Course:ANTH213/2024/topic/Love & Intimacy (Group 2)
Introduction
In the Western culture, love tends to be associated with feelings of romantic and/or sexual attraction — this perspective fails to consider other forms of love, such as platonic and familial, or love between individuals who fall outside of societal norms. While this article focuses on North American ideals regarding love and intimacy, the authors acknowledge that there are multiple other narratives that can and do coexist.
Several topics will be explored with love and intimacy as the main context. The first is platonic love, derived from a bond an individual forms with their community, and how it defines one’s “chosen family”. Secondly, the concept of disabilities in intimacy will be used to discuss the effect of ableism on a disabled person’s experiences. The next topic is the manner in which sapphic love is/is not represented in mainstream media. Fourth is the maintenance and reproduction of queer love in media and the impact it has on the queer community’s image. Lastly, the (Western) cultural understandings of non-monogamy & polyamory will be compared and contrasted as “acceptable” or moral forms of relationships.
The range of topics chosen follow a general theme of atypical, deviant, and queer derivatives of love and intimacy. The Western lens dictates love and intimacy as a majorly cisgender, heterosexual, and patriarchal system — this article provides a more contemporary outlook on the subject.
Platonic Love and Intimacy
Queer platonic love and community building has historically deconstructed the heteronormative social hierarchy of relationships, which prioritizes monogamous romantic relationships above all other relationship types (Garrison, 2014; Proehl, 2017). Queer people focus more on multiplicity of relationships through a variety of different connections and relationships rather than having one singular partner to fulfill all their needs (Garrison, 2014; Tallbear, 2022). This leads to greater value being placed on friendships and love in non-romantic relationships, which disrupts the social expectation of romantic relationships being the most important and most valued. Multiplicity and non-conventional ways of relating opens people up to the opportunity for more fulfilling lives (Tallbear, 2022). The podcast Love in the Promiscuous Style exemplifies multiplicity within the love received from children and pets (Tallbear, 2022), and the same ideas can be applied to friendships; one romantic partner cannot be expected to fulfill your every need. Cisgender and heterosexual (cishet) people are less likely to explore atypical relationships, as they generally have less opportunity for opposite gender friendships. Oftentimes one member of the friendship will develop romantic feelings, and in cishet couples there is greater emphasis placed on consistent presence in the romantic partner’s life, and jealousy over interactions with members of the opposite sex (Tallbear, 2022).
Queer people are less prone to this jealousy and more open to “the friend’s love with entry into a profitable multitude” (Garrison, 2014, p. 67). In the sonnets of Shakespeare, repetition of certain words can be interpreted to “point the doubleness inherent in friendship,” (Garrison, 2014, p. 68), especially present within queer friendships. Analyses of these sonnets present homoerotic undertones, while Shakespeare still maintains a purely platonic relationship to the patron (Garrison, 2014). This speaks to the level of closeness typical in queer friendships that is rarely replicated in cishet friendships. Queer people tend to be much closer with each other and have fewer boundaries (Proehl, 2017). Words and actions often reserved for romantic/sexual cishet relationships are present in queer friendships without issues such as jealousy. Romance can even be inherent to queer friendships, as seen in the relationships constructed in Fannie Flagg’s film Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café and Alice Walker’s The Color Purple film. Portrayal of characters favouring friendship over their heterosexual marriages “reimagine[s] the socially constituted hierarchy of human relationships,” (Proehl, 2017, p. 23) and by extent deconstructs this hierarchy. Bonds maintained in queer friendships also subvert societal expectations by focusing on community rather than a singular spouse (Proehl, 2017). The hierarchy imposed by a heteronormative society expects a binary within love and friendships, whereas these examples of queer platonic love completely deconstruct the need for a single partner.
Community based love is not without its flaws, as racialized people are often excluded from queer spaces/events that tend to be white-centred. A study on queer Asian immigrants in the Vancouver metropolitan area demonstrates the subversiveness of racialized queer people to mainstream pride events (Kojima, 2014). One participant in this study had never walked in the pride parade despite living in Vancouver for over a decade, instead he and his other queer Asian friends threw their own small picnic celebration on a hill viewing the festivities from afar (Kojima, 2014). Queer people of colour have to create their own smaller communities of platonic love within the larger community. A similar issue is discussed in Marie Laing’s (2017) zine examining two-spirit identities and the difficulty of being queer within their cultural community. Cishet indigenous people tend to misunderstand the term two-spirit or limit it to a very rigid definition (Laing, 2017). They will often label every queer indigenous person as two-spirit, regardless of whether or not they identify with the term, as they lack understanding of the multiplicity implicit to queer identities.
