Yearly Archives: 2016
Dec 13, 2016 Brian Bix
Premarital agreements (also known as “antenuptial agreements” and “prenuptial agreements”) are agreements entered by spouses-to-be just before marriage. Typically, such agreements involve waivers or modifications of the parties’ legal rights at divorce or at the death of one of the spouses. Premarital agreements do not have a good reputation among academics; such agreements are generally considered exploitative and criticized for frequently leaving ex-spouses impoverished (practitioners, especially those for whom preparing such agreements is part of their practice, may have different views). Contrarian views in this area—as in all areas—are a welcome catalyst for new analysis, and perhaps new prescriptions. So Elizabeth Carter’s “rethinking” of premarital agreements—both how they should be valued and what procedures should surround them—is most welcome.
Carter’s initial point is that both scholarly commentary and legal analysis of premarital agreements is based on unsupported empirical claims that premarital agreements generally involve richer would-be husbands imposing exploitative one-sided terms on poorer would-be wives. Like Carter, I do not know of any reliable data regarding how many people enter premarital agreements, what their motivations are, and how frequently one-sided terms are included in those agreements. However, the view of premarital agreements as instruments of oppression is not entirely mythical: it comes from reading the published opinions involving them (where this scenario is in fact common). But why should we assume that the reported cases accurately reflect the general practice of premarital contracting? Perhaps only the unconscionable agreements get litigated (and appealed)? Agreements that are entered in good faith and are substantively fair are unlikely to be challenged, and if challenged, they will probably not raise the sort of issues that result in reported decisions.
Taking stock of the scant empirical evidence, Carter disputes the conventional wisdom regarding premarital contracting. She notes that more and more couples have comparable sophistication and bargaining power. In any event, she observes, the value of the default rights waived under premarital agreements are frequently overstated: e.g., spousal support (alimony) is rarely granted, the value of dower or elective share is often diminished by careful estate planning, and the combination of equitable division and the state definition of marital/community property can lead to small yields.
Carter also takes issue with the rules associated with premarital agreements. For example, almost all states invalidate premarital agreements where the party seeking to enforce the agreement had not made an adequate financial disclosure prior to entering the agreement. Carter argues that this is a strange emphasis, given that assets owned prior to the marriage are (in most jurisdictions) not subject to division at divorce. It is income received during the marriage that will become part of the marital or community property subject to (equal or equitable) division at divorce. While disclosure of current income and assets may give prospective spouses a good indication of income during the marriage, Carter’s point that the current rules over-emphasize the value of disclosure still has some bite.
The article’s argument for premarital agreements is roughly the same argument offered both for limited review of separation agreements and (in commercial agreements) for enforcing liquidated damages provisions: by creating a certain, predictable outcome, senseless and expensive litigation is avoided and the parties can better plan their future. With this in mind, Carter posits that couples should be encouraged to enter premarital agreements; and that this should be done through a collaborative process, using a single lawyer. In this regard, premarital agreements would be like estate planning: collective decision-making with the assistance of a legally trained advisor (no need for the expense of two). To be clear, Carter is no disinterested observer here. As she notes (P. 354), she and her husband have taken this path themselves.
As with any piece of legal scholarship, there is room for quibbles about the article: at times it could have been more precise in distinguishing rules that require separate legal representation from rules (like those in the Uniform Premarital and Marital Agreement Act, and in some states) that require an opportunity for separate representation (time enough to consult a lawyer, and resources for doing so, provided by the other partner if necessary); and the article could be clearer on the standard set by Uniform Premarital Agreement Act and adopted by many states (under the UPAA, agreements can be challenged on the basis of either (a) a lack of voluntariness; or (b) proof that the agreement was unconscionable and that there was a failure of financial disclosure).
The more important concern would be that while there is certainly value to Carter’s collaborative approach, there are still concerns about more one-sided, exploitative agreements. Although a growing number of couples have comparable income and education levels, there remains the distinct possibility that a significant portion (even if not a majority) of premarital agreements may involve significant imbalances in sophistication and bargaining power. How can we encourage Carter’s collaborative approach to premarital contracting while still responding appropriately to more oppressive agreements? In some ways, Carter’s insightful article indirectly raises the same set of issues that other scholars have raised: that the social norms and legal rules that work well for some segments of the population may ill serve others.
