Farewell Post

Greetings! This is the final post in this blog. A bittersweet moment indeed. Yesterday, I gave a public defense of my dissertation, and my work was approved by my faculty committee. My project is complete! Hooray!

I know that some of my friends and colleagues were unable to attend yesterday, so I am posting the text from my speech, below. I hope you enjoy.

Thank you all for reading and following this blog. It has been an incredible journey. If you have been inspired by the possibility of  “loving many,” I ask that you do so: Love openly, honestly, and compassionately in your daily life, no matter the potential for social scorn. Polyamory as a new paradigm for human relating is–inevitable. We are on the right side of history. It will take a bit more time, yes…but all our activist efforts will come to fruition. I believe that with my whole heart.

If you have any ideas for future writing projects or collaborations with me, please contact me at trahan (dot) heather (at) gmail (dot) com

Thank you, lovely readers. Namaste.

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In David L. Wallace and Jonathan Alexander’s (2009) article “Queer Rhetorical Agency,” they indict our field, stating that the general trend is to merely give lip-service to what they call a “shallow multiculturalism.” They insist that teachers and scholars in rhetoric and composition “need to be better informed about the operation of gender, race, class, religion/spirituality, age, physical and mental/emotional ability, and sexual identity in our culture. And perhaps to be truly progressive, we must move beyond simply acknowledging our culpability in heteronormativity, sexism, racism, ableism, classism and the like in order to make unseating these systems of oppression central to our mission.” (pp. 815–816)

So, if we agree with them, if we agree that our field’s mission needs to be “the unseating of these systems,” then the question becomes: How? How do we move beyond just admitting that we, in our daily lives, have contributed to oppression in the world? What do we DO?

My own personal answer to these questions was to create the project that I will discuss today. I created a dissertation that draws light to a cultural movement that is rapidly spreading across our nation as well as globally, a cultural movement that promotes a more inclusive, compassionate paradigm for love and relationship. This is the movement of polyamory.  Polyamory: a word that means “many loves.”

In the normative paradigm in which most people currently operate, the possibilities of: enjoying ethically non-monogamous sexual partnerships or co-parenting in a group of more than two adults can appear to be outlandish, impossible dreams. Just the silly ramblings of naïve hippies. This perception happens because there is, unfortunately, a dominant narrative at play, and it is nearly ubiquitous in many cultures, especially American culture. This dominant narrative insists that there is a right, normal, proper way of being “in love” and there is a right, normal, proper way for forming a family. Monogamy. Two people, in love, together forever, till death do us part, etc. This narrative is propagated in everyday discourse within an overwhelming majority of institutions such as schools, churches, courts, and hospitals. But, something different is happening. You may have noticed the reality shows about it on tv, or perhaps you’ve noticed rumblings about it on your facebook feed, such as this recent article that went viral about a commitment ceremony between three women. It’s the polyamory movement.

In my graduate lecture last December, I discussed the many definitions and uses of the term polyamory (often referred to as “poly” for short) As a quick review, I offer this definition by ecosexualities scholar Serena Anderlini-D’Onofrio: “Polyamory is a state of being, an awareness, and/or a lifestyle that involves mutually acknowledged, simultaneous relationships of a romantic and/or sexual nature between more than two persons. . . . Polyamorous people erode the myth that being part of a closed dyad is the only authentic form of love” (2004, p. 165)

One of the major aims of my project was to simply introduce my readers to the topic of poly as it has been discussed in about a dozen academic fields, including that of sociology, psychology, communications, and women’s studies. This morning I will share with you two themes that I think offer an exciting challenge to our field in our quest to explore the mysteries of language, and how language affects imbalanced power systems and the need for social justice.

One of the major themes I found in the scholarship is the comparison of mononormativity to heteronormativity. Basically, mononormativity is the assumption that the only correct way to be is to be monogamous; heteronormativity is the assumption that the only correct way to be is to be heterosexual.

At this time, our field is well-aware of how heteronormativity is a problem. As those such as Jonathan Alexander, David Wallace, and Jacqueline Rhodes have pointed out, heteronormativity tends to constrain writers from not only finding audiences but also tends to prevent many writers from even picking up a pen in the first place! Rhetors and rhetoric are limited by social pressures to conform to what is deemed normal. Many people who engage in alternative forms of relating are closeted and do not feel they can openly write about or speak about their experiences; they do not feel they can share their unique insights with the public because they are afraid (and legitimately so!) of the punishing forces of normativity.

Another theme that has been especially prevalent in the poly scholarship and that seems ripe for future attention by those in rhetoric and composition is the discussion of the proliferation of neologisms in the poly movement. Researchers such as Meg Barker have found that poly activists and poly practitioners are creating an alternative reality, through the coining of new words, where the core values of courage, empathy, peace, and honesty are promoted. So, what is this new language like? Today I’ll give you two examples of new words from the movement.