Many members of the queer community use labels to congregate with others of shared life experiences, creating an idea of building community through terminology (Laing, 2017). One participant interviewed for Laing’s (2017) zine didn’t identify with the term two-spirit for a long time before realizing it was a way to connect and form relationships with other queer indigenous people. Terminology allows people to describe themselves to others, to be understood by them and form connections. Language “can change how we think, how we act, and how we see the world,” (Chaffe, 2020, p. 211), allowing the formation of small intimacies. This is especially important in queer communities where identities can be difficult to explain and understand. Having common terms allows for deeper, more intimate connection and makes understanding one another easier.
Another important form of love and connection within queer communities is the creation of queer spaces (Chaffe, 2020). Queer-centred spaces allow queer people to express themselves and open themselves up to intimate connections in a way they often cannot in other spaces due to fear for their safety. An example of this comes from the ACT UP political movement in New York during the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the 1980s and 90s (Hubbard, 2012). The queer community came together to form ACT UP and create a safe space for queer people diagnosed with HIV/AIDS where they could exist without the stigma and hatred they were experiencing from most of the country. Gregg Bordowitz, a member of the ACT UP community, shared that people would often cruise (a term used by queer men to refer to looking for hookups) and catch people’s eyes in suggestive ways at ACT UP meetings (Hubbard, 2012). This would not have been likely to occur in non-queer spaces where cishet people might become violent and threaten their safety. The ACT UP community also worked together to show support and post bail for a man who was being charged with non-disclosure of his HIV status to a sexual partner (Hoppe, 2013, p. 132), saving one of their own from ostracization in a dangerous criminal system. The community loved each other and fought for one another when 50% of Americans wanted HIV/AIDS victims quarantined (Hubbard, 2012); the sheer number of people and the multiplicity of queer relationships bettered their ability to enact change, highlighting another reason why queer community building is so important. They also fought to have healthcare and education on safer sex for those living with HIV/AIDS, effectively fighting for their right to romantic/sexual love and intimacy when the government and church were preaching abstinence as the only option. The ACT UP community was a lifeforce of motivation for those diagnosed with HIV/AIDS, Greg Ross dedicated the remaining few years of his life to helping the cause and fighting for others who would come after him (Hubbard, 2012).
Generally, queer people focus much more on community based love and intimacy as opposed to the rigid monogamous marriage/nuclear family forms of love and intimacy prioritized by cishet individuals. Community building is important to queer people as it provides safe spaces to seek out intimate connections. Unfortunately, these communities can sometimes be exclusionary for people of colour, who have to form smaller groups within the larger community in order to experience full connection. Queer people’s openness to multiplicity destabilizes the heteronormative social hierarchy of human relationships and normalizes atypical love and intimacy, making others aware of the possibility of a more fulfilled life that they can then seek out for themselves.
Disabled Love and Intimacy
The desire for intimacy transcends all barriers, including disability. In-fact, love, connection, and desire are universal, irrespective of physical or cognitive limitations (Friedman, 2019). However, that doesn’t negate the very real barriers to forming relationships while dealing with a disability. A Canadian survey showed that 27% of Canadians 15 or older experience some form of disability that impacts their daily life (Statistics Canada, 2023). This portion of the population navigates a world which is not inherently designed to accommodate their needs. It is important to emphasize the urgent need for understanding and addressing the challenges that disabled people face in fostering meaningful connections with others.
To understand why so many people struggle to form intimate relationships while disabled, It’s important to understand the historical context behind the segregation of disabled people. Individuals with disabilities have been institutionalized and neglected, completely cut off from society and resources (Friedman, 2019). In these cases, non-disabled haven’t been able to interact and socialize with disabled and neurodivergent people. This further exacerbates the stigma, isolation, and ostracization that disabled people face in their daily lives. Segregating these populations limits their opportunities to establish and sustain intimate connections with others (Friedman, 2019). Although there has been a surge in efforts to deinstitutionalize people with disabilities, a large chunk of those with psychiatric disabilities still end up being institutionalized. This approach not only keeps people with disabilities isolated but also interferes with their ability to form close relationships, especially with other non-disabled people (Friedman, 2019). People with disabilities have been treated as an ‘other’ who have an illness that requires curing. However, in many cases and with the proper support, these people can experience healthy, intimate relationships.
.jpg)
Structural ableism is defined as “a system of historical and contemporary policies, institutions, and societal norms and practices that devalue and disadvantage people who are disabled, neurodivergent, chronically ill, and/or living with mental illness and privileged people who are positioned as able-bodied and able-minded” (Lundberg & Chen, 2023, p. 1). Ableism intersects with other forms of marginalization and can drastically impact one’s control over the societal perception and connection they have with others (Lundberg & Chen, 2023). The HIV/AIDS epidemic in the US is one instance of how ableism intersects with homophobia: “discussions of disability and disease intersected at the site of the gay male body, whereby issues of frailty and undesirability were shaped by pre-existing perceptions around disability” (Hrynyk, 2021). During this time period, an entire country neglected a group of people with medical disabilities because the American society disapproved of their perceived queerness (Hubbard, 2012). During the peak of the epidemic, gay men affected by the disease were culturally considered to be failing to meet the societal expectations of love and intimacy, therefore their disability was weaponized against them (Hrynyk, 2021). To this day, it is still incredibly difficult for people with HIV/AIDS to form meaningful connections with others. The implementation of HIV disclosure laws is, at its core, the criminalization of disabled individuals seeking intimate connections with others. These laws force the disclosure of an already stigmatized medical condition, even when unnecessary. These laws are not motivated by medical facts or public health priorities – instead, they mirror the widespread narratives that depict HIV as a moral contagion (Hoppe, 2013).
