Category: Essay

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Sapphic, Lesbian and WLW Erasure in Polyamory, Kink, and Other Alternative Sexuality Communities

Published on by Amy

Those of us who are active in alternative relationship and sexuality communities such as polyamory, consensual non-monogamy, and kink like to believe that we’re operating in a utopia. We so want to think our little bubble is apart from the rest of the world, unaffected by society’s ills. It’s a seductive narrative, but it is a lie. Today I want to talk about a pervasive and insidious issues I’ve been thinking a lot about recently. Specifically, sapphic erasure and lesbian invisibility in the queer, kink, and polyamory communities.

A quick note on terminology: I can’t write about this topic without acknowledging the ways in which the the anti-transgender hate movement has co-opted the concept of “lesbian erasure.” Anti-trans activists often erroniously claim that to accept trans women as women is to erase or undermine lesbian identities and that cis lesbians routinely experience pressure to transition to male. I absolutely and unequivocally reject these ideas. Trans women are women. Trans, non-binary, and gender-diverse sapphics are our siblings and family. They are just as much a part of the community as their cis counterparts.

With that said, I want to talk about the systemic erasure and devaluing of sapphic, lesbian, and women-loving-women (WLW) identities and relationships within polyamory, consensual non-monogamy, kink, and other adjacent communities.

Queer Erasure in Sex-Positive Spaces: Who Counts as a Couple?

Let’s start with the obvious: many non-monogamous spaces, particularly those geared around casual sex and swinging, are simply not set up in a way that allows for any configuration of people that isn’t “one man and one woman in a relationship” or “a single cisgender person.” The result of this is lesbian and sapphic invisibility and the erasure of queer polyamory and non-monogamy.

The most obvious example of this is gendered pricing. This has tonnes of its own problems anyway and completely falls apart when you account for anyone who isn’t straight, cis, and in a relationship that appears monogamous from the outside.

Many lifestyle events, clubs, and parties would class my girlfriend and I as two single women if we attended together. (Whereas, of course, if I attended with a male partner they’d class us as a couple.) Two women could be literally married to each other, and this would still be the case. Because in the eyes of those spaces, a “couple” is a man and a woman.

“But you’ll get in cheaper if they count you as two single women!”. Yeah, this isn’t the gotcha you think it is in this situation. I’d much, much rather pay the same rate as any other couple rather than have my relationship minimised, othered, and erased on account of our genders.

It’s often more insidious than these fairly blatant forms of discrimination, too. When people talk about “couples” in non-monogamous spaces, they will often casually refer to “the man” and “the lady” (or, worse, “girl”) as if that is the only configuration for a couple to take. If I refer to a partner without gendering them, most people will assume I am talking about a man. I really don’t believe this is malicious in 99% of cases. At worst, I think it is privilege-blind and clueless. But that doesn’t make it any more right or any less hurtful.

The Aggressive Gendering of Kink

I love the BDSM community in so many ways. I’ve been finding my home, my place, and my people within it for the best part of 15 years. But the longer I stick around, the more I see something I can’t unsee. The kink community still has a pervasive gender-norms problem that we still need to address.

Absent very explicit context to the contrary, people still broadly assume that men are Dominant and women are submissive. They’ll expect kinky and D/s relationships to look broadly heteronormative. And sure, Femdom exists. But all my Dominant women friends have countless stories of men treating them as little more than fetish dispensers. Dommes are expected to service those men’s needs and follow precise directions while pretending to be in charge. All without regard for their own needs and desires.

There is very, very little representation of kinky sapphic relationships of any description in our media, our online spaces, our educational materials, or our event leadership demographics. Why is that? Because it sure as hell isn’t “because kinky sapphics don’t exist.”

I suspect it’s for a few reasons. First, a lack of imagination that assumes all kinky relationships must play out a sexy version of 1950s gender roles. Second, because cisheterosexism still means that—even in alternative spaces—men are more likely to hold positions of leadership and influence. And third, because parts of the community can be pretty damn unwelcoming for queer people and especially for queer women.

More than once, when I’ve played with other women in public kink spaces, we’ve been interrupted by men. They either try to give unsolicited advice or try to insert themselves into our scene. On one memorable occasion, I was topping for an impact play scene with a friend (who, in her words, was “having a perfectly lovely time”). Out of nowhere, a man I’d never met came over and tried to physically grab my flogger out of my hands.

Because I was a woman, I was assumed to be incompetent. Because we were two women playing together, we were assumed to need a man. Our happy little play bubble was totally ruined by some random dude’s ego and entitlement.

This isn’t an isolated incident, either. Virtually every queer woman I know who plays in mixed kink spaces with other women has a similar story. Is there any wonder we’ve started making more and more of our own spaces?

To be fair, this does seem to be slowly getting better. But there’s some way still to go.

“But You Still Like Men, Right?” Minimising of Lesbian and Sapphic Relationships in Heteronormative Polyamory Communities

When I mention my girlfriend to people who know I’m non-monogamous (or can reasonably make that assumption, such as at a lifestyle party or social), one of the first I’ve been asked on numerous occasions is whether or not I also date or fuck men.

My friend Violet calls this the “are you heteronormative enough for my comfort zone?” question. Which… no. No I am not.

My usual response to this, until now, has been to say yes but emphasise that it’s fairly rare for me to fancy a man enough to want to do anything about it. In the future, though, I think I might change my response. “Why do you ask?” or “well I’m not sleeping with you if that’s what you’re really asking” are strong contenders.

I want people who ask me this question to ask themselves why it’s the first place their mind goes on learning that I’m sapphic. After all, if a woman mentions a boyfriend or husband, almost no-one is going to ask her “but you still date women too, right?” Ultimately, what they’re asking is whether I am still sexually available to men – a thing that patriarchy both demands of women and villifies us for.

There’s a strong connection between all of this and the commodification of sapphic sexuality in service of the male gaze.

Polyamory, Sapphic and Lesbian Sexuality, and the Male Gaze

People often believe that there is no sapphic, lesbian and WLW erasure issue in polyamory and kink because there are so many bisexual, pansexual and queer women in these spaces. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s quite that simple. In reality, my experience and the experience of many sapphic friends I’ve spoken to about this, is often not so much one of acceptance but of fetishisation, followed by devaluing when we refuse to conform to a safe, male-gazey idea of what our sexuality should be. And fetishisation is not acceptance. It certainly isn’t love.

Lesbian, sapphic, bi+, and queer polyamory exists in contexts that have absolutely nothing to do with performing for men.

I’m reminded of the man at a polyamorous speed dating event about a year ago. He aggressively quizzed me about what my former metamour-with-benefits and I got up to in the bedroom. He was then clearly bored and put out when I refused to engage. In the 16 years or so I’ve been out, I really thought we’d moved past men asking sapphics “but what do y’all do in bed anyway!?”. Apparently we have not.

I’m also reminded of the man who hit on me and my girlfriend in a gay bar on Pride weekend. Because apparently what two sapphics in love desperately needed in that moment was his dick. I have literally dozens of other examples like this that I can pull out with very little thought.

Expectations of Performativity

In sexualised spaces, including parts of the polyamory community, people continue to expect queer women to perform their sexuality in a way that appeals to the male gaze. Two different male exes of mine became extremely upset or angry when my girlfriends were either not their physical type or not willing to sleep with them. This made me feel like my sexuality, my relationships, were only valid as long as they provided benefits to men. Which, of course, is a classic way that society devalues and commodifies WLW relationships.

One of these partners literally asked me what was “even the point” of me being queer. If I didn’t perform in a way that fulfilled his lesbian porn fantasy, my identity was irrelevant. Other male partners and metamours have tried to demand titillating details, photos, or even the right to “watch.” I’ve been hit on by so many men who want me to play with their wives. This is inevitably not because she wants a sapphic experience, but because he wants her to perform one for him.

Patriarchal entitlement to women’s bodies persists, even when we are tell you we are far more interested in each other than we are in you.

Unicorn hunting is another extremely common variation on this theme. In those dynamics, the original male/female couple will often pull a bait-and-switch tactic in which they use the woman to lure other queer women in, then spring the boyfriend or husband on the unsuspecting “unicorn” as a kind of polyamory package deal. I hope I don’t have to tell you how grossly unethical this is. That’s why I now run from prospective female dates at the first signs that they’re going to expect me to be sexually available to their male partners.

And that brings us to…

One Penis Policies in Polyamory: Are Lesbian and Sapphic Dynamics Less Threatening, or Are You Just Homophobic?

This particular trope is so common within non-monogamy that it’s now a cliché. A cisgender man and woman open up their relationship. The man then tells his partner he’ll allow her to date other women, but no men. (In practice, what this means is “no-one else with a penis“, which is also transphobic.) The reason? Women are just less threatening. They don’t make him feel emasculated or threatened in the way that a man (or penis-haver) would.

The subtext? His wife could never leave him for another woman. She could never like having sex with another woman more than she does with him. She could never gain more fulfillment from a sapphic relationship than from a straight one. A man could steal her away, but a woman couldn’t. So his place in her life is safe. Right?

This comes from a belief that relationships between women are less real, less valid, and less important than hetero-appearing relationships. In other words it’s straight up, common-or-garden, fucking boring homophobia.

These men, by the way, are often the same men who expect their wives’ sapphic relationships to offer them something in terms of sexual access or live-action lesbian porn on tap then get very upset if they don’t.

But of course, lesbian, sapphic and WLW relationships are just as deep, meaningful, and sexually satisfying as hetero ones in both polyamory and monogamy. Hell, for many of us they’re often more so. If you believe your wife can’t possibly glean as much happiness or fulfillment from a relationship with a woman, you might be in for a very rude awakening. If you see another man as a threat but not a woman, all this tells me is that you believe men are inherently superior and hetero relationships are inherently more desirable or important.

The fact that this practice and way of thinking is so common tells me, in itself, that there’s still a lot of homophobia towards lesbian, sapphic and queer women within polyamory.

So What Can We Do About It?

I try to make these blog posts something more than just rants. So if we accept that sapphic, lesbian and WLW erasure are huge problems in these communities, what can we do about it?

