Lesbian mums might be a normal part of LGBTQIA+ culture, but it’s not always been this way. As I recently uncovered for a BBC Radio 4 documentary Missing Pieces: The Lesbian Mothers Scandal, family court judges from the 1970s to the 1990s frequently took custody off of lesbians.
Before the advent of artificial and then donor insemination, women would marry men, as was expected of them, have kids, then realise that they were lesbians. They’d divorce, and while there was no specific law banning lesbian mums from keeping custody, judges’ discretion ruled. So lesbians were often considered unfit mothers simply on the basis of their sexuality. During my research I came across at least 30 women affected, but the true number is likely far higher.
While there was no specific law banning lesbian mums from keeping custody, judges’ discretion ruled. So lesbians were often considered unfit mothers simply on the basis of their sexuality.
In the documentary, women whose children were taken from them, as well as children affected, speak of the traumatic impacts of being separated, and most of them want an apology from the Government. The Government’s official response was: “The law in the 1970s and 80s reflected societal attitudes of the time. We now recognise those societal attitudes as deeply discriminatory, and our heartfelt sympathies are with all those who suffered as a result. While we cannot comment on the decisions of judges in individual cases, the government is committed to ensuring equality and fairness in today’s justice system.” As a result, a petition has been set up to call for a Government apology.
Back then, organising was different. Support groups and phone lines were set up to help the plight of lesbian mums. And awareness was boosted in 1985, when Melanie Chait’s feature-length documentary, Breaking the Silence, was aired on Channel 4. In it, she speaks to a range of lesbian mothers to find out how they parented, how they lost custody and the sometimes years-long battle to try and regain it.
I called Melanie to find out what it was like making that documentary, how hard it was to get it commissioned and what she thinks should happen to those women and their families still dealing with the trauma of being separated from their own kids.
What first inspired you to make your documentary?
I was a political activist and filmmaker in the 1980s so, as a lesbian, I felt it was important to document and bear witness to the social injustices that surrounded me. I’d made another documentary, Veronica 4 Rose, for Channel 4, because I’d become aware of the escalation of teenage lesbian suicides, and felt it was necessary to portray positive role models and provide a growing support system. But with Breaking The Silence, I wanted lesbian mothers to feel empowered and to know that they weren’t alone. And it was important for wider society to know what happens to lesbian mothers in custody cases, and to have the normative society’s preconceived ideas about lesbians challenged.
You’re British-South African, so why was the focus on the UK rather than other countries?
I wasn’t allowed in South Africa as I was persona non grata [the apartheid Government of 1948-1991 not only treated Black and ethnic minorities as second-class citizens but also banned political activists from free expression and participation] and so I lived in London and was lucky enough to come of age during the growing women’s movement.
How was the film funded and commissioned?
had received huge ratings and publicity, and part of Channel 4’s remit was to provide programming for minorities which in the era of Mary Whitehouse was usually challenged.
On the strength of Veronica 4 Rose I was asked to make more lesbian films. In the 1980s there was research and development money, which meant there was time to find women from all over the UK, not just London. We could represent a cross section of women in terms of age, race, class, region, to show their experience, and also to portray lesbian mothers with well-adjusted children in an attempt to undermine stereotypes.
It was important for wider society to know what happens to lesbian mothers in custody cases, and to have the normative society’s preconceived ideas about lesbians challenged.
How did you find subjects to speak with?
There’d been a theatre piece called Care and Control by Nancy Diuguid and Kate Crutchley and through that I found women and lawyers beginning to take on the custody battles. I advertised widely through the women’s press and sort of networking available at the time; newsletters, fairs, bookstores.
What was the environment like for lesbians in the UK at that time ?
Living in London and in the bigger cities was very exciting . There were so many struggles and campaigns, from feminism to anti-racism and nuclear disarmament movements. I think we truly thought we could bring about a new world order. A huge groundswell had begun, and that was just very thrilling. I feel very privileged to have been part of that then, but obviously it was very different in more rural and remote areas.
Did you encounter any obstacles while making this documentary?
Filmmaking involves an enormous amount of problem solving. But I think on the whole there weren’t too many curveballs. And I think as a woman-only crew, which was fairly unusual, we felt victorious. We really felt we were creating new role models.
It felt brilliant and exciting in London [in the 1980s]. There were so many struggles and campaigns, from feminism to anti-racism and nuclear disarmament movements. I think we truly thought we could bring about a new world order.
What was the most poignant moment of the documentary for you?
We managed to obtain permission to film inside the Royal Courts of Justice, which was the first time permission had been granted to film there. And then you see the woman being filmed there, revealing the horrors of what had taken place to them in that very same space, and in a sense, they were claiming back that space and undermining its power.
What did you think of what they disclosed?
At the time, when an issue was highlighted on TV, it gave it an additional legitimacy. But I mean, change is always slow, and I suppose, as a filmmaker, you are only adding to an emerging consciousness. But by contributing to a developing zeitgeist, it hopefully facilitates a greater understanding.
What was the response like?
There was a huge hunger for lesbian films and TV programmes. Because no matter how awful the stories told, it was recognition that lesbians existed. Until the 1970s the tragically gay feature film The Killing of Sister George was probably the best known. Then in the 1970s, Mädchen in Uniform was rediscovered, also the tragic trope. By the 1970s there were positive and proud lesbian documentaries coming out of the States made by lesbian filmmakers like Jan Oxenberg and Barbara Hammer. But as far as I can remember no film had been made about lesbian mothers, so Breaking the Silence broke new ground and had a huge response. We had a pamphlet printed for lesbian mothers that was advertised at the end of the film, and Channel 4 was very surprised that it was in such great demand. Jeremy Isaacs [founder of Channel 4] considered it one of the channel’s flagship programmes.
What do you think of the lesbian mum’s request for an apology from the government?
I think it would be wonderful. I think an acknowledgement of what so many women and children lived through would be just very, very appreciated. Whether it would happen, I don’t know. It’s not a difficult thing to do. I think it would just take some respect and humility on the Government’s side to do it.