The desire to “cure” a disabled person and allow them to be “normal” often comes from a caring place, as living in this world as a disabled person can be incredibly difficult. Nonetheless, there is a common theme of trying to ‘fix’ groups of people who do not neatly fit within societal norms. This issue is similar to the desire to ‘fix’ intersex kids/people (Kessler, 1990) in which neither group has complete autonomy over themselves and their bodies. Doctors often try to force an outcome while disregarding the patient's needs and wants.
Infantilization is the act of treating someone as a child or a helpless individual (Raschke, 2022). It is often done under the guise of ‘protecting’ someone. However, the infantilization of intersex individuals creates an exclusive focus on their genitals during infancy and early childhood (IHRA, 2011). This portrays them as incapable of advocating for themselves and instead frames their sex identification as medically urgent. Recognizing and rectifying the infantilization of 'unique' bodies is critical, as intersex infants identified at birth often undergo surgical interventions to normalize their anatomy in order to have ‘correct’ straight cis sex when they get older. A similar trend happens to many disabled people as well, as they are not treated as independent people with bodily autonomy (Raschke, 2022). People are often patronized, and spoken to in a condescending manner that suggests they lack understanding of sexuality or are unfamiliar with their own bodies (Stevens, 2022). People make a lot of assumptions about disabled people's abilities, including their ability to have intimate relationships: “Infantilization teaches disabled people that romantic fulfillment is a rarity for their community…The inaccurate connection between disability and naivety also means many people are unwilling to consider a romance or sex with a disabled person because it's considered taboo” (Stevens, 2022).
Because ableism is everywhere (much like other structural problems) it is not uncommon for ableism to skew people's attitudes and beliefs towards disabled folks.
For many people, the only way to counteract the negative perceptions of a disability is to ‘play’ the role (as best as possible) of an able-bodied and/or neurotypical person. As Judith Butler points out, we ‘play’ many roles in our lives, including the role of gender (Butler, 2011). In these cases, one plays a role in order to avoid ostracization and criticism from the community. It’s often easier for people who experience oppression to try and fit into the general public in order to draw less attention to themselves. This is the case for many disabled people who are trying to date and have intimate connections with others. There may be a strong desire to hide one’s disability or even avoid dating other disabled people to avoid further stigmatization. As Emily Ladau (n.d.), a disabled woman aptly put it: “I wanted a non-disabled boyfriend because I believed that would be a sign I’d made it in the world. I believed that would mean I found full acceptance, that I fit neatly into the folds of what was right in society. I believed that would mean I was worth something.” It is common for disabled individuals to internalize societal prejudice and even direct it towards others in similar situations. Disabled individuals face pressure to downplay their disabilities in order to conform to societal norms (Ladau, n.d). For many of these individuals, dating while disabled involves ignoring and subverting one’s own needs in order to ‘play’ the role of intimacy ‘correctly’.
Ultimately, society's main priority should be trying to find ways to accept the concept of differently-abled people living life in a way that suits their needs and not only on finding ways to ‘normalize’ and ‘fix’ everyone. Disabled people are deserving of intimate relationships on their own terms without the pressure to change how their bodies look and move.
Sapphic Love and Intimacy
The lesbian experience of love and intimacy is entirely unique to that of heterosexual relationships, breaking the heteronormative expectations set by hegemonic masculinity of gendered roles and how a relationship should form. There exist many assumptions and stereotypes about lesbians and sapphics, both externally and within the queer community. The most common of these are that lesbians are unable to differentiate between friends and potential partners, are incapable of initiating relationships, and that lesbians are innocent or pure.
The first stereotype does have basis in truth however; as it was found that around 73% of lesbian romantic relationships actually began as a friendship, and over time developed into a deeper, more intimate relationship. This was discovered in a study comparing three “scripts” or formats for how lesbians formed relationships, the “friendship script” was by far the most common, but despite being a common occurrence, was only preferred by 50% of lesbians interviewed. Many lesbians agreed that the blurring of lines between friendship and romance became confusing and even distressing in some cases (Rose & Zand, 2002). A significant portion of many sapphics’ social networks is composed of other sapphics, as this creates a safe and familiar community; but this can also lead to anxiety in some. Determining if someone is being friendly or flirty can be stressful, and may even result in losing a relationship, which can be significant in such a small community.