Here are a few of my ideas for how we, as a community, can start combatting this issue:

  • Stop all gendered pricing for events, now. If you want to limit numbers of single men, fine. You can sell only a certain number of tickets or vet them carefully or both. But pricing according to gender, and defining “couple” as meaning a man and a woman, is homophobic, cissexist, and exclusionary.
  • Vote with your feet and your wallet. Attend events that are inclusive and avoid those that are not.
  • Stop asking queer women whether we also sleep with men. Some of us do, some of us don’t. Either way, it is solidly none of your goddamn business unless we’re going to sleep with you. And unless we make it very clear, you should probably assume we’re not.
  • Stop asking queer women for details of our sex lives. This includes asking if you can “watch,” asking for pictures or details, or treating us as lesbian porn fantasies.
  • If you’re a man practicing polyamory with a queer female partner, give your partner’s sapphic relationships equal weight to yours.
  • Do not assume that hetero-presenting relationships or marriages are “primary”. Don’t assume they are more important or take precedent over queer relationships in non-monogamous networks.
  • Push back against unicorn hunting and one penis policies wherever you see them. Let people know that they are fetishising, homophobic, transphobic, and all-round gross.
  • Use non-gendered terms when talking about kink roles such as Top, bottom, Dominant, submissive, and so on. Do not assume that all Dominants are men, that all submissives are women, or that all kinky relationships are heteronormative.
  • Uplift and support queer women as educators, speakers, organisers, and leaders within the kink, polyamory, and sex-positive communities.

Of course, fixing this kind of stuff takes more than just a few steps. Erasure of sapphic and queer women is deeply ingrained and pervasive, and communities like kink and polyamory are not immune. Undoing it will require a massive cultural shift both within our little subcultures and in wider society. It won’t happen overnight, of course. But I do believe we can get there. Let’s start by acknowledging that lesbian and queer polyamory exist, are valid, and are beautiful.

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Broken Agreements, Breaches of Trust, and Cheating in Polyamory: What Now? [Polyamory Conversation Cards #2]

Published on by Amy

“What is cheating in polyamory?”

“My partner did this thing that really upset me. Did they cheat?”

“Is it cheating if I…?”

I see variations of these questions multiple times a week in polyamory groups, forums, and other discussion spaces. Cheating in polyamory is a complicated subject, and a divisive one. Often, when the subject of what constitutes “cheating” in polyamory comes up, something has happened that breaches a relationship agreement (or, sometimes, an unspoken assumption) or leads to someone feeling that their trust in their partner has been broken.

In case you missed it, this post is part of a series I’m doing inspired by Odder Being’s Polyamory Conversation Cards. Once a week or as often as I can, I’ll pull a card at random and write a piece of content based on it. There will likely be some essays, advice pieces, personal experiences, rants, and more! You can read the whole series at the dedicated tag.

This week’s card asks:

“If your partner cheats on you or breaks an agreement, how can they best communicate this and what do you need to restore any damaged trust?”

Ahh, cheating in polyamory and broken relationship agreements. I have a LOT to say about this one, so let’s dive straight in.

Does Cheating in Polyamory Even Exist?

Some people think it’s impossible to cheat in an open relationship. After all, in monogamy-land, “cheating” is typically defined as “doing romantic or sexual things with someone who is not your partner.” But an open or polyamorous relationship explicitly allows for those things, so how is it possible to cheat?

This belief comes from another, to which I also do not subscribe: that polyamory or consensual non-monogamy (CNM) is a no-holds-barred free-for-all. In fact, all the successful polyamorous relationships I know are carefully negotiated and based upon mutual respect and well-crafted relationship agreements that serve everyone’s best interests.

So yes, cheating in polyamory is a real thing. If you go behind your partner’s back, don’t notify them about something they’d reasonably expect to be told about (such as a new partner or a change in sexual health practices), you might be doing something that could be defined as cheating.

However, when a breach of trust or a broken agreement has happened, I also believe that “is this cheating?” is almost always the wrong question.

Why I Think “Is It Cheating?” is the Wrong Question in Both Polyamory and Monogamy

“Cheating” is such a loaded term in our society and relationship landscape, both in polyamory and monogamy. It comes with so many assumptions and beliefs, many of them neither helpful nor true. Consider, for example, the maxim “once a cheater, always a cheater.” This is demonstrably false. Making a bad choice once, or even many times, does not doom a person to continue to make it for the rest of their lives! Many people have cheated on a partner, then decided not to repeat that behaviour in that relationship or others.

Cheating is destructive and cruel, and it is something that I take a pretty hard line on in my relationships. I won’t stay with a partner who cheats on me and I won’t get or stay involved with someone who is actively cheating on another partner. However, I also have a fairly narrow and specific personal definition of cheating. I would only consider one of my partners to have cheated on me if they deliberately and willingly broke a relationship agreement we made and lied to me about it.

Also, and this is important: you’re allowed to be upset about something even if it doesn’t meet anyone’s reasonable definition of cheating in polyamory! To use a totally hypothetical example, let’s say a partner of mine skips my birthday party to go hook up with a new person. No-one would reasonably call that “cheating”, but it’s still unkind, inconsiderate and unloving behaviour about which I am legitimately within my rights to be pissed off.

So, if one of your partners does something that hurts you or violates an agreement, don’t leap straight to “did they cheat?” Instead, ask yourself how their actions make you feel. Perhaps you’re hurt. Angry. Betrayed. Scared. A mix of these emotions, or something else entirely. Allow yourself to feel those feelings, then consider what to do next (which we’ll get into below.)

Are Breaches of Agreements or Cheating Inevitable in Polyamory?

Another refrain I hear a lot in polyamorous spaces is, “the problem with rules is that they always get broken.” I don’t necessarily agree with this, though. In my early days in polyamory, my relationships had a lot of rules attached to them. I no longer think this was a particularly good or healthy approach, and now practice non-hierarchical polyamory that prioritises mutual agreements, personal boundaries, and care and consideration for everyone involved over rules.

So no, I don’t think cheating or violating agreements in polyamory is inevitable.

However, what I did not do is break any of those rules when they were in place. To do so would have been dishonest, unkind, and relationship-damaging. So no, I do not necessarily believe that any rule you put in place will get broken, and I certainly don’t think that mutually-made relationship agreements will.

What is pretty much inevitable, though, is the occasional miscommunication or mistake. We’re all imperfect humans and we will sometimes misunderstand our partners, genuinely forget to communicate something important, or realise that we were interpreting the terms of an agreement differently to the other person or people involved.

The bad news is that, when these things happen, they suck. For everyone. The good news is that they’re often entirely recoverable.

Someone Cheated, Broke an Agreement, or Breached Your Trust. What Now?

Sometimes, someone will make a bad choice or one that causes hurt to their partner(s). It would be wonderful if this never happened, but we’re all humans and we live in the real world. The chances of it happening to any of us at some point are fairly high.

I’m approaching this section from the perspective of talking to the person whose trust was broken. However, if you’re the one who did the agreement-breaking, there should be plenty in here for you too.

So, your partner cheated, broke an agreement, or otherwise did something to violate your trust in your polyamorous relationship. What the hell do you do now?

Get the Facts and Assume Good Faith

When your feelings are hurt and you’re feeling scared, betrayed, or angry, it’s very easy to assume the worst of everyone involved. You might feel as though they don’t care about you at all, or even that causing you pain was their intention. However, this is often not the case.

Sure, some people are malicious actors who operate with absolutely no regard for their partners’ feelings or even set out to hurt their partners intentionally. The vast majority of people, though, are not like that. Many breaches of trust happen due to thoughtlessness rather than malice. Misunderstandings, forgetfulness, mental health issues, and intoxication are just some of the other non-malicious causes (or contributing factors) that can be behind hurtful choices. They’re not excuses, of course, but understanding that your partner did not harm you intentionally can be helpful in the immediate aftermath of a broken agreement.

Until you know all the facts, try to assume good faith on the part of your parter(s) and anyone else involved. It is far easier to recover from someone doing something stupid but thoughtless than it is to recover from someone intentionally and knowingly choosing to betray you.

The other important thing to do here is watch for patterns. If this is the first time your partner has done something like this and they seem genuinely remorseful, your reaction will likely be (and probably should be) different than if this is the fifth time they’ve done the same thing with the same excuse.

Decide Whether Repair is Possible

You might be someone who considers a broken agreement to be an instant, relationship ending dealbreaker. And you get to make that choice! However, for most of us, this is likely to be contextual. There are different levels and severities of cheating and broken agreements in polyamory.

Choosing to break a safer sex agreement (e.g. not using a condom with a casual hook-up, if that’s what you’ve agreed) in the heat of the moment and then disclosing it to your partner straight away isn’t good, but it’s a world away from repeatedly and deliberately having unprotected sex for months without telling your existing partner(s.) The former is far more likely to be repairable than the latter. Misunderstanding the terms of an agreement in good faith is quantifiably different from understanding the spirit of an agreeement but rules-lawyering your way into violating it anyway.

If your partner has broken an agreement, cheated on you, or otherwise damaged your trust, only you can decide if repair is possible. In other words, are you going to stay and do the work with your partner to fix things, or are you going to leave the relationship?

Either choice is valid, of course. However, I’m personally big on forgiveness and not a fan of throwing relationships away over mistakes. A breach would have to be both huge and clearly deliberate for me to walk away from a relationship over it at this stage.

Feel and Express Your Feelings

We touched on this above. Experiencing cheating or broken polyamory agreements hurts. It can be tempting to skip this step, because the feelings these kinds of incidents bring up can be painful and even traumatic. However, it’s essential that you allow yourself to feel and express your emotions. Repressing them doesn’t do anyone any good.

Note that expressing your emotions does not mean completely flying off the handle. However, it’s fair to be in a heightened emotional state and—as long as you’re not doing anything abusive such as screaming at your partner, using verbal abuse, showing physical aggression or violence, or threatening harm to them or yourself—you shouldn’t necessarily feel an obligation to tone this down. It’s okay to cry, to express anger, and to show how hurt you are.

Where possible, try to use “I” statements and to be as specific as possible. For example, “when I found out you’d had sex without a condom, I felt disregarded and uncared for” is better than “you obviously just don’t give a fuck about me.” If you need to take a little time and space before you can express your feelings in a healthy way, that’s fine too.

What Do You Need From Your Partner?

Assuming your partner made a genuine mistake, they are likely feeling remorseful for their actions. They probably regret hurting you and want to make amends. Take the time to think about what you need from them for repair to happen. Cheating and broken agreements aren’t necessarily insurmountable in either polyamory or monogamy.

This can look a bunch of different ways. I’ve had situations where all I needed was an explanation of what happened and why followed by a genuine apology, then we could forget the whole thing and move on. Other situations have required more intensive repair efforts.

Some of the things you might ask for include:

  • An apology
  • To talk through exactly what happened and why
  • A commitment that your partner won’t repeat the behaviour and for them to outline the steps they will take to ensure it doesn’t happen again
  • Some quality time with your partner to re-establish your connection
  • Some space from your partner. (Ensure that this doesn’t lead to you stonewalling them or giving them the silent treatment as a punishment. Time-limit it and let them know when you will return. For example, “I’m going to take until tomorrow to process this and care for myself, I’ll call you after work.”)
  • For the two of you to see a relationship counsellor or therapist together

…or something else that I haven’t thought of! Your partner doesn’t have to give you what you ask for, of course. This is about requests, not demands. But how they respond to your reasonable requests for reconnection, amends, or trust-rebuilding will probably tell you a lot about how they feel about having hurt you and how committed they are to repairing and strengthening your bond.

