Category: Family Law

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The Abortion Closet

An enormous amount of information and insight is packed into Carol Sanger’s About Abortion: Terminating Pregnancy in Twenty-First Century America.  The book is anchored in post-1973 American case law.  Yet it repeatedly incorporates examples and ideas from popular culture, prior historical periods, moral philosophy, feminist theory, medicine, literature and the visual arts, and more.

The panoramic ambition of the book, and its correspondingly multi-disciplinary method, are established in the first chapter, in a section titled “What Abortion Is About.”  By the end of this section, the reader has learned something about: Roe v. Wade; various international treaties on the rights of women; abortion training protocols in medical schools; the neurological development of a fetus; the 2012 Republican presidential primary; a 1995 papal encyclical; a 1984 lecture by the New York Governor; a 2001 concurrence by a Mississippi Supreme Court Justice; the 2003 decision by the FDA to approve the “morning-after-pill” for over-the-counter sale; the anti-abortion turn within certain Protestant denominations in the 1970s and 80s; sociological research on pro-life activists and their views on sex; anthropological research on pregnancy termination decisions following a diagnosis of fetal disability; prostitution laws in New York; abstinence-only programs in Texas; President George W. Bush’s Culture of Life; the rise and rise of parental involvement statutes and personhood amendments; the rise and fall of federal support for family planning organizations and abortion services to pregnant soldiers; the intensifying politics of abortion in state judicial elections; the recent Hobby Lobby litigation over the Affordable Care Act; and the Supreme Court’s decision last Term in Whole Woman’s Health.

This section lasts fourteen pages.  It is a testament to Sanger’s skill as a writer and to her synthetic capacities as a thinker that one comes away from this whirlwind tour feeling not vertigo, but rather an enhanced sense of clarity about the arc of abortion regulation.  While the pace soon slows down, the rest of the book maintains a relentless inquisitiveness, ever collecting and connecting data points to help guide the reader through complex socio-legal terrain.

Most of the chapters could stand on their own as original accounts of one facet or another of U.S. abortion controversies.  Chapter seven, on “Sending Pregnant Teenagers to Court,” advances an especially powerful critique of judicial bypass hearings as cruel and frequently arbitrary degradation ceremonies.  But the main throughline of the book is its catalog of the ways in which Sanger believes this country’s abortion discourse, or “abortion talk,” has been lacking—and in consequence how abortion policymaking has been lacking.  Not in passion or commitment, to be sure, but lacking in evidence, lacking in candor, and lacking in appreciation and respect for the distinctive circumstances and perspectives of women.

*  *  *

Secrecy is a big part of this story.  The book’s “central argument,” Sanger writes in the preface, is that “the secrecy surrounding women’s personal experience of abortion has massively . . . distorted how the subject of abortion is discussed and how it is regulated.”  These “distortions” take myriad forms.  Politically, secrecy means that our debates about abortion often paint a misleading picture, as by overstating its health risks or understating its bases of support.  Culturally, secrecy means that abortion often gets coded as something shameful or deviant, which reinforces the desire for concealment regarding abortion decisions, which in turn reinforces the sense that there is something ignominious to be hidden away, and on and on in a self-perpetuating cycle.  And substantively, secrecy means that any number of dubious, paternalistic, or factually erroneous claims about the harms of abortion are able to circulate with less pushback than we might expect in a more open conversational climate.

Abortion, in other words, is in the closet.

Sanger doesn’t expressly adopt this framing of abortion secrecy, although she draws an analogy to sexual orientation “closetedness” in chapter two that suggests she would be amenable to it.  Closetedness, as Sanger observes, refers to “a form of concealment that is both furtive and debilitating,” set against a “shadow of disapproval.”  We know from other contexts that such closets are costly for inhabitants.  They stigmatize, they suffocate, they alienate, they create vulnerability, they obscure reality.  The abortion closet paradoxically makes our society both more obsessed with abortion—because like all taboos, it becomes an object of fascination and fear—and yet less familiar with abortion—because many of our public debates about it are disconnected from women’s actual experiences.

One may wonder whether secrecy deserves such emphasis.  Statistics on abortion are regularly compiled and circulated.  Many pro-choice women have been vocal about their beliefs on abortion, pregnancy, procreation, and related issues.  Their views, however, are liable to be discounted or discredited by competing discourses that flourish alongside their own.  The problem here may have less to do with ignorance and “unknowing” than with a refusal of empathy.  It is not clear that secret-keeping, of whatever sort, has been as central to the development of abortion regulation as the closet historically has been to gay subordination.

That said, abortion secrecy is very real, and underexplored, and my sense is that Sanger has opened up significant conceptual and political opportunities in pointing to the abortion closet.  The analogies and disanalogies to the gay closet warrant sustained attention.  Moreover, if secrecy is at the core of Sanger’s diagnosis of what ails the American discourse on abortion, the book also identifies a range of supplementary causes.  One is the persistence of stark disparities in the social roles and responsibilities of men versus women, with women bearing not only most of the practical burden of raising children but also most of the moral burden of responding to unwanted pregnancies.  A number of newer developments that might seem to enrich the conversation, meanwhile, only end up deepening the closet—from the proliferation in popular culture of fetal images that foster an association with personhood; to the proliferation of terminology, such as partial birth abortion and unborn child, that gives pro-life advocates the “rhetorical advantage”; to the proliferation of policies, such as mandatory ultrasounds and informed consent protocols, that dictate what women see and hear in their physicians’ offices.

The pro-life push to control the conversations that abortion providers have with their patients, Sanger suggests, betrays an anxiety about frank dialogue.  Proponents of Women’s Right to Know laws and informed consent protocols recognize the importance of the discursive space; their prescriptions generate a steady stream of abortion talk.  Much of this talk, however, is scripted and unidirectional.  It purports to promote more knowledgeable and responsible choices yet in reality serves to deter and demean women and to interfere with their decisional processes.

*  *  *

Among other contributions, Sanger’s subtle indictment of contemporary abortion discourse sheds light on a classic subject in legal theory: the distinction between rules and standards.  Whereas rules are thought to limit case-by-case discretion through crisp ex ante directives, standards leave much of their content to be worked out by future enforcers and interpreters.  Rules are precise, standards imprecise.  Some legal theorists have suggested that the very imprecision of standards ought to make them better at facilitating moral and democratic deliberation.  Rather than apply a rule by rote, citizens faced with a standard are forced to think hard about whether they are acting appropriately and why.

