I was recently talking to a friend who has become interested in the polyamorous love-style. She is a thirty-something Black lesbian has been in committed monogamous relationships her entire adult life and is now exploring what it means to be ethically non-monogamous. As we were discussing her desires and goals for her love life, she told me, “I want to find my person. We can date other people but, I am looking for my person.”
I have heard this phrasing from polyamorous and ethically non-monogamous people quite a bit over the last few years. Mainly, it has been queer Black women who, though they say they are polyamorous or ethically non-monogamous, still use the language of “my person” or “the one” to describe the individual they will inevitably end up with long-term. This has been very confusing for me as someone who believes there is no such thing as one person who is meant for us or who will meet all of our romantic and sexual needs, wants, and desires. In fact, my person is me.
But, I digress…
Especially since moving to Maryland, I have encountered many Black lesbians who purport to be polyamorous or ethically non-monogamous but they, instead, behave in “monogamish” ways. Monogamish people often seek a primary partner with whom they build a household (aka a “nesting partner”) or establish a committed connection with while also engaging with “lovers” or “side pieces.” While everyone has a right to define their ethical non-monogamy on their own terms, I have some concerns about the increasing numbers of people in polyamory spaces who show up in these ways.
Yes, this is another article about the issues of hierarchy in polyamory and how we can find our ways out of it.
First, monogamish couples often come with built in rules about how the individuals in the dynamic are “allowed” to date and relate to others. These rules might require that the primary partners only have purely physical connections outside of the dynamic while emotional relationships are reserved for the two primary partners alone. These rules might also involve something like a “couples only” privilege where the primary couple only engages in threesomes and other sexual escapades with people of their choosing. While these rules might seem beneficial or convenient for the primary couple, they can be stifling and repressive for anyone new who is introduced into the dynamic. Some people refer to these rules as “prescriptive hierarchy.” They involve overt and explicit rules that put potential partners into a ranking system.
I, myself, have been a part of this dynamic before. Years ago, I was in a relationship with a man who considered himself a “Dominant.” He was actively in the kink lifestyle and had a “submissive” who he shared a living space with. I was dating him separately from his primary partnership knowing full well that his D/s dynamic was hierarchically above our relationship. At one point, he and his primary partner approached me about joining their dynamic but only in a physical way. They had set goals for themselves that included adding a “third.”
Initially, I was flattered by the request. That’s kinda how they get you. I wouldn’t call this couple “unicorn hunters” but they were right on the edge of that phenomenon. You’ve seen them before. These are the heteronormative couples where the man hangs back and sends his girlfriend or wife out to recruit a bisexual or pansexual woman for them to “date” and “play with.” For me, I was in a moment where this dynamic wasn’t off the table but, what ended up deterring me was how they both began working to manipulate me into a sexual dynamic that objectified and diminished me. My actual feelings became irritating to them and they became hyper-focused on luring me into a physical situation.
When I ended the relationship and the potential for that dynamic, my ex became hostile toward me and quietly resentful. It was then that I realized I was never really a consideration in the first place. In many ways, the dynamic they were seeking was patriarchal and built around the pleasure of the man in the primary couple. This kind of hierarchy is simply unethical not because it doesn’t treat of everyone in the dynamic equally (it doesn’t) but because it doesn’t respect everyone’s needs and boundaries. When prescriptive hierarchy enters the polyamory dynamic, it most often leaves someone out in the cold. When you add in the fact that a man is at the heart of it with two women, it just compounds the hierarchical and exploitative nature of the connection.
Second, monogamish folks sometimes fall into “descriptive hierarchies” that limit their time, capacity, and access. Many times, they aren’t even aware this is happening. Descriptive hierarchies happen inadvertently when couples share financial responsibilities, cohabitate, raise children or pets together, or remain married while engaging in ethically non-monogamous or polyamorous dynamics. These types of connections naturally take precedence over other relationships and friendships due to their already established “entanglements.”
While these descriptive hierarchies are not a problem in and of themselves, they can sometimes overreach into other relationships if not acknowledged. For example, I have been married for 20 years. As a polyamorous person, this has meant that my living arrangements, parental responsibilities, financial commitments, and household duties sometimes take up space in ways that don’t allow me to be fully accessible to new potential partners. While I am a relationship anarchist and am of the mind that no one should available and accessible to anyone else 24 hours of the day (other than small children), I also recognize that these commitments will be dealbreakers for a lot of people who have fewer entanglements in their lives.
Where this becomes a problem is when entangled partners in nesting dynamics or who coparent use their existing connection as a justification for not fully showing up in their other relationships. This would be a problem for any person they connect with, romantic or platonic. Though descriptive hierarchies do not come with explicit rules and standards or “veto powers,” they can infringe on the flexibility and fluidity of dating if those in the dynamic do not take an honest look at their capacity and saturation. Adding more people to the dynamic often reveals how constrained these entanglements truly are.
Last, the underlying issue with monogamish living is how much folks rely on the tenets and unspoken rules of compulsory monogamy to assert control or soothe their own nervous systems. Compulsory monogamy relies on codependency and the lack of intimacy with others (even platonic intimacy) to legitimize and structure a romantic relationship. This could look like not taking other people’s cares seriously because they are not in the primary connection or demanding greater attention from their primary partner to deter them from dating or developing interests in other people.
For some people, strict, assumed rules about sex, love, and coupling reassures them without them ever having to confront their own limitations and capacities for love. Even using the language of “opening up” a relationship or a marriage reflects the nature of underlying hierarchy in these monogamously established connections. Relationships don’t have to be opened up if both partners don’t intend to engage in polyamory or ethical non-monogamy in the same ways. Perhaps one person prefers to remain monogamous while the other doesn’t. This should be an option that is discussed, rooted in transparency, and clearly clarified in their relationship agreements.
The issue isn’t about being polyamorous or ethically non-monogamous. The issue is that so many people who are newer to this love-style bring their monogamy hangover with them.
As someone who has been polyamorous my whole life (or at least since I was 15 years old) I understand how complicated all of these dynamics can be.
Early on in my marriage, though I was neither heterosexual nor monogamous, I spent about ten years pretending to be because it just felt easier to do that than to ruffle feathers or cause discomfort in anyone else’s life. While I was in a state of distress and silent suffering, I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone or defend my love-style. Monogamy felt safe even as I was denying myself the respect I deserved.
During those years, I was not being a good partner to my true primary: myself. That is the thing about ethical non-monogamy and polyamory that so many people forget: we have to be our own primary partner first. We have to advocate for ourselves and move in ways that do justice to ourselves and to others. When we privilege our relationships with others over ourselves, we build internal hierarchies that often end up producing resentments and antagonisms in all of our dynamics.
Over the years, I have posted on social media about what hierarchy in polyamory and ethical non-monogamy means to me. I know that my stances on these matters might be considered radical. But, I think it is totally possible to engage in healthy, non-toxic ethical non-monogamy while honoring ourselves and the people we love.
Books I recommend on polyamory especially for folks who are just starting out:
More Than Two, Eve Rickert and Franklin Veaux
Polysecure, Jessica Fern
Polywise, Jessica Fern and David Cooley
Love in a F*cked Up World, Dean Spade
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