Compersion. Compersion means the opposite of jealousy. Compersion describes the feeling of joy a person feels because their partner is enjoying love, sex, companionship, intimacy, or some other positive experience with someone else besides themself. When people ask me what compersion is, I often refer them to the word compassion, because I think it’s a near-synonym. Compersion is a compassionate approach, because it allows one’s partner to enjoy freedom. It must be noted, too, that compersion may not always be felt immediately or always by poly practitioners—but compersion is usually a goal or an intention.

Another example from the new language of polyamory: Metamour. This term means: the lover of my lover. This word does the valuable cultural work of replacing terms such as “mistress” or “slut” or “the other woman.” Metamour replaces the dominant language of affairs and infidelities. In using the respectful term metamour, the partner of a partner is not portrayed as the dark, mysterious enemy—on the contrary, this person is a valued member of a loving community.

As scholars in polyamory studies have pointed out, the new terms sprouting from the poly movement are noticeably different from the language of mononormativity, which, they argue, is a way of thinking and speaking that, because it springs from the industrial age of capitalism, there is a focus on competition for resources—“resources” meaning people and love. In mononormativity, people are seen not as autonomous, miraculous beings, but rather as pawns that should be manipulated. In the language of mononormativity, the goal is to “win” or “capture” or “steal” someone’s love; and to “cheat” on someone is to cheat the very rules of the game—a game totally steeped in economics. It is a language of dominance, fear, paranoia, deceit, and even violence. While the language of polyamory is a language based on the principle of abundance, the language of mononormativity is based on the principle of scarcity. While the language of polyamory is a language of equality,  monormativity is that of hierarchy where relationships become a strategic game, where the goal is to become the “best” or “only” or “most” in a partner’s eyes, to the exclusion of all others.

Researchers in rhetoric and composition can analyze these new words that the polyamorous are creating, asking how this rhetoric is changing the cultural paradigm for relating.

Now I’d like to discuss the glue that holds my whole project together: “relationship literacy.” Relationship literacy refers to the reflexive, critical fluency with which learners can understand, analyze, discuss, and reflect upon their own as well as others’ relationship styles, choices, practices, values, and ethics. People who have made a commitment to acquire relationship literacy understand more clearly than most how relationships, particularly romantic or intimate relationships, are constrained or supported by cultural norms. Mononormativity and heteronormativity are two of the negative results of mass quantities of people lacking relationship literacy. When people are ignorant about the possibilities for healthy relating in an intimate manner, then fear and even hatred arises.

What we know about how to form and maintain bonds with others is not simply a personal choice or a natural or unremarkable situation, but rather the bonds we make are heavily conditioned by cultural discourses that are often unseen and unremarked upon. Romantic relationships, whether polyamorous, monogamous, or whatever, are by no means “natural” states of being. As queer and literary theorists Michael Warner and Judith Butler have demonstrated, our mononormative matrix is one that did not just spontaneously erupt, but it took and takes careful maintenance and regulation. If monogamy were the natural state, no such promoting or policing would be required, because all people would simply choose this way of life—and that would be the end of story. But, based on data gathered from various fields such as psychology, we see how that’s not how it is, that’s not how the story goes. In one article, for example, the following estimates were given:  the proportion of people in consensually non-monogamous relationships in the U.S. vary from 15–28 percent of heterosexual couples, 20-28% of lesbian couples, and 50-65% of gay male couples (Weitzman). These are big numbers! So, why do so many people keep these arrangements secret? And why isn’t it common knowledge that there are so many people who engage in various forms of non-monogamy? The answer is simple: monomormativity. The idea that the only right way to do relationships is be monogamous…and to do anything else is crazy, immoral, immature, diseased, pathetic, weak-willed, etc. Under these conditions, you can see how scary it would be to come out of the closet as non-monogamous, and face a tremendous amount of potential social scorn.

But, facing social scorn is something the queer knows how to do. We could say it’s the queer’s specialty. One of the major aims of my project was to juxtapose the discourses of queer theory and polyamory studies, describing how they enrich and complicate each other.

However, one of the major AHA moments I had during this process was the realization that poly and queer are not the same thing. If a person is openly poly, it doesn’t mean that she or he would identify as queer. And, the reverse is also true: not all queers identify with the polyamory movement. Therefore, one of the concerns in my project has been to show how the terms “queer” and “poly” should not be seen as synonymous and that the practice or identity of polyamory should not necessarily be subsumed under the banner of queer. To automatically conflate these two social movements is inaccurate and misleading. Therefore, it is with a bit of caution that I suggest queer theory as being a rightful home for further research on polyamory. Even though thinking through poly with the lens of queer will be, I think, a productive and insightful strategy, it will be important to do this work in ways that critique and draw attention to the ways that being queer and being poly are distinct—though often related—ways of seeing and being in the world.