But as Sanger shows, standards in abortion law may have just the opposite effect.  In the 1992 case of Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pennsylvania v. Casey, the Supreme Court famously replaced Roe v. Wade’s trimester system with the “undue burden” test to govern when abortion may be restricted.  In so doing, the Court shifted the doctrinal framework from a relatively rigid set of rules to a relatively hazy and open-textured standard.  On the rosy view of standards as deliberation-forcing, Casey should have led to richer public argument about the stakes involved in terminating a pregnancy, in each trimester, and about whether any given regulatory plan seems reasonable and respectful of women or alternatively whether it seems excessive and unjustified.

Sanger, however, suggests that the shift from Roe to Casey occasioned no such elevation of our deliberations about abortion, no salutary spur to collective self-reflection.  On the contrary, in her telling, Casey largely enabled a diminishment of the quality and integrity of these deliberations, as well as a diminishment of the abortion right.  When you combine Casey’s malleable language of undue burden—a phrase that teeters on the edge of tautology—with all the broader factors that threaten to “distort” abortion talk and policy, it turns out that you invite endless cycles of opportunism and obstruction, not sensitive and honest debate.

One general lesson we might take from Sanger’s account, then, is that the relationship between legal doctrine and cultural practice in such a politically charged field may be poorly illuminated by abstract propositions about the comparative merits of rules, standards, or the like.  Open-minded judges, in particular, might learn from Sanger’s implicit yet emphatic demonstration of the need for more realistic, empirically informed, and sociologically grounded approaches to abortion regulation.

*  *  *

Sanger begins her book with “the possibility of conversation at a lower decibel by women concerning their own abortion decisions and experience.”  Less heat, more light, is her proposal.  Less secrecy and shame, “more openness and generosity,” as she puts it in the book’s closing line.

Sanger’s book does not simply offer an eloquent brief in support of this proposal.  The book also offers, through the author’s own exemplary openness and generosity, a model of what such conversations about abortion might be like.  And what we find is that they can be intensely illuminating.

 

David Pozen is a professor of law at Columbia Law School.  This post is based on Pozen’s remarks at a recent event celebrating the publication of About Abortion.

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Introduction to About Abortion Symposium

We are delighted to introduce Professor Carol Sanger and the participants in our online symposium on About Abortion: Terminating Pregnancy in Twenty-First-Century America (Harvard University Press 2017).

Professor Sanger, in her inimitable style, updates us on the state of the abortion debate in the age of Trump.  She explains how the experiences of women who have abortions have disappeared into the shadows while those who would outlaw it control the public discourse.  She explores the explosion of hostile legislation in state legislatures, as the new laws “treat abortion not as an acceptable medical decision—let alone a right—but as something disreputable, immoral, and chosen by mistake.”  Sanger’s book captures the reasons why the discourse has changed, and how abortion, which has always been a contentious issue, drives its emotional force from its connection to underlying debates about sex, religion, gender, politics, and identity.  She nonetheless seeks to reclaim women’s perspectives on the practice of abortion.   She argues that as women become more willing to talk about their experiences, “women’s decisions about whether or not to become mothers will be treated more like those of other adults making significant personal choices.”  In short, she seeks to normalize the topic of abortion.

The book covers original material that Sanger has assembled documenting the legal infrastructure for abortion decision-making.  She presents the experiences of vulnerable teens, forced to appear before hostile judges in an effort to secure permission to proceed without parental consent.  Courts deem many of the teens too immature to make such decisions on their own, but not apparently too immature to become mothers against their will.  She also describes the women required to undergo involuntary ultrasounds, the debate about whether the women are allowed to look away, and the insidiousness of this alleged effort to “help” women make the abortion decision.

Throughout, Sanger connects these practices to law, medicine, the organization of intimate relationships, the shape of a woman’s life, and national identity.  She takes pains to present  the objections to abortion accurately even as she also counters the depiction of decisions to end pregnancies as “selfish” or casual decisions to put women’s interests ahead of their children.  She distinguishes between abortion privacy, a form of nondisclosure based on a woman’s desire to control personal information, and abortion secrecy, a woman’s defense against the many harms of disclosure.   She captures women’s varied views, whether they treat abortion as unthinkable or as a measure necessary to allow them to become “good” mothers in circumstances of their choosing.

Indeed, Sanger’s original treatment of abortion includes a chapter on the views of men.  She asks not what decisions men would make about abortion; instead, she explores how they in fact decide whether to become fathers when they are faced with the choice of what to do with their frozen embryos.  The men in such circumstances express concern over the potential child’s future welfare, distress over an ongoing relationship with the other parent, an unwillingness to consider adoption as an acceptable alternative; in short, they express the same concerns that women do about whether to proceed with a pregnancy.  Yet, the right to life forces, while they often champion the rights of frozen embryos,  do not subject the men’s decisions  to the same intrusion and vilification they reserve for women.  Sanger speculates that if the same law that governs decisions about frozen embryos applied to women’s reproductive decisions, it “would not look quite the same as it does now, with assumptions of incompetence, layers of second-guessing, and invasive counseling.”

About Abortion adds to our understanding of the abortion debate.  It confronts the dishonesty and distortions that characterizes much of the public debate.  It acknowledges the way the issue is deeply intertwined with fundamental questions about the organization of society.  It advocates bringing the experiences of those who have chosen abortion out the shadows, and it succeeds in providing a richer foundation for public consideration of the issue.

About Abortion is an important book that has already received wide attention, including a New Yorker review that coincides with our consideration of it here.  http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/04/03/why-its-become-so-hard-to-get-an-abortion.

For this Concurring Opinions book symposium, we have invited an all-star cast of thinkers who have a variety  of different perspectives on abortion:  Helen Alvare, Caitlin  Borgmann, Khiara Bridges, David Cohen, Leslie Griffin, Linda McClain, David Pozen, Lisa Pruitt, and Rachel Rebouche.

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Introduction to About Abortion Symposium

We are delighted to introduce Professor Carol Sanger and the participants in our online symposium on About Abortion: Terminating Pregnancy in Twenty-First-Century America (Harvard University Press 2017).

