In global history, there has only ever been one head of state to have a same-sex spouse. That wasn’t in the progressive Sweden, or the occasionally-progressive America, but in Iceland, which has a population around the size of Croydon.
And this is how my conversation with Jónína Leósdóttir, the only First Lady in the world to be a same-sex spouse, begins (although I am pretty surprised she knows Croydon even exists).
She is married to Iceland’s former Prime Minister Jóhanna Sigurðardóttir. They married in 2010 – just after same-sex marriage was made legal in their country – but have been together since 1985, when they both left their husbands to be together. It means their relationship spans almost 30 years.
It hasn’t been an easy ride. “We lived in a very different time,” explains Jónína . “There were no gay laws or no rights to a civil partnership or anything. It was the stone ages compared to now.”
For almost half of their relationship, they kept it a secret because they were so worried about what it could do to Jóhanna’s career as an MP. “It’s ridiculous looking back,” says Jónína. “We never lived together which made it a little bit more complicated for people to prove. I think it was bad for us because we were a little bit isolated. We didn’t belong anywhere.
“I'm sure we could have started living together before but we got stuck in our ways. It was difficult. I kept making scenes and slamming doors and saying I couldn’t wait any longer but you try and be sensible and think, after the election it will be fine, but then there’s another one in four years time.”
It was only in 2000 that they moved in together and found that there was no real reaction. The media were respectful of the couple’s decision to not do interviews, and nine years later, Jóhanna was elected as Prime Minister. She was well-liked by the country and generally thought of as responsible for leading the country away from bankruptcy and its worst financial crisis.
But, Jónína thinks that the '"non-reaction" was because of who they were: white older women. By the time they ‘came out’, she was a grandmother. “I think it helped being such a mature age with grandchildren,” she says. “I think people see white women grandmas as rather harmless so maybe it’s not so threatening.”
If she had been a man, or even younger, she thinks she might have faced a different reaction. But, on the whole, her relationship with Jóhanna was well-received. Even when the couple went on an official visit to China, where homosexuality is not encouraged, Jónína “wasn’t completely erased”.
“Everyone was completely polite,” she says. “. They must have been briefed before. They never battered an eyelid. People had predicted they’d try to ignore me and I wasn’t mentioned on TV, but I was interviewed once. I wasn’t completely erased. I’m sure they found it strange to welcome a same sex couple.”
It was only on a visit to the nearby Faroe Islands (an autonomous country within the Kingdom of Denmark) that they experienced serious prejudice when an MP refused to sit with them at a dinner. “He made a bit of a fuss about it,” she says. “He seemed to mind that I was there. He would have accepted coming in if Jóhanna hadn’t ‘flaunted’ me there.”
But the problems surrounding their relationship didn’t just stem from being in the public eye. When the two met, back in 1983, they were both married with children. “It was so underground and hard and we were afraid our children would be hurt from this,” says Jónína. “We had to go through a divorce and wondered if it would harm our children.”
Their husbands weren’t exactly pleased either, but both are now re-married. None of the women’s children were ‘harmed’ either, Jónína laughs, as she tells me the three boys are now all married and work in the aluminium, oil and media industries.
'It's not a life choice'
It is partly why Jónína has now written a book about their relationship, (which isn't available in English yet) because the family are no longer in the public eye, and she thinks it might inspire others to accept their sexuality.
“We’re trying to get the message across that it isn’t easy – it’s not a life choice, it’s just something that happens to you,” she says. “It’s not something you particularly go after and if you’d had the choice, you’d have said, no thank you. Life would have been easier but we’re grateful we stuck it out.”
The pair met in politics, where they were both working on the same committee, even though for Jónína – a journalist and writer – it was only a temporary role. Over a year, Jónína found herself falling for Jóhanna. It was the first time she had ever felt any lesbian feelings.
“It just wasn’t something I’d expected to happen to me,” she says. “It’s different when you’re that mature because you’re not an insecure teenager - you know who you are.” She called her emotions “funny feelings” and never really identified as a lesbian.
“It was never a revelation,” she says. “It’s always been about loving that person and it has not been a huge part of my identity because when you’re 30, your identity is already in place. “ In fact, when she was younger, she tells me she was utterly "terrified of lesbians" because she didn’t know any.
Scared of lesbians
When she was at university here in Essex, she once went to a bar that shared its toilets with a gay disco next door. “I didn’t try to go to the loo in case there were lesbians,” she tells me. “It was as if someone had told me to go into the men’s room with all the drunk young boys. It shows my total ignorance and stupidity.”
She thought of lesbians as “a different species” and even when she finally admitted her feelings to Jóhanna, she told her: “If you would spread your arms and say come here and try and kiss me I might run into a toilet and throw up.”
Jóhanna didn’t say anything at all. It was only a few months later that she started to reciprocate those feelings, and in 1986 she divorced her husband. Jónína won’t tell me how long it took for them to have their first kiss, but she does say that it took a long time.
The physical side of things eventually came naturally though. “You fall in love with people, especially women,” she says. “You fall in love with the person. I think about all my friends [they] fall in love with guys who are short or thin or tall. It’s not such an issue with women but maybe I’m prejudiced.”
Prejudice is something she hopes that her story will eventually change. The only way she thinks it will ever disappear is with frequency: the more leaders we see with same-sex spouses, the more it will come to be the norm.
Now she’s just waiting for the UK to join Iceland in having a lesbian leader. “Nick Clegg said the UK is ready for a gay Prime Minister,” she says, “I totally agree.” Watch this space.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/wom...irst-Lady.html