu’il s’agisse de l’établissement de ce lien ou de son maintien (2.).
1. La difficulté la plus radicale à laquelle peuvent être confrontés les
couples MISSEG résulte de l’impossibilité d’engendrer et d’établir un lien
biologique avec un enfant. Cette impossibilité résulte à la fois de contraintes
matérielles et juridiques.
S’agissant des contraintes matérielles, les membres d’un couple MISSEG
peuvent avoir perdu leurs facultés procréatrices à la suite de traitements
hormonaux ou chirurgicaux non pleinement consentis. Si ces traitements paraissent avoir disparu s’agissant des personnes homosexuelles
Pour une application rétroactive le principe de non-discrimination risque en revanche de se
montrer insuffisant ; v. l’affaire Aldeguer Tomás c. Espagne précitée. Bien que l’affaire ait été rendue à une époque où l’on se serait attendue à ce que le principe de non-discrimination triomphe,
tel n’a pas été le cas, en grande partie car il s’agissait d’étendre de manière rétroactive, avant
2007, des avantages jusqu’alors réservés aux couples de même sexe.
77 Rappr. Wintemute 2020, qui s’appuyant sur l’affaire Oliari trace une ligne de partage entre
les « droits essentiels » (core rights dit la CEDH) et les « droits supplémentaires » (supplementary
rights dit la CEDH), sans toutefois préciser quel critère pourrait être utilisé pour classer un droit
dans l’une de ces deux catégories.
76
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susceptibles hier d’être soumises à des traitements de castration chimique–
parfois à titre de sanction pénale –, ils demeurent encore dans plusieurs
pays européens pour les personnes transgenres et intersexuées (Schneider 2012 ; Scherpe 2015, 2017). Les premières, afin d’obtenir le droit de
modifier leur marqueur de sexe/genre à l’état civil puisque, trop souvent,
un tel changement est subordonné à la perte des facultés procréatrices78.
Les secondes, pour pouvoir « rentrer » dans un état civil, leur corps « indéterminé » empêchant prétendument de les rattacher à l’une des deux catégories de sexe ou de genre reconnues : le masculin et le féminin79.
Quant aux obstacles juridiques, il s’agit des règles réservant aux couples
dits traditionnels la possibilité de bénéficier des techniques d’assistance
médicale à la procréation (y compris la gestation pour autrui et la greffe
d’utérus). Ces techniques sont en effet souvent réservées aux couples dits
traditionnels, au motif que l’infertilité y serait pathologique et mériterait
une prise en charge.
2. Outre ces difficultés concernant l’établissement d’un lien biologique,
les couples MISSEG connaissent davantage encore des difficultés à établir
ou maintenir un lien juridique avec un enfant. S’agissant de l’établissement du lien, on songe en premier lieu aux difficultés rencontrées par les
couples MISSEG ayant recours à l’étranger à des techniques d’assistance
à la procréation (y compris la gestation pour autrui) et qui se heurtent, de
retour dans leur pays, à un refus des États de reconnaître les liens de filiation régulièrement établis à l’étranger. Si ces difficultés concernent toutes
les gestations pour autrui, elles affectent cependant plus durablement les
familles MISSEG. Des difficultés se posent également quant à l’adoption
de l’enfant du conjoint, l’adoption conjointe étant souvent réservée aux
couples mariés et donc, dans certains pays européens, aux couples dits
traditionnels.
Enfin, peuvent se poser des difficultés quant au maintien du lien de
filiation ou à tout le moins de l’autorité parentale qui en découle. En effet, à
l’occasion de séparation des membres du couple ou de décès de l’un d’entre
eux, les autorités nationales peuvent décider de priver lu parenx MISSEG de
V. CEDH, AP, Garçon et Nicot c. France, 6 avr. 2017, nos 798885/12 et al., sanctionnant un courant
jurisprudentiel imposant une stérilisation pour l’accès au changement de genre. Rappr. CEDH,
Y.Y. c. Turquie, 10 mars 2015, no 14793/08, sanctionnant une législation imposant la stérilisation
comme prérequis à la chirurgie de réassignation, elle-même préalable au changement d’état civil.
79 V. en France la Circulaire du 28 oct. 2011 relative aux règles particulières à divers actes de
l’état civil relatifs à la naissance et à la filiation, § 55.
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ses droits sur l’enfant au motif qu’al n’en serait pas lu parenx biologique80
ou encore qu’en raison de son orientation sexuelle ou de son identité de
genre, al serait inapte à s’occuper de l’enfant.
B. Résolution des difficultés
Différentes normes peuvent être utilisées pour traiter les difficultés rencontrées par les familles MISSEG concernant les liens entre les membres
du couple et l’enfant. Il s’agit d’une part des normes protégeant l’intégrité
des personnes (1.) et d’autre part de celles prohibant les discriminations en
lien avec le droit au respect de la vie privée et familiale (2.), l’application
des premières posant moins de difficultés que les secondes.
1. Le droit à l’intégrité des personnes constitue un moyen pour dépasser
les obstacles matériels auxquels sont confrontés les couples MISSEG pour
établir un lien biologique. En effet, les traitements médicaux auxquels ces
personnes sont soumises, allant parfois jusqu’à la stérilisation, semblent
difficilement compatibles avec la prohibition des actes de torture et des traitements inhumains et dégradants81 ou même simplement avec le droit au
respect de la vie privée, lequel inclut un droit à l’autonomie personnelle
peu compatible avec des stérilisations non consenties ou à tout le moins
consenties sous la contrainte ou sans consentement éclairé82. À se limiter
aux affaires jugées par la Cour européenne des droits de l’homme, cette
dernière a pu considérer dans l’affaire A.P., Garçon et Nicot de 2017 que la
stérilisation ne pouvait pas constituer une condition d’accès au changement
d’état civil, en ce qu’elle plaçait les personnes transgenres face à un dilemme
insoluble entre leur droit à l’intégrité physique et leur droit au respect de
leur identité de genre, tous deux garantis par l’article 883. Par analogie cette
décision paraît également pouvoir s’appliquer à l’hypothèse où la personne
s’oppose à la stérilisation en invoquant également son droit au respect de
ses décisions de devenir parent via ses propres gamètes84. Pour en revenir
à l’arrêt A.P., Garçon et Nicot, la Cour y a bien souligné qu’elle n’entendait
pas se contenter d’une approche strictement formelle du consentement.
La Cour affirme ainsi dans cet arrêt qu’un « traitement médical n’est pas
Rappr., Cass., 1re civ., 18 mai 2005, no 02-16.336 : AJ Famille, 2005, p. 321, note Fr. Chénedé.
81
CEDH, M c. France, no 42821/18, affaire communiquée le 22 septembre 2020.
82 Rappr. CEDH, V.C. c. Slovaquie, 8 nov. 2011, retenant une violation de l’article 3 en présence
d’une stérilisation pour laquelle le consentement donné n’a pas été jugé éclairé par la CEDH.
83 CEDH, A.P., Nicot et Garçon, 6 avr. 2017, nos 79885/12, 52471/13 et 52596/13, §132.
84 Rappr. CEDH, Evans c. Royaume-Uni, 6 avr. 2007, no 6339/05, § 71.
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véritablement consenti lorsque le fait pour l’intéressé de ne pas s’y plier
a pour conséquence de le priver du plein exercice de son droit à l’identité
sexuelle et à l’épanouissement personnel ». Le même raisonnement nous
paraît par analogie pouvoir s’appliquer aux personnes intersexuées faisant l’objet de stérilisation, sans leur consentement personnel, mais avec le
consentement peu éclairé de leurs parents (ceux-ci consentant sur la base
d’indication médicale selon lesquelles leur enfant sain serait prétendument
atteint d’une pathologie). Par ailleurs, pour ces stérilisations, à l’argument du
défaut de consentement, s’ajoute l’absence de nécessité médicale85 qui paraît
faire obstacle à toute opération non consentie directement par l’enfant86.
2. Les normes garantissant le droit au respect de la vie privée et familiale, combinées le cas échéant avec les principes de non-discrimination et
d’intérêt supérieur de l’enfant, permettent également de résoudre certaines
des difficultés concernant l’accès à la procréation, l’établissement du lien
de filiation ou encore le maintien de ce lien. Pour ces dernières, précisons
qu’au vu de la jurisprudence de la Cour européenne des droits de l’homme,
c’est bien la composante « vie familiale » de l’article 8 de la CSDHLF qui
protègera les familles MISSEG lorsqu’il s’agira d’établir ou de maintenir
un lien biologique de filiation à l’égard d’un enfant déjà rattaché en fait au
couple. En revanche, ce sera la composante « vie privée » de ce texte qui
s’appliquera lorsqu’il s’agira de donner au couple le droit d’établir un lien
de fait et de droit avec un enfant désiré. En effet, la Cour considère que
le droit au respect de la vie familiale ne confère pas le droit à fonder une
famille et notamment pas celui d’« avoir » des enfants via les techniques
d’assistance à la procréation (y compris la GPA) ou encore l’adoption87.
Pour la Cour, ce droit permet seulement de protéger des liens (biologiques
ou juridiques) déjà existants. Cela étant, dans plusieurs arrêts, la Cour a
pallié cette lacune via la composante « vie privée » de l’article 8. Elle a
ainsi jugé que la vie privée comprenait le droit au respect du projet parental88. Cette différence de fondement a son importance car ce ne seront pas
les mêmes raisonnements qui seront mobilisés pour protéger les familles
MISSEG au stade de la création d’une famille verticale (a.) ou à celui de sa
Sur la démonstration de l’absence de nécessité médicale, voir. Moron-Puech 2017b.
Rappr. CEDH, Jalloh c. Allemagne, 11 juill. 2006, n° 54810/00, § 69.
87 Pour l’adoption, voir not. CEDH, GC, X. et a. c. Autriche, 19 févr. 2013, no 19010/07, § 135.
88 CEDH, Evans préc. ou, plus récemment, GC, Paradiso et Campanelli c. Italie, 24 janv. 2017, no
25358/12, § 163
85
86
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protection (b.).
a. S’agissant tout d’abord de la création d’une famille verticale, même
s’il n’existe pas de « droit à l’enfant » qui enjoindrait aux États une obligation positive d’aider les couples MISSEG à devenir parenz, la Cour a estimé
que, lorsque ce droit était ouvert, il devait l’être sans discrimination89. La
question se pose alors de savoir si est ou non discriminatoire un dispositif qui ferme l’adoption ou les techniques d’aide à la procréation (y compris gestation pour autrui et greffe d’utérus) à une personne seule ou à un
couple à raison de leur appartenance à la catégorie des MISSEG. La Cour a
eu à cet égard des positions contrastées, en semblant distinguer l’adoption
des techniques d’aide à la procréation.
S’agissant premièrement de l’adoption, la Cour a fini par accepter en
2008, dans l’arrêt E. B. c. France, que lorsqu’une différence de traitement
de situations comparables était fondée sur l’orientation sexuelle, celle-ci ne
pouvait en aucun cas reposer sur une justification légitime90, de sorte qu’elle
était inconventionnelle. Auparavant, en 1997, la Cour avait jugé qu’il était
loisible au gouvernement d’invoquer l’orientation sexuelle et d’autres buts
pour justifier la différence de traitement. Toutefois, l’affirmation à partir
de 1999 qu’une telle discrimination, « nonobstant tout argument contraire
possible », ne saurait être « tolér[ée] »91 a changé la donne et a conduit
au revirement de 2008. Bien que rendue à propos des seules minorités
homosexuelles, cette affirmation nous paraît devoir être étendue à tous les
couples MISSEG. Peut-elle également être étendue en dehors de l’adoption,
c’est-à-dire aux techniques d’aide à la procréation ? S’il n’existe pas de décision de la CEDH portant, sur le fond92, spécifiquement sur cette question,
on peut, à l’image du Conseil d’État français (2018 : p. 49), avoir quelque
doute sur l’existence d’une discrimination, compte tenu des propos tenus
par la CEDH dans l’arrêt Gas et Dubois. Dans celui-ci, la CEDH a en effet
considéré qu’au regard de l’insémination artificielle avec tiers donneur, les
couples de même sexe ne se trouvaient pas dans une situation comparable
CEDH, GC, E. B. c. France, 22 janv. 2008, n° 43546/02, § 135.
Ibidem.
91
CEDH, Salgueiro da Silva Mouta c. Portugal, 21 déc. 1999, no 33290/96, qui transpose à l’orientation sexuelle un raisonnement déjà tenu pour la religion dans CEDH, Hoffmann c. Autriche, 23
juin 1993, no 12875/87.
92 Pour une décision portant sur la recevabilité, voir CEDH, Charron et Merle-Montet, 16 janv.
2018, no 22612/15.
89
90
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aux couples de sexe différent93, compte tenu dans ce dernier cas du caractère pathologique de l’infertilité. Affirmée en 2012, au détour d’un arrêt qui
ne portait pas sur la question de l’IAD, cette phrase nous paraît discutable.
En effet, médicalement, l’IAD ne constitue pas un soin thérapeutique – le
couple n’est pas guéri de son infertilité – mais un soin palliatif. Dès lors,
au regard de l’acte médical en cause, invoquer le caractère pathologique de
l’infertilité apparaît sans intérêt et relève très largement d’une construction sociale destinée à légitimer a posteriori la fermeture de l’IAD aux
couples de même sexe. D’ailleurs, la Cour constitutionnelle autrichienne
ne s’y est pas trompée. Ainsi, lorsqu’elle a eu à examiner minutieusement
le caractère discriminatoire d’une législation réservant l’IAD aux couples
de sexe différent, elle n’a aucunement considéré qu’il y avait là des situations différentes ne pouvant pas être comparées. Pour elle, ces situations
étaient évidemment comparables94, ce qui l’a alors conduit à examiner les
justifications de ces différences de traitement et, en l’absence d’un tel but,
à les déclarer contraire aux articles 8 et 14 de la Convention (intégrée par
la Cour autrichienne à son « bloc de constitutionalité »)95. Est-il possible de
considérer également que cette analyse, décidée à propos de l’IAD, puisse
être appliquée aux autres techniques? Selon nous, tant que les couples sont
au regard de ces techniques dans des situations comparables, rien ne l’empêche. Voilà pourquoi, du point de vue de la création d’une famille verticale, les familles MISSEG devraient pouvoir bénéficier des droits reconnus
toutes les fois où ce droit est ouvert aux couples de sexe différent.
b. Concernant ensuite la protection de la famille verticale, il faut distinguer ici la question de la reconnaissance d’une famille de fait, de celle du
maintien d’un lien déjà établi. Sur le second cas, il est possible d’être bref
en relevant que, à propos de couples homosexuels, la CEDH a considéré
comme discriminatoire le fait de décider de la garde d’un enfant en tenant
compte de l’homosexualité d’an des parenz96. La solution peut aisément
être reproduite à toutes les autres décisions attentatoires aux droits parentaux et fondées sur la seule orientation sexuelle, voire l’identité et l’expression de genre ou encore les caractéristiques sexuées du requérant. Sur le
premier cas (reconnaissance d’une famille MISSEG verticale de fait), il faut
93
94
95
96
CEDH, Gas et Dubois, 15 mars 2012, no 25951/07.
Cela lui est tellement évident qu’elle ne prend pas même la peine de le vérifier.
VfGH, 12 oct. 2013, no G 16/2013-16, §2.6. et s.
Salgueiro da Silva Mouta, préc.
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distinguer les hypothèses de discrimination directe de celles de discriminations indirectes, beaucoup plus fréquentes. S’agissant de la différence de
traitement fondée directement sur l’orientation sexuelle, elle se rencontre
par exemple dans l’affaire X. et a. c. Autriche97, où il a été jugé que la différence de traitement ne pouvait être justifiée que par des motifs impérieux,
ce qui n’était pas le cas en l’espèce. À l’inverse, lorsque que ce motif discriminatoire n’apparaît pas98 et donc que la discrimination n’est qu’indirecte,
alors la Cour a tendance à juger que l’État peut avancer un but tiré de
la protection de la famille traditionnelle et que l’atteinte portée au droit
au respect de la vie familiale des membres de couple est proportionnée,
ainsi qu’elle l’a fait dans X. Y. et Z. c. Royaume-Uni à propos d’une famille
transparentale ou de Gas et Dubois à propos d’une famille homoparentale.
Faut-il alors en déduire qu’en présence d’un refus de reconnaître une famille
MISSEG, aucun lien de filiation ne pourra être établi ? Nullement. En effet,
qu’il s’agisse des arrêts Paradisio et Campanelli ou Menesson, il y a été jugé,
sur le fondement cette fois du droit au respect de vie privée, qu’un lien de
filiation (ou d’adoption) devrait toujours être établi sur le fondement de
l’intérêt supérieur de l’enfant.
Où l’on voit comment, par différents leviers, les droits des familles
MISSEG relativement aux liens entre le couple et ses enfants se trouvent
aujourd’hui correctement protégés. À certains égards, si l’on s’en tient à la
question de la reconnaissance des couples, l’état du droit paraît plus protecteur des liens enfant/couples que des liens entre les membres du couple
eux-mêmes cela en raison du principe d’intérêt supérieur de l’enfant.
Benjamin Moron-Puech
benjamin.moron-puech@u-paris2.fr
Enseignant-chercheur au Laboratoire de sociologie juridique, Université Panthéon-Assas
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Ground of Discrimination? », in E. Bernard, M. Cresp et M. Ho-Dac (dir.), La
famille dans l’ordre juridique de l’Union européenne, Bruylant,Bruxelles : 137-154.
Schneider É., 2012, Les droits des enfants intersexes et trans’ sont-ils respectés en
Europe ? Une perspective, Conseil de l’Europe, Strasbourg.
Scherpe J. M. (dir.), 2015, The Legal Status of Transgender and Transsexual Persons,
Intersentia, Cambridge.
Scherpe J. M. (dir.), 2017, The Legal Status of Intersex Persons, Intersentia, Cambridge.
Willems E., 2021 « Le droit de la famille réformé par les juges des droits de l’homme : Réflexions sur la diversité des stratégies juridictionnelles et les enjeux
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du dialogue interjuridictionnel au départ du cas du mariage homosexuel », in
Oñati Socio-Legal Series, vol. 11, no 2S (à paraître).
Trifonidou A. et Wintemute R., 2021, Obstacles to the Free Movement of Rainbow Families in the EU, Policy Department for Cititzens’ Rights and Constitutional Affairs (European Union).
Wintemute R., 2020, « Sexisme et LGBT-phobie dans le cadre de la jurisprudence
de la CourEDH et la CJUE », in D. Borrillo et F. Lemaire (dir.), Les discriminations fondées sur le sexe, l’orientation sexuelle et l’identité de genre, L’Harmattan,
Paris : 165-198.
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A Transdisciplinary
Journal of
Queer
Theories and Studies
EVER
whatever.cirque.unipi.it
Francesca Miccoli
Legal recognition of polyamory:
Notes on its feasibility
Abstract: This paper aims to analyse legal recognition of polyamorous relationships and to
examine the main obstacles to its feasibility in the short run. Preliminarily, I shall make a few
notes on the state of the art in the matter of polyamory, discuss relevant terminology issues, and
enumerate some of the main features of polyamorous relationships with a view to framing the
debate on their legal recognition. Polyamorous relationships are then contextualized in the light
of the radical changes which the traditional family has undergone since the second half of the
20th century. It is my claim that polyamorous relationships can be considered only the latest stage
in that process of transformation, and that they will enjoy legal recognition at a sooner or later
date. However, I shall acknowledge that this will probably not occur in the short term, and I shall
analyse the main reasons why. My concluding argument is, nevertheless, that legal recognition of
such relationships may be hailed as desirable.
Keywords: polyamory; plural marriage; unconventional families; legal recognition; mononormativity; sociology of law; political philosophy; philosophy of law.
Introduction
Since the beginning of the 20th century, the nuclear, heterosexual, monogamic family has undergone a disruptive process of transformation in Western liberal democratic states (Budgeon & Roseneil 2004; Cogswell 1975;
Cutas 2019). Starting from the improvement of gender equality within the
family, this process of transformation paved the way for the spread and
recognition of several unconventional kinds of nonmarital relationships,
and it reached its peak with legal recognition of same-sex marriage, or
marriage-like institutions like civil unions, in most North American and
European countries. Two of the main pillars of the traditional nuclear
heterosexual family have been eroded. These are gender inequality (Okin
1989) and heteronormativity (Folgerø 2008), undermined by feminists and
LGBT+1 movements calling for gender equality and same-sex marriage.