Sep 15, 2016 Dara E. Purvis
Obergefell v. Hodges and the cases that preceded it present a perplexing paradox. On the one hand, opponents of marriage equality vigorously argued that marriage should be limited to opposite-sex couples in the interest of children, as traditional marital families offered the optimal setting for childrearing. On the other hand, most of the opponents’ home states placed foster children with LGBTQ foster parents and allowed LGBTQ individuals to adopt children. On the surface, these conflicting impulses might simply have resulted from the confusion of multiple actors and advocates at different levels of government. In the insightful hands of Cynthia Godsoe, however, these contradictions disrupt traditional narratives of marriage equality and legal reform, demonstrate the power of quiet intersectionalism and coalitions, and illustrate how diverse family structures can drive social change.
In Adopting the Gay Family, Godsoe delves into the disparate treatment of gay parenthood and gay marriage to show how adoption became a “stealth path” to marriage equality. As she explains, from the beginning, the push for gay adoption relied on a coalition of vulnerable groups. In the 1970s, unable to find homes for teenagers “with homosexual tendencies,” a few jurisdictions turned to gay and lesbian adoptive parents to take in children that the rest of society rejected. Similarly, in the 1980s, adoption agencies confronting the challenges of placing HIV-positive babies affirmatively sought LGBTQ adoptive and foster parents.
Although there was some backlash when conservatives learned that children were being placed with gay and lesbian adoptive parents, as Godsoe notes, opposition to these policies was relatively cabined. Marriage, by contrast, has always been the more controversial topic—not a single state allowed same-sex marriage before allowing adoption by LGBTQ people. Godsoe identifies a number of factors that contributed to opponents’ simultaneous tolerance of gay adoption alongside their resistance to the prospect of gay marriage: the hypersexualization of queer people that blinded many to nonsexual aspects of their private lives, the interest in privatizing dependency by placing as many foster children as possible in adoptive homes, and the devaluation of foster children that generally kept them—and the issue of gay adoption—out of the public eye. In a humorous (if dispiriting) note, she points out that prominent voices in the marriage debate, both scholars and government actors, were simply ignorant of the law and assumed that LGBTQ people were barred from adopting, even in states that had been placing children with gay adoptive parents for decades.
Gay adoption’s invisibility, Godsoe points out, has important implications that complicate the dominant narrative that valorizes appellate courts and legislatures as reliable agents of social change. As she explains, because family law generally operates underneath the radar of legal analysis—absent a hook into constitutional law—the quotidian assessments of the best interest of a child are perceived as low stakes, and thus do not garner much attention. This lack of attention, coupled with the high level of discretion that family law judges enjoy, is often criticized on the ground that it can lead to decisions that are deeply informed by an individual judge’s prejudices. As Godsoe argues, however, in the context of LGBTQ adoptions, these factors combined to give some judges and adoption caseworkers the flexibility to place as many children in loving homes as possible, even though many of those homes were headed by same-sex couples. By the time such families came to the attention of people fighting over marriage equality, the horse was out of the barn. The thousands of same-sex couples raising children with the explicit imprimatur of the state fundamentally undermined arguments that marriage could be limited to opposite-sex couples in the interest of child welfare. In this regard, contrary to the conventional wisdom, lower-level judges and state-level bureaucrats functioned as powerful agents of social change.
It is hard to overstate how important the fact of existing same-sex adoptions were in the debate over marriage equality. For the most part, courts faced with claims that existing marriage statutes violated state or the federal constitutions applied rational basis review. On this account, any legitimate reason for limiting marriage to opposite-sex couples, even one hypothesized by a court, would be sufficient to reject a challenge to laws limiting marriage to opposite-sex couples. Indeed, multiple states argued that mere doubts about the effect of same-sex parents on children should be enough to support restrictions. As these jurisdictions argued, absent clear evidence that LGBTQ parents did not pose harm to children in their care, it was rational for a state to prefer “traditional” marriage. In theory, this argument could easily have succeeded. In practice, however, the fact that many of these jurisdictions were affirmatively placing foster and adoptive children with LGBTQ families made the argument appear blatantly irrational. By the time the Supreme Court took up the question of same-sex marriage in Obergefell v. Hodges, the issue was no longer whether same-sex parents posed harm to children, but rather whether their exclusion from marriage posed a dignitary harm to same-sex parents and their children. In this way, the paradox of state-sanctioned same-sex adoption helped lay a foundation for legal recognition of these families through marriage.