Resist the Urge to Punish Your Partner for Cheating or Breaking a Polyamory Agreement

This part can be difficult for some people, but it’s essential. If your partner has cheated, violated an agreement, or breached your trust, you might feel a lot of anger. That’s understandable! What you must do, though, is resist the urge to punish them or retaliate from a place of anger.

I’ve seen this look various ways. In cases of agreement breaches or cheating in polyamory, two of the most common are “you have to be monogamous to me but I can still be open, because you broke the rules” and “I’m vetoing the person you made a mistake with, so you have to break up with them.” The other common version in all relationship structures, of course, is “you cheated on me so now I get to cheat on you and you can’t say anything about it.”

Assuming you’ve decided to remain in the relationship, the goal must be to repair, reconnect, and come back together having learned from whatever happened. Depending on the severity, this may not be easy and it may take some time to rebuild trust. However, punishing your partner or retaliating will actually lead you further away from a positive resolution. It may also irrevocably poison your relationship in the long run.

Give It Time

Trust is often fragile, particularly for people with trauma histories. It can take a long time to repair when someone breaks it. So don’t expect overnight repair, no matter how remorseful the person who broke an agreement is or how sincerely they commit to ensuring it never happens again.

The best apology, as the saying goes, is changed behaviour. So see how your partner behaves in the aftermath of the trust breach. Do they make sincere efforts to display trustworthiness and make you feel loved and valued? Do they take steps to make sure they don’t repeat the mistake? If so, you’re good.

Broken agreements, trust violations, and cheating in polyamory are incredibly painful and can cause massive ruptures in relationships and polycules. But they don’t necessarily have to mean the end of everything.

FYI: this post contains an affiliate link.

Header image: no veto power does not mean having no say in a healthy polyamory dynamic

In Healthy Polyamory, No Veto Power Does Not Mean No Say [Polyamory Conversation Cards #1]

Published on by Amy

Today’s post on veto power was inspired by the Polyamory Conversation Cards. This project, created by Odder Being, offers 49 questions across 7 different categories. The cards are designed to get you thinking and talking. They can help you to discover your needs and boundaries, and spark open and constructive conversations with your partners. They are non-gendered and make no assumptions about relationship configuration.

I decided to use them as prompts for blog posts. I’ll pull a card at random, one at a time and use them to inspire a piece of content here. Some of them might be practical advice pieces. Others may be essays, personal pieces, or even rants. We’ll see! (And I am not putting a hard and fast timeframe on this. I don’t need that kind of pressure in my life. I’m going to aim for one a week or getting through the whole deck in a year, but we’ll see.)

Today’s card asks:

“To what extent are you okay with your partner(s) having influence over your romantic and/or sexual connections with others?”

This has made me think about the subject of veto power in polyamory. This controversial practice refers to giving one partner the power to unilaterally demand that you end an outside relationship at any time, and reasonably expect that you will comply. Most often, the person wielding veto power will be a spouse, “primary” partner, or nesting partner.

I am absolutely, unequivocally against veto power in polyamory. I believe it’s abusive in almost all circumstances. Personal experience also tells me that, even if it is never actually used, the mere threat of a veto from one partner prevents emotional safety from ever truly existing in any other relationships. After all, how can you ever possibly feel safe if your metamour could yank your relationship away at any moment?

Just a few other reasons I’m against veto power in polyamory include:

  • It reinforces relationship hierarchies and couple’s privilege.
  • It is a poor way of building safety and security. It simply outsources risk and pain onto others rather than actually confronting and working through difficult feelings.
  • Its intended impact is rarely its actual impact. In fact, in most cases, using (or even threatening) a veto will cause such resentment that it will irrevocably damage or end the relationship of the person who issued it.
  • It treats human beings with feelings as disposable toys.
  • It places the veto-giving partner into an authoritarian or parental role, rather than the role of an equal partner. This removes autonomy from their partner(s) and metamour(s).
  • In extreme cases, it can lead to sexual coercion or sexual violence. (E.g. “if your partner won’t have a threesome with us, I’m vetoing them.”)

Influence in polyamory isn’t veto power

It’s a myth, and a deeply toxic one, that healthy polyamorous relationships involve total autonomy without any cross-relationship or inter-relationship influence. Autonomy and self-determination are important, but they should not come at the expense of treating the people we love well. Moreover, they don’t have to. But in healthy polyamory, the two options aren’t either absolute individualism or veto power.

If you take away nothing else from this post, please at least internalise this. It is entirely possible (and not even that difficult!) to both have autonomy and to practice kindness, consideration, and care for your partners and their feelings.

As humans, we are social creatures and we are influenced and changed by those around us, and particularly those close to us, in all sorts of ways. This is normal. This is healthy.

I am influenced by my partners and my close friends all the time, and mostly in very positive ways. They inspire me with their bravery and brilliance, they make me want to be the best version of myself, they challenge me when I am wrong, and they offer unique and valuable insights into all aspects of my life. In positive relationships (both romantic and otherwise,) we learn from each other. We are often changed by each other, and by our relationships, in profound and beautiful ways.

Loving people means caring for their feelings

Another toxic myth in the polyamory community is the idea that “your feelings are your problem.”

This started from a good place: that we all have a reasonable responsibility for our own emotional wellbeing and that we should not weaponize our feelings to control our partners. However, in its current guise, it has morphed into something deeply damaging. It has led to people thinking that there is something wrong with them if they have anything but positive feelings about anything their partner does. It has led to people utterly disregarding their partners’ valid needs and emotions to the point of cruelty or even abuse.

Because loving people and being in intimate relationship with them does include caring for their feelings. Emotions do not typically spring, fully formed, from nowhere. They are often reactive, though what they are in response to and how that response manifests can be changeable, unpredictable, at times hard to identify, and not necessarily an obvious straight line.

If you are in an intimate relationship with someone of any kind, you do have a degree of responsibility to care for their feelings. This doesn’t mean doing whatever they want, allowing them to dictate all the terms of the relationship, or allowing them to control or limit your other significant relationships. It does mean creating emotional safety, receiving their feelings – especially difficult or vulnerable ones – with love, and working with them to meet their needs. There might be times where it means not doing something you would have otherwise liked to do.

Case study: temporary frustration for the long-term good

I have, on a small handful of occasions, chosen not to pursue a casual hookup at that time because one of my serious partners was in a bad place emotionally and did not have the bandwidth to process or handle it.

If this was happening all the time we’d need to have a conversation. But once in a while? That strikes me as a normal part of being a loving and considerate partner to somebody in a serious relationship.

Some polyamorous people would balk at this, saying that my partner was being controlling or exerting undue influence. The key, though, is that the choice was ultimately mine. Nobody issued a veto or forbade me to do anything. I made an assessment and made a choice to act in the way I did. A choice that, ultimately, was more than worth the temporary frustration. The long-term benefit to my partner’s wellbeing and our relationship overall was simply more important.

Important clarification: I view a situation like the one above as fundamentally different from curtailing another significant and serious relationship. That is not something I would ever do. In a serious relationship, all my partners have certain rights and things they can expect from me. Those things include not having another partner or relationship interfere with ours in a negative way.

There’s a huge difference between influence and veto power in polyamory

Where I think this question gets really interesting is when we pick apart the difference between influence and control. At first glance they can seem similar, with the difference more semantic than substantial, but I actually think they’re enormously different things.

One crucial difference is that influence in a relationship is bidirectional, whereas control flows only one way. I consider my partners’ needs and feelings in my decisions. I feel confident that they will consider mine in a similar way. Veto power in polyamory does not consider the needs and feelings of those whose relationship is being vetoed. It is designed to serve only the person issuing the veto. (And even then, it usually fails. Again: vetoing one of your partner’s other relationships is likely to seriously damage your relationship with that partner. That’s if it doesn’t end it entirely.)

Another difference is that, in the case of influence, we each ultimately still have the power and the space to make our own decisions. When control is in play, we do not. Influence can allow for negotiation, make room for compromise, and seek to come to solutions that serve the good of everyone affected by the situation. Control does none of those things.

Case studies: expressing a need vs. making a demand

Here’s an example. I might say to one of my partners, “I feel as though I’m not getting enough time with you lately, and that makes me feel sad and neglected.” This would lead to a conversation, and might result in some aspect of their behaviour changing. They might take more proactive steps to arrange time with me, move things around in their schedule so that we can see each other, or change how we spend time together so it’s a higher quality of shared time.

What I do NOT have the right to do is to say “you’re not spending enough time with me, so I demand that you break up with your other partner (or curtail/downgrade your relationship with them) to make more time for me.”

To give another example, let’s say I feel particularly insecure about a new metamour for some reason. I can say to my partner, “I’m feeling really insecure about your relationship with X, so I’d prefer it if you could share fewer details with me/hold space for me to talk things out/hold off on introducing me to them until I’ve worked through these feelings.” I cannot say, “they make me insecure so you can’t see them any more.”

That’s the difference between having a say (influence) and having veto power (control) in polyamory.

What if one of your partners is concerned about a prospective partner, date, or hook-up, or vice-versa?

This is usually the first question that comes up when I say I don’t believe in veto power in polyamory. “But Amy, what if one of your partners wants to date someone really, truly terrible? Or what if you want to make a horrible dating choice, and your partners have no recourse to stop you?”

It’s a fair question but, I think, takes the wrong approach. It assumes that polyamorous people are all just waiting to make terrible dating choices, get involved with the worst kinds of humans, or casually disregard our own values, and that strict rules or the threat of a veto are the only things keeping us in line. The reality, in my experience, is quite the opposite. In fact, all the successful polyamorous people I know operate with the highest levels of integrity and seek to make good choices in partner selection and in the ways that their relationships are conducted.

The key here is to trust your partners’ judgement and intentions. Trust them to manage their own dating life and to express any opinions on yours with good intentions.

Do I worry about one of my partners bringing home my abuser or a neo-Nazi? Am I afraid they’ll fall for a monogamous cowperson them? No, because I trust their judgement. I know them well enough to know they wouldn’t do something like that. So it never occurs to me to worry about it.

With that said, we all have blind spots. We’re all capable of overlooking glaring red flags. Anyone can fall for someone with bad intentions or make stupid decisions in the heat of lust. This is where that influence thing comes in again. Influence allows your partners to share their concerns with you and have their voices heard (and vice versa). But that influence doesn’t include demands that you choose one specific course of action.