The acronym LGBT stands for lesbians, gays, bisexuals and transgender minorities. The ‘+’ at
the end of the acronym serves the purpose of including other sexual minorities, such as queer,
1
francesca.miccoli@unimi.it
State University of Milan
Whatever, 4 2021: 357-380 | CC 4.0 BY NC-SA
doi 10.13131/2611-657X.whatever.v4i1.112
Francesca Miccoli
However, until the last decade, the pillar of mononormativity2 (Pieper &
Bauer 2005) still seemed to remain inherent in all kinds of family, from
traditional to less conventional ones. At this point, though, even mononormativity is starting to be questioned by the increasing spread and visibility
of a particular kind of intimate relationship: the polyamorous relationship.
My claim is that the increasing prevalence and visibility of polyamorous relationships should be considered an integral part of the process of
transformation affecting the traditional nuclear family. For this reason, we
can expect that a future step in this process of transformation may be legal
recognition of polyamorous families (Palazzo 2018: 234). Having said that,
I acknowledge that the recognition of such families will probably not occur
very soon, not least because of contingent obstacles to its feasibility. Yet,
there are strong reasons to believe that sooner or later this development
will be included in the political agenda. I also claim that the feasibility and
desirability of recognition for polyamorous families are issues that should
be addressed separately. Indeed, legal recognition of polyamorous families
by a liberal democratic state would always be desirable for two main reasons: to protect the vulnerable partners, and to provide fair treatment to
anyone choosing unconventional relational styles.
This paper aims to provide an overview of the debate on the feasibility of legal recognition for polyamorous relationships, especially in the
form of plural marriage. Firstly, I shall make a few notes on the state of
the art of the sociological, legal and philosophical literature in Italian and
English in the matter of polyamory and of legal recognition of polyamorous relationships. I shall also discuss the controversy surrounding the
term polyamory, suggest a different label and emphasise the differences
between polyamory and traditional polygamy. This will help to remove
intersexual and asexual people. Whether polyamorists could be considered a sexual minority
is debatable because it remains controversial whether polyamory is a sexual orientation or not
(Emens 2004; Den Otter 2015). Thus, even if the LGBT+ and the polyamorous community sometimes overlap (polyamorists can be gay, lesbian, transgender etc.), I shall keep considering them
as separate communities for reasons that will be developed later.
2
Mononormativity is a term coined by Pieper and Bauer (2005) to refer to “the forms of power
which help establish the monogamous couple bond as an idealized and normative model” (Gusmano & Motterle 2019: 352). In other words, monogamy is usually considered the norm in intimate relationships, and this is a powerful assumption as long as every relationship that deviates
from this alleged norm is stigmatized and marginalized. Mononormativity is closely linked to
heteronormativity; the latter claims that heterosexuality is the norm in intimate relationships,
thus establishing a hierarchy between heterosexual and non-heterosexual kinds of relationships.
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one of the main obstacles to widespread social acceptance of polyamorous
relationships. I shall subsequently give a brief account of the main features
of polyamorous relationships. In so doing, I shall underline how fluidity,
heterogeneity and non-conformity are crucial for polyamorists, providing
a convincing reason to resist all attempts at normalization and assimilation
into the normative model of the monogamous heterosexual family. This
aspect is key: fluidity, after all, has a strong bearing on whether polyamory
should be recognized at all.
Secondly, I shall contextualize polyamorous relationship in the light of
the radical changes which the traditional family has undergone since the
second half of the 20th century. I shall present polyamory as the most recent
step in the process of transformation affecting the notion of family. In fact,
polyamorous relationships represent one of the most radical challenges to
the idea of the traditional heterosexual family based on monogamous heterosexual marriage, and they have significant potential for deconstructing
the pillar of mononormativity. This is part of a continuum encompassing
the deconstruction of other pillars of the traditional family, notably heteronormativity, undermined by recognition of same-sex unions. Thus, I shall
claim that, along the lines of what happened with same-sex couples, we
should expect recognition of polyamorous relationships to become a relevant issue at a sooner or later date.
Finally, I shall claim that legal recognition of polyamorous families will
not probably occur in the short run, and I will analyse some contingent
obstacles to its feasibility. Specifically, I shall foreground the obstacles to
the institutionalization of plural marriage, addressing four main issues: (i)
The lack of social acceptance and solid alliances, caused by the limited visibility of polyamory in the “society at large” (Sheff 2011), a hostile attitude
of society towards polyamory when confused with inegalitarian forms of
polygamy (Brooks 2009), and a suspicious attitude by the LGBT+ community towards legal recognition of polyamorous relationships (Calhoun
2005). (ii) The lack of strong and unanimous calls for recognition coming
from the polyamorous community itself (Aviram 2008). (iii) The difficulties involved in finding a common regulatory framework due to diversity
and intrinsic fluidity among polyamorous relationships. (iv) Concrete problems that governments would face when called upon to reshape pre-existing legal systems in an effort to legalize multiple marriage (Aviram &
Leachman 2015). In conclusion, I will briefly argue for the desirability of
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legal recognition of polyamorous relationships, preferably in such a way
as to secure rights for individuals in polyamorous relationships, but without constraining the transformative potential of this kind of relationships
within an excessively rigid legal institution.
1. Definition and main features of polyamorous
relationships
The phenomenon of polyamory started to arouse academic interest at the
beginning of the 21st century (Barker & Langdridge 2010), but most of
the research has been conducted in the fields of sociology and psychology
(Anapol 2010; Barker 2005; Conley et al. 2015; Moors et al. 2017). From a
sociological perspective, there is only one recent quantitative study about
polyamorous relationships3. It took place in 2016 thanks to the Canadian
Research Institute for Law and the Family and investigated the perceptions of polyamory in Canada. Its purpose was “to obtain demographic and
attitudinal information about Canadians involved in non-dyadic relationships, better understand how they see themselves and how they believe
the general public sees them, and expand our knowledge of the frequency
and nature of non-dyadic relationships” (Boyd 2017: xvi). However, being
among the first pieces of relevant quantitative research so far, it has many
limits and does not provide information about non-polyamorists’ perception of polyamorous families. Scarce interest in quantitative research on
polyamory might probably reflect the marginality and invisibility (Sheff
2011) of this kind of intimate relationships until the last decade.
Sociological research on polyamory points to an important issue concerning its geographical limits: the few qualitative studies available in
English almost always refer to the situation in the United States and Canada. Polyamory in European countries and especially in Italy is all but
neglected. Crucial contributions in North America concern polyamorists’
different approaches to recognition of polyamorous relationships and multiple marriage (Aviram 2008); the debate on multiple marriage (Sheff
Other two quantitative studies were conducted in the United States in the late 1990s. In 1999
Jasmine Walston delivered a survey through a mailing list; she received 430 responses and she
discussed the results at the Building Bridges Conference of the Institute for Twenty-First Century Relationships in Seattle. Her paper is titled “Polyamory: An Exploratory Study of Responsible
Multi-Partnering”. Some data was also collected from 1000 people who attended polyamorous
conferences in the late 1990s, and the results were published by the magazine “Loving more” in
2002. The article, written by Adam Weber, is titled “Survey Results: Who Are We?” (Anapol, 2010).
3
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2011); the classification of polyamory within the broader discourse on ethical non-monogamies (Barker & Langridge 2010) and multi-parenting
(Sheff 2010; Goldfeder & Sheff 2013; Pallotta-Chiarolli et al. 2020).
The little systematic sociological research done in Europe about polyamorous relationships, published in English and Italian, comprises the works
of Christian Klesse (2006; 2017; 2019) – who focused on several aspects of
polyamory, like the meaning of the term polyamory, polyamorous parenting, gay male and bisexual non-monogamists in United Kingdom – and the
European project ‘INTIMATE – Citizenship, Care and Choice: The Micropolitics of Intimacy in Southern Europe’4. However, of fifty publications,
only two refer explicitly to polyamory, namely Gusmano (2018) and Pérez
Navarro (2017), and Pérez Navarro himself is not directly concerned with
polyamory, focusing on a theoretical investigation of monogamy “as a
constitutive element of marriage-like institutions” (Pérez Navarro 2017:
441) from the standpoint of Spanish law. Thus, only Gusmano investigates
polyamory, consensual non-monogamies and other forms of multiple intimate relationships by accounting for the Italian polyamorous community
through interviews and a survey of the main websites and forums.
If the sociological research lacks systematic qualitative research, and
quantitative research is almost missing, works in political philosophy and
law do not get us much further. Very few legal scholars address the topic
of legal recognition of polyamorous families in liberal democratic states:
Emens (2004), who sketchily advocates the repeal of the adultery laws in
the United States at the end of a broader talk about polyamory in general;
Aviram and Leachman (2015) in their work on polyamorous marriage in
the United States; Palazzo (2018), who mainly focuses on legal recognition
of non-conjugal families in the United States and Canada, but also refers to
polyamorous relationships as potentially “the next frontier of family law in
U.S. and Canada” (234); an Italian volume edited by Grande and Pes (2018)
with some insights about the possibility of legal recognition of polyamorous families in Italy. As far as political philosophy is concerned, only a
couple of recent contributions by Brake (2014) and Den Otter (2015; 2018)
directly investigate the philosophical underpinnings of recognition and
INTIMATE is a comparative qualitative study which “addresses intimacy from the perspective of those on the margins of social, legal and policy concerns in Southern Europe (Portugal,
Spain, Italy) – lesbians, gay men, bisexuals and transgendered people”. The first strand of this
project (the micropolitics of partnering) investigated, among other topics, polyamory.
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regulation of polyamorous relationships from a liberal perspective. These
works are accompanied by a number of works on the related topic of recognition of polygamous relationships and plural marriage (Calhoun 2005;
De Marneffe 2016; Macedo 2015; March 2011). Indeed, to some extent
recognition of polygamy and polyamory are intersecting issues, notwithstanding the difference between the two kinds of relationships, which will
be discussed later.
Regarding terminology, when I talk about polyamory I refer to the practice of engaging in multiple romantic and potentially sexual relationships
with the awareness and consent of all the partners involved. However, the
terminology referring to non-monogamous relationships and especially
polyamory is still very fuzzy, probably as a result of gaps in visibility and
knowledge, of stigma, and of social hostility towards non-monogamy. First
of all, the practice of engaging in multiple relationships with the consent of
all the partners involved, which I call polyamory, is often referred to interchangeably as ‘consensual’ or ‘responsible’ or ‘ethical’ non-monogamy
(Barker & Langridge 2010), or as a ‘multi-partner relationship’ (Klesse
2017). However, the term polyamory was specifically coined in 1990 to
replace ‘responsible’ non-monogamy (Aviram & Leachman 2015), with a
view, I believe, to stopping framing the practice of engaging in responsible
multiple relationships only in opposition to the monogamous norm. Thus,
I avoid the use of ‘responsible’ or ‘consensual’ or ‘ethic’ non-monogamy
in the place of polyamory in order to respect the will of the polyamorous
community to be identified for itself as such.
The second issue concerns the meaning of the term ‘polyamory’. The
word ‘polyamory’ was included in the Oxford English Dictionary in 2006
with the following meaning: “the practice of engaging in multiple sexual
relationships with the consent of all the people involved”. However, it is not
clear whether polyamory necessarily involves sexual relationships (Emens
2004), as scholars and many polyamorists (Avriam 2015) stress the fact
that not sex but “love, intimacy and friendship” are central to polyamorous
discourse (Klesse 2006). Moreover, polyamory is considered a different
practice in respect to other kinds of consensual non-monogamies, such as
open relationships, casual sex and swinging (Barker & Langridge 2010),
which are instead “sex- or pleasure-centred” (Klesse 2006: 565). I believe
that what emerges from this discussion is the centrality of the romantic
bond in qualifying an intimate relationship in polyamorous terms, whether
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sex occurs or not. This is the reason why I refer to polyamory as the custom of consensually and simultaneously engaging in different romantic
and potentially sexual relationships.
The third concern regards mixing the concept of polyamory with the
one of traditional polygamy5. When I refer to traditional polygamy, I mean
the custom of having more than one spouse, mostly practised within
religious or ethnic communities. The only form of traditional polygamy
practised consistently throughout history has been polygyny. Both polyamory and traditional polygamy are non-monogamous kinds of relationships and are consequently often mistaken for each other. However, they
do differ in some key features. In fact, polyamory is an egalitarian form of
non-monogamy, for it allows both men and women to engage in multiple
relationships, and it is gender-neutral because it “allows participants to
have same-sex relationships too” (Goldfeder & Sheff 2010: 157). In other
words, “the versatility of genders, sexual orientations and sexual identities
distinguishes the polyamorous community from other groups that practice nonmonogamy as a part of religion of ethnic tradition” (Aviram &
Leachman 2015: 299). Traditional forms of polygamy are instead clearly
not gender-neutral, for they are heterocentric kinds of relationships (Goldfeder & Sheff 2010), and they are inegalitarian in both their polygynous
and polyandrous forms, for they allow only the male or female partner to
engage with other partners.
Notwithstanding the remarks above, I am not assuming that every traditional polygamous relationship is intrinsically inegalitarian, nor that
every polygynous relationship is necessarily bad for women. Moreover, I
am aware that many criticisms about traditional polygamy are influenced
by a Western-centric anthropological approach to intimate relationships.
However, it is not the purpose of the present work to ascertain whether or
not we should dismiss our Western-centred anthropological lens and open
a debate on the decriminalization and recognition of traditional kinds of
polygamy – even if we probably should. My purpose here is to build on the
debate on recognition of polyamorous relationships in Western countries.
The term ‘polygamy’ “refers to the state of having more than one spouse at the same time.
It includes both polygyny and polyandry. Polygyny is the practice of a male having multiple female spouses. Polyandry is the converse, a female with multiple male spouses” (see https://www.
bccourts.ca/jdb-txt/SC/11/15/2011BCSC1588.htm). However, the term ‘polygamy’ is often used regardless of whether state legislation sanctions the relationship.
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Thus, due to the stigma and social hostility directed at traditional forms of
polygamy, I believe that underlining the differences between egalitarian
and non-egalitarian forms of polygamy is crucial if we want to broaden
social acceptance of polyamorous relationships. The terms polyamory and
even ‘multi-partner relationship’ do not help to make this distinction clear
to the less informed. For this reason, I suggest introducing a label such as
‘egalitarian and gender-neutral polygamy’ to stress these specific features
of the relationship. This label also has the advantage of keeping legal issues
separate from sentimental ones by erasing any direct reference to love in
its name.
Polyamorous relationships are heterogeneous in their structure, and
very few studies analyse the demographic composition of the polyamorous
community. Therefore, I shall only give a few hints which are crucial to
framing the debate on recognition of polyamorous relationships. According to Sheff, the polyamorous community is mostly composed of “white,
middle-class, well-educated, liberal adults” (2011: 497), and we find similar remarks in Gusmano when she describes her sample of polyamorous
respondents as holding a “high relational and cultural capital”6 (2018: 64).
This is also in line with the findings of the quantitative research paper ‘Perceptions of Polyamory in Canada’ (Boyd 2017), where the vast majority of
respondents were white and showed higher levels of education and income
compared with the general population in Canada.
Even though the composition of the polyamorous community appears
homogeneous, the possible configurations of polyamorous relationships
are limitless, as the number of partners is theoretically unlimited (Emens
2004). Hence, there may or may not be a hierarchical structure with a primary relationship, and the partners may or may not be required to be faithful to the other members of the group (Emens 2004). What polyamorous
relationships have in common is their commitment to a few foundational
principles: “self-knowledge, radical honesty, consent, self-possession, and
privileging love and sex over other emotions and activities such as jealousy”
(Emens 2004: 283). It is evident that fluidity, non-conformity, heterogeneity,
formalization issues and resistance to the assimilation into a mononormative and heterocentric family model are essential features of polyamorous
relationships. Moreover, polyamorous relationships have great potential
6
My translation from Italian.
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for deconstructing the traditional family as they question the paradigm
of mononormativity. On the one hand, these two remarks show why it is
hard to imagine how polyamorous relationships might be institutionalized
in the form of a rigid legal institution. On the other, they make any attempt
at recognizing polyamorous families even worthier, because this attempt
would pave the way for more flexible regulations benefiting many other
kinds of more or less conventional intimate relationships.
2. Legal recognition of polyamorous families
2.1 Polyamorous relationships in changing families
Before assessing the feasibility of legal recognition for polyamorous relationships, it is crucial to contextualize recognition of these families in the
light of the larger empirical transformation of the family unit. My claim
is indeed that the increased visibility of polyamorous families should be
considered a recent step in that process of transformation; thus, we should
expect such families to be recognized at some point in future. As already
mentioned in the introduction, we can observe that the nuclear, heterosexual, monogamic family has undergone a disruptive process of transformation in Western countries since the beginning of the 20th century.
The changes include the enhancement of gender equality within the family (Cogswell 1975; Bengston 2001; Macedo 2015); higher divorce rates
(Furstenberg 1987; Roseneil & Budgeon 2004); many more polynuclear
blended families or stepfamilies (Furstenberg 1987; Bengston 2001); voluntary singlehood or single-person households (Barker & Langridge
2010; Roseneil & Budgeon 2004); serial monogamy7 (Barker & Langridge 2010; Jamieson 2004); cohabitations and de facto unions8 (Blumberg 2004; Budgeon & Roseneil 2004; Levin 2004); out-of-wedlock births
and more children being raised by single parents (Parolin & Perrotta
2012; Roseneil & Budgeon 2004); couples “living apart together”9 (Levin
2004) and same-sex unions. If we look at the number and complexity of
all these different family forms, it becomes clear that the family cannot be
‘Serial-monogamy’ is the custom of having a number of sexual or romantic relationships one
after another (but never more than one at a time), sometimes dissolving a previous marriage and
initiating a new one.
8
A de facto union is a legal status sanctioning a relationship in which partners live in an arrangement of cohabitation without being married.
9
‘Living apart together’ is a kind of relationship where the individuals involved do not share
a home but perceive themselves as partners.
7
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considered an immutable entity. The constellations of family relationships
are indeed so variegated that we can no longer talk of the family in the
singular, but of families (Budgeon & Roseneil 2004). Families are indeed
social phenomena that “reshape themselves in response to shifting social
conditions” (Sheff 2011: 491), and most of them have finally abandoned the
idea of the traditional heterosexual nuclear family (Budgeon & Roseneil
2004; Cutas 2019).
As far back as in 1975 Cogswell claimed the “rejection of the myth of
the idealized traditional nuclear family”, because the nuclear family was
seen as “inadequate, restrictive, and counterproductive in meeting individual goals, aspirations and desired lifestyles” (392). Cogswell also reported
the presence of ‘variant family forms’, referring to any deviation from the
traditional nuclear family – including single parents, three-generation
families, cohabiting couples and homosexual unions –, thus opposing the
idea of the sole existence and relevance of the heterosexual nuclear family.
Moreover, since divorce became legal in most of the Western countries,
traditional relationships based on life-long marriage have been challenged.
The increased rate of divorce (Furstenberg 1987) and single parenting
(Parolin & Perrotta 2012), and the predominance of extra-marital relationships (Jamieson 2004) and ‘serial monogamy’ habits (Barker & Langdridge 2010; Jamieson 2004), show that the institution of marriage has
been radically undermined and that its key role in disciplining intimate
relationships between adults (and even between adults and children) has
gradually waned.
The process of deconstruction of the traditional nuclear family started
with the erosion of its patriarchal structure due to the improvement of
gender equality (Cogswell 1975; Bengston 2001; Macedo 2015). The feminist movements played a pivotal role in this sense, but also many cultural,
political, economic and technological advancements contributed to the
achievement of this goal, e.g. higher levels of education, the welfare state,
the development of hormonal contraception and legal improvements in
protecting women and children’s rights. Meanwhile, the institution of marriage, too, was challenged for two main reasons: the weakening of the myth
of life-long commitments in intimate relationships, and the spread and visibility of many forms of nonmarital relationships. On the one hand, when
the divorce rate started to increase, marriage proved to be a very fragile
institution (Furstenberg 1987). On the other, the erstwhile moral censure
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of sexual intercourse outside marriage now seems widely overcame, while
marriage itself has often been replaced by “long-term arrangements outside marriage” (Jamieson 2004) involving cohabitation and child-rearing.