In exploring the interaction between gay adoption and marriage equality, Godsoe highlights a number of provocative implications for family law more broadly. The invisibility in some quarters of foster and adoptive families revealed the many dangers of focusing reform efforts on privileged groups. As Godsoe explains, the idealized nuclear family imagined—and valorized—in marriage equality litigation bore little resemblance to many LGBTQ families on the ground. In this regard, diverse family structures may not only drive changes in state-level family law and policy, but may also help shape and change constitutional doctrine as well. Finally, Godsoe exposes the lip service of appeals to child welfare in these cultural debates. For all their talk about the ideal family structure in which to raise children, policymakers paid little attention to whether vulnerable children were placed in “ideal” families or in families that these jurisdictions would later denigrate as “second-best” and “harmful.”
The long-term effects of the interaction between gay adoption and the marriage equality debate are far from clear, but Godsoe paints a compelling picture of how low-level public servants quietly furthering the interests of two maligned and discarded groups contributed to significant reform. In so doing, she prompts the reader to wonder whether marriage equality is the only arena in which such coalitions can prevail.
Aug 2, 2016 Camille Gear Rich
Last year, Obergefell v. Hodges seized center stage as many family law scholars began evaluating the implications of the Supreme Court’s decision recognizing gay Americans’ constitutional right to marry. Other scholars, however, remained more interested in exploring the inverse phenomenon: the decreasing relevance of marriage and married life for many Americans. Specifically, research shows that many poor and working class Americans no longer find marriage to be a precondition for romantic relationships or parenthood. This group of Americans has formed what Huntington calls “postmarital families.” In her wonderful article, Postmarital Family Law: A Legal Structure for Nonmarital Families, Huntington explores the legal implications of this dramatic cultural shift.
Huntington begins by rendering visible the bifurcated world we currently inhabit now that marriage is no longer the institution that constitutively defines all families. One group of Americans, a relatively wealthier group, lives in marital families; the other, composed of less financially secure individuals, has formed nonmarital, or “postmarital,” family units. Yet family law, she argues, still treats all families as though they are marital families. As a consequence, “postmarital” families are forced to navigate ossified legal presumptions, ill-fitting rules, and institutional structures designed around marriage. Huntington’s discussion successfully renders visible postmarital families’ specific, unique dynamics and further reveals the way existing family law aggravates these families’ special vulnerabilities. She also shows how family law—its legal norms and institutions—must evolve to address postmarital families’ unique problems.
One of Huntington’s most compelling examples is her discussion of child custody. As she explains, the default presumption in many states is that when parties are unmarried, sole custody of a child is awarded to the mother. (P. 204.) By contrast, when couples are married, no determination of custody is made and legal presumptions vest both parents with custodial rights and other parental prerogatives. Huntington further shows that laws vesting sole, primary custody with unmarried mothers aggravate existing tensions in postmarital families. Specifically, they facilitate maternal gatekeeping, a dynamic in which mothers control nonresident fathers’ access to their children. (P. 204-05.) To exercise their custody rights, fathers in postmarital families must petition the court for relief, a remedy that is far too complex and expensive for most postmarital fathers. Further aggravating matters, the only default regulations that actually affect postmarital fathers are child support regulations. Child support regimes focus solely on financial contribution, enforcing a de facto (male) breadwinner standard derived from marriage. This breadwinner standard sets up poor unemployed or underemployed fathers for failure. (P. 207-08.) Moreover, the law’s emphasis on financial contributions from fathers, rather than ability to provide care, encourages even more resentment from mothers in postmarital families, fueling acrimony between the parties.
After describing how the current legal rules aggravate dynamics specific to postmarital families, Huntington points to research showing that children benefit when both parents are able to maintain engaged and loving relationships with them. (P. 173.) She also points to the growing cultural understanding that children require more than economic contribution from their fathers, and that paternal care has value as well. Huntington then offers a postmarital law solution: at the birth of their child both postmarital parents should be given enforceable legal and physical custody rights to the child. Equally important, they must be provided with a dispute mechanism that requires parties to cooperate and jointly work out custodial arrangements. (P. 209.)