That’s why you should talk to your partner about if it you have any legitimate concerns about someone they’re interested in. It’s also why you should listen if they bring up similar concerns about a prospective partner to you.

If your partner finds faults, concerns, or “red flags” in everyone you want to date, chances are there’s something deeper going on. They might be feeling jealous or insecure, or simply be having a hard time with trusting you to make good decisions for yourself. These are all common issues within polyamory, particularly – but not exclusively – when you’re newer to it.

If either of my partners raised a concern about someone I was interested in, though, I’d listen. This does not necessarily mean I’d always choose not to pursue the person in question. My eventual decision would depend on the circumstances and on a whole array of factors. But I would listen to my partner(s), I would hear their concerns, and I would give those concerns serious consideration. If I choose not to pursue the new connection as a result, that’s not veto power. That’s me making an informed decision based on all the information to which I have access.

My partners are smart and emotionally intelligent people who love me, know me very well, and have sound judgement. If they tell me they have a concern, I know that they legitimately do. Experience tells me that they are not simply trying to control or limit me.

The bottom line: what I will and won’t accept with regards to veto power, influence, and control in polyamory

This card asks, “To what extent are you okay with your partner(s) having influence over your romantic and/or sexual connections with others?”

Ultimately, my answer is that I’m fine with them having a reasonable level of influence. I actually think that’s a good and healthy thing. What I won’t tolerate is anyone seeking to have control over my other connections. I would be unlikely to stay long in a relationship with someone who wanted that control. Likewise, I want to have influence with my partners but I do not want to have control.

My answer to this question also depends, to a fairly significant extent, on what type of relationship we’re talking about. My serious partners are always going to be far, far more important to me than one-off or casual hook-ups. This naturally means that they get a much higher level of priority and enjoy a greater degree of influence.

What I won’t do, however, is accept veto power in my polyamory. I won’t be in a relationship with someone who has given that power to any of their other partners.

No-one gets to decide the reality, outcome, or direction of any of my relationships except me and that partner. I will never give anyone veto power or permission-granting/permission-refusing power over any aspect of other connections. But I will always take my partners’ needs and feelings into consideration. I will always strive to make sure they feel loved, heard, and prioritised. Because in healthy polyamory, no veto power does not mean no say.

Header image for a post on slut-shaming in the polyamory community

The Polyamory Community Has a Huge Slut-Shaming Problem

Published on by Amy

When I started practicing consensual non-monogamy and polyamory, I expected to get hit with slut-shaming and sex-shaming from monogamous friends, family, and wider society. And predictably, I did. (“So she’ll just open her legs for anyone like a 24-hour supermarket?” was one memorably horrible quote said by an old childhood friend about me.) What I never expected, though, was to encounter slut-shaming from within the non-monogamous community.

But this has happened to me multiple times over the 15 years or so I’ve been poly, as well as to many of my friends and lovers. And I have come to realise what a significant and pervasive problem it actually is.

Before I dive in, I want to shout out the other polyamory writers, thinkers, and educators who have spoken on this issue, especially Leanne Yau of PolyPhilia, Mainely Mandy, Eldiandevil, and Ramona Quaxli. Their perspectives and insights are tremendously valuable and have informed, validated, and helped to shape my own.

What is Slut-Shaming?

Planned Parenthood defines slut-shaming as “accusing someone — usually girls and women — of being “too sexual,” and using that as an excuse to humiliate, bully, or harass them.”

Slut-shaming and sex shaming can take the form of calling someone derogatory and sexual names (such as “slut”, “whore”, or “slag.”) But it can also take forms such as:

  • Criticising a person for wearing sexualised or revealing clothing
  • Blaming the victim or saying they “asked for it” in cases of rape, sexual violence, revenge porn, sexual harrassment, and so on
  • Gossiping, making assumptions, or spreading rumours about someone’s sex life or sexual behaviour (such as the slut-shaming I’ve experienced for my polyamory)
  • Criticising or shaming a partner for their sexual history prior to your relationship (or during it, in the case of consensually non-monogamous relationships)
  • Acting entitled to someone’s body because of their actual or perceived sexual behaviour (e.g. “if she puts out for other guys why not me?”)
  • Accusing someone of being a “sex addict” for their level of desire, number of partners, kinks and fetishes, or other actual or perceived sexual behaviour

In short, it’s anything that is designed to put a person down or make them feel guilty or ashamed of the ways that they express their sexuality.

But How Can There Be Slut-Shaming in Non-Monogamy!?

When people enter the non-monogamous community, they often come in with certain expectations. One of those expectations is that polyamory is going to be a free love utopia, apart from and unaffected by any of cisheteromononormative society’s hangups about sex. I mean, our unofficial community Bible is literally called The Ethical Slut. We’re all totally enlightened and sex-positive over here in non-mono-land, right?

If only.

I’m not going to sugar-coat it: I’ve been guilty of perpetuating this, in the past, just as I have been a victim of it. But the polyamory and consensual non-monogamy (CNM) community has a huge, enormous, glaring, and under-addressed slut-shaming problem.

Let’s look at a few of the ways it manifests and why they’re problematic.

“Polyamory is Not All About the Sex!”

Polyamory Weekly, which ran from 2005 until 2022, is by far the longest-running and best-known polyamory podcast. When I first started listening way back in around 2009, I didn’t think much of the goofy little tagline at the end of the show: “and remember, it’s not all about the sex!” On the rare occasions that I dip back into the PW back catalogue these days, I cringe a little every time I hear it.

The purpose of this section is not to call out PW specifically or exclusively. It’s a great resource. I’m glad it existed for 17 years and I’m glad its 600+ episodes live on for new polyamorous folks to find. But I do think this tagline is an example of a wider narrative within the polyamorous community.

Sex is Allowed to Be Important to You

I understand the purpose of catchphrases like “it’s not all about the sex.” Mainstream society aggressively sexualises non-monogamy and casts aspersions on our collective character as a result (itself a form of slut-shaming). In much the same way that LGBTQ+ identities had to fight to be seen as more than sexual fetishes, non-monogamists are now fighting a similar battle. But, in striving for this more nuanced recognition of our identities, we must be careful not to shame those for whom sex does play an important role in their polyamory.

Some people are non-monogamous, in part, to have more sex and to experience more sexual variety. As long as those people are honest with their lovers and taking reasonable steps to be safe and considerate partners? I do not think there’s a damn thing wrong with that.

Other versions of this trope include “just because I’m polyamorous doesn’t mean I’m a slut!” and “I might be polyamorous but I still have standards!”

“But Amour Means Love”

The equally insidious sister to the above is something I see all the time in the polyamory groups, forums, and other online spaces: “it’s polyAMORY, not polyFUCKERY. The amour means love!” This one comes out when a person talks about having a lot of casual sex. However, it also comes out when a person is struggling with sexual difficulties, sexual incompatibility, or sexlessness in one of their relationships. Its purpose is clear: to slut-shame the individual because sex matters to them.

If you’ve ever uttered this sentence, you might not like what I’m going to say next: for many of us, sex is part of how we love. For some people, this connects to physical touch as a love language. Sex with someone you love, whether in polyamory or monogamy, can be tremendously bonding and connective. It can help you to feel closer and more intimate, both emotionally and physically, with your partner(s.) Sex can make you feel desired, allow you to express love and care through touch and the giving of pleasure, and give you an opportunity to be exploratory and playful together.

In addition, in a newer relationship, sex can help you to bond, deepen and strengthen your connection, and feel out whether you’re compatible for a long-term relationship.

“Many Loves” Can Look Lots of Different Ways

Polyamory educator Leanne Yau says, “I can have sex without love, but I cannot have love without sex.” I’m not sure I’d go that far for myself, but I know I would really, really struggle in a sexless romantic relationship. It is only recently that I’ve stopped feeling shame around that fact.

So yes, sure, “polyamory” means “many/multiple loves.” But love can take many forms and, if sexual compatibility matters to you or if sex is an intrinsic part of how you express romantic love, that’s not only valid but super normal and common. Those “many/multiple loves,” by the way, can also include friends with benefits, comet partners, and other forms of connection that don’t look like traditional romantic relationships, if you like.

Phrases like “it’s polyAMORY, not polyFUCKERY” place non-sexual love as inherently higher, more pure, or more real than sexual love. And I think that’s bullshit.

“Sounds Like You’re Just a Swinger.”

People outside the CNM community conflate swinging and polyamory all the time. However, while it’s certainly possible to be both, the crossover is probably significantly smaller than you think it is and they are quite different cultures. In fact, it has sadly been my experience that a lot of swingers do not like or trust polyamorous people very much, and that this feeling is very mutual. I believe this has less to do with any inherent differences or incompatibilities, and more to do with misconceptions, snap judgements, and in-group/out-group politics.

In many polyamorous spaces, there is a huge amount of policing of other people’s non-monogamies. This includes predictable cry of “that’s not polyam, it sounds like you’re just a swinger!” in situations involving casual sex, group sex, or promiscuity.

I think it’s telling, in itself, that so many polyamorous people see “swinger” as an insult. What gives us the right to place one version of non-monogamy on a pedastal and look down on others? Sure, the mainstream hetero swinging community has its fair share of problems. However, so does the polyamorous one. When we set ourselves apart and cast judgement on swingers, all we are doing is perpetuating the same slut-shaming, sex-negative rhetoric that the mononormative world perpetuates against us. And that harms all of us.

Polyamorists and Swingers: We Should Be on the Same Side

As polyamorous people, most of us also have sex with multiple people. Do you think that cisheteronormative, mononormative, sex-negative society will spare us its judgement if the sex we have is for Twue Wuv Only while we loudly shun the swingers for their casual shenanigans? Because I promise you it won’t. But it would love for the different schools of consensual non-monogamy to distract ourselves tearing each other apart rather than banding together to tear down the sociocultural structures that harm us.

Whether you are polyamorous, a swinger, both, neither, or somewhere else entirely on the spectrum, I believe that all of us under the consensual non-monogamy umbrella should be allies and need to stick together. We’re on the same damn team.

The One Penis Policy

The infamous one penis policy, or OPP, in polyamory is when a cis man tells his (usually cis women) partners that they can date or have sex with other people with vulvas, but nobody else with a penis. It’s highly problematic in a bunch of ways, from cissexism and trans erasure through to simply being a bad way to handle jealousy and insecurity. I’m going to write an entire piece about it soon.

Increasingly, I believe it also connects to slut shaming.

At the root of the one penis policy, very often, is the belief that sex is only “real” when it involves a penis. Men who enact the OPP often believe (even if on an unconscious level) that there is something inherently bad or wrong about their female partners having a lot of sex or multiple sexual partners, but convince themselves that it only really counts if those sexual partners have a penis. This allows them to keep seeing those partners as “pure,” as long as they only have sex with fellow vulva-owners.