Nowadays, many countries provide specific legal tools for recognition and
regulation of these different kinds of nonmarital families (Cirinnà 2016;
Blumberg 2004; Palazzo 2018); consequently, “marriage has no longer the
monopoly as the ideal state for adult life” (Jamieson 2004: 35).
At the end of the 20th century, another of the main pillars of the traditional family started to be eroded, i.e. heteronormativity. Indeed, a landmark event in the path leading to less conventional family relationships is
represented by the spread and greater visibility of same-sex relationships
during the last thirty years (Blumberg 2004; Millbank 2008; Nussbaum
2009; Stacey 1996). This process of evolution reached unprecedented
heights when the same-sex family started being broadly institutionalized
in Western countries through legal recognition of same-sex marriage or
marriage-like institutions like civil unions10. Recognition of same-sex marriage radically challenged the conservative claim regarding the social and
legal predominance of the ‘natural’ heterosexual family (Folgerø 2008).
According to Blumberg (2004), legal regulation of nonmarital relationships and legal recognition of same-sex families are different but very
closely related trends. I claim that the emergence of polyamorous families
should be considered the most recent development in that same trend. In
other words, I claim that the rising visibility of polyamorous relationships
represents only the latest stage in a process of transformation affecting the
family, which started with the erosion of gender roles between spouses,
saw the institutionalization of many different forms of unconventional
nonmarital relationships and culminated in the questioning of heteronormativity through recognition of same-sex unions. For this reason, we
can very well hazard that the erosion of mononormativity through legal
According to the Human Rights Campaign Foundation, same-sex marriage is currently recognized in twenty-nine countries, including Australia, Canada, the United States of America,
New Zealand, as well as seventeen European countries: Austria, Belgium, Denmark, Finland,
France, Germany, Iceland, Ireland, Luxembourg, Malta, the Netherlands, Norway, Portugal,
Spain, Sweden, Switzerland and the United Kingdom (Human Rights Campaign Foundation,
Marriage Equality Around the World, retrievable at https://www.hrc.org/resources/marriageequality-around-the-world). European countries which instead only recognize civil unions include Croatia, Cyprus, the Czech Republic, Estonia, Greece, Hungary, Italy, Liechtenstein and
Slovenia.
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recognition of polyamorous relationships will be the next step in this series
of sea changes affecting our notion of family.
However, we cannot forget that polyamory is still “invisible to society at large” (Sheff 2011) and that mononormativity still seems to inform
the vast majority of family configurations, from the traditional heterosexual family to many nonmarital family forms and even same-sex relationships. In addition, as we shall see in the next section, social stigma towards
polygamy, limited awareness about polyamory, lack of vindication of the
polyamorous community and a shortage of alliances are clear signs that
recognition of polyamorous relationships will not come to pass very soon.
But if it is true that recognition of polyamorous relationships will probably
not occur within the next couple of decades, this does not mean that polyamorous relationships will never be recognized. Polyamorous relationships
are indeed becoming more visible to society and, at least in Canada and the
United States, the political arena is starting to be aware of the existence
and needs of polyamorists: in 2020 and 2021 for the first time two US cities,
Somerville and Cambridge (both in Massachusetts), recognized a polyamorous domestic partnership. Moreover, now that same-sex marriage has
been institutionalized in most Western countries, there is the leeway to
strive for recognition of other unconventional kinds of relationship, especially the polyamorous one, and also scope for an alliance between the
polyamorous and LGBT+ communities, even if it is just the side of the
latter which is most concerned with same-sex marriage.
In my opinion, the main difference between the path towards recognition of same-sex relationships and the one leading to recognition of
polyamorous families will be their result. Unlike same-sex relationships,
polyamorous relationships are very diverse in their structure and it is hard
to make them all fit a single model, because fluidity in the interaction and
freedom to shape non-normative kinds of intimate relationships are essential features of the polyamorous community. Thus, I doubt that mere recognition of institutions like plural marriage might be desirable or even
feasible. However, this should not represent an obstacle to recognition
of polyamorous relationships, but a great chance to radically rethink our
way of regulating intimate relationships in the first place. That way, public
institutions will become more inclusive towards all kinds of unconventional families, even those that do not conform to the monogamous norm.
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2.2 Legal recognition of polyamorous relationships:
A feasibility assessment
I claimed above that the increasing visibility of polyamorous relationships
represents the most recent step in the process of transformation of the family, following the institutionalization of same-sex unions. Thus, the path
towards vindication of same-sex marriage ideally represents the privileged
term of comparison for a possible path towards recognition of polyamorous
relationships. Indeed, recognition of same-sex marriage could be seen as a
sign that the time is ripe to question mononormativity and institutionalize polyamorous relationships. According to Aviram and Leachman (2015),
the mobilization of the LBGT+ community for legal recognition of samesex marriage “has created greater traction for legal arguments to expand
marriage to poly relationships” (278). As a result, the LGBT+ campaign
for marriage equality clearly has important implications for the polyamorous community, which turns out to be affected by the debate on marriage
equality and by the subsequent recognition of same-sex marriage.
The issue of recognition of multi-partner relationships is considered so
closely related to that of recognition of same-sex unions that the ‘slippery
slope’ argument is one of the most frequently invoked against recognition
of the latter (Aviram & Leachman 2015; Baltzly 2012; Sheff 2011). Once
the process of recognition of same-sex marriage in the United States came
to an end, conservative advocates of the traditional family alerted public
opinion that, according to the ‘slippery slope’ argument, multiple marriages
would only be the next step, followed by “adultery, prostitutions, masturbation, bigamy, fornication, incest, paedophilia, bestiality, and ultimately
the deconstruction of monogamous marriage itself” (Sheff 2011: 494). For
their part, LGBT+ advocates of same-sex marriage usually resist this claim
by rejecting the analogy between same-sex and polygamous marriage
(Calhoun 2005). The reason for this political choice is that “social hostility
to polygamy is invoked [by conservative opponents of same-sex marriage]
as a reason not to permit same-sex marriage” (Calhoun 2005: 1026). It is
clear, then, why LGBT+ advocates of same-sex marriage strategically refuse
to link their struggle with endeavours to have plural marriage recognized.
Another reason why the institutionalization of same-sex unions influences the debate on polyamorous relationships is that these two kinds of
intimate relationships are to some extent considered similar. First of all,
polyamorists and LGBT+ minorities are marginalized groups which had
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to develop similar ‘adaptive strategies’ in response to analogous social circumstances so as to resist social stigma and a hostile social environment
(Sheff 2011). In other words, polyamorists are stigmatized and marginalized for their sexual and relational style, just as much as homosexual, bisexual and other sexual minorities are discriminated against for their sexual
orientation. In each of this cases, stigma and discrimination are largely
connected with social and political institutions “that define and regulate
sexuality” (Aviram & Leachman 2015: 307). Secondly, both groups tend
to show flexible approaches to family and intimate relationships, which
might “provide positive role models for other groups in society and thus
merit legal recognition as legitimate families” (Sheff 2011: 489). Finally, the
LGBT+ and polyamorous communities tend to overlap (Boyd 2017; Sheff
2011). The quantitative study conducted in Canada (Boyd 2017) shows that
37.3% of polyamorous respondents describe themselves as heterosexual,
while 31.7% of respondents identify as bisexuals, 24.4% as pansexuals, 12.7%
as polysexuals, 4.2% as homosexuals, 2.1% as queer, 1.9% as asexuals and
3.5% as other.
However, notwithstanding the various similarities between the LGBT+
and the polyamorous community, I claim that the discussion on the feasibility of legal recognition for polyamorous relationships in the near future
should be kept separate from the debate on same-sex marriage. Even if the
struggle for recognition of same-sex marriage stands out as a benchmark
and a starting point for the discussion on legal recognition of polyamorous
families, some fundamental differences still deserve attention. It is important to map out the different path towards vindication of the polyamorous
community and to acknowledge the desirability of legal tools other than
plural marriage. More precisely, in opposition to the frequently invoked
‘slippery slope’ argument, I claim that we cannot take it for granted that
legal recognition of same-sex relationships will automatically open the
way for any kind of institutionalization of polyamorous relationships in
the short run, and especially not in the form of plural marriage, for at least
three reasons.
To begin with, the polyamorous community cannot, as of now, count
on widespread social recognition and acceptance, nor on strong alliances
with other marginalized sexual minorities. As I mentioned earlier, polyamorous relationships remain “virtually invisible to society at large” (Sheff
2011: 489). This is remarkably different from the situation of the gay and
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lesbian minorities, as almost everyone is already aware of their existence.
And even if more visibility sometimes means more stigma, it also makes
for more widespread interest, knowledge and debate. However, when polyamorists come out, they are surrounded by social stigma and hostility, too,
especially because polyamory is often associated with traditional and inegalitarian forms of polygamy (Brooks 2009; Calhoun 2005). Moreover,
they can barely count on the support of that part of the LGBT+ community which is more committed to marriage equality because, as mentioned
above, it tends to strategically resist the ‘slippery slope’ argument, thus
implicitly downplaying the significance of potential recognition of multiple marriage or equivalent institutions. The polyamorous community is
therefore deprived of a powerful ally, and I venture that this will further
slow the process leading to legal recognition of polyamorous relationships.
It is not even true that same-sex marriage, viewed as a challenge to
heteronormativity, clears the way for the challenge that plural marriage
would represent for mononormativity. And that is because same-sex marriage could be seen as an institution not only reinforcing the monogamous
norm, but even reproducing a homonormative11 family model, thus erasing non-normative relationships like the polyamorous one (Folgerø 2008;
Warner 1999). In other words, laws on marriage, and even on same-sex
marriage, uphold “a traditional model of how the family ought to be formed,
particularly through its privileging of marriage/civil partnerships, the
two-parent model and binary constructions of both homosexual/heterosexual and male/female” (Garwood 2016: 6). This also negatively impacts
the chances of polyamorous relationships being recognized, for this kind
of relationship would preferably require far more flexible legal institutions
than plural marriage.
However, I assume that both the relative invisibility of polyamory and
the attitude of the LGBT+ community towards it will soon shift. As mentioned above, the political debate is slowly becoming more aware of the
existence and needs of polyamorists, and in 2020 the polyamorous domestic partnership was recognized by a municipal ordinance of the city of
Somerville, Massachusetts, for the first time in history, followed in 2021
by the city of Cambridge, Massachusetts. In addition, it is important to
Homonormativity means the normalisation and hierarchisation of some forms of homosexuality over others, privileging (but not limited to) the gay or lesbian, cisgender, middle-class,
white, monogamous, married couple.
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remark that the most radical fringe of the LGBT+ community, which is
sceptical about recognition of same-sex marriage, represents a natural ally
for the polyamorous community (Calhoun 2005; Ettelbrick 1997). However, even the section of the LGBT+ movement that is more committed to
marriage equality may probably become more supportive of polyamorists,
now that same-sex marriage has been broadly institutionalized.
The second obstacle to recognition of polyamorous relationships in the
near future is that the polyamorous community itself is not yet striving
for recognition. It particularly opposes legal recognition in the form of
“mere inclusion in traditionally oppressive institutions (such as marriage)”
(Pérez Navarro 2017: 454). Indeed, there is unrelenting and widespread
unwillingness to give up fluidity and the freedom to arrange intimate relationships in favour of the constraint within the rigid and formalized legal
institution of, say, multiple marriage (Aviram 2008; Gusmano 2018; Sheff
2011). There are at least two key explanations for the polyamorous community’s negative attitude towards marriage.
The first specific reason is addressed by Sheff when she argues that the
race and class privileges of polyamorous individuals, compared with members of the LGBT+ community, provide a ‘buffer against discrimination’
(2015). In other words, polyamorists’ socioeconomic status and cultural
level provide a kind of security that “is scarce for lesbigay and/or working
class people” (Sheff 2015: 503). This intuition is strictly connected with
the demographic composition of the polyamorous community, which, as
mentioned above, mainly consists of white, middle-class, well-educated
and wealthy individuals (Boyd 2017). Hence, most polyamorists have many
social privileges, and this allows them to discount the struggle for the right
to marry (Sheff 2011). This does not hold true for the LGBT+ community,
whose composition is much more diverse, thus making the right to marry
important for its less privileged members (Sheff 2011). Moreover, being
well-educated and wealthy, polyamorists can easily access different forms
of legal protection of their intimate relationships, like private arrangements
and contracts. And we must not forget that polyamorous individuals can
even access heterosexual dyadic marriage, thus having a wider range of
options as to how they choose to manage their polyamorous relationships,
and this might be another reason for the weakening of their wish to access
multiple marriage. In addition, access to heterosexual marriage represents
a chance to dissimulate their unconventional way of living intimate
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relationships, since heterosexual dyadic marriages “make them socially
intelligible as heterosexual couples with ‘close friends’” (Sheff 2011: 502).
The second reason is that polyamorists strongly oppose marriage as an
oppressive, rigid and too formalized institution. In opposition to supporters of same-sex marriage, they see plural marriage as a despicable form
of assimilation and normalization (Aviram 2008). Moreover, they do not
seem eager to give up the freedom to arrange their private, intimate, family
relationships in many different and flexible ways in exchange for public
protection through such a rigid and formalized legal institution as plural marriage. Polyamorists have showed not to be politically or personally
committed to plural marriage (Sheff 2011), and most of them expressed
great individualism and, as a result, a dislike for any governmental interference in their intimate life (Aviram 2008).
However, it bears repeating that neither does the LGBT+ community
unanimously agree on the desirability of recognition of same-sex marriage
(Ettelbrick 1997; Warner 1999). A very large share of the community
remains ambivalent in this regard, advocating more flexible alternatives
to marriage in order to “redistribute privileges and benefits independently
from marital status” (Sheff 2011: 493). This group strongly opposes assimilation and homonormativity and claims the equal worth and dignity of
all kinds of families. Due to the similarities between the two communities
and their paths towards recognition, it could be the case that a part of the
polyamorous community will at some point become more committed to
recognition of plural marriage. According to Barker and Langridge, there
is a concrete possibility of some non-monogamous relationships reproducing and bolstering heteronormativity and mononormativity rather than
undermining them (2010). Thus, future calls for plural marriage are still
not to be excluded. Moreover, polyamorists’ refusal of plural marriage does
not mean a total rejection of any kind of regulation. Polyamorous individuals are inclined to more flexible forms of recognition so as to retain the
freedom to arrange their intimate lives and to avoid assimilation into the
heteronormative and mononormative family model (Aviram & Leachman
2015). However, the multiplicity of partners involved and the heterogeneity
and fluidity of polyamorous relationships make it especially hard to find a
common regulatory framework that may not only be apt to discipline all
specific kinds of intimate arrangements but also be legally viable.
Finally, the third obstacle to the feasibility of recognition for polyamorous
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relationships in the short term is closely connected with the difficulty of
finding a suitable regulatory framework. Indeed, even when all forms of
opposition to recognition of polyamorous relationships are somehow overcome, the concrete implementation of a plural marriage model, or even
of some different and flexible regulatory measures, would require great
adaptive efforts on the part of pre-existing legal and administrative public structures and procedures. This concern was not shared by the LGBT+
community, for recognizing the dyadic same-sex relationship “was hardly
a radical move” (Aviram & Leachman 2015). The legal structures and
administrative processes proceeding from dyadic marriage were already
in place when same-sex marriage was recognized, and the only change
that legal systems had to make had to do with gender. Plural marriage,
instead, would necessarily cause a rethinking of taxation, immigration
laws and healthcare, to mention but a few, and this might represent a significant challenge for governments, especially in the short term. However,
this effort is undoubtedly worth pursuing, and among the most interesting
philosophical approaches already suggested is Brake’s ‘minimal marriage’
(2014), introducing radical reforms of marriage with a view to including
non-normative and multiple relationships like polyamorous ones, as well
as relevant care networks and networks of friends. Even if not altogether
feasible right know, the provision of at least some flexible forms of regulation for polyamorous relationships is both desirable and urgent. A still better measure would be the introduction of flexible forms of regulation and
of plural marriage to finally protect polyamorists’ fundamental freedom of
choice as regards their intimate lives. The time has come for governments
to start providing fair treatment to all individuals living in same-sex, polyamorous and every other non-oppressive form of intimate relationships,
on grounds of equality, dignity and freedom.
Conclusion
Problems with the feasibility of recognition for polyamorous relationships
do not imply that polyamorous relationships should not be recognized.
The lack of vindication or support, along with all the other obstacles
mentioned above, do not rule out a considerable public interest in recognizing polyamorous families and every other kind of unconventional
family with a similar aim. Indeed, as with any other intimate relationships of care, polyamorous relationships deserve recognition for at least
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two fundamental reasons: to protect the rights and interests of vulnerable
partners in the relationship; and to provide fair treatment to everyone
who chose unconventional relational styles.
In addition, polyamorous relationships have the potential to deconstruct a traditional institution like marriage from the inside. They can even
help build radically new and more flexible forms of interaction between
the law and the sphere of intimate relationships (Pérez Navarro 2017).
I claim that this potential must be enhanced and not repressed, and that
for this reason, if recognition of polyamorous relationships is not yet on
the political agenda, we should strive for it to be included. We urgently
need policies that may add value to difference and fluidity in every kind of
unconventional family and radically question normative kinds of intimate
relationships. Recognition of polyamorous relationships would definitely
be a fundamental step in that direction, hopefully followed by a more
radical deconstruction of the hierarchy of intimate relationships and by
the recognition of non-amatonormative12 relationships of care, like networks of friends. In other words, we need polyamory “to put into crisis the
monogamous legal paradigm in such a way that, along with its untreatable
inner heterogeneity, it may force a radical restructuring of the relationship
between the state and the intimate sphere” (Pérez Navarro 2017: 453).
Thus, we should keep the issue of the feasibility of recognition for polyamorous families separate from that of its desirability. Even if recognition is
not feasible right now, it will probably become in future, and its desirability
is not in question regardless.
Francesca Miccoli
State University of Milan
francesca.miccoli@unimi.it
English editing provided by Massimiliano Manni (MA)
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WHAT
A Transdisciplinary
Journal of
Queer
Theories and Studies
EVER
Aurelio Castro
whatever.cirque.unipi.it
Costruire dei villaggi
Riflessioni e studi sulla qualità relazionale nel riconoscimento delle
polifamiglie non-monogame
Abstract: the following paper aims to contribute to the Italian literature on non-monogamy with
a psychosocial interpretation towards the future of the political and legal recognition requests of
non-monogamous and queer relationships, as well as of their families. Starting with a reflection
on how normativities position those who are outside the binaries. Starting from a critique of the
concept of evaluation as a tool for acquiring rights (as it does not find a counterpart in the different-gender relationships), we then want to underline how to use these studies to the advantage of
recognition applications for non-monogamous families and multi-parenting. In fact, the available
international literature has given voice and confirmed what the many polyfamilies experience in
everyday life: that these families (non-monogamous, open, poly, extended, with children * or not)
are a social reality, are functional and balanced, with specific benefits and criticalities. Starting
from examples on the cancellation of bisexualities and homogenitorial recognition applications –
we want to argue that to protect people and pursue applications for recognition, and rights, it is essential to conduct and appropriate research of this type, making them more authentic and policies.
Keywords: familiy law; non-monogamies; bisexuality; legal recognition; polyamory; relationship
quality;
Nel corso degli ultimi dieci anni, le relazioni non esclusive hanno
assunto senza dubbio un posto di primo piano. Lo si deduce dalla mole
articoli divulgativi, dai trend social nella ricerca accademica, ma anche e
soprattutto delle rappresentazioni mainstream di serie TV e film (da Euphoria, Shes’gotta have it a You, Me, Her, Dr. Marston and the Wonder Women).
Quando socialmente costruite nei discorsi condivisi, le non-monogamie
sono tendenzialmente valutate su due livelli tematici: quello della stabilità
relazionale (ad es., quando viene detto che “non funzionano”, “non durano”,
“rovina la relazione”, “non mi adatterei mai”, “vuol dire che manca qualcosa”, “c’è troppa gelosia”) e quello della morale (ad es. dire che “è solo
una scusa per tradire”, “è indecente”, “è una perversione”, “non mi potrei
mai fidare”). Sia il senso comune che le scienze sociali – psicologia inclusa
aureliocastro.research@gmail.com
Università di Bologna
Whatever, 4 2021: 5-34
doi 10.13131/2611-657X.whatever.v4i1.126
Aurelio Castro
– hanno contribuito a plasmare questa mononormatività in un mondo di
vasti orientamenti relazionali, e allo stesso tempo hanno rinforzato il binarismo di genere e dell’orientamento sessuale (Eisner 2013). Contrariamente
a questi paradigmi e pregiudizi, adottare degli stili relazionali non-monogami costituisce una scelta legittima e “adeguata” a livello relazionale,
con specifiche caratteristiche e criticità come ogni altra forma relazionale
(Moors et al. 2017). Infatti, nonostante le pretese delle scienze psicologiche
e delle discipline mediche di voler misurare il sessuale in modo oggettivo
(Castro 2017), sappiamo che non esistono prospettive politicamente neutre quando si fa ricerca sul sessuale, come per qualsiasi altro fenomeno.
