Oh, Honestly
While wandering through the theoretical wilderness over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been reading the online and offline words of those engaged in the actual practice of polyamory. As an outsider and observer of the community, I’ve noticed a few things, which I shall now share with you on the weak premise that they might actually be of interest.
To begin with: polyamory is a big tent. There are as many ways of doing it as there are people doing it. There is not much orthodoxy, and what few principles are regarded as “fundamental” are often challenged by folks who do things differently but still claim the polyamorist label. This makes it a bit difficult to arrive at any definition of that label except a personal one of my own, and I’ve found that many people have reached a similar conclusion.
That said, there seem to be three main “camps,” with, of course, significant overlap between them, various outliers, and so forth. The first, and most easily Googled, are the free love, earthy-crunchy, Gaia-worshipping neopagan types. These I will place towards the end of the spectrum I have affectionately named Flaky. (As both an ex-Jesus Jumper and an ex-New Age Pagan-Style Person, I retain a bit of residual fondness for each clan.) Here you’ll find talk of infinite love, lots of spiritual woo-woo, and more than a whiff of the 60s.
The second camp occupies the Geek portion of the spectrum: sci-fi/fantasy/comic fanboys and fangirls, gamers, SCA types, and the Ren Faire crowd. These are my people, although I have long been separated from the tribe. You will find poly folk at almost any con, tournament, or faire.
Finally, there are the Literati, heirs to the 19th-century Romantics. Their practices owe more to the “free love” of that era and its Wollstonecraftian critiques of the institution of marriage than they do to the promiscuous counterculture that popularized the same term during the last century. I haven’t found too many of these yet…just enough to convince me that there are probably more of them out there.
There is a steady current of feminism that runs throughout, best exemplified in modern times by sex-positive Grand Dames like Betty Dodson, Susie Bright, and Annie Sprinkle. Although I don’t consider myself a feminist—I’m a somewhat lapsed humanist—I can certainly see how the claiming of male sexual sovereignty and the redefinition or rejection of marriage would be attractive.
Another common element for all involved is the professed tripartite foundation of communication, integrity, and honesty. So much so that almost any post to the LJ Polyamory blog requesting advice on one complicated relationship problem or another will invariably receive multiple replies containing some version of the chant: communicate, communicate, communicate. This is obviously a required element for any relationship, but the point made by the polyamorists is that the complexities of multiple intimacies require more of it, with a greater degree of deliberate intention, if there is to be even the slightest chance of success.
Like everything else, the definition of “success” varies, but it generally seems to involve the avoidance of having relationships that turn into smoking craters. And there are a lot of smoking craters to be found surrounding the polyamorist tent, along with a complement of wounded people staggering about, some of whom are quite clearly working out (or avoiding) serious personal and interpersonal issues. However, I remain unconvinced that these craters and walking wounded are proof of the non-viability of the practice, any more than the shattered wreckage and bloodied survivors of failed monogamous relationships prove the non-viability of that practice. Again, the success or failure of any kind of relationship is entirely dependent upon the people involved.
Pea recently remarked, “You know, you’re not in a state now—and perhaps never have been—where you can handle a relationship with one person; what makes you think you can do this? Why is this your perfect solution?” Leaving aside for the moment how grateful I am that I can even have such a conversation with her (despite the fact that she thinks this is all bullshit and that I'm out of my gourd): polyamory isn’t a solution for anything. Part of what I was alluding to in "Polyamorous Perverse?" is that I believe that love, poly or mono, ought not to be a matter of completing a partial self or resolving psychological problems. Having recently gone through a frenzied attempt at love as a life raft, that's clearer to me than anything else has been in my life.
I can’t speak for my erstwhile lover, obviously. But for my part, that experience was an exercise in the unintentional avoidance of the truth. Not just about my own emotions, but about what was driving those emotions: a desperate effort to avoid going where I needed to go. Another gem from Pea: “You can’t really hit bottom when you’re in a relationship.” She’s right. You have to arrive at that place alone.
When I peruse the well-meaning advice offered online to those in need, or read entire book chapters that are devoted to the intricacies of polyamorous communication, I am aware of the difficult, frightening depths which underlie that simple word. Drawing from my own experience, it’s just not enough to say “We shall be open and honest with each other, and create a safe space for ourselves.” You can feel as though you’re being absolutely forthright, speaking and acting from a place of integrity, but if you are not explicitly aware of your self and your motivations, you’re just play-acting. That’s why my own definition of what’s essential for any relationship—mono or poly, gay or straight—begins with acute self-knowledge. Without that, I can’t communicate, I don’t have integrity, and I can’t be honest. Worse yet: without that, I might actually believe that I can do and have all those things.
Communication involves fearless expression, open negotiation, and crystalline boundaries: what do you need to know about me? What do I need to know about you? What are you comfortable telling me? What am I comfortable telling you? What are your limits? What are mine? As you can see, none of this means a thing if I don’t know my own answers and, I would argue, why those answers are what they are. If I tell someone I need to know details about their relationship with a third party, I’d damn well better know why. Is it jealousy? If so, what’s it rooted in? Fear? Fear of what? Abandonment? Being lied to? And on and on.
This is work. Real, hard-core, mind- and heart-popping work, with no guaranteed reward whatsoever. I might express a need, only to be told that it can’t be met. Then I have to decide how important that need is and, if it’s important enough, walk away from something that’s incandescently appealing. Or I might decide that it’s worth negotiating a compromise that everyone involved is happy with. Even then, what worked for awhile might not always work, and I’d have to go through the same thing all over again.
That’s difficult enough with one other person. But to maintain communication, integrity, and honesty in intimate partnerships with two or more? The mind boggles and flops on its back, gasping for air.
So why bother?
Because radical trust appeals to me. Because every idea is worth exploring. Because it’s transgressive. Because there are possibilities here to which I have never given serious, concerted thought.
But mostly because I simply must know.