Many polyamorous men explicitly or implicitly devalue their female partners when or if they have sex with multiple penis-owning partners. You’d be amazed at how often, in online polyamorous spaces, I see variations on this theme: “my wife just had sex with her boyfriend for the first time and now I can’t help but see her as tainted.” Which is a pretty fucking rough deal for straight or bi+ polyamorous women.

This is By No Means a Comprehensive List

This piece is not intended to provide a comprehensive list of all the ways that slut-shaming and sex-shaming shows up in polyamory and CNM. Like all systems of oppression, it is insidious and multi-faceted and not always easy to spot. It takes many forms and harms people in many different ways.

There is, however, one consistent truth that sits at the heart of this phenomenon:

Polyamory and Sex Shaming: It’s Misogyny, Isn’t It?

Purity culture is deeply and inherently tied to misogyny. Purity culture “encompasses the way society and popular culture reinforces the idea of sexual purity as a measure of a person’s worth” (John Loeppky for VeryWellMind) and is used to control, police, shame, and curtail women’s sexuality and sexual agency.

Just like mainstream purity culture, slut-shaming and sex-negativity within the polyamory and CNM communities are intimately tied to misogyny. A person of any gender can be slut-shamed. However, in reality, it is always going to mostly weaponised against, and have a far greater impact on, women, femmes, AFAB folks, and anyone socialised as female.

When we begin to unpack sex-negative and slut-shaming beliefs, misogyny – including internalised misogyny on the part of women and other marginalised genders – is almost inevitably at the core of it. To dismantle slut-shaming requires us to take a close and critical look at all the things our society and upbringing have told us about gender, sex, and sexuality, and to consider the ways in which those narratives are doing a disservice to ourselves, our loved ones, and our wider community.

Towards an Expansive, Inclusive, and Sex-Positive Version of Polyamory

None of this is to say that your polyamory or consensual non-monogamy must include casual sex, or must include sex at all. It is entirely possible to have no interest in sex whatsoever and to never slut-shame anyone else. I do believe, however, that everyone in these communities has a responsibility to intentionally cultivate a sex-positive attitude.

As a reminder, my working definition of sex positivity is as follows:

“Supporting the right of all consenting adults to have sex, or not, in whatever ways work best for them, free from stigma or shame.”

The point of sex-positivity isn’t that more sex is better. The point is that we all have a right to choose how much and what forms of sex we have, and that all consensual and freely made choices are of equal moral value.

We must recognise that the CNM world is not a sex-positive utopia, much as we might wish it was. The first step to addressing our sex-negativity and slut-shaming problem is to identify it, talk about it, call it out when we see it, and stop pretending it doesn’t exist or isn’t an issue.

We All Have a Moral Imperative to Try to Do Better

We all carry toxic beliefs from our upbringing or our society, and it is our job to address and unlearn them. This is hard, long-term, potentially lifelong work. Fighting the tide of cultural norms isn’t easy, and I am not trying to downplay or simplify it. But, if we want to build truly radical and inclusive communities, it is absolutely necessary.

Finally, we must stop this in-fighting and sex negativity in the polyamory community. We need to stop shaming and attacking our own. Whether we’re polyamorous or swingers or relationship anarchists, whether we’re asexual or demisexual or hypersexual, whether we have orgies every weekend or only have sex in committed romantic relationships, we must stop throwing each other under the bus for crumbs of respectability from a culture that seeks to judge and repress all of us in exactly the same ways.

Cisheteromononormative society shames us all enough. We like to think we’re better than to also do it to each other. And right now, we’re not.

But what if we could be? How radical and awesome would that be?

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Two condoms in red packets. Header image for a post on rejecting the term fluid bonding

Why I’m No Longer Using the Term “Fluid Bonding”

Published on by Amy

In the decade and a half I’ve been non-monogamous, I’ve had numerous conversations about so-called “fluid bonding.” I’ve negotiated the circumstances under which it is okay, not-okay, and maybe-okay to do it in various relationships. I have discussed the potential risks brought about by myself, my partners, or even my metamours choosing to fluid bond in certain relationships, and how those impacted might protect their sexual health. I’ve had literally hundreds of conversations involving this subject.

And I’m rejecting the term. When I talk about barriers, safer sex practices, and sexual health, I will no longer be using the term “fluid bonding.”

Here’s why.

First, What is Fluid Bonding?

If you ask ten polyamorous people what “fluid bonding” means, most of them will probably tell you something like “having sex without barriers.” In practice, though, the term’s most widely-used and accepted definition is narrower than that.

When most people say “fluid bonding,” they are referring to the act of having penetrative penis-in-vagina (or, less commonly, penis-in-anus) sex without a condom.

“Fluid Bonding” is Vague

Under the above definition, I have only ever “fluid bonded” with two people in my entire life. But that feels like a ridiculous, reductive, and wildly inaccurate assessment of how I have had sex over the years.

But the term “fluid bonding” is inherently vague. Though there’s the commonly-used definition I outlined above, I’ve seen plenty of instances where people thought they were on the same page about its meaning but were not. This can lead to hurt, anger, and feelings of violation and betrayal as well as people’s safer sex boundaries being inadvertently violated.

When we assume we all use a term in the same way, miscommunications are inevitable. Nowadays, if a partner or prospective partner tell me they’re “fluid bonded” with this or that person, or expresses a desire to fluid bond with me, I’m going to be asking far more questions rather than assuming I know what they mean.

Vague Terminology Makes it Harder to Have Accurate Safer Sex Conversations

Here’s the reality: semen is one bodily fluid, but not the only one. And semen going into a vagina is just one way of sharing bodily fluids in a sexual relationship. It’s also only one possible way to contract an STI.

If you’re having oral sex without a condom, dam, or other barrier, you are exhanging fluids. If you are touching your partner and then yourself with your hands (or touching more than one partner’s genitals in one session) without changing gloves or handwashing in between, you are exchanging fluids. Any kind of kink activity involving blood, such as needle play, is a fluid exchange risk. Hell, even saliva is a bodily fluid. So if we’re getting really technical about it, kissing is a form of fluid exchange. It’s a low risk one, admittedly, but some STIs can be transmitted in this way. Sharing toys creates risk. And for some STIs to spread, skin-to-skin contact is all you need.

I’m not telling you any of this to scare you. Quite the opposite, actually. STIs carry a heavy stigma but most of them are also easily avoidable, treatable, or manageable. I’m telling you this because having the correct information is how we can all make better choices to keep ourselves and our lovers safe and healthy. Regular testing, clear and specific negotiations about barrier use or lack thereof, and knowing the facts is how we do that.

I’ve also seen people, particularly non-monogamy newbies and those not clued up on sexual health, assume that if they are not “fluid bonded” (i.e. having unbarriered intercourse with a penis) with any of their partners, then they are free from any sexual health risk and can eschew testing. The reality is that anyone who is sexually active should be testing at least occasionally, if not regularly.

Continuing to use this term makes it harder to have accurate conversations about sexual health. It perpetuates the idea that penetrative sex with a penis is the only form of sex that carries a risk. This belief is simply inaccurate and frankly dangerous. It prevents people from being fully informed and protecting their sexual health accordingly.

“Fluid Bonding” is Heterocentric and Cissexist

Part of rejecting “fluid bonding” is tied to my broader and long-standing desire to completely decentre penetrative sex with a penis as some kind of pinnacle of sexual experience. Penis-in-vagina intercourse is one type of sex. It’s not “full” sex (look out for my rant on that subject, coming soon to a sex blog near you!) It’s not “real” sex. When we centre it above other activities in our discussions about sex, we are perpetuating cisheteronormativity.

When we talk about “fluid bonding”, we are assuming that one partner in the equation has a penis and the other has a vulva. This may or may not be true. Further, even if this does happen to be the combination of bodies we’re working with, penis-in-vagina (or anus) intercourse may or may not be a part of that couple’s sexual relationship.

This is heterocentric. It is also cissexist. In reality, relationships can include any combination of gender identities and genital types that you can think of. In reality, penetrative sex is a part of some sexual relationships but not all. And any sexual relationship likely involves at least some form of fluid exchange unless you’re covering your entire bodies in latex prior to sex and not kissing.

The vast majority of the sex I have outside of my nesting relationship is with other people with vulvas. This sex still carries risk, and sexual health is still a consideration. Many queer and sapphic women assume sexual health concerns don’t apply to them because of heteronormative narratives around so-called “fluid bonding.” This directly increases their sexual health risks.

“Fluid Bonding” is Emotionally Loaded

If having unbarriered sex with your partners is emotionally meaningful to you, I’m not going to tell you it shouldn’t be. I also prefer to have unbarriered sex in situations where it feels safe and comfortable to do so! As I said, I’ve only had unbarriered penis-in-vagina sex with two people in my entire life. This should tell you that I do not, personally, consider it trivial.

However, I think we should be very, very careful about applying emotionally loaded terms to conversations about safer sex.

A relationship with Partner A isn’t less emotionally meaningful than a relationship with Partner B just because you use barriers with one partner and not the other. There are so many reasons you could make this choice. Perhaps one partner has much more casual sex outside of your relationship and using barriers makes you feel safer. Maybe you or one of your partners is trying to get pregnant in one relationship but not another. Perhaps one penis-owning person has had a vasectomy and another hasn’t. So many possible reasons, and none of them are “I love this person more than that person.”

With that said, some people do use so-called fluid bonding as a sign of emotional significance in a relationship. Again, I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t do this. The emotional weight you apply to sexual decisions is highly personal and up to you to negotiate with your partner(s.)

However, I believe the term “fluid bonding” automatically confers this emotional weight, whether or not the people in question believe in or experience it. That feeds into problematic (and often heteronormative and mononormative) assumptions about which sex acts do and don’t carry emotional significance.

Sex without a barrier is not inherently more connective (or “bonding”) than sex with one.

So What Am I Using Instead?

In rejecting this term, my goal is to get far more accurate and specific in my conversations about sexual health. It might seem useful to have a shorthand at first glance. But, as we’ve seen, that shorthand is so imprecise as to be functionally useless.

So instead, when negotiating sexual health, I’ll talk about what I am actually doing with whom. How many people am I having sex with? What barriers am I using or not using for which activities? How often and in which circumstances do I have casual sex, and what precautions am I taking when I do? How often do I and my partners test, and what were our most recent results? And so on.

Does it take longer? Sure. Is it a little clunkier? Yes. Can it feel more vulnerable, or even embarrassing, to get so specific? Yes. But it’s a hell of a lot more useful for everyone.

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Header image for a post on everything I got wrong about hierarchical polyamory. An infinity symbol drawn in beach sand.