Il presente articolo vuole fornire un contributo alla letteratura scientifica
italiana sulle non-monogamie. Attraverso un’analisi di tipo psicosociale, ci
si può interrogare sul futuro delle domande di riconoscimento – politiche
e giuridiche – delle relazioni non-monogame e queer, e dei loro legami
familiari, siano essi di famiglie allargate, biologiche e/o elettive. Partendo
da una riflessione sulle domande di riconoscimento per l’omogenitorialità e le famiglie con genitori dello stesso genere, nei primi paragrafi sarà
presentata una breve review di studi psicologici che hanno confrontato,
e spesso moralmente giudicato, gli outcome relazionali di persone monogame e non-monogame. Attraverso la critica del concetto di valutazione
come strumento per acquisire diritti (in quanto non trova un corrispettivo
nelle relazioni di persone con generi diversi o percepiti come “eterosessuali”), si vuole sottolineare come a livello giuridico e politico le ricerche
sulle qualità relazionali e la poligenitorialità possano rafforzare le domande
di riconoscimento familiari come diritto che va tutelato. Di fatto, la letteratura internazionale disponibile ha dato voce alle pratiche quotidiane e al
vissuto delle numerose: tali nuclei familiari (non-monogame, aperte, poly,
allargate, con figli* o meno) sono una realtà sociale con stabilità relazionale, equilibrati, con delle potenzialità e criticità specifiche che possono
essere rappresentate giuridicamente al pari delle altre forme familiari.
Quando discutiamo del sessuale, dobbiamo tenere conto di come atteggiamenti, rappresentazioni e giudizi siano legati al modo in cui esso viene
socialmente situato e messo in scena (Gagnon and Simon 1986). Secondo
Meg-John Barker (Barker 2005), la costruzione dominante delle relazioni
prescrive l’ideale di coppia eteronormata come l’unica forma di relazione
legittima: ovvero un rapporto “deve” essere 1) monogamo, 2) eterosessuale
tra un uomo e una donna e 3) dove alla donna spetta un ruolo passivo mentre
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all’uomo uno attivo (Barker 2005). Le forme relazionali che non aderiscono
a questa struttura vengono categorizzate e rese identificabili nella dimensione pubblica del sé come devianti (Klesse 2007), quindi da condannare
moralmente e/o da valutare come stili relazionali negativi, problematici,
mostruosi, demonizzati, promiscui, instabili e senza alcuna fiducia condivisa tra le parti (Klesse 2007; Barker 2010; Moors et al. 2017). Quando
parliamo di relazioni e delle sessualità dovremmo quindi tenere in considerazione come il costrutto stesso di orientamento sessuale sia stato plasmato seguendo un binarismo del desiderio sessuale/romantico, del genere,
del sesso e dell’esclusività. Le società eteronormate creano dei binarismi
e, costantemente, cancellano o assimilano tutto ciò che si muove fuori da
questi binari (Yoshino 2000). Nonostante queste dicotomie non rappresentino affatto l’esperienza umana del sessuale, essi sono egemonicamente
proscritti a livello epistemico, sia per il sessuale che per il genere, e le società
così normate fanno di tutto per mantenere l’illusione di un mondo binario
(Butler 2013; Yoshino 2000; Connel and Messerschimdt 2005).
In opposizione a questi binarismi, un numero crescente di voci ha contribuito alla decostruzione delle categorie sessuali, come nel caso delle
richieste di tutela dei corpi e diritti delle persone intersex (Balocchi 2019).
Ancor più efficacemente, è stato inaugurato un importante dibattito sulla
legittimazione delle molteplici identità di genere, presenti e culturalmente
definite (Richars, Bouman and Barker 2017), fino alla riaffermazione degli
orientamenti sessuali bisex e non-esclusivi, che provano come sia possibile
provare attrazioni verso più sessi e/o generi (Barker et al. 2012) e che
le persone con orientamento Bi+1 sono la maggioranza della popolazione
LGBTQIA+ (Diamond 2016). Da tempo, ed è bene ribadirlo, sappiamo che
i modelli binari per comprendere il sessuale non sono mai stati adeguati
o sufficienti per comprendere le variabilità delle esperienze umane, ed è
necessario che questo cambiamento di paradigma entri nella giurisprudenza (Marcus 2018).
Il termine-ombrello Bi+ (Barker et al. 2012) include sotto di sé tutte le sessualità non esclusive e che provano attrazione verso più di un genere come la bisessualità, la pansessualità, il biromanticismo e anche l’orientamento di chi critica l’idea che ci siano solo uno o più generi; come
tutti gli orientamenti sessuali è culturalmente definito e può assumere forme o repertori discorsivi non centrati sulla costruzione occidentale dell’orientamento. La scelta di usare il plurale per
le bisessualità nasce quindi da molteplici discorsi sia scientifici che politici sulle bisexual politics e
la necessità per le scienze sociali, e non solo, di abbandonare visioni binarie degli orientamenti e
della bisessualità già discusse dagli anni 2000 (Hemmings 2000; Barker et al. 2012; Eisner 2013)
1
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Navigare le non-monogamie
Con il termine-ombrello non-monogamie ci si riferisce a un insieme di
stili o accordi relazionali, romantici e/o sessuali, tramite cui tutte le persone coinvolte acconsentono a strutturare una relazione in modo non
esclusivo tra due, tre o più partner. L’essere, preferire o l’adottare una
identità non-monogama2 è una caratteristica della persona, a prescindere
dal suo essere coinvolta o meno in una relazione. Per fare alcuni esempi:
una persona non-monogama può instaurare una relazione monogama
mantenendo la propria identità relazionale; le persone single non-monogame non hanno bisogno di una o più relazioni per definirsi tali e, per
alcune identità non-monogame, non esiste un vero stato di “solitudine
relazionale” (Barker 2010). Nonostante sia stato concepito contrapposizione al paradigma monogamo del sessuale, il termine non-monogamie
indica degli stili e accordi relazionali validi; dove con validità si intende
sia l’esistenza fattuale di persone in relazioni non monogame consensuali, una variabilità di posizioni presenti nel termine non-monogamie,
l’affermarsi nella sfera pubblica e privata anche grazie a un insieme di
domande di riconoscimento.
Se provassimo a definire tutte le relazioni come accordi o “regole” accettate
dai partner, esplicitamente o implicitamente (Moors et al. 2017), allora la
monogamia sarebbe definita dalla regola dell’esclusività sessuale e romantica delle due persone coinvolte. Data la varietà delle esperienze e degli
accordi interpersonali risulta difficile fornire delle definizioni univoche e
onnicomprensive di poliamore, anarchia relazionale (Nordgren 2006), lo
scambismo (in inglese swinging), o altro. Il punto centrale delle non-monogamie è il consenso, il quale ci permette di distinguere le non monogamie
consensuali dall’infedeltà sessuale (ovvero avere rapporti all’esterno della
relazione senza il consenso di tutte le parti) che rende un rapporto non
monogamo, nei fatti, non consensuale (Moors et al. 2017). Diversamente,
tra le più frequenti pluralità di non-monogamie e accordi relazionali troviamo il poliamore, swinging, le relazioni aperte (open relationships), l’anarchia relazionale e le relazioni “monogamish” (coppie monogame che per
trasgressione fanno sesso a tre; Savage 2012).
La scelta di distinguere tra essere, preferire o adottare un’identità deriva dal fatto che non
sappiamo ancora con plausibilità se il provare desiderio verso e/o avere relazioni con più persone
sia legato a fattori biologici, personali, sociali o, più plausibilmente, un insieme tra questi (Diamond 2008).
2
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Sotto l’ombrello delle non-monogamie sono presenti, in linea generale,
sia partner che meta-partner, che consensualmente accettano la possibilità
di intrattenere più relazioni romantiche e/o sessuali contemporaneamente
(Conley, Ziegler et al. 2013), ma non è necessario che ciascun partner
abbia più relazioni allo stesso tempo. In altri accordi, eventuali partner
potrebbero intrattenere rapporti sessuali ma non romantici con soggetti
terzi o, viceversa, accettare solo rapporti romantici con altre persone non
acconsentendo a rapporti sessuali esterni (accettando al limite solo alcune
pratiche sessuali). La capacità di comunicare e di comprendere le proprie
preferenze e i propri bisogni sono quindi passaggi fondamentali in questo
insieme di stili relazionali.
Frequentemente, vengono creati anche degli “accordi” o “regole” (sebbene ci sia spesso rigetto verso questo termine) per esplicitare e anticipare
come vivere il sessuale con le parti coinvolte, in modo da non investire
troppo nell’idea che basti la comunicazione a fare da panacea nei rapporti
interpersonali (Castro 2021). Per esempio, nel poliamore ci si focalizza sul
coinvolgimento con più partner (Klesse 2006) – anche romantico e non
necessariamente sessuale – facendo rientrare in questo stile relazionale
anche relazioni solo affettive e intime, come nel caso dell’asessualità (si
veda Scherrer 2010).
All’interno dei repertori discorsivi e degli spazi non-monogami si investe
molto tempo e risorse psicologiche nel costruire e condividere sia una decostruzione della gelosia (Moors et al. 2017) che la riaffermazione della necessità di dover “comunicare”. Verso la gelosia si alternano prospettive diverse,
un insieme di sfumature tra il voler idealisticamente eliminarla o valorizzarne l’assenza, fino a creare informalmente un continuo supporto comunitario alla sua gestione (Gusmano 2018). Ciò spesso porta al “consacrare”
l’emozione della compersione – costruita come l’opposto della gelosia e che
indica la felicità di vedere una persona significativa o partner innamorarsi di
un’altra persona (Moors et al. 2017; Barker and Langdridge 2010). Alcune
tipiche relazioni poliamorose (Barker 2005) includono uno o più partner
“primari” (spesso in una relazione considerata principale o che va avanti da
più tempo) e altri/e partner “secondari”, delle triadi (tre persone coinvolte
reciprocamente) o dei quartetti (quattro persone coinvolte reciprocamente).
Non necessariamente queste relazioni poliamorose sono aperte a chiunque,
in quanto possono essere presenti dei requisiti di fedeltà, chiamata polifedeltà o polifidelity, che delimita i vincoli relazionali tra le parti.
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Oltre modelli tassonomici di classificazione – che non necessariamente
corrispondono a una migliore comprensione del fenomeno – l’obiettivo
degli studi sociali resta di comprendere le forme, i significati e le esperienze
delle non-monogamie. Un obiettivo che va di pari passo con il contrasto
delle discriminazioni: studi mostrano che che un quarto delle persone
in relazioni non monogame ha affrontato uno stigma e pregiudizi (Cox,
Fleckenstein and Bergstrand 2013). Di conseguenza, soggetti coinvolti
in CNM (consensual non-monogamies) si impegnino non solo nella gestione
della relazione in sé, ma anche della sua comunicazione con l’esterno, che
deve essere condotta in modo strategico (Pallotta-Chiarolli 2010) e non
solo nel “mondo etero”.
Questioni giuridiche riconoscimenti LGBTQIA+ e
non-monogamie
La cultura giuridica – intesa nell’insieme delle pratiche e dei discorsi creati
dalla giurisprudenza – tende ad agire con difficoltà, quando non con intenzionale ostruzionismo, di fronte alle pluralità della sfera sessuale – ad es.
orientamenti sessuali e protezione internazionale, leggi contro le discriminazioni, relazioni plurali, generi non binari – rinforzando visioni normative
e cancellando le forme non esclusive del sessuale, considerandole “interferenze” o “rumore” (Yoshino 2000). Un esempio interessante di cancellazione giuridica riguarda le bisessualità e le sessualità non esclusive, ovvero
tutti gli orientamenti sessuali che provano desiderio sessuale e/o romantico
verso più di un genere (Barker et al 2012; Marcus 2018) e che troviamo
sotto l’ombrello Bi+: persone bisessuali, pansessuali (attratte da tutti i generi
o a prescindere dal genere), biromantiche, sessualmente fluide. Date le loro
caratteristiche non-monosessuali, le soggettività Bi+ affrontano in modo
costante la cancellazione del loro orientamento sessuale dentro e fuori gli
spazi e le rivendicazioni LGBTQIA+ (Galupo 2008; Welzer-Lang 2008;
Castro and Carnassale 2019). Nella cultura giuridica le bisessualità sono
ignorate, rese invisibili o considerate un “ibrido”, caratteristica che condividono con le non-monogamie, in quanto la loro queerness disfa l’assunto
binario del sessuale come solo etero o omosessuale (Galupo 2008; Greenesmith 2010; Marcus 2018). Questa mononormatività del sessuale emerge
chiaramente nel considerare in modo intercambiabile i termini “coppie
gay” o “coppie lesbiche” per identificare relazioni di cui conosciamo solo
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il genere di chi le costruisce, e non l’orientamento3. Di conseguenza, ogni
relazione o coppia donna-uomo viene resa implicitamente eterosessuale
anche se le persone al loro interno possono “tranquillamente”, e orgogliosamente, essere Bi+ e fare famiglia con un passing4 eterosessuale (Bowleg
2013), volontario o involontario. Nella loro fluidità, le bisessualità sfidano
quel principio di immutabilità delle identità sessuali a cui si rifà, errando,
la giurisprudenza (Marcus 2018).
La validità delle bisessualità, quando non cancellata, viene a ogni modo
messa in discussione (Greenesmith 2010; Barker et al. 2012) facendo
riemergere, nella definizione della famiglia socialmente e giuridicamente
riconosciuta, un giudizio costantemente incardinato sui concetti di “moralità” e “stabilità” (Galupo 2008). Di fatto, le persone Bi+ sono considerate instabili e inadatte per l’affido genitoriale o l’adozione (Marcus 2018):
fare coming-out Bi+ o subire outing in ambienti ostili diventa una fonte di
minority stress5 (Katz-Wise et al. 2017). Inoltre, le domande di protezione
internazionale delle persone Bi+ sono rifiutate più spesso rispetto a quelle
richieste da persone gay e lesbiche (39% vs 60% in Canada; 5% vs 17% negli
USA) e considerate anche in Italia come false richieste o tentativi di frode
(Colker 1996; Marcus 2018).
La costruzione del concetto di sessualità a livello legale incide sulle
vite delle persone Bi+, perché si tratta di un contesto in cui si fa largo
uso di retoriche legate a instabilità, indecisione, avidità o promiscuità
(Klesse 2007) che non si addicono a quei “buoni omosessuali” che confermano l’eterosessualità come norma. Questa cancellazione è alimentata
da falsi miti sulle bisessualità che hanno l’obiettivo di rimuoverla dal “qui
ed ora” per non rendere possibile o immaginabile l’essere bisex (Yoshino
2000, Castro 2021). Per esempio, creando il requisito di una “bisessualità
Una tipica forma di cancellazione riguarda le persone in una relazione altro-genere o stesso-genere e il dare per scontato il loro orientamento, essendo ancora poco diffusa la dicitura di
coppia o relazione a orientamento misto; il termine altro-genere viene teorizzato come migliore
e rappresentativo, in quanto i generi maschile e femminile non sono opposti (Diamond 2008).
Come discusso anche in letteratura e nella critica politica bisessuale (Hemmings 2002) una coppia
tra due donne bisessuali non è sono in un matrimonio lesbico (Lannutti 2008).
4
Con passing si intende il processo di attribuzione di un’identità diversa da quella delle soggettività a cui ci si riferisce, a cui viene attribuito un tipo di alterità che ha, per esempio, dei
diversi rapporti intergruppi o diversi pregiudizi; per esempio, quando una persona omosessuale
molto mascolina o che segue dei copioni di genere tradizionali viene percepita, intenzionalmente
o meno, come eterosessuale nella sfera pubblica e/o privato.
5
Il modello dello stress minoritario di Meyer (2003).
3
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pura” e/o androgina con attrazioni 50/50, o dicendo che tutte le persone
sono bisessuali alla nascita (ma che successivamente si “stabilizzano” come
omosessuali o etero) o che tutte le persone saranno bisessuali nel futuro
di una società ideale, ma che non possono esserlo adesso. Ci sono le eccezioni, come il caso italiano della sentenza Oliari (Marcus 2018), in cui la
Corte Europea dei diritti umani ha riconosciuto come il diritto di protezione
riguardi le numerose persone omosessuali e bisessuali del nostro paese,
nonostante la causa fosse incentrata sui soli “diritti degli omosessuali” (ivi).
Quando le identità non-esclusive sono invisibili per legge, ne pagherà il
prezzo chi è fuori dal binarismo e dalla monosessualità (Yoshino 2000).
Il contesto familista italiano ha influito in innumerevoli modi sulle
domande di riconoscimento delle unioni civili tra persone dello stesso
genere, con la conseguente opera di ostruzionismo nei confronti del matrimonio egualitario (Lasio and Serri 2019). Le famiglie con genitori stesso-genere6 vivono ancora con difficoltà le relazioni con le famiglie allargate e le reti sociali a causa dello stigma nella maggior parte delle reti
sociali (Bastianoni et al. 2015). Infatti, molte ricerche psicosociali hanno
mostrato che i minori in queste famiglie stanno bene, hanno un ottimo sviluppo emotivo e relazionale, a cui si aggiungono anche migliori strategie
di coping e comunicazione in famiglia (Golombock 2016). Restano tuttavia
evidenti le conseguenze dello stigma connesso alle famiglie di cui fanno
parte e la discriminazione istituzionale del loro mancato riconoscimento
con gli strumenti previsti, tra cui la step-child adoption (Lasio and Serri
2019). Di rimando, la spinta familista nelle esperienze quotidiane omogenitoriali può avere dei riscontri inaspettati nel nucleo familiare, pur non
bilanciando assolutamente il peso e lo stress minoritario che causa alle vite
LGBTQIA+. Questo familismo emerge, per esempio, quando le famiglie
omogenitoriali trovano più accettazione nelle reti familiari solo dopo aver
stipulato un’unione civile e/o quando iniziano un percorso di genitorialità
L’uso del termine genitori dello stesso genere è preferibile rispetto al “genitori gay o lesbiche”
in quanto di una famiglia omogenitoriale sappiamo solo il genere dei genitori e non il loro orientamento sessuale (o il loro sesso assegnato alla nascita); in una famiglia omogenitoriale possono
essere presenti partner Bi+, il che rende la loro coppia o relazione a orientamento misto e non
monosessuale (gay o lesbica). Ciò vale anche per le coppie o le relazioni che apparentemente potremmo definire “eterosessuali” quando invece sono a orientamento misto per la presenza di una
o più persone Bi+ (bisessuali, pansessuali, biromantiche, etc. etc.) all’interno di tale relazione. Le
persone Bi+ in relazioni con persone monosessuali (gay, etero e lesbiche) hanno delle esperienze
specifiche non riconducibili a quelle monosessuali (Lannutti 2008; Pallotta-Chiarolli 2016).
6
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con la procreazione assistita o la genitorialità assistita (Tiano and Trappolin 2019). La spinta delle reti familiari a volere, o voler percepire, la famiglia
omogenitoriale come “famiglia normale” in alcuni casi riduce i pregiudizi.
Non stupisce come in uno studio italiano (Tiano and Trappolin 2019) l’atteggiamento di nonni e nonne migliori dopo l’arrivo di nipotine e nipotini,
per cui la spinta familista può generare, pagando un prezzo normativo, una
forma di supporto sociale e avere risvolti positivi nel costruire un’identità
comune per cui lottare (anche se spesso spinta da motivazioni individuali).