This ambiguity also lends to a homophobic and misogynist phenomenon known as lesbian invisibility or lesbian erasure. This is an occurrence where historic, and even present, sapphic relationships are brushed aside as “friendships” even when there is clear and substantial evidence or romance or even sexual attraction and activity (Morris, 2016). Not only is this clearly homophobic, as it erases the queer experience, but it is also misogynistic as it relies on the assumption that all women are heterosexual and are simply more emotional than men, as well as framing women’s sexuality and desires through the male gaze. Lesbian erasure is most often associated with historic figures; however, it is still a common occurrence in modern history and today. For example, lesbian Kathy Kozachenko was the first openly queer politician to run for office and win an election in U.S history in 1974; yet this achievement is still attributed today to Harvey Milk, an openly gay man who ran for office four years after Kathy Kzachenko (Compton, 2020).
The idea of lesbian or sapphic innocence is yet another common stereotype rooted in hegemonic masculinity; framing lesbians as sexually innocent or naive because they are women, and are assumed to not have the experience or know-how men do. It is assumed by heterosexuals, especially men, that since women are not raised to be initiators, they are incompetent when it comes to flirting or courting (Rose & Zand, 2002). Similarly, as seen in hookup culture, women in general are assumed to have little to no sexual drive or desire, and are expected to maintain their purity and innocence (Currier, 2013). The idea of female innocence is an ancient one, going back far into history with references such as the Virgin Mary and her immaculate conception of Jesus, Medusa being rendered impure by having sexual contact with Poseidon, and even the practice of wearing a white dress to signify purity during a wedding. Lesbians; however, do not ascribe to this narrative; in fact it was found that 63% of the relationships lesbians have engaged in were those of a purely sexual nature. This “sexually explicit script” is very common in the lesbian community, and involves little to no emotional intimacy, challenging the narrative of women as being hyper emotional with little to no sexual desire (Rose & Zand, 2002). A typical encounter of this type involves two women meeting at a queer space such as a gay bar, queer community group, club, or other; flirting or even simply directly asking, and then engaging in sexual activity, much like what is seen in the heterosexual hookup culture.
A common question sapphic couples receive from cishet individuals is “Who is the man in the relationship?”; while these are typically asked in a more lighthearted manner, this way of thinking stems from the inability to fit lesbian couples into a heteronormative understanding of relationships. To many, it seems strange that a relationship can exist without gender dynamics, as existing in a society structured by hegemonic masculinity, a practice that sets an imbalance power dynamic putting men over women, has instilled the idea that there must be a clear man and woman dynamic in a relationship (Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005). Many cishets attempt to superimpose the dynamics seen in relationships bound by hegemonic masculinity onto lesbian relationships; assuming that the default lesbian relationship is the iconic butch-femme pairing, with the butch performing the roles of a man and the femme the roles of a woman. This is a part of a larger issue in which butch, masculine, or androgynous lesbian women are seen as closer to men than women, and can lead to stress, gender dysphoria, and a feeling of pressure to meet certain expectations that are aligned with hegemonic masculinity’s expectations of men (Karkazis et al., 2012). However, many lesbians report having no concrete dynamic in their relationship; with the roles seen in heterosexual relationships framed by hegemonic masculinity being split up arbitrarily, or performed mutually. This extends to dating and courting as well with what is called the “romance script” by one study. The heteronormative assumption with straight courting is that the man will ask the woman out and initiate a romance with her; lesbians on the other hand operate with a sort of mutual initiation instead, though it is still common for one partner to initiate.This leads to a period of casual dating before progressing to a more serious and committed relationship; as with the friendship script, engaging in sexual activities usually acts as a marker that they are romantic partners. One of the primary benefits of this type of relationship structure to many lesbians was the clear distinction between Many cite the romance script as very exciting for both parties, as they find fun in seducing each other and building emotional intimacy. In both the sexual and romance scripts, we see that lesbians are both capable of, and enjoy, initiating relationships with other women. In fact, most lesbians across all age groups claim to initiate relationships with others, though this is most common in older groups. These older lesbians say they feel a certain pressure to pursue others due to how limited their options seem, as well as being more direct and purposeful in their courting of others (Rose & Zand, 2002).
This pressure is just one component of a larger systematic issue lesbians face being members of a marginalized and stigmatized community (Petruzzella et al., 2019). In many cases lesbians are not taken seriously by society or even their close friends. This leads to silence on important issues that are faced such as domestic abuse and sexual assault, which are both real and prevelant issues in the community that are not discussed to the extent they need to be, even within sapphic society. Many lesbians claim that one of the reasons they do not reach out is due to the perceived fragility of the community, in that lesbians face both misogyny and homophobia from the outside, and bringing up topics such as violence or assault that takes place within it can act as an open invitation to criticism from outside and can be seen as almost breaking rank (Tallis et al., 2020). This combination of misogyny and homophobia also leads to a great deal of fetishization of lesbians by men, seen commonly in media and also in the real world, as some men have a notion of being able to “flip” lesbians or take part in lesbian sexual activities. This leads to a frequent invasion of the already very limited number of safe spaces for lesbians, such as lesbian bars, by heterosexual individuals. Not only do lesbians have a unique experience of love and intimacy, but are uniquely vulnerable to targeted hate; as they are both targeted in homophobic and misogynist contexts.