Many of Huntington’s suggested innovations for postmarital family law are bound to trigger pause. These proposals include tying child support regimes to child custody and visitation regimes, and in this way securing postmarital fathers’ consistent access to their children. Also, questions remain about how many of her custody and child support proposals would play out on the ground in poor and working-class communities. Yet, regardless of whether one agrees with all of her suggestions or specific calls for changes in the law, Huntington charts a course that allows us to bring postmarital families’ key concerns to the fore.
Importantly, legal scholars should find value in the piece, even if they question her specific proposals, for Huntington also provides a way out of a key logjam in scholarly debates about family law norms. One camp seeks to strengthen the norm of marriage; the other camp proposes we shift to a family law model that concentrates more on strengthening and supporting parent-child relationships. (P. 172.) Huntington instead argues postmarital couples’ post-union relationships cannot be disaggregated from the effects these relationships have on their children. When a couple’s romantic connection wanes, postmarital families need an administrative or institutional mechanism that allows them to set rules and develop expectations around their mutual co-parenting roles. (P. 231.) Huntington explains that divorcing couples —putting aside the existing problems in divorce law and family law institutions—know they can depend on an established structure for working through conflicts as they shift to a co-parenting relationship. Huntington seeks to provide the same benefits to co-parents in postmarital families.
Huntington also does an outstanding job pushing family law scholars to confront their deepest anxieties about how postmarital families operate – and she shows that we can do so without pathologizing the families involved. Specifically, Huntington openly and honestly engages with the churning dynamic that seems to affect modern postmarital families. (P. 195.) Many co-parents, particularly male parents, find it hard to maintain relationships with their children because the children’s mother goes on to form a new relationship, and often a new postmarital family. When this second postmarital family is formed, the biological father of children from the first postmarital family tends to get crowded out of his children’s lives. Also when a mother takes a new partner and has another child, her new partner may not devote the same care and attention to biologically-unrelated children in the family as he does to his own. A postmarital father with children may also form a second postmarital family, thus weakening his connection to his children from his prior relationship. Alternative dispute resolution agencies could serve an important role here, helping postmarital families develop co-parenting standards that manage these kinds of disruptive family changes. It is refreshing to read a family law analysis that deals with the problems caused by parents’ shifting romantic allegiances without casting judgment on those involved.
In short, Postmarital Family Law is likely to become a key resource for family law scholars interested in charting the dynamics of family life outside of the traditional nuclear family. Huntington’s careful, respectful, and creative approach to understanding postmarital families makes the article an exemplary piece of scholarship. Her work demonstrates the rich possibilities that are available when we shift our attention away from so-called traditional families and consider new family forms without pathologizing these alternative arrangements. She further shows that we can identify the core values that must be advanced to cultivate a nurturing and supportive family unit for children. Scholars can then use these values to imagine new legal structures that are more attentive to contemporary material and social conditions.
Jun 7, 2016 Courtney Cahill
For nearly as long as same-sex couples have been pressing for marriage equality, progressive legal commentators have been engaged in a robust debate over the desirability of making marriage the main focus—indeed, a focus—of the gay rights movement. Some in this conversation view same-sex marriage as radical, an institution capable of disrupting the links between biology and gender that have long structured marital parenthood. Others view it as regressivist, an institution bound to co-opt individuals who choose to organize their lives outside of marriage and one that betrays earlier family law advocacy on behalf of nontraditional parents by valorizing the link between marriage and parentage. For many in this latter camp, same-sex marriage is a normatively repressive “straight”-jacket (pun intended).
In Marriage Equality and the New Parenthood, Douglas NeJaime aims to unsettle the second of these views, but in the process destabilizes them both. He does so by foregrounding the legal relationship between marriage and parenthood before, during, and after the nationwide push for marriage equality. Neither completely radical nor completely reactionary, marriage equality, NeJaime shows, is the product of progressive family law pluralism, which itself was the product of a vision of marriage that was in some respects traditional. Even more, NeJaime argues that marriage equality will produce—and already has produced—the pluralistic family law from which it springs, and will likely reverberate well beyond the confines of outlying groups like sexual minorities given its potential to erode the legal priority of marriage, an institution that is already in decline for many. On this masterful telling, marriage equality is at once radical margin and less-radical center.