Dal punto di vista giuridico, il riconoscimento di relazioni non-monogame
è tutt’ora un campo aperto e, spesso, legato alle rivendicazioni dei diritti
LGBT+ con precedenti ambigui. Per esempio, gruppi poliamorosi negli USA
hanno in precedenza evitato rivendicazioni civili per timore di ripercussioni
sulla richiesta del matrimonio egualitario (Aviram 2008) mentre, in altre
occasioni, dei gruppi di attivismo LGBTQIA+ hanno escluso comunità o
gruppi poliamorosi per evitare di essere associati alle richieste di persone
non-monogame (Cardoso 2014). Si tratta di argomentazioni formulate nel
tentativo di bloccare anticipatamente le retoriche reazionarie e conservatrici
sul matrimonio egualitario o sulle unioni civili rappresentate come “piano
inclinato” (Grande e Pes 2018) verso poligamia, incesto e zoofilia (accuse
infondate presenti anche nel dibattito italiano sulle unioni civili, si veda
per esempio Lasio e Serri 2019); ad esempio, si ricordi il dibattito civile
statunitense in cui l’avvocato Ted Olson (il quale ha rappresentato le coppie
stesso genere nel caso Hollingsworth v. Perry) ha apertamente rassicurato i
componenti della corte sul fatto che il matrimonio egualitario non condurrà
a matrimoni poli (Aviram and Leachman 2015).
Questioni di riconoscimento giuridico sono presenti anche nel panorama italiano (Marella 2012; Rizzuti 2016; Lorenzetti 2018; Palazzo
2018) e forniscono una fotografia delle problematiche di riconoscimento e
di possibili strategie per ottenerlo (Grande e Pes 2018), anche includendo
o cercando alleanze con gruppi familisti per riconoscere le polifamiglie
(Palazzo 2018). Sono inoltre presenti (Aviram and Leachman 2015; Den
Otter 2015) delle “mappe legali” internazionali su come seguire questo
percorso, tenendo comunque conto che il riconoscimento giuridico è una
richiesta avanzata soltanto da una parte della comunità delle non-monogamie consensuali, in quanto alcuni stili relazionali – come l’anarchia relazionale – segue principi e posizionamenti politici spesso diversi (Barker
and Langdridge 2010).
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Studiare la qualità delle relazioni non-monogame
Come per gli studi sull’omogenitorialità, ovvero nuclei familiari composti
da partner dello stesso genere, le ricerche psicosociali si sono concentrate
sul “dimostrare” la qualità e la validità relazionale del crescere in una famiglia LGBTQIA+ (Golombock 2016; Bastianoni and Baiamonte 2015).
Sebbene alle persone eterosessuali, o con passing eterosessuale, non venga
richiesto di dimostrare le proprie competenze genitoriali, ciò viene sempre preteso per le famiglie dello stesso-genere o non-monogame (Pallotta-Chiarolli 2010; Sheff 2015; Tiano and Trappolin 2019).
C’è accordo nella letteratura internazionale (Moors et al., 2017, Rubel
and Bogaert 2015; Whitton et al. 2015) su come la non-esclusività relazionale, romantica o sessuale delle relazioni non-monogame consensuali
non incida sulla qualità della relazione stessa o, a ogni modo, non presenti
sostanziali differenze rispetto alle relazioni monogame. Le scienze sociali
e gli studi femministi hanno fornito diverse indicazioni sul come si decostruisce l’assunto monogamo ed eteronormativo del sessuale (Hemmings
2002; Butler 2013; Eisner 2013), mostrando come una matrice di genere
sia inscindibile dall’analisi di fenomeni sociali e della struttura stessa della
società. Il principio di valutazione relazionale viene quindi situato nel più
ampio concetto di norma e devianza sociale: su chi può vedere riconosciuto il proprio capitale familiare e chi no. Prima di ragionare in un’ottica
– comunque assimilatoria – di criteri di “qualità della relazione” o “sufficientemente buona” (generalmente usati nelle valutazioni psicologiche) va
riconosciuto che la migliore rappresentazione e analisi (politica e sociale)
non viene dal dato quantitativo ma dalle raccolte di esperienze e storie con
metodo longitudinale (Sheff 2015) e dal mettere in discussione gli assunti
mononormativi nel panorama politico-sociale italiano (Gusmano 2018;
Braida 2020).
In generale, la presenza di più partner che contribuiscono all’appagamento dei bisogni non incide sulle qualità delle singole relazioni, in quanto
esse funzionano in modo indipendente tra loro (Mitchell, Bartholomew,
and Cobb 2014), in contrapposizione al pregiudizio secondo cui una persona cerca altri partner oltre quello primario perché sente che “manca qualcosa” o per poca soddisfazione dei bisogni personali o relazionali – esperienza molto simile a quella delle persone Bi+ in relazioni monosessuali
(Castro and Carnassale 2019). Rispetto a donne e persone eterosessuali,
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la letteratura indica che sono gli uomini e le minoranze sessuali a intrattenere più frequentemente stili relazionali non monogami nelle loro vite
(Aviram 2008; Haupert et al. 2016). Se da un lato ricerche condotte su
campioni minori hanno rilevato che le persone non monogame, soprattutto
quelle poliamorose, rientrano nel profilo demografico upper-class, bianco
e con alta scolarizzazione (Klesse 2006; 2014; Wosik-Corea 2010), dall’altro studi condotti su campioni più ampi di popolazione (però nel contesto statunitense) non mostrano differenze per quanto riguarda il gruppo
nazionale, il colore della pelle, la scolarizzazione, l’età, l’area geografica o
l’affiliazione politica (ivi).
L’ideale per cui sia necessario un villaggio per crescere e accudire
dei minori (Homonoff et al. 2014) è un copione culturale che si concretizza all’interno dei nuclei familiari non-esclusivi, nelle polifamiglie e, in
generale, nelle relazioni non-monogame in cui ci si prende cura di uno o
più minori (Pallotta-Chiarolli 2010; Sheff 2010). Le polifamiglie – che
potremmo chiamare anche famiglie non esclusive, aperte o non-monogame in assenza di un termine condiviso – esistono già, e da molto tempo
le persone non-monogame costruiscono nuclei familiari allargati. Data la
complessità e gli intrecci che si creano nelle reti sociali di una relazione
non-monogama sarebbe complesso, e probabilmente controproducente,
provare a tracciare una tassonomia di queste polifamiglie. Poiché, al loro
interno possiamo trovare partner, meta-partner, figliз e persone conviventi
nel nucleo polifamiliare e che condividono legami, tempi, spazi e risorse.
Queste peculiarità complicano gli aspetti di tutela e riconoscimento, sia
per le increspature che possono creare nel diritto (si veda Marella 2012;
Lorenzetti 2018) che per una comprovata reticenza di matrice individualista – e di diffidenza verso le rigidità governative – di molte persone
non-monogame, preoccupate che l’interferenza statale possa decidere chi
escludere e chi proteggere (Aviram 2008).
Uno degli studi fondamentali nella letteratura sulle polifamiglie è una
ricerca longitudinale di Elizabeth Sheff (2015), condotta dal 1996 al 2012,
nella quale la ricercatrice ha seguito più di 500 componenti di famiglie
non-monogame e ha intervistato 131minori (dai 5 anni in su). Dal suo lavoro
è emerso che i minori in famiglie poliamorose mostravano eloquenza,
intelligenza, fiducia in sé ed equilibrio (Sheff 2015:134). Colpisce come i
minori in queste polifamiglie non problematizzassero le loro forme familiari e le identificavano come la norma invece della minoranza, processo
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confermato da altri studi (Pallotta-Chiarolli 2010). Tra gli “svantaggi”
o le criticità discusse negli studi sulle famiglie poly o non-monogame troviamo l’attaccamento verso persone che escono dalla vita familiare a causa
di conflitti o fine della relazioni, in modo simile alle esperienze di genitori
single che praticano una monogamia seriale (Sheff 2010). A prescindere
dallo stile relazionale, una separazione familiare incide sull’attaccamento
di una persona giovane e l’elaborazione della perdita di relazioni significative e di supporto (Sheff 2010). Nonostante le relazioni non-monogame maschili dello stesso genere (ad es. con partner bisex, gay o pansex)
sembrino durare più di quelle monogame (Whitton, Weitbrecht and
Kuryluk 2015), non abbiamo abbastanza informazioni sulla loro qualità,
sulla tendenza alla durata di una relazione in generale (non solo nel contesto italiano) e sulla possibilità di considerare, concretamente, la durata di
una relazione come indice di qualità relazionale. Eppure, quando le relazioni hanno fine per bisogni diversi o a causa i cambiamenti nelle vite
delle persone ciò rappresenta anche un momento positivo, soprattutto se
questi momenti marcano la fine di relazioni tossiche o abusanti, sia in relazioni altro-genere (Turell, Brown and Hermann 2018) che stesso-genere
(Kimmes et al. 2019). Le strategie spesso adottate dalle polifamiglie e dalle
famiglie Bi+ per gestire lo stigma, ad esempio nei contesti educativi e nelle
scuole, sono connesse alla cancellazione e all’invisibilità del relazionarsi
con la sfera pubblica (Pallotta-Chiarolli 2006). Queste famiglie sono
silenziate, secondo Pallotta-Chiarolli, perché “si ritrovano tra le polarità
del matrimonio monogamo eterosessuale e la crescente attenzione verso
le famiglie dello stesso-sesso” (Ita. tr. 2006:49). Ciò può essere contrastato
tramite tre strategie di gestione dello stigma, per esempio: fare “passing” e
restare “nell’armadio” con la rete sociale esterna alla famiglia e, occasionalmente, con i minori del nucleo familiare; restare al confine in modo selettivo
a seconda del grado di accettazione trovato negli spazi pubblici e privati;
oppure, infine, scegliere di “contaminare” il mondo scolastico rifiutando
l’invisibilità (Pallotta-Chiarolli 2010). Dalle ricerche di Sheff (2015)
emerge come nelle polifamiglie siano presenti una maggiore attenzione
alla comunicazione e consapevolezza degli stati emotivi (favorita anche
dall’enfatizzare il bisogno di più comunicazione e negoziazione), una maggiore condivisione delle risorse, più tempo per chi è genitore di dedicarsi
ad attività personali, fornire diversi ruoli genitoriali e maggiori attenzioni
ai minori (Sheff 2015). Quest’ultimo punto si collega a un beneficio delle
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relazioni non-monogame, quello di poter offrire la disponibilità di più persone nell’appagamento dei bisogni e nella presa in cura dei minori appartenenti al nucleo, in modo simile alle famiglie allargate monogame. Gli studi
sull’attaccamento ci informano che più adulti supportivi e di riferimento
ha un minore, più facilmente evita l’uso di alcolici, sviluppa un maggiore
senso di solidarietà con le sue comunità e presenta maggiori outcome positivi di salute (Sheff 2010; Sheff 2015)
Per riassumere, la letteratura disponibile ci mostra che non è necessaria
una relazione monogama per vivere un rapporto stabile, con progettualità,
al cui interno crescere una prole in una relazione soddisfacente, di mutuo e
reciproco supporto (Rubel and Bogaert 2015). Sappiamo che l’esclusività
relazionale, sessuale o romantica non è dunque fondamentale per la qualità
della relazione: il consenso e il rispetto degli accordi relazionali incidono
in maggior misura sulla qualità e la durata delle stesse (Conley et al. 2013).
Caratteristiche, bisogni e punti critici nelle nonmonogamie consensuali
Le relazioni non-monogame offrono dei benefici e delle criticità specifiche
rispetto alle relazioni monogame. In una review di studi (Moors et al. 2017)
viene argomentato come all’interno delle non-monogamie consensuali
siano presenti dei benefici specifici rispetto alle relazioni monogame (Conley et al. 2013) e le non-monogamie non consensuali (ad es. tradimento).
Esplorare queste specificità ci aiuta a comprendere in modo più esaustivo
questi stili relazionali. Nel lavoro di Moors e del loro gruppo di ricerca,
sono emersi due temi legati unicamente alle monogamie come aspetto fondante del loro stile relazionale rispetto alle non-monogamie: la moralità e
la salute. La valutazione morale è indubbiamente connessa a come le relazioni sono rappresentate e costruite nelle società. Rispetto alle non-monogamie, la moralità viene considerata un beneficio esclusivamente attribuito
alla monogamia e viene legato a uno standard morale intrinseco spesso
connesso alla religiosità (Conley et al. 2013). Eppure, non mancano copioni
culturali per giustificare l’infedeltà nella monogamia. Si giustifica l’infedeltà sessuale maschile nella coppia eteronormata e il cercare rapporti sessuali extraconiugali senza eccessive conseguenze (Bellassai 2011): come,
per esempio, giustificando pulsioni sessuali o l’infedeltà come naturale nel
maschio per motivi biologici o il machismo associato alla frequentazione di
bordelli e case chiuse (ivi). La questione morale emerge anche nei dibattiti
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accademici sulle non-monogamie: pensiamo all’uso che è stato fatto del
termine “etico” per rafforzare la posizione del poliamore in contrapposizione alle altre non-monogamie (Wilkinson 2010) o all’uso generico del
termine “non-monogamie etiche” come forma intrinsecamente positiva
da contrapporre al tradimento monogamo. Pur restando comprensibile il
voler controbilanciare lo stigma affrontato in quanto persone non-monogame, c’è da tenere in considerazione che l’avere relazioni non-monogame
non porta automaticamente a seguire principi radicali, queer o meno, contro le normatività (Sheff 2006). L’essere passate al termine “non-monogamie consensuali” dentro le comunità non monogame e negli studi sociali
ha spostato il focus dalla morale e dall’etica – che si ricollega all’idea dei
“buoni omosessuali” (Klesse 2007) – per spostarlo su un concetto più significativo, ma anche radicale, di consenso. Invece di adeguare le relazioni
non-monogame a una questione morale/etica tipica della società eteronormata (Eisner 2013) ci si è concentrate sull’importanza della consensualità
e dell’accordo tra persone, evitando anche di alimentare delle competizioni
di moralità tra non-monogamie (ovvero poliamore contro non-monogamie
sessualmente “cariche”).
Quando si discute dei vantaggi delle relazioni monogame, una tematica che emerge, e spesso considerata come una delle caratteristiche uniche
della monogamia, è la migliore salute sessuale (Moors et al. 2017). Dobbiamo però chiederci se questa attribuzione sia in grado di rispecchiare le
esperienze delle persone non-monogame. La monogamia può essere considerata una strategia sessualmente sicura, se entrambe le persone coinvolte
non attuano pratiche a rischio durante rapporti sessuali all’interno della
coppia, se prima di formare la coppia non hanno precedenti malattie sessualmente trasmissibili e se rimangono sessualmente “fedeli” all’interno
della relazione (Moors et al. 2017). Una strategia di comunicazione, questa, adottata anche nei programmi per la salute sessuale, dove si propone
alle coppie di essere sessualmente esclusive o di ricorrere all’astinenza
per ridurre il rischio di contrarre MST (Conley et al. 2013). Eppure, dati
empirici suggeriscono che un quarto e più di partecipanti adulti riportano
infedeltà sessuale in una relazione monogama (Conley et al. 2013), mettendo in discussione la “facilità” di un accordo relazionale monogamo o
che questo sia automaticamente adatto a chiunque. Non è raro, infatti, che
una persona definisca la propria relazione come monogama anche se i partner sono sessualmente infedeli, concettualizzando la monogamia come
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un principio che riguarda più la fedeltà emotiva che sessuale (Swan and
Thompson 2016). Inoltre, all’interno di una relazione monogama è molto
comune evitare l’uso del preservativo una volta che la relazione sia stabile,
comportamento che vuole assumere il significato di impegno e intimità
ma che può, nei fatti, aumentare il rischio di esposizioni a malattie veneree
e sessualmente trasmissibili (soprattutto in caso di infedeltà sessuale non
discussa tra partner).
Quello che sappiamo sulle relazioni non-monogame è che, rispetto a persone monogame infedeli, commettono meno errori nell’uso dei contraccettivi, discutono più apertamente di MST (malattie sessualmente trasmissibili)
con nuovi partner o partner primari e dichiarano di aver avuto rapporti sessuali all’esterno della coppia (Conley et al. 2012; Moors et al. 2017). Infine,
anche se chi intrattiene stili relazionali non-monogami riporta un numero
di partner maggiore rispetto a persone monogame, non sono presenti differenze nel numero di diagnosi di MST (ad es. clamidia, gonorrea, herpes
e HIV) in studi epidemiologici (Lehmiller 2015). Una ricerca su persone
poliamorose ha mostrato come la quasi totalità dei partecipanti (91%) adotti
regole esplicite sul sesso sicuro, con il coinvolgimento di ogni partner in test
per MST di routine (soprattutto quando si incontrano o includono nuovi
partner) e l’adozione di barriere protettive (Wosick-Correa 2010). Persone
non-monogame, rispetto a persone monogame infedeli, usano più frequentemente il preservativo per sesso anale e vaginale, e barriere protettive per
sex-toys con partner primari e secondari (Conley et al. 2012). Possiamo
quindi decostruire il beneficio di una maggiore salute sessuale e associarlo
non alla monogamia, seriale o meno, ma a quanto siano proscritte pratiche
e discorsi sulla salute sessuale, l’educazione affettiva e la comunicazione sui
rischi: il fattore più compromettente sono le pratiche sessuali a rischio e
la mancanza di accordo su barriere anti-MST. Il praticare uno stile relazionale monogamo come forma di protezione da MST comporta una “fallacia
protettiva” (Swan and Thompson 2006) poiché non è lo stile relazionale a
ridurre i rischi di MST, ma l’attuare o l’esporsi a comportamenti a rischio
per la salute sessuale (Lehmiller 2015; Richards and Barker 2013). I principi di negoziazione e trasparenza nella comunicazione tra partner, presenti
nelle non-monogamie consensuali, possono invece rivelarsi strumenti utili
per la promozione della salute sessuale (Moors et al. 2017).
Tra i benefici frequentemente associati in modo esclusivo alle relazioni non-monogame troviamo la capacità di soddisfare bisogni diversi,
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l’ampia varietà di attività (sessuali e non sessuali) e le opportunità di crescita/sviluppo personale (Moors et al. 2017). La soddisfazione di diversi
bisogni, secondo Moors e il suo gruppo di ricerca, è un tema centrale nelle
relazioni non-monogame e porta a vedere multiple relazioni sentimentali
e/o sessuali come un modo per distribuire dei bisogni che, tipicamente,
sarebbero soddisfatti (o meno) da un singolo partner in una relazione
monogama. Questo aspetto può essere saliente nelle relazioni non-monogame, perché contrapposto alla norma culturale occidentale, nella quale
un partner “deve” soddisfare la maggior parte dei bisogni dell’altro, se
non tutti (Finkel et al. 2014). Alti livelli di aspettative nei confronti di
un partner rischiano di soffocare la relazione o di aumentare le possibilità di conflitto, soprattutto considerando che investire nella relazione
richiede tempo, che viene dedicato sempre di meno alla coppia (Finkel
et al. 2014). Nel loro paper, Finkel e il suo gruppo di ricerca discutono di
come nelle relazioni monogame all’interno di un matrimonio – nel contesto statunitense – ci siano troppe aspettative e richieste nei confronti
dei partner di soddisfare al meglio dei bisogni individuali – fisiologici,
di sicurezza, di appartenenza, autostima e autorealizzazione. Adottare
dei principi, o ridiscutere la relazione prendendo spunto dalle non-monogamie, potrebbe facilitare il processo di negoziazione nella coppia e
fornire degli strumenti per discutere tali aspettative e bisogni (Finkel et
al. 2014). Suggerimento fornito anche da Conley e Moors (2014), secondo
cui adottare alcuni “principi” delle non-monogamie potrebbe potenziare
le relazioni monogame nel corso del tempo, per esempio aumentando
il capitale sociale, fornire strategie per gestire le attrazioni verso altre
persone, migliorare la comunicazione di coppia o l’organizzazione nel
nucleo familiare.
Altri stereotipi legati alle non-monogamie portano a giudizi di promiscuità, edonismo, e all’accusa di incapacità nel mantenere relazioni stabili
e durature (Klesse 2007). I potenziali “benefici” sessuali non sono invece
tra i temi considerati propri delle monogamie, rispetto alla varietà di attività non sessuali che si possono intrattenere con i/le potenziali partner.