Everything I Got Wrong About Hierarchical Polyamory

Published on by Amy1 Comment

I’ve been thinking about this for a very long time now. I’ve also been writing this post on and off for weeks months as new thoughts occur to me. My opinions on a lot of subjects have changed in the years I’ve been writing about sex and relationships. One of those subjects is hierarchical polyamory and the ethics of hierarchy in poly relationships.

I’m not saying I got everything wrong, necessarily. I still stand by my original assertion that a complete lack of any kind of agreements or structure in relationships sounds incredibly stressful to me. But I was definitely coming at many aspects of the subject from a place of unaddressed trauma. I had deep unhealed wounds and a hell of a lot of anger that coloured my perception. I definitely got a lot wrong.

I’m a few years older now and I’ve had a fucktonne of therapy. I’ve got to know myself a lot better and spent countless hours deconstructing and reimagining basically everything I thought I knew about sex, relationships, love, and polyamory.

So what did I get wrong about hierarchical poly relationships, and what do I believe now?

There’s Such a Thing as Too Much Control

When I first started out in polyamory, way back in the Dark Ages of early 2009, it seemed that virtually everyone in the polyamorous community was operating in the primary/secondary structure. Under this system, one partner is “primary”, and all others are “secondary.” The primary partner typically has some level of control over their partner’s external relationships. They may have access to certain privileges that secondaries don’t. Back in the day, some even went as far as to designate some partners as “tertiary”. A tertiary partner is we might now call a comet partnership or friend-with-benefits. I rarely see “tertiary” used any more, though the primary/secondary structure is still used by some.

My nesting partner, Mr C&K, and I stopped using the term “primary” to describe our relationship a few years ago. There were many reasons behind this, but none of them were because our importance to each other had lessened. We simply found that it no longer conveyed the reality of how we wanted to operate in our polyamorous dynamic. (And he got there before I did!) Specifically, we no longer wanted to operate under a lot of rules. Those rules were stressing us out, disenfranchising our other partners, and didn’t even achieve what we wanted them to achieve. (More on this last point later…)

I once believed a primary or spouse should be able to set pretty much any rules and restrictions they wanted. That is largely because all my earliest exposures to polyamory were to this type of dynamic. When proponents of non-hierarchical versions of polyamory did show up in our community media landscape, they were generally in the “fuck my partners’ needs, I do what I want” school of thought. Many poly people now derisively call this Relationship Libertarianism. Not exactly a glowing recommendation.

My long-term ex and his wife practiced hierarchical poly and had a lot of rules. Many of them were subject to arbitrary changes. There was also a veto agreement[*]. Pretty much everyone I dated had a list of rules and limitations. These ranged from “I have to love my primary most” to “I’m only allowed to see you once a month”. And so I thought this was how it was done. Being the inexperienced newbies in our polyamorous network, my “primary” boyfriend at the time and I followed suit.

I carried this belief forward, operating on the basic assumption that a primary or spouse would – should – always get final say on any aspect of an external relationship. If they say no, it’s a no. If they say yes, they can revoke that permission at any time for any reason. I do not believe that any more. In fact, I now think that that kind of dynamic is likely to be deeply harmful to everyone involved. I also think that veto, specifically, is inherently abusive in almost all situations. This applies whether it’s actually used or simply held over someone’s head as a potential threat.

I now believe that it is entirely possible for a partner to have too much control over their partner’s external relationships. This can happen surprisingly easily and is something we must take care to avoid. It is this control that ultimately defines how hierarchical a poly relationship is, or if what’s happening is hierarchical polyamory at all (more on that shortly.)

[*] Veto: when someone can order their partner to end or deescalate another relationship at any time and expect that they will comply. Veto is usually a clumsy tool used to access a sense of security and safety – “if this all gets too much I have a kill-switch.” It’s cruel, unethical, and highly unlikely to achieve the desired effect of managing jealousy and building security.

Considering Your Partner’s Feelings and Needs is Not Control

With that said, it’s important to draw a clear distinction between considering your partner’s (or partners’) feelings and needs in the decisions you make, and allowing them to control your actions. Nothing we do exists in a vacuum. Part of loving people is considering them in the things we do. This is one of the reasons I believe that relationship agreements and personal/interpersonal boundaries are so important. They allow us to show up consistently for one another. With strong boundaries and good agreements, we can balance independence/autonomy with interdependence/mutual care in all of our relationships and as members of a polycule, network, or community.

This line isn’t always easy to draw, though. What seems like arbitrary control can actually be a good-faith attempt to get a need met. What seems like an effort to care for a partner emotionally can actually be the result of control.

Let’s take a hypothetical example: your partner has a dramatic emotional meltdown every time you go out on a date. Eventually, you’re so stressed out you cancel all your dates and break up with your other partner(s).

In this hypothetical example, control is taking on the slightly more subtle form of emotional manipulation. But it’s still control, even if it doesn’t look like slamming down a veto and saying “I forbid you to go on dates.” It’s very possible, even probable, that the person having the emotional meltdowns is doing so due to some unmet need, deep fear or insecurity, trauma, or some combination thereof. They deserve to have these needs and feelings addressed and cared for. In a healthy non-monogamous relationship it is actually very possible to achieve that without the need for control.

What might caring for your partner’s feelings look like in this situation? How can you show care without allowing yourself to be manipulated or your other relationship(s) to be controlled? In other words, what does it look like to care for someone in the context of a non-hierarchical poly relationship? It might look like some of the following[**]:

  • Providing verbal affection and reassurance to your partner before/after a date
  • At a separate time, talking and processing with your partner to help them get to the bottom of their difficult feelings and work through them
  • Consistently telling your partner the truth. It can be tempting to falsely downplay other connections to make an insecure partner feel better. Don’t. This will bite you later when they realise you’ve been hiding the truth from them.
  • Sticking to any relationship agreements the two of you have made
  • Planning a nice date or some one-to-one quality time with your partner to ensure they feel loved and special
  • Giving your partner plenty of affection, positive reinforcement, and focused time consistently and regularly. Ironically, this can be particularly important for nested couples. Don’t rely on “we live together” to carry your relationship in lieu of quality time together.
  • Going to therapy with your partner to work through the worries and insecurities that are coming up for them
  • If you live and/or coparent together, making sure that your partner also has free time away from the home, children, and other responsibilities to do the things that matter to them (whether that’s going on their own dates, seeing their friends, doing hobbies, or just playing video games)

Considering how your actions impact your partner and caring for them emotionally isn’t a sign of control. It’s a sign of being a good partner. Knowing the difference isn’t always easy, and the former can slip in via the backdoor of the latter. But with good communication, love, compassion, emotional intelligence, and strong personal boundaries on both sides, you can take care of each other without controlling each other.

[**] All of this is assuming that you and your partner have both consented to a polyamorous/non-monogamous relationship. Poly-under-duress is a whole different thing and not something you should either tolerate or do to another person.

If Control is Necessary to Get Your Needs Met, Something Has Gone Wrong

It’s fair to say that a few years ago, I was desperate for any semblance of a sense of control I could get my hands on. After years of abuse, I’d felt out of control for so long that I needed predictability and stability above all. So, because that was the model I’d seen and emulated for so long, I thought the way to get those things was to place a lot of rules and restrictions on external relationships outside of my nesting partnership.

The problem is that polyamory does not work like that. Neither does security. I still value stability and security in relationships highly. But those things come from having partners who value your relationship and honour their commitments to you. They don’t come from partners who will capitulate to any arbitrary restrictions you set.

Security comes from knowing and feeling deeply that your partners love and value you. It does not come from partners who will agree not to have sex with anyone else in the Reverse Pile Driver position[***] because that’s our position, damnit! And it certainly doesn’t come from unilaterally forcing your partner to break up with someone else they love.

I never did the veto thing personally, but I’ve known a lot of people who do and have. It never leaves anything but pain and destruction in its wake. The most common outcome I’ve seen following a veto is that the primary couple breaks up over it. This may happen immediately, or may happen after months or years of the simmering resentment it causes.

Looking back with the knowledge and (relative) wisdom I have now, I think one of the reasons I was formerly so (relatively) uncritically in favour of hierarchical poly dynamics is that I’d fallen into a really unhealthy pattern of believing that strict rules were the only way I could get my needs met. Because that’s what I’d witnessed again and again.

After coming out of an abusive relationship, and other dynamics that don’t rise to the level of abuse but were certainly neglectful and unkind, I had absolutely no idea how to go about getting my needs met in a relationship. Talking to those partners hadn’t worked. Begging them to please listen to me and give a damn about my feelings hadn’t worked. Eventually becoming unbalanced and hysterical and “crazy” because I felt so profoundly unheard and gaslit hadn’t worked. And no, trying to set rules hadn’t worked either. Nothing would have worked, because those partners did not love me and want to treat me well.

It has taken years of self-work, and of building a secure base in a safe and stable relationship, to truly internalise these two important messages that I now take forward into all my relationships:

  1. My feelings and needs in any given relationship, and my partner’s needs and feelings, are equally important. They deserve to be equally heard and honoured.
  2. If a partner loves me, they will make a good faith effort to meet my needs in a relationship as long as doing so doesn’t harm them or anyone else. If they don’t love or care about me, no amount of rules and restrictions can compel them to do so.

Ultimately, you cannot compel your partner to treat you well with giant lists of “thou shalt not”s. A partner who wants to love you and honour your relationship will do so. A partner who doesn’t will find a way to loophole their way around any rules or agreements. If they don’t just flagrantly break them.

Next time you think about making a restrictive rule, ask yourself what purpose it is intended to serve. If it’s intended to address an unmet need or eliminate an insecurity, ask yourself if there aren’t better ways to get those things.

There’s a reason I now have a print on my office wall that reads I am the one thing in life I can control.

[***] Actually a thing, though I am not convinced it is physically possible.

Legislating Your Way Around Difficult Feelings Doesn’t Work

Another common reason people give for having exhaustive lists of rules is “because I’d feel too jealous [sad/scared/lonely/insert difficult emotion here] if my partner did that thing.”

And I get it, I really do. None of us want to feel those types of feelings! They suck! Jealousy, in particular, can feel like the absolute worst. It’s visceral, physical, painful, often overwhelming in its intensity. But you can’t legislate yourself (or your partners) out of feeling things you don’t want to feel. It’s also healthy, normal, and human to feel difficult feelings sometimes. Yes, including that j-word that so many polyamorous folks are so terrified of.

If you’re using the most strict and stringent form of hierarchical polyamory to avoid difficult feelings, I’d also challenge you to consider this: are you in fact outsourcing the experience of difficult feelings to someone else in your poly network?