Professor Sanger, in her inimitable style, updates us on the state of the abortion debate in the age of Trump.  She explains how the experiences of women who have abortions have disappeared into the shadows while those who would outlaw it control the public discourse.  She explores the explosion of hostile legislation in state legislatures, as the new laws “treat abortion not as an acceptable medical decision—let alone a right—but as something disreputable, immoral, and chosen by mistake.”  Sanger’s book captures the reasons why the discourse has changed, and how abortion, which has always been a contentious issue, drives its emotional force from its connection to underlying debates about sex, religion, gender, politics, and identity.  She nonetheless seeks to reclaim women’s perspectives on the practice of abortion.   She argues that as women become more willing to talk about their experiences, “women’s decisions about whether or not to become mothers will be treated more like those of other adults making significant personal choices.”  In short, she seeks to normalize the topic of abortion.

The book covers original material that Sanger has assembled documenting the legal infrastructure for abortion decision-making.  She presents the experiences of vulnerable teens, forced to appear before hostile judges in an effort to secure permission to proceed without parental consent.  Courts deem many of the teens too immature to make such decisions on their own, but not apparently too immature to become mothers against their will.  She also describes the women required to undergo involuntary ultrasounds, the debate about whether the women are allowed to look away, and the insidiousness of this alleged effort to “help” women make the abortion decision.

Throughout, Sanger connects these practices to law, medicine, the organization of intimate relationships, the shape of a woman’s life, and national identity.  She takes pains to present  the objections to abortion accurately even as she also counters the depiction of decisions to end pregnancies as “selfish” or casual decisions to put women’s interests ahead of their children.  She distinguishes between abortion privacy, a form of nondisclosure based on a woman’s desire to control personal information, and abortion secrecy, a woman’s defense against the many harms of disclosure.   She captures women’s varied views, whether they treat abortion as unthinkable or as a measure necessary to allow them to become “good” mothers in circumstances of their choosing.

Indeed, Sanger’s original treatment of abortion includes a chapter on the views of men.  She asks not what decisions men would make about abortion; instead, she explores how they in fact decide whether to become fathers when they are faced with the choice of what to do with their frozen embryos.  The men in such circumstances express concern over the potential child’s future welfare, distress over an ongoing relationship with the other parent, an unwillingness to consider adoption as an acceptable alternative; in short, they express the same concerns that women do about whether to proceed with a pregnancy.  Yet, the right to life forces, while they often champion the rights of frozen embryos,  do not subject the men’s decisions  to the same intrusion and vilification they reserve for women.  Sanger speculates that if the same law that governs decisions about frozen embryos applied to women’s reproductive decisions, it “would not look quite the same as it does now, with assumptions of incompetence, layers of second-guessing, and invasive counseling.”

About Abortion adds to our understanding of the abortion debate.  It confronts the dishonesty and distortions that characterizes much of the public debate.  It acknowledges the way the issue is deeply intertwined with fundamental questions about the organization of society.  It advocates bringing the experiences of those who have chosen abortion out the shadows, and it succeeds in providing a richer foundation for public consideration of the issue.

About Abortion is an important book that has already received wide attention, including a New Yorker review that coincides with our consideration of it here.  http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/04/03/why-its-become-so-hard-to-get-an-abortion.

For this Concurring Opinions book symposium, we have invited an all-star cast of thinkers who have a variety  of different perspectives on abortion:  Helen Alvare, Caitlin  Borgmann, Khiara Bridges, David Cohen, Leslie Griffin, Linda McClain, David Pozen, Lisa Pruitt, and Rachel Rebouche.

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Sofia Vergara, Frozen Embryos – and Trust Law?

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The newest twist in the long-running dispute between Sofia Vergara and her former fiancé, Nick Loeb ,over their frozen embryos is not actually between Vergara and Loeb.   Instead, out of the blue, James Charbonnet, claiming to be the trustee of the frozen embryos, has sued Vergara in Louisiana.

Many couples have gone to court to fight about their frozen embryos. But, in addition to the fact that this case involves Vergara, there are a lot of strange things about this lawsuit. I’ll unpack just a few.

First, who cares about these embryos? Last year, Loeb sued Vergara in California, trying to make sure that the embryos they had created would not be destroyed. Vergara’s lawyers recently asked Loeb for the names of two former girlfriends who may have had abortions during his relationships with them; rather than provide the information, Loeb is dropping that particular lawsuit. The status of the embyros is unclear, as Vergara has said that she doesn’t want to get rid of the embryos, but she doesn’t want him to use them.

Second, why Louisiana? The embryos are in California, and so is Vergara; Loeb is in New York. So here’s why Louisiana is the chosen forum: Louisiana is the only state that accords status to an embryo as a “juridical person,” LSA-R.S. 9:123, so not only does it have legal status, it can be represented by an attorney.  In fact, a court can appoint a “curator,” a guardian, to protect the embryo’s rights. LSA-R.S. 9:126. And, indeed, the complaint requests that the court appoint Loeb as the “curator” for the embryos.

Third, what’s this about a trust?

The lawsuit complaint explains that the trust was created in Louisiana to provide for the health, education, maintenance, and support of its beneficiaries (complaint, Para. 78).  Nothing unusual about this standard — it is a common one in trusts.

But — the complaint also alleges that the trust was created in Louisiana to benefit the two female embryos (named “Emma” and “Isabella” in the lawsuit). And it claims the two embryos are “scheduled” to be the only beneficiaries of the trust. [Paras. 73-75]   This raises the issue of whether such a trust, set up only to benefit in vitro embryos, is valid. Anyone can create a trust and, in many states, a trust doesn’t even need to be in writing. But when someone (the settlor) creates a trust, black letter law requires that there must be a beneficiary. Even if the beneficiary is not “ascertainable’ when the trust is created, the beneficiary must come into existence within a specific time period.   Restatement (Third) of Trusts § 44 (2003). The complaint states that the two embryos “must be born alive in order to receive the inheritance due from the Trust.” (Para. 79) But we don’t know much else about the terms of the trust; unlike wills (or legal complaints), trusts are private documents that do not need to be filed in court.

And finally, what does the lawsuit seek? It requests that the court order that Vergara consent to let the embryos develop and be born.

I don’t know what the Louisiana court will do, although the suit seems far-fetched. I have taught trusts and estates for many years, I have co-authored one trusts and estates casebook and I’m in the midst of co-authoring a second. While I have seen plenty of lawsuits in which beneficiaries sue trustees, I have never seen a lawsuit in which a trustee sues to make sure that the beneficiaries are born (nor to appoint a “curator”). Because the embryos aren’t in Louisiana, nor have they ever been stored there, it doesn’t seem as though a Louisiana court would have any control over them. If they were living children, the Louisiana court would not have any authority over them because Louisiana is not their “home state”.