Another one of the AHA moments during composing my dissertation came when I realized that, at core, what I was doing was advocating a kind of spiritual activism. This quotation, by Analouise Keating, sums up what I realized I was doing: “Unlike “New Age” versions of spirituality, which focus almost exclusively on the  personal (so that the goals become acquiring increased wealth, a “good life,” or other solipsistic materialist items), spiritual activism begins with the personal yet moves outward, acknowledging our radical interconnectedness. This is spirituality for social change, spirituality that recognizes the many differences among us yet insists on our commonalities and uses these commonalities as catalysts for transformation. What a contrast: while identity politics requires holding onto specific categories of identity, spiritual activism demands that we let them go.” (Keating, 2002, p. 18).

I think of “spiritual activism” as promoting the philosophy that the human being is not slotted into a single or even multiple identity categories (such as gay, straight, poly, white, black, middle-class, etc etc.) straining for individual “rights”, but, rather, each human is celebrated for her ability to be compassionate to others. Each human sees the purpose of each life as contributing to and being supported by networks of compassion and care. As Judith Butler (2004) urges repeatedly in Undoing Gender, supportive communities and networks of care are not a mere luxury, rather they must be seen as a necessity for supporting life because being embodied, gendered, and sexual ultimately create conditions of extreme vulnerability—and that vulnerability can only be balanced by being able to rely on supportive others.

Thus, this project is not overinvested in identifying or defining specific categories of identity. Yes, identity is important to think about, but let’s move beyond it too. As writing studies scholar Stephanie L. Kerschbaum (2012) has stated, differences between people and the identities of people are “not a stable thing or property” that can ever really be identified anyway, not ever really “fixed in place” (p. 619). Instead of being fixed and knowable, difference is something that is always moving, always in motion—always, ultimately, unknowable! We cannot ever fully pin down others. Moreover, we cannot even ever fully pin down ourselves! If we try to answer the questions: Who am I? Who are you?, we will always receive a partial answer, at best. Yes, we can (and maybe “should”?) attempt to learn about various concrete differences, concrete identities between people in order to improve our teaching methods and in order to improve our theoretical understandings of the way that writing, communication, and social interaction works. However, even the most comprehensive of knowledge about various identities will not be able to let us “know” others fully. Identities are always, in the end, rather mysterious, ephemeral energies. But this does not mean we cannot know something about them. We can. However, while it is absolutely imperative to take identities into account—to learn more about them and remember them in our formation of both practice and theory—identities are not everything. Categories are not everything. We cannot stop there.

Thus, somewhat paradoxically perhaps, my aim is not to promote an over-attention to the category of “polyamory” as a particular mode of subjectivity in this world (although such an outcome is no doubt an inevitable, important, and invigorating consequence!). Instead of focusing on just learning about poly folk, rhetoricians and compositionists can ask bigger, better questions about what the very concept of difference means, about what oppression and silence means, and how these discourses move and interact. Thus, while I do hope that teachers, administrators and others in our profession can become more comfortable in working with poly or queer-identified students or colleagues, I simultaneously suggest that importing the insights from polyamory studies within our field will allow new kinds of queerer, more vital questions to emerge—questions that lead us down new paths regarding ideology that we simply haven’t been able to go down before. These questions attend to an insidious hierarchy that has not yet been recognized by our field—a hierarchy that systematically marginalizes those who step outside the bounds of the monogamous couple. Through queer critique, we can better see how monogamy is compulsory, deeply embedded in the values and discourses dominant in American culture, as well as in many other cultures worldwide. In sum, while it is important to study, recognize, support, and sympathize with identity categories as they exist “out in the world” (since that world is the very same which populates our colleges and universities), it is also just as important, if not more important, to use our knowledge of identities in the greater service of asking what those identities can tell us about underlying cultural assumptions about the tensions between being an individual in this world and how individuals can then interact and connect with others. Through spiritual activism, we can work towards a new paradigm that recognizes the ultimate interconnectedness of every human being on this planet. And, not just as a metaphor, but really. We are all connected. In the words of singer songwriter Conor Oberst: “You and me, you and me, that is an awful lie. It’s I and I. It’s I and I.”

To conclude my talk today, I’d like to say a bit about the course I had the great pleasure of teaching this past spring, the course “Queer Writing.” The mission of the course was to provide students with the opportunity to reveal and debunk social norms in terms of sexuality and relationships. While a course such as this is certainly asking students to be vulnerable to the painful insight that they have been complicit in discourses of hierarchy and oppression, it is also asking students to take stock of the enormous power they can harness in the words they write and speak daily. In the class, we talked about how social rebellions happen. We talked about what Community means. And we used David Wallace’s notion of alternative rhetoric, to discuss how those who are marginalized can use language in order to break free from that marginalization, often in unexpected ways.

When I look back in time, what stands out for me is the level of intense connection I had with this particular group of students. Open dialogue was central to the execution of the course. We engaged in many many honest and sometimes heart-wrenching conversations. We tried to search for answers to the questions: “What is love?” “What is compassion?” “What and who are my priorities in life, and why?” “How have my priorities been shaped by cultural norms?” “What people or situations or groups or relationships have I shunned because I was afraid of being negatively judged by others?” Having open forums to discuss these very human issues set the stage for the intense level of engagement I felt my students demonstrated.

