
CNM – Consensual Non Monogamy : a term rising in popularity since the more popular ENM (ethical non-monogamy) is a subjective judgement and also implies that non-monogamy is “inherently” unethical, reinforcing the idea that monogamy is the ethical norm
When I was approached to do a piece about monogamous privilege, at first I Spock-eyebrowed pretty hard. I associate the word privilege strongly with identity markers that people can’t control and are usually born with—things like race, nationality, gender, cissism, sexuality. These are the axes around which you find privilege and marginalization. Right? Monogamy or non-monogamy seemed to me to be treating the word “privilege” with a certain plasticity that tends to dull the meaning of ideas. (I remember hitting this concept like a brick wall when a friend who experienced PTSD triggers from reading visceral accounts of child abuse was table-flippingly furious that the word “trigger” had come to be used as synonymous with “irritated” in certain chic circles. “I’m used to insensitive jack holes blowing it off,” she said. “But when I’m talking to the people who actually have human empathy and care, if it has no meaning anymore, then those people—who would otherwise be my allies—don’t understand that I’m actually having a panic attack on the other side of the computer screen and not just clutching my pearls or sniffing disdainfully.”
Would examining the privilege of monogamy open the door to further “diluting” of the idea of privilege? Would non-mainstream hobbies or fandoms begin to talk about their “marginalization”? Would every group that feels “us vs. them” begin to discuss the privilege of their detractors? Oh GOD, would I have to hear even more whining from white Christian males about how hard it is to be them. (“You happen to have ‘marginalization privilege,’ my friend.” WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUU–)
But this isn’t a question of who is scrambling to have a seat at the “privilege/no privilege” table, it’s more of understanding the way the world “defaults” and the assumptions that we make about what “normal” even means. I was just starting to understand white and male privilege when the concepts of thin and tall privilege were introduced. It was a lot then, but now I understand how they work. They’re not comparable to white or male privilege (certainly not in a white-supremacy world), but they do exist—they are statistically demonstrable and factually undeniable.
Still, even years later, when the idea of this piece came up, non-monogamy occupied a murky quagmire in my mind. It lived in a world somewhere between identity and lifestyle. While many people who are non-monogamous identify it as an orientation rather than a preference or a choice—often using much of the same language as queer folks trying to pass about forcing their lives into unhappy containers and feeling alive when they discover there could be another way—it is usually seen as a decision. I have lived in a V triad and raised a child with the biological parents. I have lived as a dyad who did a lot of dating. Currently, I live in a non-hierarchical relationship and practice solo-polyamory. I have multiple long-distance relationships. But I don’t usually feel oppressed. Isn’t that what privilege is all about?
Then again, what if it were a choice? What if it were 100% absolutely a choice, and not one single person ever had a biological predisposition to non-monogamy (despite all the evidence to the contrary)? What if monogamy were as simple a decision as wearing green instead of purple? The idea of privilege is that the cultural norms and systematic institutions favor certain groups over others. If we have a useful vocabulary, framework, and understanding of a concept, why not use these tools to examine things that are perhaps less determined by the circumstances of our birth? It might even help to demystify the concept of privilege. If the world demonstrably treated people in green clothes better, why not examine how life is different for someone who simply loves dressing in purple? And if we carry this analogy further, are there not “choices” as innocuous as clothing (especially women’s clothing) that are influenced by social norms or even enforced by legal codes?
Some choices we make are not as “choicy” as others.
As long as (and this is absolutely key) poly vs. monogamy isn’t clamoring for a medal in the oppression olympics, and it isn’t trying to make sure it has a letter in the LGBTQ+ rainbow, or for FUUUUUUCKS SAKE its members doing something absolutely odious like saying “Hey Woman of Color, I know I’m a cis het white male, but I’m also a solo poly relationship anarchist, so I really GET oppression,” we should be able to unpack the knapsack of monogamous privilege—at the very least as a thought exercise—without unspooling the very concept of privilege.
But then I thought about it—specifically, I thought about the things I do and have done to pass when I’m out with partners past and present and my family, how my ex and I didn’t display affection very often, and I look like a younger brother or a friend out with a married couple. How one of my past partners behaved absolutely platonically towards me until we were a few blocks away from her apartment. I thought about how we had to come out to our families, how my mom said I would raise schizophrenic kids, and how there are a few distant relatives who still think I was just a roommate. Yep… just a roommate who moved with that married couple… twice. I thought about how my boss asked me if “you and your wife bought a house?” when I told them I was moving (my partner and her husband had bought the house), and how I didn’t correct her.