Persone in relazioni non-monogame potrebbero esperire maggiori occasioni di provare nuove attività (ad es. nel caso in cui una dei partner non
condivida con l’altro una passione) tramite le multiple relazioni o le reti
sociali ampliate a disposizione (Moors et al. 2017). Se da un lato è documentato in letteratura che nelle relazioni monogame ci siano fenomeni di
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“ritiro diadico” (dyadic withdrawal, Kalmijin 2003), ovvero l’allontanarsi
dalle reti sociali di conoscenti e amici una volta che una coppia diventa
più intima o convive, è ancora una domanda empirica comprendere se un
accordo non-monogamo riduca questa tendenza, dato il numero potenzialmente elevato di stimoli e possibilità sociali (Moors et al. 2017). Nelle
non-monogamie potrebbe esserci maggiore flessibilità e ampiezza nel
gestire con chi fare esperienze nuove e come spendere il tempo tra persone coinvolte. Anche se è possibile ottenere benefici simili tramite la rete
di amicizie, il coinvolgimento emotivo e più occasioni di contatto fisico
contribuiscono a esiti positivi della relazione. Uno spunto di riflessione
arriva ad esempio dalle comunità egalitarie condivise, dove in una ricerca
di Aguilar (2013) è emerso come forme di contatto fisico non esplicitamente sessuale, manifestazioni di affetto e “appartenenza” come abbracci
o vicinanza fisica sono interpretate come segno di relazioni positive, piacevoli e ricercate. Secondo Aguilar (2013) la stessa vicinanza fisica in attività non sessuali può essere un pilastro rilevante del cercare o preferire
relazioni non-monogame rispetto a quelle monogame. Il focus sull’aspetto
non sessuale non vuole cancellare o considerare secondarie le esperienze
fisicamente sessuali all’interno di relazioni, a prescindere dal fatto che
siano monogame o meno, ma viene messo in campo per riflettere su come
uno stile relazionale sia collegato a una più ampia esperienza tra attori
sociali, soprattutto in contrapposizione al pregiudizio di promiscuità che
circonda queste condotte relazionali.
Ma quali sono i “pilastri” delle relazioni non-monogame? Secondo
Peabody (1982) consistono nella comunicazione onesta, in una gestione
equa del potere nei rapporti, nella fiducia e nella cura della privacy, in un
maggiore sviluppo personale e interpersonale rispetto a relazioni monogame. Crescita e sviluppo personale sono quindi dei presupposti rilevanti
in questi stili relazionali, tanto da essere sia motivazioni per adottare
queste relazioni che esito da raggiungere all’interno delle stesse (Aguilar 2013). La percezione di autonomia è un esito rilevante nelle relazioni
interpersonali, romantiche e/o sessuali, sia come bisogno da raggiungere
che come principio da seguire: una maggiore autonomia relazionale,
conferma la letteratura, è presente in chi ha relazioni non-monogame
(Mitchell et al. 2014).
Nonostante il numero di ricerche sulle non-monogamie sia aumentato, e continui a crescere, molti studi risalgono anche agli anni ’60 del
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secolo scorso. Per esempio, una delle prime ricerche qualitative sui matrimoni aperti (Knapp 1976) ha mostrato come i partner all’interno di queste
relazioni intendano il rapporto come fonte di senso di libertà e sicurezza
allo stesso tempo, sensazione che non avevano nel rapporto monogamico
(Knapp 1976). La gestione delle aspettative e della gelosia sono anche parte
delle strategie di negoziazione nelle non-monogamie, in quanto si tratta di
una delle tematiche più discusse e problematiche della monogamia e delle
relazioni intime (Barker and Langridge 2010). Le aspettative e l’assunto
della gelosia sono aspetti che richiedono elevati livelli di processualità e
lavoro ideologico, per decostruire i pilastri della normatività monogama
nelle proprie relazioni tramite la messa in discussione (Castro 2021). Ad
esempio, la ricerca di Aguilar (2013) sulle comuni (comunità dove persone vivono insieme e che spesso promuovono relazioni non-monogame)
mostra come si tengano degli incontri di gruppo regolari per discutere
l’insorgere di possessività e gelosia all’interno delle relazioni: questo processo di negoziazione e confronto promuove la “crescita personale” e viene
considerato “gratificante” (Aguilar 2013). Promuovere libertà e autonomia diventa quindi un principio adottato all’interno di questa prospettiva, evitando anche termini che possano indicare o sottintendere forme
di controllo su partner coinvolti. In una ricerca, il 39% di partecipanti che
intrattengono relazioni poliamorose evitano apertamente termini come
“permettere”, “limitare” o “regole” perché considerate come forme sottese
di controllo, lontane dai principi di non-monogamie etiche. (Wosick-Correa 2010). Il principio di libertà relazionale e, soprattutto, di definizione
libera degli accordi relazionali restano i punti centrali per comprendere le
relazioni non-monogame e le loro tutele giuridiche (si veda Grande e Pes
2018).
Egemonie e criticità delle relazioni non-monogame
Per evitare una visione solo celebrativa, in favore di una più critica, è necessario considerare che le relazioni e gli spazi sociali (offline e online) delle
non-monogamie non sono esenti da dinamiche di potere, disuguaglianze,
discorsi e pratiche egemoni (Klesse 2007; Sheff 2006). Come discusso in
precedenza, rigettare la monogamia non coincide necessariamente con il
rigettare la mononormatività (Wilkinson 2010) e non tutte le relazioni
decostruiscono queste norme in modo politico – che ci spinge a riflettere
anche su cosa significhi il termine “politico” come potere legittimo in spazi
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politici e di attivismo che non sono esenti da egemonie, gerarchie identitarie e disuguaglianze di potere7.
Un esempio di poliegemonie viene discusso da Sheff (2006) nella sua
ricerca sulle maschilità poliamorose, mostrandoci come siano creati e
riprodotti specifici rapporti di potere dentro relazioni e coppie aperte, una
gerarchia di genere a sfavore di generi non maschili. Tra gli esempi forniti
troviamo la tendenza a porre dei vincoli relazionali solo a favore maschile:
sul chi e come si possono avere rapporti occasionali o stabili nella coppia
(ad es. un solo uomo e più donne), sull’inclusione di ulteriori partner esclusivamente femminili (detta anche one penis policy) nella relazione principale, sulla ricerca di una “Hot Bi Babe”, ovvero una partner donna bisex
che soddisfi la coppia – che poi se ne disferà per non “turbare” la relazione
principale (definito nelle comunità online come “caccia all’unicorno” o unicorn hunting) – o, infine, sulla tendenza a lasciare la partner donna che non
acconsente a tali richieste. In generale, queste pratiche egemoni seguono
i copioni culturali (Gagnon and Simon 1986) del desiderio maschile, l’avanzare cioè la pretesa di intrattenere rapporti esclusivi con più partner
donne. Il sessismo e i sentimenti antifemminili sono storicamente presenti
anche nel mondo gay e bisex maschile, che possono proscrivere seguendo
– implicitamente o meno – un immaginario egemone di “attrazione per
uomini veri”, riproducendo così un meccanismo di oppressione (Connel
and Messerschmidt 2005; Klesse 2007).
Nonostante le potenzialità del decostruire l’eteronormatività – come
altri assi di discriminazione strutturale – negli spazi sociali e nelle relazioni CNM ci sono pregiudizi sessuali verso specifici generi (ad es. donne
e uomini trans, persone non-binarie) e orientamenti sessuali (ad es. omolesbobiacefobia). Sono presenti, inoltre, dinamiche di potere il cui intento
è dare una norma alla costruzione delle relazioni delle persone queer,
dando un’idea di come i copioni egemoni eteronormativi sono messi in
scena in tali relazioni. Ne sono esempi la feticizzazione e il pregiudizio
verso le persone Bi+: in cui le donne Bi+ sono trattate come una fantasia
Disuguaglianze all’interno di comunità che dovrebbero essere alleate sono ben note a chi
occupa spazi fuori dai binari sessuali e di genere. Le persone asessuali, Bi+, non-binarie e trans*
affrontano spesso pregiudizi sessuali all’interno della loro stessa comunità, generati da una norma omosessuale che cancella altre identità a favore di essere solo “gay e lesbiche”. Sulle difficoltà
delle lotte queer e omosessuali negli altri movimenti politici, quello dei lavoratori e comunista,
o del sessismo dentro di esse si rimanda al libro “I movimenti omosessuali di liberazione” di
Spolato (2019[1972]).
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sessuale per soddisfare i gusti di una coppia uomo-donna generalmente
eterosessuale; o quando gli uomini Bi+ affrontano bifobia e cancellazione
(Schrimshaw et al. 2018; Castro and Carnassale 2019) quando vengono
considerarli gay repressi od opportunisti traditori (ad es. accusandoli di
essere gay “velati” che tradiscono le mogli o opportunisti).
Questi repertori discorsivi egemoni (Sheff 2006; Klesse 2007)
si intersecano con altri assi intersezionali come il genere, la classe, la
provenienza geografica, il colore della pelle, l’età, la disabilità e molte
altre. L’affrontare criticamente questioni relazionali resta, come detto in
precedenza, un potenziale delle relazioni non-monogame, che non sono
esenti da dinamiche di potere e disequilibrio. Per esempio, Cascais e Cardoso (2013) hanno evidenziato come nei discorsi di persone “nuove” alle
non-monogamie siano spesso presenti repertori discorsivi intrisi di sessismo e assunti patriarcali legati al possesso e al potere, quindi nel passaggio da relazioni monogame a quelle non-monogame. Altre questioni sono
sollevate da Christian Klesse (2007) su come le gerarchie nelle relazioni
non-monogame possono essere fonte di conflitti, insieme alla presenza di
prole, proprietà immobiliari o capitale sociale (ad es. chi sta investendo
di più o di meno nella relazione), età (come il timore che altri partner
abbiano più accesso al “mercato sessuale” e investano di meno nella relazione pensando di potersi rifare una vita). Christian Klesse (2007) in The
Spectre of Promiscuity individua nelle storie di chi partecipa alla ricerca
varie forme di disuguaglianza nelle relazioni non-monogame.
Nelle polifamiglie la disponibilità economica può incidere sulla distribuzione dei beni, sulla scelta del luogo in cui abitare, sull’organizzazione
degli spazi domestici o, in generale, sull’inclusione nella reciprocità economica dentro una relazione (Klesse 2007). Vanno inclusi inoltre fenomeni come la feticizzazione del colore della pelle o della provenienza
nazionale (Castro and Carnassale 2019), l’età e il capitale sociale,
quando si definisce una relazione (Klesse 2007). Tale disponibilità di
capitale sociale può aver influenzato anche la spinta di singole persone
non-monogame o della comunità a puntare su strategie individuali di
tutela giuridica (per esempio tramite atto notarile) invece che su strategie
collettive (Aviram 2008). Pur avendo una preferenza condivisa, tramite
copioni culturali, per la fluidità nei rapporti esiste comunque una differenza tra chi può permettersi delle tutele individuali e chi no. Secondo
Aviram (2008), il background culturale delle persone non-monogame,
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nel contesto statunitense, ha un impatto sulla ricerca di riconoscimento
giuridico, promuovendo contemporaneamente una visione utopistica del
futuro (dove ogni persona potrà avere relazioni libere e non oppressive) e
un individualismo di fondo che resta ottimo per trovare il proprio modo
di vivere le relazioni, ma è poco efficace per strategie collettive (ivi).
Il contesto italiano ha le sue caratteristiche specifiche (Grande e
Pes 2018; Gusmano 2018; Castro 2021), eppure chi scrive ritiene che la
grande eterogeneità e una preferenza per strategie individuali di gestione
della discriminazione – sia nelle comunità non-monogame che in quelle
Bi+ – potrebbero spiegare le difficoltà nel creare dei movimenti di riconoscimento condivisi. Le relazioni non-monogame possono essere o restare
radicali nel loro navigare in una società monosessuale ed eteronormata,
continuando a valorizzare i loro principi fondanti (comunicazione, comprensione, consenso e apertura) – soprattutto considerando che di questi
principi le non-monogamie hanno mostrato maggiore riflessività e buone
pratiche rispetto alle monogamie seriali. Le domande di riconoscimento
giuridico e il loro incontro potranno tutelare enormemente le polifamiglie e chi ne fa parte, senza necessariamente cedere la componente radicale e la componente queer delle famiglie LGBTQIA+ a un’assimilazione
identitaria che non sia individualista, o alimenti le disuguaglianze già
presenti nella società e nelle relazioni, trovando infine un equilibrio tra
cosa possiamo ottenere e cosa vale la pena cedere al copione normativo
delle relazioni regolamentate.
Discussione
Questo contributo aveva l’obiettivo di discutere come il riconoscimento
giuridico delle relazioni non-monogame possa essere rafforzato dagli
studi psicologici sulla qualità relazionale, sui bisogni e le genitorialità
non-monogame. In modo simile al percorso giuridico delle unioni fra
persone dello stesso genere (Galupo 2008; Lasio and Serri 2019; Franchi and Selmi 2020), il riconoscimento passa da un bilanciamento tra
radicalità – e la queerness – delle relazioni non-monogame, da un lato,
e dall’assimilazione per ottenere più diritti dall’altro. Un processo-compromesso profondamente delicato quanto complesso, ma fortunatamente
esplorato nel contesto italiano (Grande e Pes 2018). Chi scrive suggerisce di focalizzarsi sul supporto che gli studi psicologici e sociali possono
offrire alle domande di riconoscimento, in quanto sono più i diritti umani
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Aurelio Castro
a spingere a livello legale rispetto a una controproducente essenzializzazione sia dell’orientamento sessuale che degli stili relazionali non-monogami (Aviram 2008; Eisner 2013; Diamond 2019). Poiché un focus
essenzialista, biologico o culturale, non è in grado di dimostrare che lo
stile relazionale non-monogamo sia innato, né che questa sua possibile
“essenza” possa giustificarne un riconoscimento giuridico. In generale, gli
studi evolutivi non forniscono rilevanti contributi né al conseguimento
di diritti sociali né alla conversazione condivisa sullo spazio sociopolitico
delle non-monogamie. Far parte di una minoranza sessuale discriminata
può essere rivoluzionario, ma resta evolutivamente non conveniente,
posto che negli studi sull’evoluzione c’è più egemonia che rivoluzione.
Portare l’esempio delle bisessualità e delle famiglie omogenitoriali ci
ricorda che le società eteronormate tendono ad assimilare ciò che vive
fuori dai binarismi, tentando di appropriarsene e “addomesticare” le
identità non conformi (Klesse 2007; Galupo 2008; Santos 2013; Castro
2021). D’altronde, la ricerca psicologica e sociale ha avuto un ruolo significativo nel costruire la coppia diadica come ideale e con stili di attaccamento adeguati a relazioni durature (Coors et al. 2015). L’esempio lampante è presente negli studi sull’attaccamento dove tale costrutto e quello
di amore sono sovrapposti al “legame di coppia” (Moors et al. 2015).
Questa sovrapposizione ci permette di comprendere quanto decenni di
studi sull’attaccamento non abbiano approfondito le relazioni da prospettive non-esclusive: se l’attaccamento diventa solo esclusività sessuale o
romantica allora saremo più inclini a ritenere la diade come la forma di
relazione più “naturale, sana e romantica” (Moors et al. 2015).
Ciò nonostante, le persone che praticano relazioni non-monogame
possono attivamente affrontare e resistere a standard normativi legati ai
rapporti di genere, alle relazioni intime e all’ampio spettro delle sessualità, poiché sfidano l’assetto normativo delle relazioni tipico nelle società
occidentali, dove i rapporti “devono” essere tra un uomo e una donna,
eterosessuali e apparentemente monogami (Barker 2005). Al contrario,
riflettere e adottare principi non-monogami, quindi ingaggiare l’alterità
rispetto alla monogamia, porta a evidenziare quali principi regolano il
“contratto monogamo” della società. In una review critica (Ziegler et al.
2014) viene discusso di come l’endorsement della monogamia, soprattutto
in modo acritico, sia controproducente e impatti negativamente sulla vita
delle donne. L’assunto socioculturale della monogamia incatena l’identità
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delle donne, prescrivendo e giustificando la presenza della gelosia nei loro
confronti, e soprattutto riducendo l’autonomia femminile in virtù della
gelosia. La struttura della monogamia stessa rende problematico il riconoscimento di queste difficoltà e dei copioni normativi che coinvolgono
la questione femminile, rinforzando il sistema patriarcale eteronormato
(Ziegler et al. 2014). Robinson esprime questo concetto affermando che
la monogamia privilegia attivamente “gli interessi sia degli uomini che del
capitalismo, agendo tramite il meccanismo dell’esclusività, possessività e
gelosia, tutte filtrate attraverso le lenti tinte di rosa del romanticismo” (Ita.
tr. 1997:144; ma si veda anche Ritchie and Barker 2006).
Le relazioni non-monogame permettono a chi le pratica di esplorare
dinamiche di genere e di desiderio sessuale poco attuabili in una relazione
monogama – come, ad esempio, la presenza di partner stesso-genere e/o
queer – e di entrare in contatto con espressioni di genere e sessualità
diverse dalla propria (Manley, Diamond and van Anders 2015). Ciò può
fornire uno spazio in cui potenzialmente una persona può sradicare quei
binarismi, costruiti come dicotomie polarizzate del sessuale, in una prospettiva più fluida, contrastando quella sensazione – molto comune nelle
esperienze Bi+ di sentirsi “tirate tra due mondi” (Castro and Carnassale 2019; Castro 2021). Come precedentemente discusso, impegnarsi in
relazioni non-monogame non influisce negativamente sulla qualità di tali
relazioni, certo non in misura maggiore rispetto alla monogamia: i valori
peggiori di qualità della relazione sono presenti nelle relazioni dove si
rompono gli accordi relazionali e dove manca il consenso di tutte le parti
a tenere una relazione non-monogama (Moors et al. 2017). Anche se per
alcune persone il passare da uno stile relazionale monogamo ad accordi
consensuali non-monogami può essere inteso come un modo plausibile
per gestire le attrazioni per più persone allo stesso tempo (Klesse 2007),
non necessariamente questo processo psicologico permette di criticare o
distaccarsi in toto dall’egemonia mononormativa (Ziegler et al. 2014).
Eppure, per le persone Bi +, ovvero attratte da più generi, le relazioni
non-monogame possono essere un modo per esplorare le attrazioni bisessuali per più di un genere (Barker 2010; Manley et al. 2015) e trovare più
sensibilità Bi+ all’interno degli spazi non-monogami, poiché hanno già
decostruito il presupposto della mononormatività (Gusmano 2019). Frequentemente le persone Bi+ (ad es. bisex, pansex, biromantiche) adottano
delle etichette che mettono in discussione l’idea stessa di monogamia o del
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Aurelio Castro
dover etichettare le proprie sessualità, sostenendo che queste non siano in
grado di “catturare” le loro esperienze e desideri quotidiani (Klesse 2007).
Avere accesso a comunità non monogame è un passo importante verso
l’accettazione e la contestazione degli assunti monogami della società,
poiché la condivisione di esperienze, sentimenti e strategie per negoziare
relazioni è una forma di supporto sociale per persone non-monogame
(Bauer 2014). Per questo motivo, le ricerche future potrebbero esplorare
come la carenza di informazioni o non il fruire degli spazi online o offline
di confronto sulle non-monogamie consensuali possa influire sul rischio
di conflitti e un disequilibrio del lavoro emotivo nella relazione, tenendo
conto delle specificità di chi, in tale relazione, ha uno stile non-monogamo e chi no (Klesse 2007). Avere spazi sicuri per esibirsi ed esprimere
liberamente il proprio orientamento sessuale e relazionale è fondamentale per le persone Bi+ e non-monogame, che di solito mancano di fiducia nelle relazioni eteronormative e negli spazi LG a causa di precedenti
esperienze di bifobia e cancellazione o di pregiudizio verso il loro stile
relazionale (Barker et al. 2012; Bauer 2014).
Conclusioni
La pluralità della sfera relazionale e sessuale deve portarci a riconsiderare, sia a livello identitario che nel diritto, i concetti di relazione, famiglia e famiglie. L’assunto mononormato delle relazioni diadiche come
forma migliore di una relazione non è così supportato quando sono
incluse nelle ricerche le relazioni non-monogame (Rubel and Bogaert
2015; Whitton, Weitbrecht and Kuryluk 2015). Sebbene non esenti
da criticità, le non-monogamie consensuali possono essere una fonte di
relazioni positive e stabilità sia relazionale che familiare. Come qualsiasi
struttura relazionale richiedono apertura, reattività, gestione del tempo,
trasparenza all’interno della relazione e negoziazioni rispettose (Anapol
2010; Barker 2010) che sono rese molto più problematizzate (ma anche
esplicitamente discusse e valorizzate) rispetto a chi vive una relazione
monogama – negli accordi o nei fatti. Tenendo conto delle specifiche egemonie, bisogna però riconoscere che, nonostante la difficoltà del dover
costruire “modi nuovi” di fare relazione (preoccupazioni, gestire la relazione, stabilire dei limiti per quanto riguarda la trasparenza dei desideri),
queste relazioni sono significate come un viaggio passo-passo per venire
a patti con sentimenti e preferenze personali (Anapol 2010; Gusmano
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2018) che domandano un giusto riconoscimento, diritti e tutele nel più
ampio discorso politico sulle famiglie come nuclei-villaggi che ci rendono
società.