In speculating what this case is about, it is hard to ignore that one of the attorneys who filed the suit is a Senior Fellow in Legal Policy at the Charlotte Lozier Institute.  According to the Institute’s website, “We desire and seek that the benefits of modern medicine and the wealth of nations be put to the service of human life and that the scourges of abortion, physical disease, euthanasia and human exploitation will be diminished and ultimately overcome.”

So this functions as yet another publicity stunt to try to further an anti-abortion agenda. And it is a stark reminder of ongoing battles over a woman’s choice.

 

 

 

 

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Family Law After Obergefell

 

The Supreme Court’s 2015 decision in Obergefell v. Hodges marked a sea change in family law.  While the immediate impact of the decision is clear – same-sex couples now have the right to marry in every state – the implications of the decision for family law and for practicing family lawyers are considerably broader.  Recognition of marriage equality has created new issues for courts deciding divorce and parenting cases, and for lawyers advising clients about issues related to family formation and family break-up. This post will highlight the family law implications of Obergefell  and explore some of the issues that are likely to arise in future cases involving the rights and obligations of same-sex couples.

Same-sex divorce, American style

According to the Williams Institute, close to 400,000 same-sex couples were already married at the time Obergefell was decided. A recent Gallup poll estimates that more than 120,000 additional same-sex couples have married since that time. But not all marriages endure.  About 40% of heterosexual marriages now end in divorce, and it is reasonable to anticipate that the divorce rate for same-sex couples will be roughly comparable.  Indeed, access to the financial and parenting remedies associated with divorce is one of the important benefits of marriage.   But same sex divorces are likely to raise some challenging legal issues.

Parenthood and the impact of the marital presumption

When an opposite sex couple divorces, legal parentage generally is not disputed. In part, this is due to the operation of the “marital presumption” — the legal rule that identifies the husband of a married woman as the legal father of any children born (or conceived) during the marriage.  At one time, the presumption was nearly irrebutable.  More recently, courts in a number of states have allowed divorcing parties to rebut the presumption based on genetic evidence of non-paternity.

Courts and legislatures have already begun to grapple with the application of the marital presumption to same-sex couples. Although the language of the presumption is usually gendered — specifying both a husband and a married woman — some courts have interpreted the statutory reference to husband to apply as well to a female spouse.  Other courts have declined to interpret their statutes broadly, but have invoked equal protection principles to extend the marital presumption to same-sex partners. See, e.g., Gartner v Iowa Department of Public Health, 830 N.W.2d 335 (Iowa 2013).  Still others have refused to apply the presumption to same-sex relationships, citing its biological underpinnings or opining that such a step is a matter for the legislature, not the judiciary.

Even if courts apply the marital presumption to same-sex couples, questions remain about its impact. In most states, the presumption is now rebuttable, and genetic evidence of non-paternity is often (albeit not always) sufficient grounds to rebut the presumption. But should genetic evidence be relevant to parentage in a same-sex marriage, where both spouses know from the outset that one parent will not be genetically related to the child.  And how, if at all, should the presumption apply to gay male marriages, in which neither spouse is a “married woman” and where the woman who gives birth is generally not an intended parent?  These questions, of course, raise the broader issue of whether parentage should be understood as a biological fact, or (primarily) as a legal and social construct.  And, if parentage is primarily a legal construct, what role (if any) should marriage play?

Moreover, as its name indicates, the marital presumption applies only to children born (or conceived) during a marriage. But many same-sex couples today are co-parenting children who were born to one spouse before their marriage, perhaps during a prior heterosexual union.  The marital presumption is of no use here, just as it provides no basis for step-parents to assert legal parentage in the absence of an adoption.  Other doctrines such as de facto parenthood, discussed in Professor Murphy’s last post, may be available to establish parental rights, but establishing parenthood under those doctrines in fact-specific and uncertain, and the doctrine has been criticized as insufficiently protective of the autonomy of biological parents.

Moreover, while many states now recognize some form of de facto parenthood, others do not, and, in the absence of a judicial decree, states are not required to respect each other’s parentage rules.  Thus, a same-sex partner who is recognized as a legal parent in one state may not be recognized in another.  For this reason, many family lawyers continue to advise same-sex spouses to secure parental rights through adoption, even where a couple is married at the time their child is born.  But adoption can be both expensive and intrusive, and many same-sex couples understandably assume that their marriage renders adoption unnecessary, only to find upon dissolution that the law is far less settled than they imagined.  Judicial declarations of parentage, obtained at the time a child is born, could provide an alternative means of interstate recognition, but existing state procedures are not designed for same-sex couples, whether married or not.

Divorce-related financial remedies

The dissolution of same-sex marriages presents other challenges as well. Current standards for both property distribution and post-divorce spousal support depend significantly on the length of the marriage in question; the longer the financial interdependence associated with marriage, the more robust the post-divorce sharing rules.  But many of today’s same-sex marriages were preceded by lengthy periods of non-marital cohabitation, particularly in states that refused to allow same-sex marriage prior to Obergefell.  If such a couple divorces after a relatively short marriage, can a court base a property or a support award on the lengthy period of pre-marital cohabitation?   Many courts have refused to do so in cases involving opposite-sex couples who cohabited prior to marriage, noting that the applicable statutory language refers specifically to the length of the marriage, not to the length of the relationship.  Should these decisions apply to same-sex couples?  Other courts have relied on their on their equitable powers to consider non-marital cohabitation as a factor in fixing the financial consequences of divorce.  Some commentators have suggested using common law marriage as a solution to this problem.  But common law marriage has traditionally required that individuals have the legal capacity to marry each other at the time the relevant conduct took place and that the parties held themselves out as married in one of the handful of states that allow couples to contract a common law marriage.  Both of these requirements are likely to post problems for most same-sex couples.

And how should Obergefell affect the treatment of cohabitation relationships that break up without a marriage?  Prior to Obergefell, a number of states had begun to apply principles of equity or implied contract to redistribute assets accumulated in one partner’s name at the end of a long-term cohabitation relationship.  Many of these cases involved same-sex couples, and the couple’s inability to marry may well have influenced the court’s decision.  The American Law Institute’s Principles of Family Dissolution took these developments a step further by extending status-based property and support remedies to unmarried partners who “for a significant period of time share a primary residence and a life together as a couple.”  How should Obergefell’s recognition of marriage equality affect the viability of these doctrines?  Does the availability of same-sex marriage weaken claims based on non-marital cohabitation on the theory that a couple’s decision not to marry is an indication that they (or at least one of them) prefer not to be bound by marital sharing principles? Is this a preference that the law should respect, even if, in hindsight, it turns out to be a bad deal for one of the parties?  Or should courts continue to apply functional, as well as formal criteria, to determine the appropriateness of post-relationship financial sharing?

