By Julie Gnany
Art by Asya Ulger
The two greatest feelings in the world are to love and to be loved.
But must that love be limited to one person?
Earlier this year, my lovely boyfriend Alok and I transitioned to a polyamorous relationship structure. Struggling with distance, I felt so much guilt that despite being full of love for him, there were important needs of mine that couldn’t be met. I grew very bitter watching the people around me experience moments of intimacy and love. I ached for the little things I once took for granted, like impromptu nose kisses and hand holding. I grew scared of the little voice in my head, wondering whether it was Alok that I missed or affection itself. I felt selfish and ungrateful for wanting more than what this beautiful, loving boy could possibly give me.
After tearing myself up with guilt, I mustered up the courage to bring these feelings up to Alok. Being the understanding person that he is, he validated my feelings and reassured me that I was in fact not a horrible person for wanting more. (Isn’t it surprising everytime a man ends up not gaslighting you, or is that just me?) I felt like I had an impossible choice to make: give up the loveliest boy I’ve ever met or resign myself to months of solitude and loneliness until I could see him again. But then it struck me: Why did I have to make this choice at all? Why were arbitrary social rules dictating the terms of my relationship? When I broached these questions and my possible interest in opening our relationship with Alok, I was met with a surprising amount of curiosity.
Being the overachievers that we are, we decided that the next logical step for exploration was assigned reading.
After turning to Alok’s polyamorous friend Aaron for recommendations, we began to tear through Dossie Easton and Janet Hardy’s The Ethical Slut: A Practical Guide to Polyamory, Open Relationships & Other Adventures.
At the core of their proposed framework is the notion that love is abundant. The entire concept of monogamy stems from the assumption that love, sex, and intimacy are finite resources; giving more to one person requires giving less to another. Interestingly, this idea is limited to romantic love — no one questions a parent’s ability to love all their children, or a person’s capacity to cherish all their friends. The authors describe this perception of romantic love as a “starvation economy,” a term which made me reflect on monogamy’s roots in capitalism. In The Origin of the Family, Private Property and State, socialist baddie Friedrich Engels traces the connection between private property and our current conceptions of the nuclear family, describing monogamy as, “the first form of the family not founded on natural, but on economic conditions, [...]: the victory of private property over primitive and natural collectivism.” Countering this limited view, polyamory refuses to see love as a scarce resource. Loving a new person does not mean sacrificing your love for another; these two things have nothing to do with each other.
As someone who likes to (justifiably) blame all her problems on some combination of capitalism, patriarchy, and white supremacy, this reading of history really resonated with me. But dismantling a system so ingrained in society is far from easy; a shift to polyamory required a full reconceptualization, not just of our relationship, but how we viewed the world. Alok shared that he struggled with reconciling the recognition of my autonomy with the patriarchal ideals reinforced by language. Possession is intrinsic to terms of endearment like “my girlfriend” or “my love” and to declarations of love like “I’m yours.” Unlearning the insidious idea that the ultimate proof of devotion is linked to total submission and ownership became imperative.
“Ethical slutdom,” as described by Easton and Hardy, is based on the values of consent, honesty with ourselves and others, the recognition of the ramifications of sexual choices, respect for others’ feelings, and owning our own feelings. Regardless of your views on monogamy, these are all important values to have. Polyamory, when done right, seeks to make everyone feel treated fairly — a somewhat radical concept in the age of hookup culture and situationships. Beyond the bare minimum of explaining our somewhat unconventional relationship structure to any new partners, we make it a point to clearly communicate our expectations for our relationships and give new partners room to process this new situation. This does not require perfection (I have made my fair share of mistakes throughout this journey), but just a conscious effort to treat people with respect.
Despite common misconceptions that polyamory is just “allowing your partner to cheat,” I view it as reshaping the agreements that you believe are key to your relationship. Rather than blindly following whatever relationship formula we’ve picked up from the media or (god forbid) our parents’ relationships, polyamory has made us critically examine what makes our relationship function. For us, it is reconnecting after experiences with other people, remaining present in each other’s lives, a weekly virtual date, and a daily FaceTime and game of Wordle (we can sleep with other people but under no circumstances Wordle with anyone else). An important thing to consider when making these agreements is that while love is not a scarce resource, time very much is. It takes a conscious effort to juggle a college workload, a healthy relationship hindered by a six-hour time difference, and the time needed to make new connections (I’m not saying to plan out your sex life on Google Calendar but I’m also not NOT saying that).
It would be disingenuous to claim that restructuring a year and a half long relationship was a smooth transition. Alok and I did our fair share of crying on the phone, venting to our best friends, inadvertently hurting each other and regretting it. Like in all relationships, monogamous or not, communication and trust were the only way to get through the transition. In this vein, resorting to polyamory is not a last ditch effort to save your relationship! Opening your relationship will only exacerbate existing flaws, particularly when it comes to miscommunication and insecurity. Trust becomes more important than ever before, and rushing into polyamory without these foundations is bound to end in regret. Polyamory requires you to be in touch and honest with your emotions — even the negative ones! Jealousy and negativity are not to be pushed away or bottled up, but worked through and communicated — a hard enough task before adding other partners into the mix!
With all these bumps in the road, you may question how the hell this transition could have been worth it. Firstly, it has allowed me to explore my bisexuality without guilt. Coming from a conservative country, I hadn’t been in a space where I felt comfortable or safe enough to express interest in women until coming to college. Polyamory meant I would no longer have to choose between familiar love and (much needed) sexual exploration. I have also really appreciated how polyamory brought Alok and I even closer — we get to be each others’ best friends! Alok is the first person I want to call to laugh about finding out the boy I was talking to has an American flag and Star Wars sheets, or that I accidentally bled on a hookup’s bed. We’ve made our Tinders together, given each other relationship advice, and cheered the other on to shoot their shot. It’s also been interesting (and at times surprising) to discover each other’s taste in men and women.
Most of all, I’ve noticed an absence of resentment or fear of being held back; we know that we’re together because we want to be rather than out of obligation. We’re secure that we actively choose each other everyday, that despite meeting and forming connections with new people, we will always find our way back to each other.