Moments stand out in my mind. For example, on one of the final days of the semester, one of my most socially conservative students approached me, asking to borrow one of the documentaries we had watched about polyamory. She said, “I don’t want to be poly, but I think what that those three people built was so beautiful to watch. They really love each other. I’m a Christian, and Christ teaches love. So, I can’t be against them!” She went on talking with me, musing over how strange it is that people only talk about romantic love as if can only happen between two people. “Why did they lie to us,” she asked? “Everybody lied—my parents, my teachers, everybody.”  Or, around mid-semester, when one of my more boisterous male students stayed after class to confide in me that he was finding it difficult to study polyamory because, in high school, the “love of his life” had cheated on him. He just couldn’t get past that memory, he said. And polyamory, to him, seemed no better than cheating. The whole topic triggered an intense emotional reaction in him. This male student, this young man who had presented for weeks as fairly macho, broke down crying, as we talked. I told him that I too had been cheated on in the past, as well as done some cheating myself. We talked a long while about what we had in common, and what we had both experienced. We stayed in that classroom, talking, for about an hour, finally leaving only as students began filing in impatiently for another class.

A fitting way to end this talk, then, is not with my own voice but with the voice of one of my students, drawn from an end-of-the-semester evaluation. This quotation is the best case I can make for going out on a limb and teaching the risky but rewarding domain of queer theory and polyamory. And this one voice is symbolic of all the voices of all the students I’ve had over the years who have shaped me, who have given me the courage to do what I do—which is continue to write, think, learn, and advocate for a more expansive understanding of the power of love and compassion in this world.

This course has opened my eyes to the possibilities in new relationships. I learned that polyamory is a sensible option for those who feel one person is not enough to love. I am more open to the idea of change. I have a feeling that once polyamory, homosexuality, etc. go through the threshold in society, it will be accepted just like anything else—in time.

 References

Anderlini D’Onofrio, Serena. (2004). “Polyamory,” in Jo Eadie (Ed.) Sexuality: The Essential Glossary, pp. 164–165. London: Arnold.

Butler, Judith. (2004). Undoing gender. New York: Routledge.

Keating, Analouise. (2002). “Charting pathways, marking thresholds…a warning, an introduction.” In Gloria Anzaldúa & AnaLouise Keating (Eds.), This bridge we called home: Radical visions for transformation (pp. 6–20). New York: Routledge.

Kerschbaum, Stephanie L. (2012). Avoiding the difference fixation: Identity categories, markers of difference, and the teaching of writing. College Composition and Communication, 63(4), 616–644.

Wallace, David L., & Alexander, Jonathan. (2009). Queer rhetorical agency: Questioning narratives of heteronormativity. JAC, 29(4), 793–820.

Weitzman, Geri. (2006). Therapy with clients who are bisexual and polyamorous. Journal of Bisexuality, 6(1/2), pp. 137–164.

My project’s purpose: A Bridge

When I try to summarize my project in my own mind, the image of a bridge arises. I think of this dissertation, Relationship Literacy and Polyamory: A Queer Approach, as being a bridge, a transition to a new place. The following quote by feminist writer Gloria Anzaldua perfectly captures the mood, the general sense of how I have come to see my project:

 “Bridges are thresholds to other realities, archetypal, primal symbols of shifting consciousness. They are passageways, conduits, and connectors that connote transitioning, crossing borders, and changing perspectives.” –Gloria E. Anzaldúa

 

So…imagine a bridge, if you will. A structure of steel over a body of water. Scholars and teachers in the field of Rhetoric and Composition (a subfield within English) stand on one side. They have a long history of knowledge about how language works, about how “writing is a process,” about how humans use rhetoric to get things done in the world, for good or for ill. In their arms they hold many books. These books contain all the knowledge they have produced. These books contain voices that talk together about queer theory, talk about lesbian/gay/bisexual/transgender rights, discuss the interplay between sexuality, identity, and feminism. In the arms of these curious teachers and scholars there are core books, which represent the assumptions of the field. These books about literacy date back over three decades. They describe in these books the belief that literacy is not just a subject to teach because it helps students “get ahead,” but that literacy is, more importantly, a social justice issue that has radical implications for the quality of so many daily lives. Literacy is a gift that every human being should have access to. Literacy helps us move with more wisdom and grace in the world. It allows us to connect to others, in deeper and more rich ways.

On the other side of this bridge is a stack of books about something fairly new. Many of these books have been recently published (the ink is barely dry!), and many more are being published daily, as they strive to keep up with fast-moving current events. These books showcase the voices of scholars and teachers across disciplines such as women’s studies, sociology, law, theology, and psychology. These are texts that describe the cultural polyamory movement. These are texts that offer a new way to think about how the language of mononormativity (the assumption that monogamy is the only ethical or moral choice for sexuality and intimacy) is ubiquitous in many cultures, such as our own. This body of transdisciplinary knowledge, on the other side of this bridge, brings to light how the language of polyamory is creating new ways to enact relationships, promoting as well as simultaneously creating a world that is more full of compassion, peace, and abundance.