To disrupt the binaries—like margin/center and non-marriage/marriage—on which scholars often rely when conceptualizing the family and its legal regulation, NeJaime turns to history—specifically, to national legal developments surrounding the heterosexual family in the 1960s and 1970s and to a case study of nontraditional parenting cases and advocacy in California from 1984-2005. His aim in so doing is refreshingly simple, though by no means simplistic: to show that traditional paradigms like the heterosexual family have long been deployed to facilitate more, not just less, inclusive parentage principles.
Representing in many ways the heart of NeJaime’s article, the California case study illuminates the delicate pas de deux that existed between marriage and non-marriage in that state’s family law advocacy from 1984 to 2005. Here, NeJaime expertly weaves together myriad historical sources to show that advocates—including some of the same LGBT advocates who would later spearhead marriage equality on the national stage—and courts argued for and solidified, respectively, the rights of non-biological and non-marital families by appraising their similarities to a marital ideal characterized by relational commitment and interdependence. Crucially, these legal actors used marriage—whether actual, as in the case of heterosexual couples who created family through surrogacy, or symbolic, as in the case of same-sex couples for whom legal marriage was not an option but who nonetheless created non-biological kinship through vehicles like adoption and alternative insemination—in order to generate new family forms grounded in novel legal indicia like intent, conduct, and function. Marriage, in other words, was deployed during this period as a proxy for the very principles—intent, conduct, and, function—that would ultimately displace the law’s traditional markers of kinship: biology, gender, sexual orientation, and even marriage itself.
As if creating a historical counter-narrative that persuasively challenges the progressive critique of marriage equality were not by itself a notable feat, NeJaime then uses that narrative to highlight marriage equality’s progressive dimensions and radical potential. Far from abandoning family law pluralism, NeJaime argues, marriage equality solidifies it as a constitutional norm—with potentially universal application. He shows that marriage equality jurisprudence, including United States v. Windsor and Obergefell v. Hodges, embodies the inclusive parentage principles that emerged from alternative family law advocacy decades earlier; those same principles, NeJaime suggests, will continue to alter the landscape of American family law for years to come. A direct descendant of family law pluralism, marriage equality, on NeJaime’s account, has the capacity to further instantiate intentional, functional kinship—by, for instance, decentering biology’s primacy in shoring up common law doctrines like the marital presumption—and even to erode the supremacy of marriage (and its traditional correlate, dyadic parenthood) in ways that potentially touch everyone, not just same-sex couples.
While an absorbing analysis of the dynamic synergies between presumed opposites in the marriage equality movement and the critical conversation surrounding it, Marriage Equality and the New Parenthood is also a fascinating study of the evolution of law and social movements. Far from a simple clash of binaries, law is better described as a feedback loop that changes ever so slightly with each progression. The margin changes the center even as it is absorbed by it, though on close inspection the margin was never completely isolated from the center at all. According to the particular feedback loop (and margin/center relationship) that NeJaime identifies, the expansion of heterosexual parentage (eventually) led to the recognition of LGBT family formation, which (eventually) led to marriage equality for same-sex couples, which might (eventually) lead to the further expansion of heterosexual and LGBT parenthood and even to the diminishment of marriage as the dominant relational form in American law and culture—for everyone. Put in margin/center terms, a traditional or central relationship (marriage) stimulated the expansion of a marginal one (non-marriage), which in turn facilitated the development of a central relationship (same-sex marriage) that might over time multiply marginal practices—practices that transform the very relationship that gave rise to them. And so the wheel turns.
In some ways, in fact, NeJaime’s analysis of marriage equality’s evolution and, in his words, its “transformative aspects” represents an intriguing example of the inverse of Reva Siegel’s theory of “preservation through transformation.” Where Siegel holds that, in some contexts, legal justifications transform over time in order to preserve the status quo, NeJaime shows us that sometimes, at least, legal justifications (here, family law pluralism) are preserved over time in order to transform the status quo (here, traditional marriage). His, then, is an example of “transformation through preservation.” The comparison is not perfect, but that should not prevent us from thinking about the larger implications and applications of NeJaime’s important contribution, a compelling meditation of how law is made—both within the marriage equality context and well beyond it.
May 23, 2016 Clifford Rosky
For several decades, scholars, lawyers, and judges have debated whether laws against same-sex marriage are a form of discrimination based on sex. Most recently, during the oral arguments in Obergefell v. Hodges, Chief Justice Roberts asked whether it was “necessary to get into sexual orientation to resolve this case,” given that the challenged marriage laws treated couples differently based on their sex: “I mean, if Sue loves Joe and Tom loves Joe, Sue can marry him and Tom can’t. And the difference is based upon their different sex. Why isn’t that a straightforward question of sexual discrimination?”