I thought about how I keep those parts of my life close to the cuff and speak of my relationships in half-truths. I never tell strangers the most common details of my life. I have to blog under pseudonyms so that the children whose lives I’m involved with aren’t outed and harassed or treated differently by teachers. When I am invited to social or business functions, I have to decide which partner can’t come because almost all such invitations have the option of inviting only one other adult as a guest. I am limited to one legal marriage, no matter how much I love someone and want them to be a permanent part of my life. Most people who are polyamorous still form dyad couples and date outside these pair bonds because life is just so much easier that way. These sorts of closeted behaviors and limitations are all too familiar to many.
I thought about how non-monogamous folk have to make special efforts to get together with like minded groups. How they can’t just assume that a person they’re romantically attracted to will accept their situation. How polyamorous people often consider moving only to certain parts of the country where there are established CNM communities. How finding folks who might also be non monogamous is often a dance of coded signals, careful subject broaching, and special algorithms on dating sites rather than a simple assumption that MOST people make of most people. You see someone cute, you’re probably not going to assume they’re non-monogamous.
I thought about the way “choice” becomes a particularly insidious word when it comes to human sexuality, and how “just choosing not to” has been at the center of other struggles about natural sexual expression—struggles that are absolutely about privilege and marginalization. How many people have had their identity miscategorized as a choice? How many people’s lived experiences of feeling like horrible people for cheating and feeling miserable within the confines of monogamy do we have to ignore in order to insist that monogamy is a choice anyone can make? How many people for whom there is a spectrum of responses to monogamy (like me, who can take it or leave it but happens to be poly due to circumstance) do we have to tokenize in order to “prove” that it’s a choice (in a chilling echo of how bisexuals and their entire identities are thrown under the bus to prove that same-sex attraction is a choice anyone could simply… not make). Is this invisibility acceptable because of the smaller numbers of people who identify as non-monogamous? Is it acceptable because monogamy is a VERY widely accepted cultural norm? Is it acceptable because we perceive monogamy as a choice, even if it is a “choice” for some? Is it a choice because we would rather stigmatize serial cheaters as immoral than confront the fact that some people might be wired to live different lives?
I thought about how every attempt to normalize non-monogamy is always patterned in similar ways to what was done to queer folks a decade ago. Those slick, whitewashed outreach messages that threw most of the community under the bus for a very sterilized (if diplomatic?) image. Always those deep and abiding emotions front and center (as if no one ever fucks because they want to fuck and fucking feels good and is fun). Always a triad. Always white people. Always a man and two women. Giving non-monogamy the most acceptable face possible, as if we are apologizing for every queered (literally and figuratively) expression of non-monogamy that wouldn’t be as easy for mainstream culture to understand. I mean, maybe we don’t want gender-blending orgies on our recruitment fliers (or maybe attendance would be up if we did), but still, it’s always a whitewashed triad that occupies many men’s fantasies.
I thought about how uncommon it is to see non-monogamy portrayed in the mainstream media in a way that isn’t farcical or skeevy. I thought about how every time someone non-monogamous breaks up, it is attributed to the FACT of their non-monogamy. (Think about how often monogamous relationships break up, but you don’t have someone saying “Yeah, those monogamous relationships really never last” every time it happens—even if that is, you know, like, KINDA statistically accurate.) How keenly I am aware of how monogamy affects people’s view of the world, without ever being able to expect them to understand how non-monogamy affects mine. People ignore or dismiss my life as deviant or prurient, sometimes while I’m standing in the room. How I’ve had to listen to people in my family tell me that I probably have a psychological disorder. How friends have cut ties (sometimes temporarily, but often for good) when they found out about “that poly thing.” How couples treat me like I’m on the prowl to “convert” them… or maybe just one of them like the sex-fiend home wrecker I am. How my boring, bill-paying, child-caring life was viewed as a curiosity or a wonder because it involved three adults. How I am told, often even by people who are generally supportive, that they “just couldn’t do that,” Every. Single. Time. I bring up poly in their presence (“If it works for you, great, but I just couldn’t do it.”) As if I am somehow going to forget that they are monogamous if they don’t remind me constantly. As if reminding me constantly that my life (or, as they remind me so often, not my life but my lifeSTYLE) isn’t a problem doesn’t clearly give me the impression that maybe it is. Methinks some monogamous doth affirm too much.
Most of all, I thought about how terrified I was for years that for some reason, somehow, my family might end up in family court facing down a judge who disapproves of non-monogamy, and I might have to move out or the custodial situation of the children would be threatened. A monogamous couple might have to worry about losing their children, of course, but they would never have to wonder if it was monogamy that was a factor.
I thought about it, and I’m not ready to die on this hill myself, but maybe monogamy vs. non-monogamy’s place in the privilege discourse is an idea whose time has come.






Leave a Reply