What do I mean by that? For example, let’s say you have a rule that your partner cannot say “I love you” to anyone else. That privilege is reserved for you alone. And it might create a sense of security by keeping expressions of love exclusive to you. But in doing so, you have potentially created a situation in which your partner feels forced to repress their emotions. Your metamour likely also feels unloved and undervalued because the person they’re dating cannot express love to them. All so that you don’t have to confront the insecurity behind the fear behind the rule. Is that fair? I don’t think it is.

It’s also not fair to you, by the way! Tremendous personal growth can come from confronting and deconstructing difficult feelings. Trying to legislate them away, then police those rules, will stress you out and drive you mad. Forbidding someone from expressing something also doesn’t stop them from feeling it, but that’s a whole other conversation.

I’m not saying that you can never object to something in a partner’s other relationship, of course. If you see a legitimate issue in how someone is treating your partner, or if something is negatively impacting you directly, you should raise it. That saying about not setting yourself on fire to keep someone else warm applies here. But I am saying that outsourcing feeling bad is deeply unfair. “Your other partner must feel unloved so that I can feel secure” isn’t reasonable. In other words, don’t set your partners or metamours on fire to keep yourself warm.

Different Levels of Priority in Your Poly Relationships and Hierarchical Polyamory Are Not Synonymous

The more I think about it, the more I realise that this is probably the crux of the issue. I think this is one of the key things that our community most often misunderstands. It’s likely the reason we have been having the same “hierarchical poly: good or bad?” circular debate in the community for at least a decade. It’s also the reason I think that’s the wrong question to be asking.

When I used to say that I needed hierarchical polyamory, what I actually meant was that I needed to be secure in the fact that I was (and would remain) a priority to my partner in the context of a poly relationship.

When people advocate for an anti-hierarchy stance, it can sound like (and occasionally even is) another way of saying “you have to treat any new partner exactly the same as your spouse right out of the gate.” Which is, objectively, utterly ridiculous. In my experience, very few people actually believe this is a reasonable, sensible, or even possible thing to attempt. But relationships looking different from one another – based on their longevity, level of seriousness or entanglement, all kinds of factors from geographical distance to childrearing, and just what the people in them want – isn’t hierarchical poly. (We’ll delve into this in more depth in the next section.)

When we don’t deconstruct and understand the difference between priority and hierarchy in a poly relationship, a non-hierarchical approach to polyamory can also sound like “placing a high priority on your existing relationship(s) is bad.” There is, unfortunately, a vocal subsection of the polyamory community that has successfully pushed this narrative to the point that people believe taking their existing partners into consideration when making decisions is Bad, Actually. I do not believe this. I think this is ridiculous. Relationships need a consistent level of priority in order to survive and thrive.

But hierarchical polyamory isn’t about priority. We all have different priorities in our lives. If you have children, they are likely your number one priority much of the time. People with jobs or businesses sometimes have to prioritise our work over everything else. If we don’t keep our employers and clients happy, we get fired or don’t get paid. There are times when our top priority might be a sick family member or a friend in crisis. It might be a pet, a university programme, our health, or a time-sensitive project. But most of us would never say “I am in a hierarchical relationship with [this aspect of my life.]”

It is also generally assumed that priorities are not necessarily entirely fixed. They shift and change according to circumstances. If I’m working on a deadline, that project is my priority until it’s submitted. If I’m on a date with a partner, that partner is my priority for that pocket of time. And if there’s an emergency, dealing with that is likely to supersede doing fun things in the immediate aftermath. None of these things imply hierarchy. They just imply… being a an adult. Being able to manage different pulls on my time and energy along with my own and others’ wants and needs.

What I’m trying to get to here is that hierarchy is not, ultimately, about priority. Hierarchy is about power.

In what I now define as a hierarchical poly relationship, one partner has a level of control and influence that is not afforded to others outside of that designated “core couple.” An example might be “I need permission from my husband to have a date with my boyfriend, but not the other way around.” It might also imply a situation in which the wants of one person always come before the needs of another. For example: “my date with my wife comes before my boyfriend’s medical emergency because my wife is my primary.”

It’s appropriate to prioritise a person or people highly when you’ve built a long-term relationship with them. There will be agreements and commitments you have within those relationships, and you should honour them. It’s appropriate not to move your brand new sweetie into your house or give them co-parenting rights to your children. It’s sensible to make sure the mortgage is paid before splashing out on extravagent dates. Exercising fair and proportionate prioritisation in your life is not the same as automatically disempowering or placing unilateral limitations on anyone else you or your partner dates. In other words, it’s not hierarchy.

Want an example of what this looks like in practice?

“I have a standing date with my nesting partner every Thursday, so I’m not usually available on that day. But I can occasionally move things around for really special occasions or emergencies.” = Priority, not hierarchy

“My spouse says I can only see you once a week. It also has to be while they’re at work.” = Hierarchy

“My nesting partner just lost their job and money for rent is tight. So unfortunately I can’t afford to go on a date to that fancy restaurant right now“. = Priority, not hierarchy

“I’m not allowed to go to that restaurant with you because my partner says sushi is our thing”. = Hierarchy

If I’m dating someone, I want them to treat me as a priority. Not necessarily the top priority, and certainly not all of the time, but a priority nontheless. And they, of course, will also be a significant priority to me. But if no-one has power over anyone else? That is, by definition, not a poly hierarchy. And I do not want to be in relationships or polycules where anyone holds or wields power over anyone else.

Different Types of Relationships Aren’t Hierarchical Polyamory, Either

Another thing that drives me mad about the hierarchical polyamory discourse is the assumption that to remove hierarchy is to have all relationships within a poly network look the same. This is, as we touched upon above, impossible. It is unrealistic, undesirable to almost everyone, and would be absolutely maddening to even attempt in practice.

All relationships look different. Even if I were dating identical twin siblings[****], had started dating them both at exactly the same time, and did all the same activities with each of them, the relationships would still be different. Because they are different people.

People want different things out of relationships. Not every relationship is well-suited to nesting, sharing finances, or raising children together, just as every relationship isn’t well-suited to being a casual “we’ll see each other and have sex once in a blue moon” situation. And the same is also true of every single possible place on the vast spectrum in between these two extremes. Connections, dynamics, and desires will be different with every person you are in relationship with. Not only is this normal, it is – in my opinion – one of the most beautiful things about polyamory. It also isn’t hierarchical polyamory.

It is my firm belief that one of the biggest sources of misery I see in polyamory is people trying to force relationships into structures that don’t fit. And this applies both ways: trying to force naturally-casual relationships to be serious, and trying to force naturally-intense relationships to be casual. It’s easy to fall into this trap if you think that stepping away from hierarchical polyamory means that the relationships within your poly network all have to operate in the same way.

Most people accept the concept that we have different types of relationships with our friends and family members. You might have the friend you go on wild nights out with and the sibling you binge-watch Netflix with. Then there’s the friend you tell all your deepest darkest secrets to. The cousin who rocks up once a year at Christmas and whom you don’t talk to much in between. Why, then, is it such a stretch to believe that we also have many different types of relationships with our partners and lovers?

My relationship with one partner isn’t more or less valuable because we do or don’t share a mortgage. I don’t love them more or less based on whether we have have children together or make joint decisions about what colour to paint the bathroom. It’s just different. Because ultimately, the value of my relationships comes not from the external trappings. It comes from the people involved. From the unique and beautiful ways in which we connect, share time and space and energy, and show up for each other with love.

[****] Which I obviously never would, but it’s amazing how often “is it weird to be metamours with your sibling?” comes up as a question in the polyamory groups. I’m making an executive ruling on this: you do you but yes, it’s weird.

“But What If Both Your Partners Were Dying at the Same Time?” Addressing Strawman Arguments In Favour of Hierarchical Polyamory

I saw a post in a polyamory group recently that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about, and it was one of the catalysts for revisiting and finally finishing this piece. Paraphrased slightly from memory, it said this: “I love my boyfriend and husband absolutely equally and we don’t practice hierarchical polyamory but, if they were both on their deathbeds at the same time, I would be with my husband absolutely no question.”

When monogamous people ask me which of my partners I love the most, they get frustrated when I reject the premise of the question. I don’t believe in talking about who I love “more”. I don’t know how I would even begin to quantify that! They then try to come up with elaborate hypotheticals to “trick” me into answering the original question. If I allow this conversation to go on long enough, it will usually wind up in roughly the same place as the post I referenced above: “If they were both/all dying at the same time, who would you be with?” This outlandish hypothetical is, weirdly, one of the most common arguments people will use to defend hierarchical polyamory.

Setting aside, for a second, the sheer unlikeliness of this scenario ever occuring in reality. The assumption is that, when all comes down to brass tacks, we want to be placed above and before everyone else in our partners’ lives. And I feel like this is a sad misunderstanding of what polyamory can be when it works at its best.

If an emergency were happening for both me and my metamour at the same time, I would hope that our shared partner would make an effort to support and be there for both of us in whatever ways were possible and made sense. And, partially because we’re polyamorous, we have a big extended support network who can also step in and offer love and care to whoever is going through a crisis.

I don’t want a polycule that’s a competitive power struggle for limited resources. I want a polycule that’s a committed to the health and happiness of all its members. My metamours aren’t my competition for the one and only spot of “Top Dog”. They are my teammates in the quest of making the amazing person we both love happy.

What Do I Still Believe About Hierarchical Polyamory?

Phew, that got long, didn’t it? So after all this, after all the things I no longer believe about hierarchical polyamory, what do I believe now?

I think when we talk about hierarchical polyamory and how hierarchy shows up in poly relationships, we have to be very clear what we are talking about. Do I think it is ever okay for someone who is outside of a relationship – including another partner or metamour – to have as much or more control over it than the people within it? No, I do not.

However, I don’t think that means we have to default to absolutely structureless, boundary-free chaos, either. It’s perfectly possible to build relationships and polyamorous networks with structures and agreements that work to meet everyone’s needs without disempowering or disenfranchising any members.

I also think that what some people might term “rules” can be perfectly fine and even healthy. However, a sensible and ethical rule is something we should really probably call a relationship agreement. It should be flexible, adaptable to circumstances, renegotiable if necessary, and open to the input of everyone it affects.

We all have a responsibility to behave with compassion, integrity, and to try to live up to our ethical standards. We also have to accept that we are all human. Mistakes are inevitable and we deserve grace to learn, grow, and become the best possible versions of ourselves.

Does “my wife is my primary” mean that your wife is tremendously important to you? Are you saying she will always be a major priority in your life and you won’t leave her? Or does it mean your wife will be able to control how/if we can have sex or whether we can even be in a relationship? Because those things are wildly different.

The first one is fine, even positive. Someone with a track record of nurturing and honouring a long-term relationship is a huge green flag for dating! (Though I might gently encourage you to reconsider the language in this case. Many experienced poly people will find the hierarchical phrasing offputting.) The second is an instant dealbreaker.

