Civil partnerships are currently the only viable instrument for LGBT+ couples, but this legal tool is important for all Ukrainians.
We meet in the centre of Kyiv. Here, in the capital, Nastya serves and undergoes rehabilitation after a serious injury. Amidst the endless war—she was among the first women to head to the frontlines at the start of the ATO (Anti-Terrorist Operation)—she finally has the time and opportunity to be with her beloved.
But if, God forbid, Nastya’s injury had been more severe, or if her life had been at risk, her partner wouldn’t even be allowed into the emergency room. According to the Ukrainian law, they have no legal recognition of their relationship. Nastya says that this lack of “legitimate” status, the inability to purchase property together, raise children, and plan a future, negatively impacts many LGBT couples.
However, she doesn’t start by discussing the importance of civil partnerships for LGBT military personnel or the broader LGBT+ community. Instead, she opens with a focus on the rights of all Ukrainians: “There is a war going on. Not everyone has relatives in areas currently under Ukrainian control.”
Indeed, this is true. Civil partnership means recognising a loved one as a first-line relative, someone who can be present or make crucial decisions if something happens to you—especially when your other relatives are in temporarily occupied territories, abroad, missing, or deceased. “In biological families, situations vary, and people may not always trust their relatives,” she explains. “But with civil partnerships, individuals can choose their life partners instead.”
“A friend of mine has been in a relationship with a girl, and her partner is her only relative on Ukraine-controlled territory. But the state doesn’t recognise these relationships,” Nastya says with a resigned shrug. She adds, “The state doesn’t recognise my choice either.”
Last year, more than 25,000 citizens rallied behind a petition advocating for registered partnerships for both same-sex and opposite-sex couples, supporting bill No. 9103 “On the Institute of Registered Partnerships.” Collecting these signatures was surprisingly easy, reflecting a significant shift in public sentiment. According to a study by the Kyiv International Institute of Sociology, over 70% of Ukrainians now support equal rights for members of the LGBT community.
The President responded to last year’s petition, highlighting that “overcoming difficult challenges, Ukraine has consciously chosen to move towards European standards.” He emphasised that, according to the Constitution of Ukraine, marriage is based on the free consent of a woman and a man (Article 51) and that the Constitution cannot be amended during times of war or the state of emergency (Article 157). Nonetheless, the President urged the Cabinet of Ministers of Ukraine to consider introducing the institution of registered civil partnerships.
Progress is slow but is well underway—recently, the Ministry of Defense endorsed the bill, and the Ministry of Justice was also ready to support it.
However, it is evident that this process needs to be expedited. As we sluggishly debate the bill’s merits, its clear alignment with Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights, and potential lawsuits against Ukraine in the European Court, real people remain unprotected—especially our defenders risking their lives daily, irrespective of their sexual orientation or gender identity.
Take Arthur Snitkus, a member of the queer community who died in combat for Ukraine and was farewelled in Ternopil just a week ago. Or Nastya, sitting across from me now, smiling but with a constant awareness that the country she defends is not in a hurry to defend her. If Ukraine is truly moving in the right direction, it shouldn’t hesitate to publicly acknowledge that these measures are being considered to avoid lawsuits in the European Court of Human Rights.
“Members of the LGBT+ community are serving in the military, and more will join. They are fearful, and their morale does not align with the peak effectiveness expected of soldiers,” says Nastya.
She says returning from war is challenging for everyone. It’s hard to grasp why some went to fight while others did not. But what about a lesbian veteran? “She demobilises from the army, returns home—and realises that despite sacrificing her health for this country, she still has no rights here. She still can’t do anything. And her partner, who went through it all with her, also has no rights. She’s not considered a military family member—yet these people deserve state support, too!”
I struggle to find the right words in response. Yet, I believe that true societal progress is measured by our ability to protect and support every individual who serves their country faithfully. It’s about ensuring that every military member feels valued and secure.
“How many marriages today are simply strategies to avoid military service?” she wonders out loud. “How many people marry solely to dodge the conscription?” Her questions linger. “We enlisted to serve our country—and yet, we can’t even legally formalise our relationships with our partners…”