Aurelio Castro
aureliocastro.research@gmail.com
Università di Bologna
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WHAT
A Transdisciplinary
Journal of
Queer
Theories and Studies
EVER
whatever.cirque.unipi.it
Alice Parrinello
No country(side) for young queers.
Three contemporary Italian urban-rural narratives
Abstract: The paper presents an overview of three Italian takes on the queer rural-to-urban
flight, by analysing Generations of Love (1999) by Matteo B. Bianchi, La Generazione (2015) by
Flavia Biondi, and Febbre (2019) by Jonathan Bazzi. In most LGBTQ+ narratives moving to a big
city is central, as it is associated with finding an accepting ‘chosen’ family. However, the move
has recently acquired homonormative connotations: it is embedded into narratives of economic
success and the individuals moving are usually white, cisgender, non-disabled, gay men. In the
texts, the main characters correspond to the type. However, by analysing their relationships to
their hometowns and their biological families, this paper argues that the characters find ways of
challenging the homonormative paradigm through a spatial in-betweenness and non-conjugal
bonds not reflected by laws. The main theoretical frameworks are the homonormativity definition
by Lisa Duggan, the work on Italian queerness by Antonia Anna Ferrante, and the study on queer
orientations by Sara Ahmed. This paper is inscribed into a larger trend of studies around the rural-to-urban move but sheds light on the Italian landscape.
Keywords: queer anti-urbanism; queer phenomenology; queer Italian studies; contemporary Italian literature; homonormativity.
E crebbe così a ridosso di altri amori, di storie che non sarebbero
mai state la ‘sua storia,’ ma che, in un certo senso, lui era in grado
di elaborare per gli altri
(Tondelli 2019: 133)1
1. Introduction
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a queer person in search for
happiness, must move to the next big city. It is one of the most popular
tropes in LGBTQ+ narratives, be it in cultural products or real-life events.
The metrosexual narrative, as it has been defined by Jack J. Halberstam,
states that moving from a small (minded) town to a big and accepting city
And so he grew up next to other loves, to other stories that would never be ‘his story,’ but
that, in a way, he was able to elaborate for others (this and the other citations in the paper have
been translated from Italian to English by the author).
1
alice.parrinello@stx.ox.ac.uk
St Cross College, University of Oxford
Whatever, 4 2021: 411-430
doi 10.13131/2611-657X.whatever.v4i1.102
Alice Parrinello
often embodies a queer person’s coming out (2005: 36-37). Similarly, Kath
Weston charted the phenomenon in her sociological studies, arguing that
the formation of a gay collective imaginary developed spatially in connection to the city life (1995: 282). Its formation was reinforced by a process
of othering of the countryside, seen as the city’s intolerant other (Weston
1995: 274). This narrative has been widely adopted by the majority of the
LGBTQ+ community, as Weston stated, “For not only did the rural-born
claim that they needed to make the journey to the city to ‘be gay’: the
urban-born voiced relief at having avoided the fate of coming out in rural
areas where they believed homophobia to be rampant and ‘like’ others
impossible to find” (1995: 282).
The pro-urban rhetoric can be seen as another facet of the homonormative process that is central to queer discourses today, as argued by Scott
Herring (2010: 11). Homonormativity, the process of normalisation of the
LGBTQ+ community, aims at the removal of queerness’ most disruptive
features in favour of a polished and neoliberal version of queer life (Duggan 2003: 50). Homonormativity involves mostly white gay (assumingly,
cisgender, non-disabled, and middle-class) men and turns the gay civil
rights movement into a fight solely for marriage equality and military
service (Duggan 2003: 45). According to Halberstam, queerness used to
fail to align to the heteronormative paradigm of capitalist accumulation,
advancement, and family (2011: 89). However, these are now goals and key
pillars of homonormative gay life, and urban gay life in particular.
While the vast majority of literature around urban-rural queer narratives
maps displacements in the United States (Herring 2010; Johnson 2013;
Gray et al. 2016), this paper investigates the depiction of the urban-rural
divide in contemporary Italian works of fiction. In order to uncover how
characters engage with and complicate the link between homonormativity
and rural-to-urban narratives, this textual analysis confronts works that
have a white gay man as the main character. The paper’s analysis is twofold
and acts as a magnifying glass: starting from the macro, such as the cities
and the small towns cited in the works, and moving on to the micro, thus,
focusing on the characters’ family bonds and objects. While the former are
analysed in contrast to the pro-urban gay imaginary, the latter are investigated through the lenses of Sara Ahmed’s queer phenomenology (2006).
The core texts analysed here are three contemporary Italian narratives
of rural-to-urban flight. Generations of Love (1999) by Matteo B. Bianchi is
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an autobiographical account of growing up gay in an Italian rural small
town and of refusing to move to Milan as soon as possible. The graphic
novel La Generazione (2015, Generations) by Flavia Biondi offers a twist
to the trope, as it tells the story of a homecoming to the countryside, after
the main character has lived for several years in Milan. Finally, the autobiographical Febbre (2019, Fever) by Jonathan Bazzi seemingly follows the
urban narrative, as the author moved from Milan’s hinterland to the city
centre, only to challenge the move’s unidirectionality.
Alongside an analysis of the spaces and the characters’ trajectories, the
paper’s core analytical method is to trace their relations to their biological
families. Such an investigation of the non-conjugal bonds in the novels is
not only necessary due to the prominence they have in each of the works,
but it is essential given the key role it plays in rural-to-urban narratives:
living in the city meant being able to live queerly and finding a community – a new and larger chosen family – that would often replace the biological family (Weston 1997: 52). Additionally, non-conjugal bonds are
investigated because they might allow for a new take on homonormativity through legal recognition or its lack thereof. Indeed, homonormativity
promotes marriage equality by favouring dyadic relations and excluding
all other types of relationality. Therefore, non-conjugal bonds prompt to
question the exceptionalism and legal benefits associated to conjugal relations, their contribution to (homo)normativity, and whether a new legal
recognition is needed.
Moreover, the core texts are examined not only through Anglo-American queer theory, but also according to the “mostre terrone femminelle”
perspective2 by Antonia Anna Ferrante, which is “la possibilità di provincializzare l’idea di queer, dunque, di riscrivere queste storie escluse dalla
Storia per tessere dei legami affettivi e di complicità che somigliano a quelli
di altre geografie che la linea retta non conosce”3 (Ferrante 2019:49). FerFerrante’s monstrous perspective is connected to both ‘terrone,’ an Italian slur indicating people from the South, and ‘femminelle,’ a Neapolitan dialectal term that refers to homosexuals with
a female gender expression. The words are reclaimed by Ferrante, much like the word ‘queer’ has
been reclaimed by the LGBTQ+ community, in order to open up new ways of relationality, progress, and nation by bringing to the forefront those who live at the margins. While the perspective
is rooted in the traditions of the South of Italy and the core texts are all set in the North, they are
connected by their challenge to homonormativity.
3
The possibility of provincializing the idea of queer, therefore, to rewrite those stories excluded from History to weave affective and complicity connections that seem like those of other
geographies that a straight line does not know (Ferrante 2019: 49).
2
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rante’s theory was developed to reclaim a local specificity, and as a challenge to homonormativity and the queer Anglo-American tendency to
homogenise different experiences (Ferrante 2019: 48). Therefore, the perspective seems fitting to this paper’s aim of exploring Italian rural-to-urban
narratives. Hence, the paper answers the following questions: how do the
texts relate to the rural-to-urban imaginary? How do they complicate the
homonormative paradigm associated with it? What is the role played by
the main characters’ trajectories and non-conjugal family bonds? Do the
works provincialize the idea of queer and bring to the forefront often-excluded affective connections?
2. Small town boys
The works by Bazzi, Bianchi, and Biondi are all deeply connected to specific
places, either real or fictional. Therefore, it is necessary to locate in space the
three narrations and to chart the characters’ movements, as they all offer a
different version of the rural-to-urban migration. Each of the narratives gets
more distant from the metrosexual paradigm, especially when the storyline
appears to be the closest to normativity. Indeed, at a first glance, Bazzi’s
Febbre seems a canonical rural-to-urban story: following the author’s biography, the novel accounts for his childhood in Rozzano, a satellite town near
Milan, and his life as an adult in the city, in particular his coming to terms
with his HIV-positive status. The structure of the novel, in which chapters
about his childhood are interwoven with a present-tense narration, exemplifies the dualistic nature of the novel and of the author’s locational attachments. However, even if at the core of the narration there is HIV, Rozzano
has an undoubted prominence. Right from the beginning, Bazzi sets the precise coordinates that delimit his life, “Sono cresciuto a Rozzano, cap 20089,
un paese piccolo ma neanche poi tanto, all’estrema periferia sud di Milano,
costruito in mezzo alla campagna che costeggia il Naviglio, in direzione
Pavia. […] Poco meno di 43.000 abitanti a Rozzano, stretti a ridosso della
tangenziale Ovest”4 (Bazzi 2019:24). Rozzano is presented as a dangerous,
lower-class environment, and conservative regarding gender roles: boys are
supposed to only like football, motorbikes, while girls have to have other
I grew up in Rozzano, zip code 20089, it is a small town, but not even that small, in the farthest outskirts of Milan, built in the middle out the countryside that runs alongside the Naviglio
canal towards Pavia […] Rozzano has less than 43,000 inhabitants, all packed next to the West
highway.
4
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interests (Bazzi 2019: 27). This system is forcefully imposed on everyone,
everywhere (Bazzi 2019: 28). Only when Bazzi gets older, is he confident
enough to present in public in a less stereotypical way. For instance, he dyes
his hair green and blue, or wears light blue tartan trousers “da gay”,5 which
make him the target of bullies (Bazzi 2019: 147). They forcefully try to place
him back within a socially accepted role (Bazzi 2019: 147).
On the other hand, Milan is presented as the promised land throughout
the novel. As a kid, Bazzi idealised the city as merely a place imbued with
freedom (Bazzi 2019: 90). As a teenager studying there, Bazzi values Milan
for its gay-friendly-ness. In his high school class in the city, “Quasi tutte
ragazze – quattro i maschi, più me – e una percentuale di gay, lesbiche e
bisessuali da circolo LGBT. Questa è Milano. Essere queer va di moda, certe
mie compagne sono lesbiche solo per una stagione. Gli etero decisi – non
possibilisti – sono una minoranza”6 (Bazzi 2019: 278). As the stereotypical big city, Milan stands up to its reputation by offering a polar-opposite
environment to the one presented by Rozzano – Bazzi is free to be who
he is, and he even eventually moves in with his partner there. In a canonical rural-to-urban narrative, the move to Milan and his queer domesticity
would have coincided with a happy ending. However, Bazzi’s HIV-positive diagnosis disrupts a canonical narrative, allowing Rozzano to regain
prominence in the work. While in a severe depressive state, a specific fear
fills his mind: the need to move back to Rozzano, should he become too
debilitated by HIV (Bazzi 2019: 219). Such thinking progresses to the point
that Bazzi ponders whether his boyfriend would bury him in Milano or
in Rozzano (Bazzi 2019: 251). Rozzano haunts him, as exemplified by his
thoughts after the diagnosis:
[…] Ancora oggi io ho paura che Rozzano rivendichi il suo dominio, che si riprenda
ciò che le spetta. Che sbuchi fuori all’improvviso da qualche parte, dai documenti,
dai miei tratti del viso marcati, dalla sciatteria nel vestire e che mi costringa quindi
a tornare di nuovo al confino, tra le sue vie coi nomi dei fiori. […]
Ho Rozzano incastrata nel nome, se parlo di me devo parlare di lei.
Me ne sono andato, ma è tutta ancora qui. (Bazzi 2019: 32)7
That only a gay person would wear.
They were mostly girls – four boys and me – and a percentage of gays, lesbians, and bisexuals
worth of an LGBT society. This is Milan. Being queer is fashionable, some of my classmates are
lesbians just for a season. The strict heterosexuals – not curious – are a minority.
7
Up to this day, I am afraid that Rozzano will claim its control, that it will take what is right-
5
6
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However, the diagnosis enables Bazzi to eventually re-evaluate his roots.
At the end of the work, Rozzano is compared to the hospital where Bazzi
goes for his medical check-ups (Bazzi 2019: 318-319). Both places have challenged him at first, as Rozzano has tried to impose on him strict gender stereotypes and as the hospital is connected to HIV-related prejudices (Bazzi
2019: 319). However, Rozzano has a double nature that fortified Bazzi, his
town helped him develop a thick skin that is now invaluable, “Se oggi lo
stigma non mi imbriglia poi molto, forse è proprio perché sono cresciuto
in quel posto. Rozzano il veleno e l’antidoto”8 (Bazzi 2019: 320). Rozzano
as a pharmakon places itself within the disidentification paradigm used by
Scott Herring to describe anti-urban spaces (2010: 114). ‘Disidentification’
has originally been coined by José Esteban Muñoz as “a mode of dealing
with dominant ideology […] that neither opts to assimilate within such a
structure nor strictly opposes it; rather, disidentification is a strategy that
works on and against dominant ideology” (1999: 11). Bazzi does not reject
nor assimilate to Rozzano, but he values the way the town shaped him.
Rozzano has been invaluable for him, arguably even more than Milan.
Biondi’s La Generazione offers a different approach to the rural-to-urban literature. First of all, it presents a different take than the one in Febbre,
as the main character’s small town is not located in Milan’s hinterland, but
in the fictional Pontecesello in Tuscany’s countryside. Hence, it engages
with a more defined rural-urban divide.
It is precisely a view of the countryside that introduces the narrative,
showing Matteo travelling back by train to his hometown. The main emotion that imbues the panel9 is the sense of dread that he feels about moving
back; he feels empty, in a temporal limbo between his past life and his future
(Biondi 2015: 5). He has failed at conducting a successful life in Milan – not
being able to be independent or having a career, he merely depended on
his (now ex) boyfriend (Biondi 2015: 28). Now, he feels deeply humiliated,
fully its. I am afraid that it will suddenly stand out, from my papers, from my pronounced facial
features, from the sloppiness of my clothes, and that it will force me to go back to my confinement, in its flower-named streets. I have Rozzano framed in my name, if I talk about myself, I
need to talk about it. I have left, but it is still here.
8
Today, if the stigma does not harness me that much, maybe it is exactly because I grew up in
that place. Rozzano is the poison and the antidote.
9
I do not remember much about the journey. When the train left Milan behind, I felt empty.
Vaporised. In a limbo between yesterday and tomorrow. I just remember that the sun came out
after it had rained a bit in the morning. The green of the sunlit countryside filled my sight. It was
tremendously painful.
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No country(side) for young queers
Photo © Flavia Biondi 2015, courtesy of Bao Publishing
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as he needs to move in with his family since he has no resources (Biondi
2015: 17). His feelings can be associated with a neoliberal idea of accomplishment, which implies an ascendent financial success.
However, Matteo’s attitude towards his hometown starts to change
when he befriends Francesco, his grandmother’s nurse. Francesco becomes
his confidant, and he challenges Matteo’s internalised biases, which make
him see all country people as backward homophobes. Francesco says:
Non capisco perché trovi così terribile il tuo rientro. Lo dici come se vivere qui
fosse una condanna. […] Io ti sto inseguendo con un forcone, per caso? Non sono
tutti così. Ovvio, se prendi come campione la vecchia generazione è un altro
discorso. (Biondi 2015: 54)10
Francesco contests the view of rural people as close-minded homophobes.
The conversation shows that Matteo had embraced the gay imaginary
defined by Kath Weston, in which the city is a beacon of tolerance, while
the country is instead a place of persecution (1995: 282). Before moving to
Milan, he had not explored the reality around him, he merely adjusted his
narrative to the canonical rural-to-urban flight and refused to look back.
For this reason, Francesco argues that Matteo ran away to Milan in order
to avoid coming out to his family and in particular to his father, preferring
to believe that he would find acceptance in the big city rather than in Pontecesello (Biondi 2015: 54).
When Matteo goes back to Milan to see his (now no longer ex) boyfriend,
he finally disrupts any possibility of the graphic novel to align to a canonical
rural-to-urban narrative. Matteo decides not to move back to the city just
yet, but to stay in his hometown for a while longer (Biondi 2015: 110-113).
He does not reject the city nor the countryside, rather he embraces an in-between life (Biondi 2015: 111). Not choosing stability, he lives between spaces.
Living in the liminality encapsulates queer disruptiveness, as it unsettles the
spatial binary. Even if his story started on different tracks, he was able to
deviate from a neoliberal paradigm and rejoice in his small-town living.
While Bazzi and Biondi’s works find ways to be disruptive, they still
partially align themselves with the rural-to-urban flight. Instead, Matteo
I do not understand why you find your homecoming so terrible. You say it as if living here
was a sentence. […] Am I chasing you with a pitchfork? Not everyone is like that. I mean, obviously, if you take into consideration the older generation things might change.
10
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No country(side) for young queers
B. Bianchi’s Generations of Love is radically different. The novel is immediately localised in the fictional Lentate Trovanti, the typical “Provincia
Tranquilla”11 (2016: 16). Its capitalisation exemplifies the author’s awareness of grand narratives and the collocation of his hometown within them.
Moreover, it is not just related to literary narrations or the gay imaginary,
the rural-to-urban flight is also part of Bianchi’s life, as it concerns most of
his friends but not himself:
Ho assistito a una vera e propria diaspora. Frotte di amici hanno cominciato a
muoversi, trasferirsi, emigrare. Io, che predico costantemente il movimento come
condizione essenziale di vita, forse sono l’unico che non si è mosso di un passo.
Alberto ha lasciato la sua famiglia per trasferirsi in città, Marco ha conosciuto
un americano, si è innamorato e l’ha seguito a New York, Claudio, letteralmente
da un giorno all’altro, ha annunciato che sarebbe andato a Londra (“A ballare sui
cubi!”, per la precisione) e l’ha fatto. […] Mi sento un provinciale dell’immobilismo. (Bianchi 2016: 123)12
The novel is the autobiographical account of Bianchi’s childhood and early
adulthood in Lentate, as he only moves to Milan at the end of the novel. However, the move is not meant to free him from the small town’s close-mindedness. Bianchi was already an out and proud gay at home. Bianchi’s provincial
life differentiates itself from Bazzi and Biondi’s narratives, as, for once, the
author does not move to Milan as soon as there’s an opportunity. Instead
of finding close-mindedness in the countryside, Bianchi finds it in the city,
where a group of ‘city gays’ embody the homonormative stereotype. Bianchi
meets them at the local gay centre while attending a talk given by a mayoral
candidate, who, for once, is interested in the LGBTQ+ community (Bianchi
2016: 147). However, the group is only interested in appearances to the point
that one of them says he will vote for a right-wing politician only because of
his good looks. Overall, they are described as a typical product of neoliberal
consumerism, as their distinctive features are a Dolce & Gabbana shirt and
their ‘lobotomy-worthy’ comments (Bianchi 2016: 148).
Quiet province.
I witnessed a real diaspora. Hordes of friends started leaving, moving away, emigrating. It is
possible that I am the only one that has not moved at all, I, who constantly preach movement as
the essential condition of life. Alberto left his family to move to the city, Marco met an American,
fell in love with him, and followed him to New York, Claudio, literally from one day to the next,
announced he was going to London (“to dance on tables,” more precisely) and he did it. I feel like
an immobility provincial.
11
12
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Bianchi’s deep connection to the countryside is evident even from his
description of dialect as his “lingua degli affetti”13 (Bianchi 2016: 135-136).
It is the language that his parents speak and that now affects his relationships (Bianchi 2016: 136). Such a deep connection to his land is probably
the reason why Bianchi feels able to live openly, even in Lentate Trovanti,
in his relationship with his partner, Alessandro, who uses dialectal words
as well (Bianchi 2016: 135). Their connection to the countryside strays both
of them from being represented as homonormative gay men – not a single
Dolce & Gabbana t-shirt in sight.