For a long time now, the sex discrimination argument for LGBT rights has been a darling of law professors, thoughtfully developed over the years by several of the legal academy’s leading minds. Unfortunately, it has not fared so well among judges. Although plaintiffs have been advancing this argument since the 1970s, only a handful of trial and appellate judges have endorsed it. Notwithstanding the Chief Justice’s remark at oral argument, the sex discrimination argument was not specifically addressed in Obergefell itself. After Obergefell, legal scholars are left to wonder what, if anything, will come of the hard work that so many have devoted to this subject for so many years. In her recent essay, Risky Arguments in Social-Justice Litigation, Suzanne Goldberg takes up the question of why courts have been so reluctant to adopt the sex discrimination argument in same-sex marriage cases.
This reluctance is a subject that others have touched upon before her—but never in so much detail. Rather than focusing on the sex discrimination argument’s merits, Goldberg presents the argument as a case study of what she calls “risky arguments”—claims that “ask decisionmakers to revisit and unsettle deeply rooted or widespread social norms or practices”—“to find that discrimination is present in generally accepted societal hierarchies . . . or other familiar practices.” (P. 2089.) Such arguments, she explains, “not only seek a desired outcome but also aim to shift a court’s conceptualization of the problem at issue.” (P. 2089.) By definition, these “norm-challenging” arguments present “greater risks”—bigger “upsides” and bigger “downsides.” (P. 2089.) She contrasts “risky” arguments with “discrete” arguments—claims that seek “minor tweaks,” or more “incremental” changes to the social order.
Goldberg’s primary contribution is her wide-ranging exploration of the reasons that courts may have been avoiding the sex discrimination argument—not only the “theoretical” concerns raised by previous scholars, but also what she calls the “logistical” (P. 2122), “doctrinal” (P. 2124), and “psychosocial” (P. 2129) concerns of lawyers and judges. Among this list of possibilities, two explanations stand out as the most plausible: (1) “the way that the argument challenges decisionmakers’ own naturalized sense of sex and gender,” (P. 2130) and (2) the argument’s “impact on enduring sex-based distinctions outside of gay-rights cases,” such as “dress and grooming codes” (P. 2125), “parenting and military service” (P. 2126), single-sex schools (P. 2126 n.142), and single-sex bathrooms (P. 2133 n.170). Building on a “speculation” offered by Mary Anne Case, Goldberg reminds us that “most judges are or have been married to different-sex partners.” (P. 2130.) For such judges, Goldberg opines, the sex discrimination argument “may cut too close to home.” (P. 2130.) In short, Goldberg describes a “judicial fear—albeit unexpressed” that “a categorical legal rejection of sex-based rules would also erase social distinctions between men and women,” (P. 2133) destroying the foundation of patriarchy and heterosexuality itself.
Although Goldberg’s essay was published before Obergefell was decided, it poses a question that remains unanswered—and one that is poised to have a profound impact on the trajectory of the LGBT movement. Same-sex couples now have the freedom to marry in all fifty states, but there are still twenty-eight states without LGBT-inclusive antidiscrimination laws and another twenty states without LGBT-inclusive hate crimes laws. In these states, same-sex couples can marry, but LGBT people have no specific, explicit protections from being fired from their jobs, evicted from their homes, denied public services, targeted in public schools, and assaulted or murdered—all because of who they are and whom they love. To make matters worse, North Carolina has specifically mandated discrimination based on “biological sex” in bathrooms, and similar legislation is actively being considered in other cities and states.
To remedy these wrongs, national LGBT organizations have joined Democratic legislators to announce the introduction of the Equality Act, a bill to add sexual orientation and gender identity to the protections of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and other federal antidiscrimination laws. In recent years, however, LGBT plaintiffs have recently begun winning sex discrimination claims under federal antidiscrimination laws—not only in employment discrimination cases under Title VII, but also in school cases involving bathroom access under Title IX. As a result, the LGBT movement is facing a new iteration of the risks explored in Goldberg’s essay—whether, when, and how best to advance the sex discrimination argument for LGBT rights.