My project is a connection between these two lands, between these two collections of voices. It’s a bridge. It pulls these two lands together, two lands already very close in proximity.

What it does, in a nutshell, is broach the transdisciplinary topic of polyamory in the field of rhetoric and composition.

 

Hearts on Fire: Together in Ecosexual Love

One of the major poly activists of our time, Professor Serena Anderlini D’Onofrio, is co-creating a documentary about ecosexuality and polyamory. The documentary, titled “Hearts on Fire,” is still in the planning phase…and, she needs the public’s input! Please spread the word about this project, because there are many ways to offer advice and/or help out. Also, she is looking for participants for a beautiful beach wedding scene. Please contact Serena at serena.anderlini@gmail.com

Here is a note from Serena:

“Hi! I’m introducing a film project. We are organizing an ecosexual beach wedding…We’d like to envision this as a way to expand the conversation of marriage equality beyond the human couple and across biological realms. I feel this is related to all who practice love outside of the box. How about you? Please share your thoughts and ask your questions here. I’ll be very grateful. Thank you!”

 

Draft of Thanks!

Today I decided to take a brief detour from working on Chapter five, and I got together a draft of my acknowledgements page. Here it is! Maybe you will see your name here and feel warm fuzzies.

***

Acknowledgements

 

While I do understand that this project has the obvious goal of allowing me to complete my Ph.D., I have worked with the simultaneous—and no less important goal—of having this work be an art and an act of activism. My intent has been the revision of culture on a mass scale. For far too long, this planet has been embroiled in fearful ways of living and relating. People struggle, suffer, and feel they have no meaningful options for how they want to relate or interact. Compulsory monogamy acts on a brake for what could be such enriching connections for so many people across the globe. Polyamory, I believe, provides a rough blueprint for moving forward, up and out of the muck. Love is abundant! Love is not a scarce resource! There are so many wonderful ways to give and receive love! Thus, I have tried my best to make this work accessible to a broad audience and I have always been eager to dialogue, collaborate, solicit feedback, and share chapters with those who are interested, no matter their rank, title, or their affiliation. The polyamory movement truly has no borders, and it is a subtle yet powerful vibrational change that is happening across diverse systems. I believe I will live to see the day when relationships will be free to be more fluid and poly/queer people will no longer be hiding, trembling, in closets. The world will at last see what love is.

Many brain and heart collaborations went into the making of this project. I’m happy to take this moment to thank as many as I can. First and foremost, I’d like to thank all those brave poly and queer people for coming out of the closet and showing your beautiful selves to the world! You have put so much on the line. It is so difficult to stand in the spotlight and be a potential target for cynicism, ignorance, and hate. I know I have felt all those negative emotions being flung at me, and it certainly hasn’t been easy. Thank you for making yourself visible!

Thank you to my dear sweet poly family. A million billion thank you’s to my lifepartner Andrew, to my new partner Robert, to my metamour Chelsea Cordelia, and to my metamour’s lifepartner Ben. You all know me the best at this time in my life. Every day, I learn what “love” is just a little bit more. I look forward to our next adventure together, as we travel west.

A huge thank you goes to my intentional family: Lyn, Julian, Linda, Jen, Sandy, and everyone else involved with the spiritual learning and empowerment that happens at Great Lakes Energy Exchange (GLEE). A big motivation for coming out of the closet was your warm, knowing love. You all understand the powerful, healing force of sexuality and other alternative energetic modalities. All this has given me the foundation to proceed into the future, even if that future seems uncertain. I also thank the land that hosts GLEE itself. We were all, no doubt, drawn to this land by some mystical power that none of us can quite intellectually grasp. So, thank you to the people and to the land, who’ve supported the emotional and energetic sustenance I have come to not only desire but need. I hope to carry on the legacy and the learning that I have gained wherever the next journey of my life takes me.

Thank you to my committee members: Kristine L. Blair, Sue Carter Wood, Lee Nickoson, and Kenneth W. Borland. You all provided me with inspirational, gentle, productive feedback throughout this process. It has been such a joy to work with you all!

Thank you to my bio-family members, my brother Aaron and my cousin Ian, who supported me during my coming out phrase. You are wonderful human beings, and I feel lucky we are related by blood. Such a strong connection! I am very proud of you both.

Thanks to Dossie Easton, Janet Hardy, and Deborah Anapol for being pioneers, for courageously paving the way for others to live, write, and speak as proud polyamorous.

Thanks to the following spiritual heroes that I’ve never met in person but who have touched my life in the deepest of ways. Your words, spoken and written, have shaped a place in my heart that is more joyful, more magical, more compassionate, more curious, and definitely a whole lot wiser. Indeed, bell hooks, Parker Palmer, Eckhart Tolle, Alan Moore, Marshall Rosenburg, Paul Lowe, and His Holiness the 14^th Dalai Lama are not only changing me, but transforming the whole wide awesome hopeful world.