Wither Civil Unions and Domestic Partnerships

More generally, how should the availability of same-sex marriage affect other legal statuses, such as domestic partnerships and civil unions? Should states that previously recognized such unions automatically convert them to marriages unless a couple explicitly “opts out?”  Or should states require that domestic partners affirmatively “opt in” to marriage?  What should be the legal default?  Will private companies that previously provided benefits to same-sex domestic partners now restrict such benefits to married couples?  And, if so, has the “right” to marry celebrated in Obergefell become an obligation to do so – a possibility that Professor Kathrine Franke cautioned against in her 2015 book, Wedlocked: The Perils of Marriage Equality.

More broadly, should states retain these alternative legal statuses as a form of “marriage lite” or have they outlived their utility now that both same-sex and opposite-sex couples have access to marriage? And if states choose to retain these alternatives, do constitutional equality principles require that they be made available to opposite-sex as well as same-sex couples? To non-romantic partners such as siblings or other relatives?  Now that marriage is available to same-sex as well as opposite sex, couples, how much should it matter?

Beyond Marriage and Divorce

Marriage equality is also likely to affect legal developments in contexts beyond divorce and parenting disputes. In her recent article, Inheritance Law and the Marital Presumption After Obergefell, my colleague, Paula Monopoli, examines the impact of Obergefell on inheritance law; she argues that important policy goals support extending a conclusive marital presumption to all nonbirth/nongenetic spouses for purposes of inheritance law, and suggests that the presumption be unmoored from its biological roots and re-conceptualized as resting on the presumed consent of the nonbirth/nongenetic spouse to be the parent of any child born during a marriage.  In a broader frame, Douglas NeJaime, argues in his recent Harvard Law Review article, Marriage Equality and the New Parenthood, that marriage equality was both enabled by – and, in turn, enables — significant shifts in the law’s understanding of parenthood and in its ongoing construction of families.  Without a doubt, this is a construction project that should capture the imagination and engage the efforts of both legal scholars and practicing family lawyers for many years to come.

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Legal Recognition of De Facto Parents: Victory for Same-Sex Parents or Threat to Parental Autonomy

The LGBT community is celebrating two recent decisions from the highest courts in Maryland and New York recognizing non-biological “de facto parents” as legal parents. Slate and other media outlets have described these decisions as “overwhelming” victories for gay parents. Commentators also see these cases as part of the “ripple effect” of recognizing of marriage equality in Obergefell v. Hodges. After years of advocating for same-sex couples on a range of issues before both legislatures and courts, I am surprised at my reluctance to join the celebration. In questioning the wisdom of this trend, I tentatively and uncomfortably align myself with pro-marriage scholars and commentators who have long critiqued the recognition of de facto parenthood. I’m not pushing marriage but I think this new trend is unnecessary to protect same-sex families or other de facto parents and their children. I also worry that authorizing this kind of state intervention to overrule decisions of legal parents may have unintended consequences that should concern us all.

Maryland and New York join what is now a majority of states granting some or all parental rights to an adult who has acted in a parental role for some period of time but has not established legal parenthood through biology, adoption or marriage. Most states have also required that the relationship between the “de facto parent” and the child must be with the consent and encouragement of at least one legal parent. Both the New York and Maryland cases involved same-sex couples who had agreed to have a child together. The couples were unmarried at the time of the birth of their children, and the non-biological parents had not adopted the children. The relationship ends after some time in which both partners co-parented. After the break-up, the biological parents withheld access to the children and the conflicts ended up in court. Both the New York and Maryland courts reversed pre-Obergefell decisions and recognized “de facto parents.” Once recognized, de facto parents stand on equal footing with biological or adoptive parents in custody and visitation disputes.

Part of my skepticism about these decisions comes from questions about the continuing necessity of de facto parentage after Obergefell. Didn’t the Supreme Court’s establishment of marriage equality remove a major barrier to legal parenthood for same-sex couples, thereby making recognition of de facto parenthood less important? Indeed, one of the central arguments advanced by advocates and adopted by the Supreme Court was that allowing same-sex parents to establish families through marriage is essential to protect children. Justice Kennedy embraced these arguments in his majority opinion, finding that “Without the recognition, stability, and predictability marriage offers, [the children of same-sex parents] suffer the stigma of knowing their families are somehow lesser. They also suffer the significant material costs of being raised by unmarried parents, relegated through no fault of their own to a more difficult and uncertain family life. The marriage laws at issue here thus harm and humiliate children of same sex couples.”

I’m not joining the “marriage supremacy” folks; I’m just noting that decisions that establish the legal recognition of parentage without marriage (or biology or adoption) don’t seem to naturally flow from a decision that opens access to marriage to same-sex couples, in part, so that both parents can secure legal ties to their child. After Obergefell, same-sex couples should now have the benefit of marital presumptions and achieve legal parenthood by agreeing to conceive and raise a child together in the context of marriage. And, for those parents who choose not to marry, Windsor and Obergefell’s constitutional analysis should undermine any remaining state law barriers to applying existing parentage statutes to same sex couples or permitting second parent adoptions by non-biological parents. And if there are continuing barriers to applying the marital presumption or other parentage statutes to same-sex couples or to second parent adoptions by gay and lesbian partners, advocates should fight those battles rather than spreading the de facto parent doctrine.

So Obergefell made the fight for de facto parenthood less critical in securing the rights of LGBT parents. But what’s the harm of expanding the legal recognition of parentage? I worry about its impact on both parents and children, particularly poor parents who are already vulnerable to state overreaching. I am concerned about the erosion of parental autonomy when courts, upon a finding of de facto parenthood, can set the decisions of legal parents aside. Of course, some of the court opinions are drawn very narrowly. I’m comfortable with the court protecting the non-bio parent in the New York case by overruling the decision of the biological mother to exclude her former partner from their child’s life. Both parents had planned to conceive the child, raised the child together for two years and continued to co-parent after they broke up for another three years. New York, in fact, limits a finding of de facto parenthood to just these circumstances. A party seeking parental rights is only a de facto parent “where a partner shows by clear and convincing evidence that the parties agreed to conceive a child and to raise the child together.”