Representations of Love and Intimacy
Queer love and intimacy has a long history of representation in media, from complex metaphors and analogies to stories proudly depicting queer love with great detail and effort. Media is influenced by popular culture, beliefs, values, and desires; therefore, when queerness is stigmatized and criminalized, the effect and appearance of the representation changes. A contemporary media project is Queering the Map, a “community generated counter-mapping platform for digitally archiving LGBTQ2IA+ experience in relation to physical space” (Queering the Map, 2024). When comparing the archive with queerbaiting (McDermott, 2020) considering strategic ambiguity, the archive acts as a prime example of fighting constructed norms with resilience and self-advocacy. Cross-examining traditional and new media can induce the understanding of the important consequences that come with portraying queer love in media. There have been many instances in which queer love is portrayed as an impossible step outside of the norm, but when queer love is treated with care and authenticity, the media promotes self-acceptance and cultural understanding.
Media reflects contemporary worldviews and is constantly used as a tool to push agendas and enforce social orders, which undoubtedly impacts conventions of love and intimacy. During early stages of colonization, the Canadian government discouraged interracial marriages and intimacies for the Prime Minister John A. MacDonald’s desire for a “white man’s country” (Dua, 2007, p. 446). This rhetoric was consistently pushed through popular media, including an interview with a “well-known Asiatic traveler” (Dua, 2007, p. 457) Foster Fraser. He recounted biased reports of white women marrying men of colour and practically becoming enslaved by them. In a 2011 interview with the YouTube channel Big Think, Judith Butler speaks about gender norms as “a phenomenon that is being produced all the time and reproduced all the time” (Butler, 2011) with “informal kinds of practices” to keep gender norms in place. This applies to norms surrounding love as well; media depiction is a practice that implements the standards for what is considered normal versus deviant. During the AIDS crisis, gay men were “often depicted as criminal and pathological” (McDermott, 2020, p. 846), demonizing not just gay men but queerness altogether as something that was unnatural and subsequently dangerous. There are numerous harmful stereotypes that “reinforce harmful ideas about queers” (McDermott, 2020, p. 846) and queer love. With every instance of a predatory lesbian or cheating bisexual, public and self-love towards queerness diminishes. As dominant perceptions around queer love began to subtly shift during the early 21st century, media portrayals shifted as well but queer love was very much still often a death sentence or consistently just out of reach through the use of queerbaiting. McDermott defines the term as “the media practice of deliberately hinting at, or advertising, queer representation to attract and gain the investments of LGBTQ viewers without ever following through on this promise” (2020, p. 844). Queerbaiting is a direct result of homophobia; studios and other similar institutions repeatedly market to queer individuals through their allusions to queer love, but skirt around the topic in order to avoid being perceived as “too gay” (McDermott, 2020). This results in a portrayal of queer love as a mere fantasy, something that is entirely impossible to attain. Executives capitalize off of and commoditize stories of queer love without risking social resistance, and in doing so they fail to validate or outwardly approve the experiences of marginalized communities. Therefore, it requires a certain resilience to overcome and to proudly display queer intimacies fully and authentically. This must then come from a place of experience; queer individuals must overcome social barriers so they may represent themselves and change dominant narratives.
Queering the Map is a leading example of self-advocacy through new media. The publicly-sourced archival database represents real human experiences of queer life and love unobstructed by borders or risk that accompanies being identified. The website achieves this through what Kirby et al. identifies as “intentional anonymity” (2021), which is a form of strategic ambiguity. Strategic ambiguity is defined as an “interactional strategy to maintain social status by using vague language or rhetoric,” (Currier, 2013, p. 722) and while employed in this case creates a platform that is a “construction of collective memory” (Kirby et al., 2021, p. 1046). This makes the website an entirely safe and innocuous platform dedicated to “building visibility, representation, recognition and solidarity for/in communities” (Kirby et al., 2021, p. 1055). It is a platform not focused on hookups or the forming of relationships, but instead on spreading authentic stories of queer love and resilience. All too often, queer love is portrayed as a tragic story, and although there are many stories of heartbreak and loss throughout the archive, it is the fact that they still exist that empowers. When queer individuals make their love visible by telling their own stories, they encourage resilience in others like them. Resilience is achieved through “negotiation with the external world.” (Craig et al., 2015, p. 256), and when queer love is portrayed authentically in the media, it results in queer people both “feeling stronger” and “fighting back” (Craig et al., 2015, p. 262). The representation of queer love encourages self-love within queer individuals while normalizing queer experiences for non-queer people.