Also, thank you to Andrea Riley Mukavetz for pointing me toward some great sources early on in the process. Thanks to Jonathan Alexander for providing me with feedback on a draft of this project. Thanks to Serena Anderlini D’Onofrio and Daniel Cardoso for awesome, serendipitous Skype conversations: both of your work on poly continues to awe, engage, and challenge me. Thanks to queer scholars Sara Ahmed and Michael Warner. Thank you to dear rhetoric & writing friends Estee Beck and Megan Adams—you both have made travelling through this doctoral program such a joy. And, thank you to my dear friend Liane Ortis for so many wonderful conversations about love and spirituality—and good luck on your dissertation about polyamory! I can’t wait to see it published!

Finally, a thank you to the mind-bogglingly massive network of like-minded people who are working in academe as well as outside of it, working to make Planet Earth a truly peaceful, loving place. You are the ones who understand that words like peace and love are not just words and not just an idealistic dream—but that these words have concrete power and that these words are being embodied, more and more, as we move through the passage of “time.” Though I do not know your name and though we may never shake hands or embrace, I love you.

Honest Monogamy

Something I’ve been thinking a lot about lately, as I work on the final chapter of dissertation, is the difference between compulsory monogamy and what I like to call honest monogamy. Compulsory monogamy is when two people get together and just simply go through the expected motions: they fall in love, they stop dating others, they (often) get married. Whole entire lives go by where the two people do not openly and honestly have conversations where alternatives are weighed. Too often, this is where cheating comes in. People don’t know they might or can have conversations where they express needs and desires not automatically fulfilled by traditional dyadic monogamy, so, due to shame/fear, they keep those desires under-wraps but go out and fulfill those desires anyway (because, let’s face it–those desires are quite powerful!), though an affair.

What I think polyamory activists are trying to do is make clear that monogamy can be a healthy and valuable practice/approach to life, for some. But what poly activists don’t often make explicit is the idea that monogamy is indeed healthy and valuable–but is is MOST so when those parties involved at the very least feel comfortable to, now and again, discuss the state of their relationship, asking each other if their romantic and sexual needs are being met. If the answer is no, both parties must ask, “What can I do to assist my partner in living a happy life?” Certainly, we can all agree that love is at its best when it is giving and unselfish.

Honest monogamy is a critical practice. It is not fearing asking the tough questions about society, about traditions. Through honest monogamy, partners can interrogate norms, and then choose to either live by those norms, or choose to eschew them, choosing instead a creative, unique path that may involve some aspects of traditional monogamy. For example, some couples might feel comfortable with sharing cuddles or kissing with other people outside of their pair bond, while other couples might feel that sharing emotionally-intimate conversations is okay. Some folks draw the line in certain places where other folks draw the line in other places. It doesn’t ultimately matter where the lines are drawn–what matters is the open, honest communication that comes prior to the drawing of those lines, as well as the communication that happens as those lines and boundaries might need to be renegotiated, as times passes and circumstances change.

I think that what honest monogamy and polyamory have in common is that folks are honest about their emotions, and secrets are not kept. These two ways of being are a far cry from compulsory monogamy, where it is just taken as a norm that relationships are static (“till death do us part no matter what happens forever and ever amen”) and that each partner owns the other person’s love and sexuality–thus, conversation about alternatives is not even an option because that state of owning does not admit that love and desire can bloom elsewhere, or in addition to.

…I am beginning to suspect, through my widening circle of friendships and networks, that honest monogamists are more plentiful than many might think.

Chapter 5….and life

I’ve begun to write chapter five, the final chapter of this dissertation. And, I find myself feeling melancholy. Some life challenges have presented themselves, and I haven’t had the energy to work lately as hard as I usually do. I find, though, that, from a practical standpoint, polyamory has changed my life in more ways than I can count. For example, when I am sick (I deal with a handful of chronic illnesses), one of my poly partners are there to take me to the doctor or there to go grocery shopping for me. It’s a comfort. And when I’m feeling well, I repay them as best I can. My poly partners and I share food, lend each other money when we can, pitch in with doing the dishes at each other’s houses, and …in so many other ways, we are there for each other when life is stressful.

I find myself nearing the end of this dissertation process, and I find myself wondering: What’s next? What has this project taught me? How am I a different person than when I began this project? How have various parters (current, or lost) informed or changed or enabled my life to be what it is now?

Reflection is certainly the Mode as of late.

Categories & Binaries?

My vision of the queer–poly blend goes beyond just promoting, celebrating, or exposing additional identities or additional categories. Though this is a noble goal, eventually we may find that we are exhausted at adding one more letter in long acronyms such as LGBTQIA (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, intersex, asexual) and we may begin to find the root cause for the need to create such extensive labeling systems in the first place.