 

But other states have adopted broader definitions. For example, Maryland now recognizes de facto parenthood as long as the biological or adoptive parent consented to a parent-like relationship and the non-biological parent formed a bond with the child. In Kentucky, a “de facto custodian” of a child can seek custody if he or she is “the primary caregiver, has provided financial support and has resided with the child for at least six months, and the child is under three years of age.” The residency requirement goes up to one year if the child is over three. In Colorado, a third-party can stand on equal footing with a parent in the “allocation of parental responsibilities” when the third-party “has had the physical care of a child” for at least six months and petitions the court within six months after the care has ended.

This expansion of the legal definition of parenthood makes me think about how some of the low income mothers I have represented might have fared under these statutes. The mothers who, after traffic stops unearthed warrants related to old drug possession charges, left their children in the care of a grandparent or a friendly neighbor while serving their sentences. After they were released from jail six months later, they faced custody battles from the third parties who had taken care of their children. Before recognition of de facto parenthood, my clients were presumed to have the right to decide whom their children should visit or live with, absent unfitness or other extraordinary circumstances. After recognition of de facto parentage, the grandparent or neighbor would be on equal legal footing with the mother under a best interests analysis. I also fear for the non-custodial fathers who might now be squeezed out of their kids’ lives after their children’s mothers’ ex- spouses are recognized as de facto parents without the fathers’ consent or participation.

Finally, as someone who generally favors rules over discretion in most areas of family law, I worry about the uncertainty that will result from the broader, vague definitions of de facto parent. Will it make already contentious child access disputes even more protracted and expensive? Or, worse yet, will the better-financed de facto parent always prevail over poorer, unrepresented legal parents? There is also great uncertainty about the legal rights and obligations that flow from this kind of parentage. In most jurisdictions, de facto parents can seek custody and/or visitation under a best interests standard on equal footing with the legal parent. But what if this designation creates three or four legal parents? Are they all on the same legal footing? And what about the implications of this for financial obligations to the child? Does the de facto parent also have to pay child support? If there is a third, legal parent, are his or her child support obligations reduced when a de facto parent enters the picture? Vague standards result in unpredictability and that leads to more disputes involving children.

Of course, for the petitioners in many of these cases, marriage or even second parent adoptions weren’t options at the time of the conception or birth of their children. And access to lawyers for adoption or any family law conflict is always a challenge. But courts can now send a clear message to loving, de facto parents who want to be assured of continuing their relationships with their children. To fully protect yourself and your child, you need to affirmatively establish yourself as a legal parent—marry your co-parent, petition under parentage statutes and/or adopt your child. I may be missing a lot here but that seems like reasonable family policy.

 

 

 

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Divergent Paths to Same-sex Marriage: What We Can Learn from South Africa

Last Sunday marked the one year anniversary of Obergefell v. Hodges, in which the Supreme Court ruled that excluding same-sex couples from marriage was unconstitutional. Obergefell was a huge development not only for the United States, but also for the world. Boris Dittrich, Advocacy Director of the LGBT Rights Program at Human Rights Watch, has predicted that Obergefell “will reverberate in many countries that still deny people the right to marry the person they love.”

As countries around the world draw inspiration from Obergefell, I hope Obergefell will not overshadow Fourie v. Minister of Home Affairs, another important case in the international arena. In 2005—nearly a decade before Obergefell—South Africa’s Constitutional Court ruled in Fourie that depriving same-sex couples of the ability to marry violated constitutional protections of dignity and equality. South Africa’s Constitutional Court became the first national apex court to decide that barring same-sex couples from marriage is unconstitutional. 

Many aspects of Fourie fascinate me, but in the confined space of this blog post, I will focus on just two. First, in comparison with Obergefell, Fourie offers a competing—and more compelling—conceptualization of the relationship between marriage and dignity. In Obergefell, Justice Kennedy endorsed a highly romanticized view of marriage as an institution that confers dignity upon those who enter it. “Marriage dignifies couples,” he said. “Marriage responds to the universal fear that a lonely person might call out only to find no one there.” He talks in grandiose terms about how “[n]o union is more profound than marriage,” and how being denied marriage is “being condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions.”

Many commentators have criticized Obergefell for implying that people must get married to be fully dignified. (See, e.g., here, here, and here.) What about people who don’t want to get married, or people who simply haven’t found the right partner to marry? Obergefell’s over-the-top romanticization of marriage marginalizes these segments of society.

For the record: I’m married, I love being married, and I love being married to a spouse of the same sex! But I also think marriage is not for everyone, and that’s one reason why I admire the Fourie opinion. No other judicial opinion on same-sex marriage has done as good a job as Fourie at explaining the relationship between same-sex marriage and dignity. Fourie makes clear that marriage doesn’t dignify couples. Rather, it’s giving people the decision whether to marry—and whether to marry someone of the same sex—that is most important to dignity.

To the best of my knowledge, Fourie is the only judicial opinion on same-sex marriage that has explicitly engaged queer and feminist critiques of marriage. The Court acknowledged that many same-sex couples might well choose not to marry if given the opportunity. Instead of denigrating that choice, the Court explained that “what is in issue is not the decision to be taken, but the choice that is available. If heterosexual couples have the option of deciding whether to marry or not, so should same-sex couples have the choice . . .”

The South African Constitutional Court also avoided over-romanticizing marriage by emphasizing that marriage rights are important precisely because marriages often fail. If a couple is married, the government will help the couple sort things out if and when they break up. “[T]he law of marriage is invoked both at moments of blissful creation and at times of sad cessation.” If you are not married, you cannot claim the legal protections of divorce.

I am currently writing a law review essay that elaborates on the difference between Obergefell’s and Fourie’s competing visions of marriage, and the ramifications of each view. Stay tuned! In the meantime, I’d like to turn our attention to yet another fascinating aspect of Fourie: the Constitutional Court’s decision to delay providing a remedy to same-sex couples.

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Dads Change Diapers Too

This is my third and final post about fathers as caregivers, drawing from some of my own experiences as a dad. (Earlier posts are available here and here.)

Father’s Day this year was really special because my husband, two-year-old daughter, and I celebrated on vacation in New York. We had a really lovely time overall. The trip was, however, also memorable because of this—have a look at this photo.