Globally speaking, dominant cultures have yet to fully embrace queerness and queer love. A crucial aspect of this change is positive representation in the media. When media, fictional or not, queerbaits audiences and reduces queer love to jokes or negative portrayals, it serves to alienate queer people and misinforms all demographics. This is constantly being mended by queer people in positions that allow them to tell their own stories and portray themselves how they intend. Queer love and intimacy has always existed, and as it is more and more normalized by the media it continues to flourish.
Non-Monogamous Love and Intimacy
.jpg)
Though similar, the concepts of concurrent love and polyamory are distinct areas within non-monogamy that a relationship can fall within. Non-monogamy itself is an umbrella term referring to any relationship that does not limit itself to a strictly dyadic structure (Jankowiak & Gerth, 2012, p. 95). Concurrent love is what most would consider “infidelity” or “cheating”, in which an individual has two coexisting partners within the same timeframe. These two partners are unaware of the other and have not consented to the form of the relationship, due to the individual failing to disclose the truth to either party (Jankowiak & Gerth, 2012, p. 96). Polyamory is a subsection of non-monogamy in which all parties are explicitly aware and consenting of each others’ presence in the relationship (Fischer, 2004, p. 59). In Western culture, there is little to no separation between the ideas of concurrent love and polyamory, thus there exists a misconception that polyamory is an excuse to be sexually intimate with multiple partners (Kreutzer, 2004, p. 40).
Non-monogamous forms of love do not escape the gendered power dynamics associated with patriarchal systems. Kathryn Fischer (2004) notes her own opinion on the matter: “I don't really see how we can get outside of gender-bound sexuality if "male sexual fantasy" means that a woman can't share those fantasies, too” (p. 59). Women are still expected to uphold the responsibility of becoming a mother and catering to the desires of men. Hegemonic masculinity is defined as "the form of masculinity that is most highly valued in a society and is rooted in the social dominance of men over women and nonhegemonic men (particularly homosexual men)” (Currier, 2013, p. 706). The practice of this form of masculinity creates an environment in which the man believes himself to be of higher status than his partners (often heterosexual women), resulting in a non-monogamous relationship where the man’s intimate desires are catered to, often at the expense of his partners. Certain cultures assume that this relationship structure is the standard for all non-monogamous relationships, equating polyamory to polygamy (Kreutzer, 2004, p. 41). Approaching the issue from a feminist perspective, these misconceptions cause further implementation of sexist ideologies throughout all of North American culture. Such ideologies induce the reinforcement of male dominance and female subordination, and creates a set of societal expectations of how one should present/perform their gender, especially in a sexual context (Currier, 2013, p. 722). The issue then becomes one of autonomy, denying individuals the option to choose the type of relationship they desire, whether romantic, sexual, both, or neither.
Arguments against non-monogamous relationships are centred upon the idea that women are coerced into these forms of relationships and have no sovereignty to alter or leave the relationships (Fischer, 2004, p. 60). This stereotype is derived from the heteronormative belief that men are inherently lustful and engage only in purely sexual relationships, whereas women agree to be involved “for the benefit of men” (Kreutzer, 2004, p. 40). A double-standard exists when comparing the cultural response to sexual activity of women versus men in North America; men are praised for promiscuous sex while women are shamed for the exact same behaviour. Men who have sex often and/or have many sexual partners are deemed to be more masculine, with the non-explicit goal of “bonding with or impressing other men” (Currier, 2013, p. 720). In the converse, women who embrace promiscuity are labelled as “sluts” (Currier, 2013, p. 719) and fail to meet the criteria of emphasized femininity, which is a category of gender performativity that endorses sociability, compliance, and sexual obedience to men (Currier, 2013, p. 706). “Promiscuity” itself is generally thought to refer to “casual and careless sexual relationships (Tallbear, 2022), despite the term actually defining a sort of disregard for method and order — an indiscriminate selection of partners, in this context. Not only do sexist mindsets such as these produce unhealthy relationship dynamics, they also give off the impression that non-monogamous relationships are primarily to give one man sexual access to multiple women (Kreutzer, 2004, p. 40).
The critical distinction between concurrent love and polyamory is the level of honesty shared with one’s partners. Polyamory functions as a series of informed relationships with multiple people, and concurrent love is an individual’s conscious refusal to choose between their partners (Jankowiak & Gerth, 2012, p. 99). Albeit both forms of non-monogamy stem from feelings of affection for one’s partners, a study from the early 21st century found that people with concurrent lovers often reserve one partner for love and the other for intimacy, hoping to “combine [their] lovers together and form a perfect whole” (Jankowiak & Gerth, 2012, p. 99), which has proven to be an impossible feat. Concurrent love forces the central individual (i.e. the person with the two simultaneous relationships) to rank their partners (e.g. primary/secondary, romantic/sexual, etcetera) so that they may designate specific roles to all three people involved. Once these roles have been established, the central individual then performs a type of cognitive compartmentalization known as “bracketing”, defined as a technique used to temporarily forget the partner one is not physically with (Jankowiak & Gerth, 2012, p. 100). Strategical utilization of bracketing allows a central individual to separate the personas upheld with each respective partner, keeping the romantic love life and sexual love life distinct from one another.