Why is it important for the exposition of modes of living and loving which run counter to dominant systems of thought? If we can begin to dig into that question, then we, as a human race, will be closer to what feminist rhetoric is after. We will begin to “become increasingly aware of the identities we privilege to the exclusion of others” (K. J. Rawson, 2010, p. 46)—and, in that rising cognitive awareness, we will become to understand how language is either in service of violence/oppression/privilege/exclusion or in the service of peace/freedom/equality/diversity. Though this may, at first, raise the cautionary red flags of those who mistrust binary systems, I offer the insight that, in some contexts, viewing the world through a binary lens might, sometimes, have productive ends. There are times for viewing things in a more fluid or unitary way. And then there are other times when a binary system allows for more clear-cut thinking. In a sense, a binary framework can allow us to ask the sometimes important question of: Are you on this side or that side? It allows us to, for a moment at least, figure out which direction we want to move in. This way or that way? That way or this? It gives us the much-needed (temporary) energy to get our bearings and move forward. Sometimes, a binary can help us cut through the myriad directions and hone in on a (temporarily) single path. 

Polyamory at the Hospital

The following true story is not tied to my dissertation project—well, at least not directly. But, I was craving sharing this story…and so this venue, about polyamory, seemed the perfect place to do it in.

A few nights ago, I looked down at my knee, and noticed the classic bulls-eye formation—an indication of a potential tick bite. I had just spent the evening in a dense woods, playing around looking for wild strawberries with my metamour, Cordelia. I had forgotten to use bugspray.

As I have come to understand the horrors of Lyme disease through dating a woman (my first ever poly-girlfriend, actually) who had Lyme acquired from getting a tick bite, I got a little worried. I asked my partner Andrew and also Cordelia to look carefully at my knee. Their faces rumpled into concerned frowns, as they put their faces right up to my knee. After a few minutes of contemplation, they insisted I go to the emergency room.

As we drove by the light of the full moon (no, I’m not using this description to make my story more dramatic—there really was a full moon that night), my heart began to pound. It wasn’t pounding from the fear that perhaps I’d just contracted some awful disease…but actually the pounding was due to suddenly thinking about how I wanted both Andrew and Cordelia (who might be in the process of becoming my girlfriend—but we’re not sure on that count yet) in the hospital room with me. I wanted both of them for support. I wanted them both.

As we checked in, the three of us took a seat in the waiting room. We cuddled, and they cooed reassuring words in my ear, each lover on each side of me. I felt so warm, so safe, despite the negative vibes of the sterile hospital around me. I looked into my metamour’s eyes and I said, “I want you with me. When they call my name, please come back with us.” She nodded. Then she unhooked the beautiful bejeweled necklace from her around her neck, and hooked it around mine, saying “This is to keep you safe,” kissing me on the forehead.

When the nurse called my name, the three of us marched through the double doors. I was holding my breath, and my heart, by this time, was pounding at a crazy speed. And my palms were sweating. I was just waiting for the nurse to say, “Not so fast…only immediate family is allowed back.”

But it never happened. Nobody said anything. Perhaps it was because the hospital that night, around midnight, was completely empty of emergencies (nobody else was in the waiting room), or perhaps the Wood County hospital is just that progressive (I’m not sure), but nobody questioned my having two people in the room with me as the doctor inspected my knee and pronounced that, thank goodness, my mark was not from a tick bite.

 What I’m left with, after this experience, is the reflection upon just how nervous I got at the prospect of having to explain my polyamory to medical personnel. Why did I freak out so much about it? Why did I get so anxious? Why did I my heart beat so fast, why did my palms sweat? Why do I still fear judgment about my philosophy and practice of loving and living—even from strangers or people I will probably never see again and who probably won’t have much (or any) impact on my life? It’s very odd.

These questions are for me to answer. However, I suddenly have a bit more sympathy with the stress that LBGTQ folks talk about when they talk about dealing with medical institutions, hospitals in particular. It’s oddly strange when your mode/method of loving does not match up neatly to “normal” protocol. It’s oddly strange when your whole mode of being is denied or silenced by realms of tradition. It’s odd.

Relationship Literacy: A way of seeing

Here is a draft of a section of the fourth chapter of my dissertation. Any ideas or suggestions for parts to expand upon? Is there anything else I should say here? Your input is very valuable to me!

Relationship literacy refers to the reflexive, critical fluency with which people can understand, analyze, discuss, and reflect upon their own as well as others’ relationship styles, choices, practices, values, and ethics. Mononormativity—the misguided assumption that all people aim to be or should be monogamous is one of the negative results of a lack of knowledge about the possibilities for relating to others in a sexual, loving, and/or intimate manner. At base, relationship literacy supports a culture of care, where a diversity of approaches to intimacy and relationships are increasingly understood and supported, rather than immediately rejected on the basis of tradition, religious doctrine, or outdated the psychological model of deviance/pathology. Ways of relating must be allowed to be flexible and in service of the individual people involved. No one model will work for all.