The peculiarity of the novel is that it is not merely the author’s actions
that are disruptive to the rural-to-urban paradigm, but also various queer
events that happen in Lentate Trovanti. For instance, as a child Bianchi
used to attend the town’s Mardi Gras parade. The event could have easily
been the set of enforced gender roles, such as Rozzano. Instead, it features
the first instance of queerness of the novel: Bianchi recounts how another
boy defied gender norms by dressing up as ‘Spring,’ thus, wearing a flowery skirt, a veiled hat, and carrying an embroidered umbrella (2016: 25-26).
The event went unnoticed by the rest of the town people, as they believed
the boy to be a girl, but it was a watershed in Bianchi’s life, “A noi, quel
mascheramento da altro sesso, così ricercato e convinto, così privo di ironia, ci ha folgorato. […] Avremo sì e no, dieci anni. Il camp lo inventiamo
noi quella sera”14 (Bianchi 2016: 26). Seeing a boy in a girl’s dress prompts
the author to reclaim the invention of camp. The narrative overturns the
trope that sees the city as more advanced and, instead, places Lentate Trovanti front and centre of a queer aesthetic development.
Additionally, Bianchi’s novel disrupts the idea often held by LGBTQ+
people of being the only ones in their small towns (Weston 1995: 281).
For instance, he meets a gay man at the local polling station (Bianchi
2016: 122). During the same election night, Bianchi is also approached by
a straight-presenting lawyer who introduces him to Lentate Trovanti’s
cruising area (Bianchi 2016: 128) and even outs the polling station president, who is married with kids but has had various affairs with men (Bianchi 2016: 126). While the closeted fathers might have corresponded to the
stereotypes on small towns’ people, the presence of a cruising area in the
The language of affections.
We were dazzled by that other-sex-costume, so sophisticated and committed, so devoid of any
irony. We must have been more or less 10-years-old. We invent camp that night.
13
14
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“Provincia Tranquilla” (Bianchi 2016: 16) strongly disrupts the urban-rural
binary. Bianchi’s Lentate Trovanti shows that reality cannot be easily categorised into grand narratives and that the countryside and the city have
a lot in common.
Overall, the texts by Bazzi, Bianchi, and Biondi all complicate in different ways the canonical rural-to-urban narrative. Indeed, they quite literally “provincialize the idea of queer” (Ferrante 2019: 49) by providing
a nuanced picture of the small towns and the characters’ relationships to
them. Most importantly, their movements are not characterised by a rejection of either the city or of the small towns. Hence, they queerly blur rigid
spatial binaries and take new paths that are in line with a “mostre terrone
femminelle” perspective (Ferrante 2019: 49).
3. Television, photographs, and toys
The three main characters in the works are not only defined by their connection to their roots but by their attachment to their biological families.
Exploring iterations of care in relation to the rural-urban divide might
provide ways of challenging the homonormative paradigm. The goal is
not to undermine the long history of chosen families that characterises
the LGBTQ+ community, but to investigate non-conjugal attachments as
sources of disruptiveness. These bonds are analysed in connection to various objects, which arguably reflect the family care. Indeed, in Queer Phenomenology (2006), Sara Ahmed linked sexual orientation with the spatial
orientation, in particular with the disposition of material objects inside a
home (2006: 1-9). Heterosexuality has been normalised as the correct orientation (Ahmed 2006: 70) and, as such, it has influenced the way objects are
arranged withing a household (Ahmed 2006: 87). The objects need to reflect
the good life of the family, which means having achieved certain goals
throughout life – marriage, children, and so on (Ahmed 2006: 21). According to this perspective, the queer subject is a deviant (Ahmed 2006: 21) and
“to make things queer is certainly to disturb the order of things” (Ahmed
2006: 161). Therefore, an analysis of the different objects is the springboard
to question how the family relations dis-orient, how they are themselves
dis-oriented, and how the family care disrupts homonormativity.
As previously discussed, Febbre offers a dual overview of the author’s
life, covering both his childhood and present life. In the present tense narrative, the author lives with his partner and two cats in a house in Milan
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(Bazzi 2019: 20). However, analysing Bazzi’s childhood home(s) and its
objects is equally stimulating to understand how Bazzi was able to deviate
from normativity. Right from the beginning, all of the houses in which
Bazzi has lived are positively connected to the women in his life – either
his mother, grandmothers, or other figures. They offered him a safe haven
both through their actions and through the objects that they surrounded
him with. The toys in particular were a controversial topic in his household, as his father wanted him to have ‘boys’ toys’ such as a motorbike or a
Ferrari jumpsuit and not ‘female and pink toys,’ complaining that his wife
was raising a ‘faggot’ (Bazzi 2019: 61). Instead, his grandmother’s friends
gave him ‘girls toys’ that no one else wanted to buy him (Bazzi 2019: 91).
The presents actively disrupted the compulsory heterosexuality that was
imposed on the author by his father and queered the family orientation.
Another object that is part of Bazzi’s queer phenomenology is the
television. The object is deeply connected to Bazzi’s mythography, as his
mother named him after a TV show character (Bazzi 2019: 43). The television is essential in most households and is now at the core of the new
domestic rituality, as argued Tiziana Terranova (Ferrante 2019: 7). Given
its centrality in domestic lives, it should reinforce the heteronormative orientation of the family, borrowing Ahmed’s words. Indeed, Bazzi spent a
significant part of his childhood and adolescence watching telenovelas and
an Italian dating show hosted by Maria de Filippi with his grandmother
(Bazzi 2019: 74, 196). It should be noted that one of the most famous de
Filippi shows is the heteronormative dating reality show ‘Uomini e Donne’.15 At the same time, Bazzi also watched by himself what are generally
considered ‘girls’ cartoons’ and, by dressing up as the female characters, he
dis-oriented the family medium (Bazzi 2019: 77-78). By dressing up, Bazzi
simultaneously challenged the virile image promoted by homonormativity
and heterosexual gender norms. In order to do so, Bazzi found once again
support in a female figure, as his grandmother recorded for him his favourite TV shows, such as the Wonder Woman show (Bazzi 2019: 117).
Furthermore, the television reflects family care in the present-day narrative of the work. After the HIV diagnosis, Bazzi suffers from anxiety and
Indeed, the show is called ‘Men and Women’ and is a dating contest in which a group of men
or women has to seduce a member of the opposite sex. It is interesting to notice that after the
legalization of same-sex unions in Italy, De Filippi has produced a male gay version of the show,
whose homonormative traits have already been documented (Ferrante 2019: 27-29).
15
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depression, and his mother starts visiting him daily to help him. Bazzi was
already outside of the homonormative paradigm due to his status, but it is
his mother’s care that reinforces his divergence:
Stiamo sul divano a vedere la televisione. Io sdraiato, senza più smanie di fare,
andare, diventare o ottenere qualcosa. Senza slanci, interessi, senza più tutte le
cose che mi separano, mi hanno separato, da lei. Mia madre seduta di fianco a me,
ha messo la sua vita in stand-by. Madre e figlio, in un ritaglio di tempo e di spazio
isolato dal resto e da tutto quello che è stato. (Bazzi 2019: 280)16
Her care is connected to a seemingly unproductive way of life. It is a lifestyle that takes place outside of the capitalist mechanism, and, in this void,
Bazzi and his mother are able to find a new connection. By merely enjoying
spending time together, they are actively practicing what Ferrante described
as a micropolitics of resistance through affections (2019: 25). The television
re-orients Bazzi, placing front and centre the importance of care and not
productivity. Bazzi was (en)abled to queer the family objects and dis-orient
them through the care of various non-conjugal bonds: his mother’s and
grandmothers’ affection allowed him to defy homonormativity by challenging gender norms and neoliberalism. While Rozzano is described as backward, the care that surrounded Bazzi is definitely queer, and it allowed him
to write a different story for himself. He did not need to move to Milan to find
a support network, as he already had one in his mother and grandmothers.
In a similar fashion, La Generazione offers a re-orientation of Matteo
and his family through different objects. Photographs are used to tell the
family history and to orient it, “in the conventional family home what
appears requires following a certain line, the family line that directs our
gaze. The heterosexual couple becomes a ‘point’ along this line, which is
given to the child as its inheritance or background” (Ahmed 2006: 90). At
the beginning of the graphic novel, Matteo positions himself in opposition
to the rest of the family, as he is not smiling in most of the family photographs the readers are shown (Biondi 2015: 40).
Matteo is pictured as a boy surrounded by his father and aunts. However,
his attitude is creating cracks in the pictures that are supposed to portray
We are on the couch watching tv. I am lying down, without the mania to do things, to go
places, to get something. Without energy, hobbies, without all of the things that separate and
used to separate me from her. My mum sitting next to me, she put her whole life on pause. Mother
and son, in a clipping of time and space isolated from the rest and from all that has been.
16
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Photo © Flavia Biondi 2015, courtesy of Bao Publishing.
a perfectly happy heterosexual family. As a queer subject, he disturbs the
family order (Ahmed 2006: 161). The impression is reinforced by Matteo’s
thoughts of alienation in the present-tense narration.17 He comes to terms
with the isolation he had imposed on himself from the rest of his family,
as a result of his inability to come out to them (Biondi 2015: 40-41). They
had not supported him as a gay man, because he had decided to hide from
them and their stories (Biondi 2015: 40-41). However, family care slowly
allows Matteo to re-orient himself and his self-worth, as it is exemplified
by another object: a wheelchair. As soon as Matteo returns to his hometown, he feels deeply humiliated by the situation. At first, he spends weeks
not doing anything (Biondi 2015: 21).
During this period, his depression worsens, as his inactivity is portrayed in a series of strips that depict him staring into nothingness while he
keeps repeating himself that he will act “tomorrow” (Biondi 2015: 19-21).
There was a thought that kept me up at night. Realising that I spent twenty years in a family,
whose history I have deliberately ignored.
17
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Photo © Flavia Biondi 2015, courtesy of Bao Publishing.
In Febbre, the moments of inactivity are positive, while Matteo’s empty
days bring no positive change. The situation takes a different turn when
his aunt threatens to throw Matteo out because he is not contributing
to the family’s income (Biondi 2015: 33). To stay and earn his place, the
family decides he will be the new caregiver of his grandmother (Biondi
2015: 34-35). Matteo learns from his aunts various nursing practices how
to do daily domestic chores (Biondi 2015: 42-44, 59). The wheelchair that
Matteo uses to help his grandmother is exemplary of his care and growth.
At first, he is ashamed of being seen pushing her grandmother through
town (Biondi 2015: 45-47). However, after a while, Matteo starts to see
the value in his care towards his grandmother and such change is positively reflected in his own self-worth (Biondi 2015: 60). He is finally
proud of himself (Biondi 2015: 60). The care is mutual; by helping his
grandmother, Matteo is helped to grow. It is a truly revolutionary act in
a neoliberal society and for a young man to appreciate the teachings of
a group of unemployed middle-aged women (the antithesis of productivity) and, most importantly, to take care of them.
Another object that disrupts the norm is, once again, the television.
Soon after his family has discovered Matteo’s sexual orientation, they
gather in the living room to watch ‘Uomini e Donne,’ the dating tv show
hosted by Maria De Filippi.18 They start discussing which male contestant
on the show is more attractive and they include Matteo, who professes
liking dark-haired guys more, and his family silently accepts him (Biondi
The show’s presence in Febbre as well (Bazzi 2019: 196) is a clear indicator of its mainstream
status and as a key part of the Italian imaginary.
18
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2015: 92-95). The scene’s strength is in how Matteo queers ‘Uomini e Donne,’
a show that embodies heteronormativity. However, it is significant that it is
his aunt who prompts Matteo to speak of his preferences. Her care for him
has dis-oriented the scene in the first place, invalidating his own prejudice
of countryside backwardness.
By the end of the graphic novel and after Matteo’s coming out, the readers are presented with more photographs in an enlarged view of the same
set depicted at the beginning of the work. This time the readers are shown
a more complete image of the family wall; there are various pictures of the
family through the years and also one in which Matteo is smiling (Biondi
2015: 128-129). Matteo’s coming out has deviated the orientation of the
whole family and queered their image, a disruption that has been enabled
by their mutual care and the family’s acceptance.
Generations of Love’s disruptiveness to homonormativity and canonical rural-to-urban narratives, exemplified by the text’s location in Lentate
Trovanti, is enhanced by the care of Bianchi’s sister, Caterina. She supported him long before his coming out by often challenging their father’s
homophobic views and becoming an LGBTQ+ activist in their household:
Una sera, a cena, mio padre se ne uscì con la frase: “Quello lì è un culattone”, riferendosi a un qualsiasi renatozero televisivo. Mia sorella si alzò da tavola urlando:
“Non voglio sentire un linguaggio del genere. Per tua informazione e regola si
dice omosessuale e non quei termini che usi tu, e poi gli omosessuali sono persone degne del più grande rispetto.” E via che gli spiattella una lista di esime personalità del mondo dell’arte, della cultura, della storia, della musica, passando da
Leonardo da Vinci ai Village People con una competenza stupefacente, lasciando
mio padre senza parole, se non quelle di scusa, e lasciando soprattutto me in
pieno sbalordimento. (Bianchi 2016: 34)19
Moreover, Caterina re-oriented the family and actively supported Bianchi by recommending and handing him various LGBTQ+ novels (Bianchi 2016: 36). These objects mirror her care, and they queer the family
One time, at dinner my dad said. “That one is a faggot,” talking about a flamboyant man on
tv. My sister rose up screaming, “I do not want to hear that type of talk. For your information,
you should say ‘homosexual’ and not use those terms, moreover, homosexuals are people worthy
of the highest respect.” And then she started listing various eminent figures from the art world,
from history, and from the music scene, going from Leonardo da Vinci to the Village People, with
an impressive expertise, leaving my dad almost speechless, if only with words of apology, and
especially leaving me in complete bewilderment.
19
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home. The novels allowed Bianchi to know he was supported even before
he himself came to terms with his sexuality. This non-conjugal relationship
positively influenced Bianchi, to the point that he tried to subtly hint at
this sexuality to his parents in a similar way, through books and articles.
After his father reacts negatively to this coming out (Bianchi 2016: 157160), Bianchi looks back at the hints he had dropped throughout the years
to ease his future coming out:
Io che in tutti questi anni ho cercato di condurre una politica silenziosa di indottrinamento, fatta di articoli di giornale lasciati strategicamente aperti sul comodino,
di romanzi consigliati dalla critica “inter” e nazionale, di programmi dell’accesso
e di dibattiti televisivi che fingevo di captare casualmente con saltelli misuratissimi di telecomando, mi credevo un laureato in educazione subliminale.
[…] Passando loro libri da leggere, indicando loro film da vedere, e soprattutto
sforzandomi disperatamente di dimostrarmi tranquillo, sereno, soddisfatto della
vita che stavo conducendo, cercavo di preparare il terreno proprio in previsione
di questo momento cruciale, il momento in cui avrebbero dovuto capire che un
figlio frocio non coincide con un fallimento. (Bianchi 2016: 159)20
The various objects described by Bianchi constitute his queer phenomenology, as they deviate his family’s heteronormative orientation. Even if
subtly, Bianchi disrupted the assumed heteronormativity of his parents
while still living with them; he did not wait to be far away to do so, and his
sister’s support undoubtedly enabled him to challenge the norm.
By focusing on the importance of non-conjugal relations, Bazzi, Bianchi
and Biondi have unknowingly employed the “mostre terrone femminelle”
perspective theorised by Ferrante (2019: 49). They have brought to the forefront a type of relationship that is often overlooked in favour of a dyadic and
conjugal one. The affective micropolitics of resistance against homonormativity (Ferrante 2019: 25) is enacted by mothers, grandmothers, aunts,
and sisters. They create networks of care that contrast the normative and
neoliberal paradigm. Indeed, if the individual and their economic success
I thought of myself as a master in subliminal education, as I have spent the last years conducting a silent policy of indoctrination, made of newspapers strategically left open on the table,
of novels recommended by national and international critics, of programmes and television debates that I pretended to have stumbled upon with careful zapping […] By giving them books to
read, suggesting them films to watch, and especially by showing them I was calm, serene, happy
with the life I was living, I was trying to pave the way for the crucial moment, the one in which
they would have understood that having a faggot son did not equate with failure.
20
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are at the centre of a neoliberal society, implying that economic growth
should prevail on human connections, then caring for other people, especially elders and sick people, is indeed a revolutionary and disruptive act.
Moreover, the non-conjugal family bonds complicate the rural-to-urban
imagery: by not rejecting or being rejected by their biological families, the
characters are not prompted to leave their small towns to find a chosen
family in the city. Much like the countryside can be a place where the
characters can thrive, similarly their familiar relations do not need to be
truncated, rather they are a source of support. The texts allow for a wider
re-discovery of biological non-conjugal relations and their importance to
the LGBTQ+ community as a means to counteract the homonormative
perspective.
4. Conclusion
Queerness is often associated with a counter-hegemonic and disruptive
nature. However, pre-emptively classifying certain actions of the LGBTQ+
community as normative or antinormative is in itself a normalising attitude, as “no one set of practices or relations has the monopoly on the
so-called radical, or the so-called normative” (Nelson 2016: 91). By looking at white, gay, non-disabled, cisgender characters and their relationship
with the rural-urban divide, this paper has challenged homonormativity
on two fronts. Firstly, by looking at the rural-to-urban flight in Italian
articulations. Since they are never estranged from their families, the main
characters in the works by Bazzi, Biondi, and Bianchi all live in the liminal
space between the city and their towns, they constantly oscillate between
the two, and when they move, it is never to cut ties definitely. Moreover,
they all find value in their small towns. The in-betweenness between the
city and the countryside in the works is not a mere biographical detail.
Rather, it embodies the idea that the urban-rural binary does not really
exist. As argued by Jack J. Halberstam, the binary is not real, “it is rather a
locational rubric that supports and sustains the conventional depiction of
queer life as urban” (2005: 190). The country’s othering worked as a means
to promote the urban lifestyle of success. However, these works have disrupted such binary by showing how much more nuanced queer life can be
and expanded its possibilities.
The spatial queerness has been enabled by the strong attachment shared
by the main characters and their families: the one between an adult child
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and his parent and grandmothers in Febbre, between extended family members in La Generazione, and the one between siblings in Generations of Love.
Indeed, the second front against homonormativity is their mutual care, as
they have: contested the necessity of moving to the city, queered the family
homes, and challenged neoliberalism, by placing to the front care networks
rather than individualism. The adult care networks are also significant to
the literary genre of the works analysed. The reciprocal care between his
family and himself is described by Matteo in La Generazione as a “lungo
racconto”21 (Biondi 2015: 136). Biondi presents family relations as a narrative that connects and honours all of its members by keeping their stories
alive. This line can be understood as a metanarrative remark that connects
the graphic novel to Biondi’s life, as the author also comes from a small
town in Tuscany (Tribuzio 2018). Although not strictly autobiographical
in its genre, La Generazione seems to tell Biondi’s and her family’s story.
The “lungo racconto” description also speaks for both Bazzi and Bianchi’s
novels, as they are both autobiographical. Their narrations recreate the
family care and, at the same time, pay tribute to it.
The family bonds in the core texts are “radical kinships” (Ferrante
2019: 25) that contest gender norms and (homo)normativity. Due to their disruptiveness, they can be described as part of to the “mostre terrone femminelle” paradigm (Ferrante 2019: 49). Their type of bonds is a further challenge to the norms; indeed, the connections do not constitute a nuclear family
nor a dyadic marital relation, thus, they are not priorities nor recognised as
much by society or the current legislation. Analysing the current legislation
and proposing alternatives goes beyond the scope of the paper. However,
it can be argued that extending the rights to non-conjugal relations would
maintain their disruptive nature. Legally recognised non-conjugal relations
could still be counter-hegemonic, as they would challenge the (straight and
gay) marriage institution and its exceptionalism, and positively expand the
number of new beneficiaries (Warner 2000: 98-99).22 This paper has only
analysed non-conjugal disruptiveness in relation to homonormativity and
the rural-urban divide. However, it can be argued that the non-conjugal challenge to the norms is increasingly expanding. For now, one can look back at
Long never-ending story.
Michael Warner argued against gay marriage because it reinforces an exclusionary institution, since it does not involve a plethora of other intimacies, such as polyamorous relationships
(Warner 2000: 98-99).
21
22
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Alice Parrinello
the beginning of the paper and say, a queer person in search for happiness
does not, indeed, need to move to the next big city.
Alice Parrinello
St Cross College, University of Oxford
alice.parrinello@stx.ox.ac.uk
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