North American mainstream culture places a large emphasis on lust, yet views lust and romance on opposite ends of a relationship-based spectrum, insinuating that it is impossible to attain both from a single person. Individuals who induce personal concurrent love become trapped in a “state of liminality” (Jankowiak & Gerth, 2012, p. 99), unable to pick between sex and love. As a stark contrast, in a healthy polyamorous relationship “sex and love can go together but [does not] have to” (Fischer, 2004, p. 59), requiring open communication and consent just like a healthy monogamous relationship does. It is necessary to oppose the misconception that being a polyamorist does not dictate whether or not a person is more likely to be unfaithful to their partner(s), as these stigmatizations cause polyamory to be marginalized more than it already has been.
While it is true that some cultures practice non-monogamy, the West has a plethora of media dedicated to the fetishization of Eastern (particularly Chinese, Arabian, Persian, and Indian) cultures (Alloula, 1986, p. 4). These “exotic” girls were depicted as concubines and slaves, existing only to please the “obsessive guest of the harem” (Alloula, 1986, p. 78), implementing a racist, sexist, and undoubtedly harmful image of polyamory. These forms of media impacted Western culture by shifting the societal understanding of love and intimacy into something hyper-sexual and voyeuristic, shaping non-monogamy into an erotic fantasy that one could easily look at through a screen or page while remaining apart from its reality (Alloula, 1986, p. 26). Racial anxiety over white purity forced Eastern culture to be only sexual, with no possibility of true understanding or acceptance; non-monogamy became just as fantastical as the oriental harem.
Non-monogamy is not a system that should be forced upon any relationship — and neither is monogamy. Love and intimacy need to be handled with respect for any and all people involved. The “absence of cultural scripts to provide a guide and ethical justification for forming plural love relationships” (Jankowiak & Gerth, 2012, p. 102) makes it difficult to navigate a deviant form of relation; however, “if love is a constructed emotion… it should be completely reshaped into anything a community wants it to be” (Jankowiak & Gerth, 2012, p. 102).
References
Alloula, M. (1986). The Colonial Harem. University of Minnesota Press.
Butler, J. (2011, June 06). Judith Butler: Your Behavior Creates Your Gender | Big Think [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bo7o2LYATDc&ab_channel=BigThink
Compton, J. (2020, April 2). Meet the lesbian who made political history years before Harvey Milk. NBC News. https://www.nbcnews.com/feature/nbc-out/meet-lesbian-who-made-political-history-years-harvey-milk-n1174941
Connell, R. W., & Messerschmidt, J. W. (2005). Hegemonic Masculinity: Rethinking the Concept. Gender and Society, 19(6), 829–859. https://www.jstor.org/stable/27640853
Craig, S. L., McInroy, L., McCready, L. T., & Alaggia, R. (2015). Media: A catalyst for resilience in lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and Queer Youth. Journal of LGBT Youth, 12(3), 254–275. https://doi.org/10.1080/19361653.2015.1040193
Currier, D. M. (2013). Strategic ambiguity: Protecting emphasized femininity and hegemonic masculinity in the hookup culture. Gender and Society, 27(5), 704–727.
Dua, E. (2007). Exclusion through Inclusion: Female Asian migration in the making of Canada as a white settler nation. Gender, Place & Culture: A Journal of Feminist Geography, 14(4), 445–466. https://doi.org/10.1080/09663690701439751
England, P .(2013, February 05). Understanding Hookup Culture with Paula England [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3Q2L7YQ2Hk
Eversoll, M. (2023). The Meaning of Sapphic: Unraveling the Power of Identity. Richmond Public Library. https://rvalibrary.org/shelf-respect/book-reviews/the-meaning-of-sapphic-unraveling-the-power-of-identity/#:~:text=While%20the%20words%20%E2%80%9CSapphic%E2%80%9D%20and
Fausto-Sterling, A. (2012). Sex/Gender: Biology in a Social World. Routledge.
Fischer, K. (2004). Positives of polyamory. Off Our Backs, 34(7/8), 59–60. http://www.jstor.org/stable/20838138
Friedman, C. (2019). Intimate relationships of people with disabilities. Inclusion, 7(1), 41–56. https://doi.org/10.1352/2326-6988-7.1.41
Garrison, J. S. (2014). Friendship and Queer Theory in the Renaissance. Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315883434
Government of Canada, S. C. (2023). The Daily — Canadian Survey on Disability, 2017 to 2022. Statistics Canada. https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/daily-quotidien/231201/dq231201b-eng.htm
Holley, S. R. (2017). Perspectives on contemporary lesbian relationships. Journal of Lesbian Studies, 21(1), 1–6. https://doi.org/10.1080/10894160.2016.1150733
Hoppe, T. (2014). From sickness to badness: The criminalization of HIV in Michigan. Social Science & Medicine, 101, 139–147. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.socscimed.2013.11.007
Hrynyk, N. (2021). “No Sorrow, No Pity”: Intersections of disability, HIV/AIDS, and gay male masculinity in the 1980s. Disability Studies Quarterly, 41(2). https://doi.org/10.18061/dsq.v41i2.7148
Hubbard, J. (2012). United in Anger: A History of ACT UP [Documentary].
