Polyamory: The Risk of Becoming
Much like existential philosophy, polyamory asks us to take radical responsibility for who we are.
The existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre proposed the idea of “radical freedom,” which maintains that human beings are free to do whatever they wish: we are born free. Several people (particularly the tiki-torch waving, chinless bro-flake, Ayn Rand-reading, incel-types) tend to read this as a permissive philosophy, one that permits the individual to do whatever they like, since there are no divinely-enforced ethics to which we must adhere. In other words, in our humanity, we have the right to do whatever we wish.
I’m not going to get into the weeds with existentialist philosophy, but the one thing that the Randian broflakes ignore with Sartre (and all of the other existentialists … and Nietzsche as well) is that the whole point of existentialist philosophy is to recognize—and celebrate—the fact that the ability to do what you wish must always be balanced with the consequences of one’s actions. So, while we may have the freedom to say something awful, or to yell “fire” in a crowded theater, that does not absolve us from the consequences of that action. And while those consequences may not be enforced by a non-existent god or divine force, they are enforced by the community and culture in which we find ourselves. That last bit is the one that people conveniently ignore. Free will, for Sartre, is the hallmark of humanity. But not simply in the power of making one’s decisions, but in the awareness that one’s decisions weave us into a tapestry of other people, and the decisions which they make. Those decisions affect us as much as our decisions affect others. That is why, as a culture, we can only be as free as those who are oppressed. Our choices necessitate responsibility (please be patient with the 1947 use of pronouns here):
“Thus, existentialism’s first move is to make every man aware of what he is and to make the full responsibility of his own existence rest on him. And when we say that a man is responsible for himself, we do not only mean that he is responsible for his own individuality, but that he is responsible for all men.” [emphasis added]
[…]
And in wanting freedom we discover that it depends entirely on the freedom of others, and that the freedom of others depends on ours. Of course, freedom as the definition of man does not depend on others, but as soon as there is involvement, I am obliged to want others to have freedom at the same time I want my own freedom. I can take freedom as my goal only if I take that of others as a goal as well. 1
The same holds true for polyamory. Healthy polyamory is a great example of the true spirit of Sartre’s radical freedom, and the radical responsibility that comes with it. We not only build the parameters of our relationships within our own polyam dynamic, But, through open and transparent communication, we also take responsibility for our actions with the potential consequences in mind. Every polyam structure is different, and they each acknowledge the particular needs of the individuals involved. The people who are just in it to cheat are claiming a “radical freedom” without an awareness or concern for consequences. That is not radical freedom, because in not being concerned about the consequences of the other people involved, you are not embracing their humanity. Thus, you are not taking responsibility for your own.
When our polyamory works, we know it. It feels amazing and filled with love. It is hard work and takes effort, but when all our partners and metamours are on the same page, it can be truly uplifting. We are embracing our deepest human capacities for love. When partners and metamours rally around one person in the dynamic who truly needs it, it can be incredibly moving and beautiful. Yet we are also aware of how much effort it takes to sustain a polycule or any kind of polyamorous dynamic. Jealousies can and will crop up, not to mention the very real and often difficult logistical and scheduling issues. Hierarchies also naturally arise, no matter how hard people may try to practice relationship anarchy. Newer partners bring with them new relationship energy that can temporarily eclipse existing relationships. Partners with longer histories can often unwittingly impose restrictions or make assumptions that alienate new partners.
There is nothing … and I mean nothing … more heartbreaking than when we stumble in our polyamorous relationships, because the hurt radiates outward and through partners and metamours. The true “radical” freedom that happens in those relationships is radical in the fact that the span of often conflicting emotions can be extreme, and require a great deal of communication and transparency to work through. They require a lot of introspection.
But the juxtaposition of the sometimes conflicting emotions, the effort, and the hard work to maintain that level of freedom is an integral part of our humanity. Again, this is what people miss when it comes to the existentialists: being fully human (fully actualized, enlightened, or in your power/truth), and taking responsibility for that humanity requires effort and is often difficult. That is what makes us “human.” I remember teaching this to undergrads and how this aspect of human empathy, compassion, and responsibility would so often rub the budding incels and Joe Rogan/Ben Shapiro stans the wrong way, because, again, they stopped at radical freedom and didn’t bother to read the rest.
Personally, I feel that polyamory can be a facet of our innate orientations. Monogamy never felt “natural” to me. Even as a child I had trouble understanding why there was supposed to be THE one that we were supposed to fall in love with. In my early adulthood, it caused me (and then-partners) a lot of heartache as I struggled with the feelings I had while in monogamous relationships. Polyamory takes a lot of work and can get really complicated. I think there are a lot of people who are born with a plolyam lean, but don’t engage with it because it IS so hard. And that’s their right. But I’m in murky waters here and don’t want to make assumptions. However, I do know that just because one is oriented (whether biologically or culturally) toward polyamory, it definitely doesn’t mean we innately know how to do it right. Just as we are born free, but fully expressing that freedom – fully being human – takes practice.
Polyamory, in so many ways, is risky. There’s always a chance for heartbreak; and the risk of fucking up is high. But there is a higher-level risk, one that has more at stake, but is almost infinitely rewarding: the risk of becoming. For those of us who are in happy (but never perfect) polyamorous relationships, we know the possibilities that having multiple partners can bring us. And I’m not talking about multi-partner sex – which can be fun, but is not what polyamory is about. In fact, there are plenty of polyamorous folx in some form of “vee” relationship, where an individual has multiple partners who are not in a relationship with each other. No, I’m talking about how polyamorous partners lift us, and how much we can learn from them. In my experience, different partners bring out different parts of my personality. That’s not to say that I’m a different person with each of my partners. I am – or should be – fully myself, but different aspects of of who I am are brought to the surface with each person, based very much on the love languages of each of those partners.
Each of my partners brings out the best of those aspects of me. This is why I find polyamory to be such a gift: with more than one partner, different aspects of who I am get to shine their brightest. And in that, I feel that much more human, that much more happy, that much more fulfilled. On top of that–and this may seem counterintuitive–my polyamory has also brought to light the aspects of myself that shine when I am alone (not the same as being lonely). I cherish my alone time because it brings to the surface other aspects of myself, particularly my spirituality, that don’t normally come out when I’m with others. I’m more willing to accept those aspects of myself because of what each of my partners brings out in me when we’re together. I feel more integrated having more than one partner, because, holistically, I can be the most “myself.”
All of these different facets of myself are authentically me. My polyamory gives me a sense of expansion and authenticity, through which I feel the most human.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Existentialism is a Humanism, trans. Bernard Frechtman (New York: Philosophical Library, 1947). Please forgive the 1947 used of the collective “he/him.”
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