Relationship literacy is a way of asking: What are our connections to each other? How do we forge bonds? What options are culturally condoned? What options for connection are taboo, illegal, or dismissed as unethical? As Alexander writes in Literacy, Sexuality, Pedagogy (2008), “Far from being a purely ‘personal’ or ‘natural’ phenomenon, what we know about sex/uality comes to us through a variety of discourses surrounding us and in which we frequently participate” (p. 61). Extending this notion to relationships, what we know about how to form and maintain bonds with others is not personal or natural or unremarkable, but rather heavily conditioned by cultural discourses, institutions, and values that are often unseen and unremarked upon. Romantic relationships—and its normative mode of dyadic monogamy—are by no means a natural state of being. As queer theorists such as Warner and Butler have pointed out, our monogamous-centric ideology of sexuality is one that does not just spontaneously erupt, but it takes careful maintenance and regulation. If monogamy were the natural state, no such policing would be required, because people would simply choose this way of life and no deviation or no temptation to deviate would occur.

Relationship Literacy—a practice, skill, and pedagogical focus—is a way of seeing that takes into account the agency inherent in human need and desire. Love will find a way. While it may be difficult, there are those who put their job, social status, relationship with their families of origin, and even sometimes risk tangles with the law, in order to forge alternative loving systems of care.

Also important is the notion that relationship literacy moves beyond mere content to be acquired and discussed by students, teachers, learners. A literacy of relationships means opening up a new way of seeing the world and being in the world, even if that seeing and being is still (for the learner) one of dyadic monogamy. In other words, one need not be “changed” to polyamory or some other queer or non-monogamous identity as a result of coming into contact with relationship literacy. The goal is not a missionary effort. Instead, coming to a more complex and nuanced understanding of what is possible for the human animal to achieve (or not achieve) aids discursive understanding of what rhetoric and writing is all about. Persuasion, communication, and listening take on new meaning, as relationship literacy helps to peel back the layers of silence around alternative options for living. There is more room to breathe. There is an added spark, suddenly.

Polyamory is not the only orientation that can be revealed through an attention to relationship literacy, however. As a way of seeing, a range of queer practices, queer communities, and queer relationships can be either revealed or further highlighted, as learners become more savvy in decoding the myriad cultural messages received from the sex-negative dominant culture—a culture that reviles ways of loving that threaten the status quo of late capitalism. Simply put, loving more than one, or loving a gender or body type or race or ethnicity (etc.) that is taboo puts in jeopardy the blinders that mass culture tries to enforce. When one begins to step out of the box and begins to queer love and relationships, one becomes more flexible to stretch other sorts of wings. The fear of public censure begins to fade a bit, and individuals begin to wonder: What else don’t I know? What else have I been told not to do? What else have I been told is wrong, evil, corrupt, unnatural? In sum, the possibilities for a social quest and social rebellion expand. Once a relational border has been crossed, other borders become more easily seen and crossing does not illicit quite as deep fears. For some, even, further questionings and crossings become a calling.

Jealousy-Inducing Beliefs

Here is a great excerpt from the article I’m reading today. Authors McCullough and Hall discuss how jealousy is not inevitable, natural, or something that cannot be eventually overcome or understood.

They write:

“Our culture seems addicted to three core beliefs about relationships that are almost guaranteed to create jealousy in even the most well adjusted people. Identifying and dismantling these beliefs is the most effective way of dealing with jealousy.

Core Belief #1: If my partner really loved me, there would not be any desire for an intimate or sexual relationship with anyone else.

This is based on the scarcity model of love, in which a person’s emotional or love interest in somebody else means that I will be loved less. It is as absurd as the idea that to have a second child is an indication that you don’t love your first child enough. It also presumes that sex and love are the same thing and meet the same needs.

Core Belief #2: If I were a good partner/spouse/lover, my partner would be so satisfied that they wouldn’t want to get involved with anybody else.

This belief is even more insidious. With the first belief you can at least blame the problem on your partner. This belief makes it your fault for not being the perfect lover. This is also the basis of the widespread romantic myth of the ‘one and only person on the planet.’ This is also guaranteed to cause serious self-esteem problems, which is fertile ground for jealousy.

Core Belief #3: It is not possible to love more than one person at a time.

This again is based on the scarcity theory of love, that I only have a finite amount to give.”

 

In the rest of the piece, the authors outline new core beliefs that can replace those old, outmoded (and stressful) core beliefs.

I really found this article particularly helpful for myself on a personal level today, as I’m dealing with what, I think, every poly person and every single human being in general goes through from time to time–which is self-esteem issues. I am battling feelings of worthlessness, sadness, fear, anxiety. I feel overwhelmed by an intense, almost insatiable desire for a partner that I have who lives at a long-distance from me, and am overcome by grief at missing him. When we are not near each other or not communicating, I somehow feel like I am less. Like I am worth less. Reading this article today helped me to remember that much of these negative feelings I have are a result of flawed cultural programming. Although I wouldn’t characterize my feelings as jealous ones, I do think that my current emotional issues are a result of a general scarcity mindset. I need to remember that each moment, no matter who I am with or not physically with or near, is beautiful and perfect just as it is. I need to remember to love all those I come into contact with. I need to remember that constant craving and desire and attachment is, ultimately, going to result in suffering.