LaGuardia Airport, Terminal B, Concourse C

LaGuardia Airport, Terminal B, Concourse C

This is the United Airlines counter at LaGuardia Airport, Terminal B, Concourse C. I warily crouched down in the narrow space behind this counter to change my daughter’s diaper on the floor. I did it as fast as I could, feeling awkward about being there. I tried not to get in the way of the airline agents who were working behind the counter, and I shuddered at the thought of how dirty the floor might be.

My daughter and I were traveling home alone because my husband returned earlier for work. The agents at the ticket counter confirmed that there were no diaper changing facilities for fathers—no changing table in the men’s restroom, and no family restroom. The only diaper changing table was in the women’s room.

I suggested that I place my daughter’s changing pad on the table behind the ticket counter and change her there, but the airline agents said, understandably, that I needed to find someplace more discreet. The airport was bustling with people at every corner. After looking around, the agents offered to let me squeeze behind their ticket counter and use the cramped floor space there.

That was the best option we could think of. I didn’t want to subject my fellow travelers to the sight (and possible smell) of a diaper change, especially the folks who were enjoying their meals nearby. I also didn’t want my daughter and me to have to deal with the glare of onlookers. So, behind the counter we retreated.

Lack of men’s access to diaper changing facilities always makes me wonder what year we’re living in. Isn’t it about time we got behind the idea that men change diapers too?

Placing diaper changing tables exclusively in women’s restrooms is a problem because, as I discussed earlier, men’s access to diaper changing facilities is important to the health and well-being of the children we love and care for. Excluding men from diaper changing facilities also troubles me because it reflects and reinforces the outdated cultural assumption that taking care of young children is strictly a woman’s role.

Access to diaper changing facilities is particularly important at airports because waiting to change the diaper on the plane presents challenges. Not all airplanes have diaper changing tables. Moreover, parents are not permitted to get out of their seats to change a diaper during take-off, landing, and periods of turbulence in between.

Cities like Honolulu, Miami, and San Francisco have laws that give men and women a right of equal access to diaper changing facilities. State Senator Brad Hoylman has proposed legislation that would make New York the first state to require new and newly renovated buildings to give men and women equal access to diaper changing stations. I hope his bill will become law. Unfortunately, Governor Brown of California vetoed similar measures in 2014.

At the federal level, Congresswoman Tammy Duckworth of Illinois has introduced the Friendly Airports for Mothers Act, which would require airports to provide lactation rooms. I think it would be great to pass an even broader law that addresses diaper changing facilities in addition to lactation rooms. This could make airports friendlier not only to mothers, but also to fathers. In the meantime, I have contacted LaGuardia Airport to request that they install changing tables in all of their men’s rooms.

To be clear, the agents at the ticket counter were really kind to my daughter and me. The main woman whom I spoke with expressed her own disappointment with what she called the airport’s “double standard.” Let’s fix this double standard.

The good news for the immediate future is that my daughter has made great strides with potty training. I’m so proud of her! Our days of having to hide behind an airline ticket counter are numbered. Still, this is a bigger issue that needs to be addressed.

For more of my writing about fatherhood, please check out my forthcoming law review essay entitled “Shaping Expectations about Dads as Caregivers: Toward an Ecological Approach.”

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4 Wishes for Father’s Day

My post on Thursday expressed concerns about the cultural assumption that taking care of young children is a woman’s role. Today, I present a four-part wish list of public policy interventions. With Father’s Day coming up, these proposals seek to recognize dads as able caregivers.

Image from iStock.com/OlgaLebedeva

Image from iStock.com/OlgaLebedeva

1. Mandate dad-inclusive paid parental leave

The United States is notorious for being the only high-income country that doesn’t require employers to provide paid parental leave. Among employers that do offer some form of paid leave to new parents, many provide leave to new mothers (often framed as disability leave) but not to fathers. A report from 2014 estimated that 58 percent of employers offered paid leave to new mothers, but only 14 percent offered it to new fathers. Another study from 2012 reported that only 13 percent of fathers who took parental leave were paid, compared with 21 percent of mothers.

The first item on my wish list is a law requiring paid parental leave and, importantly, the law should grant leave rights to both moms and dads. A handful of states already have such legislation, but we need the whole country covered. Proposals for paid parental leave have already garnered a lot of attention, and that’s great. I think it’s important, however, not to focus too narrowly on this issue. For reasons that I discuss in a forthcoming essay, we also need to address other aspects of our social environment that affect dads as caregivers, including the following wish list items.

2. Require equal access to diaper changing facilities

Cities like Honolulu, Miami, and San Francisco have laws that give men and women a right of equal access to diaper changing facilities. I wish this right existed across the country. In 2014, California’s legislature passed two laws that would have required new and newly renovated buildings to grant men equal access to diaper changing tables by placing changing tables in men’s restrooms or family restrooms. It’s a shame that Governor Brown vetoed the measures. All too often, diaper changing tables are located exclusively in women’s restrooms. This is troubling because of the difficulty it creates for dads who need to change diapers. Moreover, lack of equal access sends the troubling message that only women should be expected to care for young children.

Restrooms have long been sites of regulation because they are so central to health and well-being. OSHA rules, the Americans with Disabilities Act, and state-level Restroom Access Acts all aim to make restrooms accessible. There is also pending litigation about the extent to which federal civil rights laws protect transgender individuals’ ability to use restrooms that correspond with their gender identity. Further regulating restrooms to ensure that men have equal access to diaper changing tables is long overdue.

3. Reframe state-supported “Mommy & Me” classes

When my daughter was a few months old, I began exploring community events for infants and parents. Friends told me how fun it would be to take her to “Mommy and Me” classes. “They’re called Mommy and Me classes, but I’m sure they’d let a dad in too,” one friend tried to reassure me. Mommy and Me classes abound—for example “Mommy and Me Yoga,” “Mommy and Me Music,” and “Mommy and Me Tender Twos.” While these classes may technically be open to fathers, the Mommy and Me moniker sends the message that fathers do not belong. This framing reinforces cultural expectations that caregiving should be left to mothers.

To be clear, these classes are not biological in nature. They are not breastfeeding classes. For example, Huntington Hospital in Pasadena offers a “Mommy and Me” class that it describes as “song time, parachute play, and bubbles with baby.”  All of these activities could surely involve fathers. Some places have begun to offer Daddy and Me classes, but these options are rare and I see no reason why moms and dads need to be segregated for song time and bubble play. Moreover, I’ve found that Daddy and Me Classes take place outside of the usual work schedule—on weeknights and weekends—thus reinforcing the outdated assumption that dads are breadwinners and moms are caregivers.