Jankowiak, W. & Gerth, H. (2012). Can you love more than one person at the same time? A research report. Anthropologica, 54(1), 95–105. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24469619
Karkazis, K., Jordan-Young, R., Davis, G., & Camporesi, S. (2012). Out of bounds? A critique on the new policies on hyperandrogenism in elite female athletes. The American Journal of Bioethics, 12(7), 3–17.
Kessler, S. J. (1990). The medical construction of gender: Case management of intersexed infants. Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society, 16(1), 3–26. https://doi.org/10.1086/494643
Kirby, E., Watson, A., Churchill, B., Robards, B., & LaRochelle, L. (2021). Queering the map: Stories of love, loss and (be)longing within a digital cartographic archive. Media, Culture & Society, 43(6), 1043–1060. https://doi.org/10.1177/0163443720986005
Kojima, D. (2014). Migrant intimacies: Mobilities-in-difference and basue tactics in queer Asian diasporas. Anthropologica, 56(1), 33–44. https://muse.jhu.edu/article/544741/summary
Kreutzer, K. (2004). Polyamory on the left: Liberatory or predatory? Off Our Backs 34(5/8), 40–41. http://www.jstor.org/stable/20838081
Kuwonu, F. (2021, August 10). The biggest challenge is ableism, not my disability. Africa Renewal. https://www.un.org/africarenewal/magazine/august-2021/%E2%80%98-biggest-challenge-ableism-not-my-disability%E2%80%99
Ladau, E. (n.d.). Learning to Love in Any State of Being. Center for Disability Rights. https://www.cdrnys.org/blog/disability-dialogue/the-disability-dialogue-learning-to-love-in-any-state-of-being/
Laing, M. (2017). Two-Spirit: Conversations with Young Two-Spirit, Trans and Queer Indigenous People in Toronto [Zine]. Toronto, ON, Canada.
LaRochelle, L. L. (2024). Queering the map. Queering The Map. https://www.queeringthemap.com/
Lundberg, D. J., & Chen, J. A. (2024). Structural ableism in public health and healthcare: a definition and conceptual framework. The Lancet Regional Health - Americas, 30, 100650. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.lana.2023.100650
McDermott, M. (2020). The (broken) promise of queerbaiting: Happiness and futurity in politics of queer representation. International Journal of Cultural Studies, 24(5), 844–859. https://doi.org/10.1177/1367877920984170
Moothoo-Padayachie, N. (2004). Lesbian violence explored. Agenda, 18(60), 81–86. https://doi.org/10.1080/10130950.2004.9674542
Morris, B. J. (2016). The Disappearing L: Erasure of Lesbian Spaces and Culture. SUNY Press & State University of New York Press. https://archive.org/details/disappearinglera0000morr
Petruzzella, A., Feinstein, B. A., & Lavner, J. A. (2019). Sexual orientation-related stigma and relationship functioning among female same-sex couples. Journal of Lesbian Studies, 23(4), 439–450. https://doi.org/10.1080/10894160.2019.1614861
Proehl, K. (2017). Fried Green Tomatoes and The Color Purple: A case study in lesbian friendship and cultural controversy. Journal of Lesbian Studies, 22(1), 17–30. https://doi.org/10.1080/10894160.2017.1309627
Rose, S. M. (2002). Introduction: Lesbian love and relationships. Journal of Lesbian Studies, 6(1), 1–3. https://doi.org/10.1300/J155v06n01_01
Rose, S. M. & Zand, D. (2002). Lesbian dating and courtship from young adulthood to midlife. Journal of Lesbian Studies, 6(1), 85–109. https://doi.org/10.1300/J155v06n01_09
Stevens, H. S. (2022, May 20). How Infantilization Corrupts Disabled Sexuality. Giddy. https://getmegiddy.com/how-infantilization-corrupts-disabled-sexuality
Tallbear, K. (2024, February 15). Love in the Promiscuous Style [Audio Podcast]. https://kimtallbear.substack.com/p/love-in-the-promiscuous-style-026#details.
Tallis, V., Jean-Pierre, T., & Madi, T. (2020). When the personal remains personal. Intimate partner violence in lesbian relationships. Agenda, 34(2), 71–77. https://doi.org/10.1080/10130950.2019.1706988
No Author (2011, May 22). “ISGD” and the appropriation of intersex. Intersex Human Rights Australia. https://ihra.org.au/13651/isgd-and-the-appropriation-of-intersex