While we should lobby companies to rename their Mommy and Me classes, public policy also has a role to play. Many, if not most, Mommy and Me classes are offered by government-funded entities such as hospitals and public libraries. As a public policy intervention, the government should condition its funding on the reframing of Mommy and Me classes. Some places have already begun to call their classes “Baby and Me” instead, a name that is much more inclusive of dads and other caregivers. The government should require this change of any state-funded entity that offers a Mommy and Me class.

4. Recast the image of dads in the federal government’s Fatherhood & Mentoring Initiative

The federal government runs a public education campaign that encourages fathers to be more engaged with parenting. While this is certainly a laudable goal, the program has set a very low bar, focusing on preventing fathers from being completely absent. As a result, the campaign’s media clips risk reinforcing the belief that dads ought to leave the bulk of hands-on caregiving to women. For my fourth wish list item, I wish the government would revamp its media campaign.

Consider, for example, the first video clip at the bottom of this post. It features three television personalities from the MLB (Major League Baseball) Network.  The men are in their offices, taking a moment out of the day to call their children by phone or videoconference to say hello.  The clip closes with one of the men telling viewers: “Remember: You’re never too far away from your kids to be a dad. Reach out and take a second to check in—because sometimes, the smallest moments can have the biggest impact on a child’s life.”

This clip might have the unfortunate effect of reproducing the idea that a model father is, first and foremost, a breadwinner. And being an engaged father simply means picking up the phone to call the kids from work. I wish the federal government would replace videos like this from its campaign with clips that showcase multiple sides of fatherhood, including images of fathers as hands-on caregivers.

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Reflections for Father’s Day

Thank you to everyone at Concurring Opinions for inviting me to guest blog, and thank you to Solangel for her kind introduction. I’m usually a pretty private person, but I’d like to open up a bit in my first blog post by sharing some personal experiences.

iStock.com/OlgaLebedeva

Image from iStock.com/OlgaLebedeva

Two years ago, my life changed forever because I became a dad to the most amazing baby girl, and I had the privilege of taking a year off from teaching to stay at home. I know having children and taking time off from work is not the right choice for everyone. But for me, I can’t think of anything more right. I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. Taking care of my daughter gives me incomparable joy and a sense of purpose that words cannot fully describe. Since returning to my usual law professor schedule, I relish seeing my little girl after leaving campus each day. She truly is my sunshine.

Against this backdrop of happiness, a sad reality is that my experiences as a father have heightened my awareness of troubling gender norms. I’ve long been cognizant of the cultural assumption that caregiving for young children is a woman’s role. Still, with firsthand experiences as a father, I’ve been struck by how strong this norm is.

With Father’s Day around the corner, I think back to my first Father’s Day dinner as a dad. The restaurant’s kind owner congratulated my husband and me on fatherhood. He gushed over our family. His celebration of us as same-sex parents was a delightful sign of how far we’ve come. Yet, in his next breath, he apologized that the men’s room had no diaper changing table and offered to let us use the women’s room instead, because there was a changing table there. I was disheartened by the reminder that only women are expected to change diapers. Women are saddled with the responsibility, and men who do want to change diapers face barriers. Instances like this may be small and inconsequential on their own, but the pervasiveness of these small occurrences reinforces expectations that men should leave caregiving to women.

To be sure, times are changing. More and more men are embracing childcare responsibilities traditionally associated with women—things like swaddling and singing to a fussy infant to coax her into slumber, preparing meals, cleaning kitchen messes, doing a child’s laundry, and managing older children’s after-school schedules, which might include craft or baking projects, running errands together, accompanying children to sports or dance classes, or helping with homework. The number of stay-at-home dads has grown rapidly. A 2012 study found that fathers comprised 16 percent of all stay-at-home parents. Meanwhile, fathers employed full-time outside the home tend to devote more time to childcare after work compared with fathers from previous generations. Another study found that the number of single father households had increased from less than 300,000 in 1960 to over 2.6 million in 2011. Census data from 2010 also showed that 10 percent of male same-sex couple households were raising children.

Despite these changes, mothers still shoulder a much larger share of childcare responsibilities than fathers, and our cultural environment reinforces this pattern. We are surrounded by a culture that treats childcare as the domain of women. Consider when a man prepares to become a father. He’s all too likely to learn that his employer offers no paternity leave even if it grants leave to new mothers. If the father decides to stay home anyway, he’ll probably search for activities to enjoy with his child, and will encounter numerous classes titled “Mommy and Me” as though fathers do not belong. As he shops for baby supplies, he’ll surely discover countless advertisements that deploy “mothers know best” rhetoric that questions the competency of fathers. These are just a few examples of everyday moments that coalesce, sending the message that men are not suited for—or are not expected to perform—caregiving.

These cultural dynamics are bad for men, bad for women, and bad for children. Fathers who are primary caregivers too often report feelings of isolation and stigma, feelings of being hyper-scrutinized for their parenting skills, and practical difficulties such as the lack of access to changing tables. Cultural expectations about caregiving are also bad for women because they place disproportionately heavy pressure on mothers. This is especially harmful to women who wish their male partners would contribute more to childcare, so that they could focus more energy on their careers. The current cultural environment is also bad for children. In some families, it might make sense for the mother to do most of the caregiving. But for many if not most other families—especially families with single dads or gay dads—it’s in children’s best interest for fathers to be engaged caregivers.

What can we do to address this conflation of caregiving with motherhood? Lobbying the private sector is one strategy. For example, I signed an online petition asking Amazon to rename its “Amazon Mom” service to be more inclusive of fathers. The service, which specializes in delivering products to caregivers of young children, has always technically been open to fathers, but the name “Amazon Mom” implied that caregiving is and should be the domain of mothers. I’m happy to report that Amazon has since renamed its service “Amazon Family.” Small victories like this can add up.

In my view, the government can—and should—also play a role in fostering a cultural environment that does not equate caregiving with women. In my next blog post, I’ll offer my wish list of public policy interventions aimed at supporting dads as caregivers.

[Update 6/27: click here and here for the next two posts in this series.]

This blog post is adapted from my forthcoming law review essay entitled “Shaping Expectations about Dads as Caregivers: Toward an Ecological Approach.”