So what conclusions can we draw from all this? Fundamentally, I now believe two things:

  1. That the actions we take in polyamory impact not only ourselves but usually our partners. They also often impact our metamours and our wider polycule or network. We all have a responsibility to be kind and thoughtful, to honour our agreements, and to tell the truth. We should give each other space to make mistakes even as we’re doing our best.
  2. That nobody should be controlling a relationship that they are not in.

So Where Does This Leave Us?

Phew. This post is five thousand words long and comprises months of thinking and on-and-off writing about hierarchical polyamory and how my stance on hierarchy has changed in the time I’ve been poly. And I’m still not entirely sure how to wrap it up properly.

I guess all that remains to say is that I’m glad my thinking on this subject has evolved. Rejecting hierarchical polyamory actually left me in a much happier and healthier place. Being non-hierarchical has allowed me to have better poly relationships with my partners and metamours. It’s also improved my relationship with myself and started to heal some of my trust trauma. Rejecting hierarchy has allowed me to show up more fully and authentically for the people I love.

And for any incorrect and harmful ideas that appeared in my previous writings on this topic, I’m truly sorry.

My thanks go to Mr C&K for proofreading a draft of this post and offering his insights before publishing!

Woman clutching the sheets as though cumming. Header image for a post on faking orgasms.

On Faking Orgasms: Why I’ll Never Fake an Orgasm Again

Published on by Amy

Sometimes it’s hard for me to orgasm. Other times I can get there, but it takes a long time. On those occasions when my orgasms feel a long way away, faking it still sometimes feels incredibly tempting.

According to the International Society for Sexual Medicine, one study showed that the average person with a vulva (they said “woman” but let’s use inclusive language here) takes around 14 minutes to climax during partnered sex. It is a little unclear whether the researchers were using “partnered sex” synonymously with “intercourse”. However, I’m assuming they are referring to any kind of partnered sexual activity since anything from 50% to 80% (depending on which study you believe) of people with vulvas don’t orgasm solely from penetration at all.

Why Fake An Orgasm?

I’ve definitely pretended to orgasm in the past, at various times and for a few different reasons. At the absolute worst, when I was in an abusive relationship, faking orgasms was sometimes the best way to get things I didn’t like to end. In those relationships, even if the sex itself was consensual, it wasn’t necessarily safe to ask for what actually felt good and would help me to get off. Abusive men don’t take well to any threat to their egos, and turns out “I didn’t come” is a pretty big ego threat.

On a less sinister note, I’ve had a lot of consensual-but-bad sex in my life. Whether it was partners who couldn’t be bothered to learn how to please me, or just my own insecurities and unwillingness to speak up for my pleasure, lots of factors played into this. Half way through sex I might realise that I wasn’t going to get there no matter how hard we tried. At those times, faking orgasms sometimes felt easier than saying “can we stop?”

I’ve also done the fake orgasm thing in group sex situations before. Those spaces are typically less about the actual orgasm for me. I often won’t come in a group situation, though there are of course exceptions to this. They’re more about the overall sensuality, shared sexual energy, and just the feeling of being in that erotic space with other sexy people. Even so, it can feel like the goal in those situations is “everyone has an orgasm” and like I’m letting the group down if I don’t. In those circumstances, it has sometimes felt easier to fake an orgasm than to draw attention to it.

Why I Decided to Stop Faking It

Quite a few years ago now, I swore off faking orgasms. So what changed? A few things.

First, I realised that I deserve pleasure as much as my partners. I was primarily sleeping with men and masc-of-centre people at the time, and the orgasm gap is a real phenomenon to which I have no desire to contribute with my sex life.

Ironically, discovering that I have an orgasm denial/orgasm control kink helped, too. This means that if I’m having fun but not getting off, I can eroticise the build-up and the unreleased sexual tension in and of itself. Enjoying the process freed me up to enjoy sex more fully without needing to chase a destination that can be highly variable in its reachability. (And yes, I also appreciate the irony that someone growling “don’t you dare fucking come” in my ear will often get me close faster than almost anything else.)

I also realised that faking it just begets more frustration and unsatisfying sex. If a partner believes that what they’re doing is getting me off, they will (reasonably) continue doing those things when we have sex again in the future. By faking orgasms, I was literally teaching partners to continue touching me in ways that didn’t work for me. What’s the point of that?

I recently saw this article about why faking orgasms “may not be as bad for your relationship as we thought,” and… it made me kinda ragey. This part, in particular:

If your partner feels insecure about their sexual ability and you don’t have an orgasm during sex, sometimes telling them you did is an easy out from having to console them. As much as you love your partner, having to reassure them their sex skills are top-notch can be taxing. That’s why, in these situations, it’s fine to spare their feelings to avoid having to comfort them for hours on end.

– Amanda Chatel

What? WHAT!? No! I’m sorry but if someone’s ego is so fragile that they’re going to make my body’s quirks about them, or that they’d rather I lie to them rather than learn about what actually gets me off (and accept that sometimes it might not happen through no fault of theirs or mine), we shouldn’t be having sex.

Another change was discovering the wonderful world of sex toys. Over a decade ago, I went through a period where I was unable to orgasm due to starting new antidepressants. It was a mains-powered “back massager” vibrator that helped me eventually power through that block. I didn’t really start exploring the full joys of the sex toy world, though, until I launched this blog.

Discovering toys gave me new options and avenues for pleasure and orgasm. New ways to experience intense sensations when my body needs more powerful stimulation to break through an orgasm block. And sometimes new ways to just have fun without the destination needing to be the focus.

The absolute number one change, though? The single biggest thing that turned all of this around? Safe relationships.

When You’re With Safe Partners, Faking Orgasms Becomes Unnecessary

With both Mr C&K and my girlfriend, I feel able to say either “please could we do this different thing that might help me get there?” or “I don’t think it’s going to happen tonight but I’m still having tonnes of fun” and I know that that will be heard and accepted with love. Feeling safe and loved totally removes the need or desire to fake anything with them, including my orgasms.

So sometimes I still struggle to get there. That might always be true. And sometimes I might worry that I’m taking too long. That my partner(s) will feel bad if I don’t get off. That they’ll get bored with the process. In those situations, faking orgasms does still occasionally seem like a tempting solution. But I promised myself and my partners that I’ll never do that again, and I intend to stick to it.

I deserve more than fake pleasure and so do my partners. Because if we can’t be authentic with each other, what’s the point?

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Naming My Sexuality: What is Sapphic?

Published on by Amy

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the words I use to describe my sexuality. I started identifying as bisexual when I was 17, having always experienced attraction to folks of different genders. But in recent years, this term has felt less and less adequate to describe an expansive and often confusing identity. As I’ve tried on different terms for my sexuality, the one that feels increasingly right is “sapphic.” Let’s talk about the definition of this lesser-known LGBTQ+ term and what it means to be sapphic.

Am I Still Bisexual? Yes… and No

I’ve always liked the term “bisexual” and proudly claimed it for a number of reasons:

  1. It feels extremely important to claim a label that people often dismiss as “not really queer” or “queer lite”, despite being literally the third letter in LGBTQIA+.
  2. It’s an easy shorthand that most people outside of the LGBTQIA+ community have at least some understanding of.
  3. Claiming an expansive definition of bisexuality (“attraction to two or more genders”) is important in pushing back against the false narrative that bisexuals only fancy cis people or that bisexuality is a trans-exclusionary sexuality. (They don’t and it’s not.)

So now I’ve started defining my sexuality as sapphic, am I also still bisexual? Yes and no. I’d say that I still identify as under the bi+ umbrella, given that I’m neither a 0 nor a 6 on the Kinsey Scale (“exclusively heterosexual” or “exclusively homosexual”, respectively.) Taken on its own, though, I haven’t been finding the label “bisexual” entirely accurate or sufficient to describe my reality.

Sapphic Sexuality Definition: An Expensive LGBTQ+ Identity?

So what is sapphic?

The official definition of sapphic is an LGBTQ+ term “relating to sexual attraction or activity between women” (Oxford Languages.) As a sexual orientation or identity, the LGBTQIA+ Wiki defines sapphic sexuality as referring “to a woman or woman-aligned person of any sexual orientation who is attracted to other women and/or women-aligned individuals.”

Fun fact: the term “sapphic” derives from the name of Sappho, an Archaic Greek poet who lived circa 630-570 BCE and whose work described erotic desire and romantic love between women. The word “lesbian” comes from Lesbos, the island where Sappho lived.

Why Identify My Sexuality as Sapphic?

As I said, I’ve played around with a lot of sexuality labels over the years and particularly over the last few months. Though I’m definitely somewhere on the bi+ spectrum, I’m also definitely not a Kinsey 3 (i.e. bang in the middle of the spectrum between exclusively gay and exclusively straight.)

I’m probably somewhere between a Kinsey 5 and a 5.5. That is, much more frequently attracted to people with similar gender identities and presentations to mine (i.e. women, femmes, and women-aligned folks) than to those with very different identities and presentations (i.e. men, male-aligned, and masc-of-centre folks.)

In truth, if I could name 100 people I found attractive right now, at least 95 of them would be women, femmes, or women-aligned. The men in my romantic life are wonderful (and it’s really “man”, singular, these days). But they’re also increasingly rare exceptions.

Sapphic as a Reclamation of Queer Visibility

Sapphic is an umbrella term for many different ways of being within queer sexuality. It can encompass people who identify as lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, queer, and in various other ways. What I love the most about this particular label is that it doesn’t necessarily mean exclusive attraction to women (in the way that the term “lesbian” is often assumed to, though even this is complicated. Bisexual lesbians exist!) It does, however, centre that attraction.

As a woman and as a femme, most of the world would conceive my sexuality primarily in relation to men. Specifically, the assumption is that I will be exclusively or primarily attracted to them and that, even when I am not, my interest in other women will be performed in a way that centres men. In fact, one of the most common biphobic and lesbophobic tropes is that queer women’s sexuality primarily exists for the titillation and enjoyment of men. (See “can I watch?” and “that’s hot” and “so if you’re bi, can we have a threesome?”)

People often assume that I’m “straight really”. They accuse me of just dabbling in queerness for funsies because my nesting partner happens to be male. I recently told a man who was trying to pick me up that I was “wayyyyyy towards the gay end of bisexual”. Somehow, all he gleaned from that revelation was “so I still have a chance?” (Reader, he did not.) Even—perhaps especially—when you’re loudly and proudly queer, heteronormativity can seem very very pervasive sometimes.

So yes. I think “sapphic” is the most succinct and accurate way to sum up my sexuality right now.

Choosing a term to describe my sexuality that specifically places my love for and attraction to women at its heart feels like a small act of reclamation and celebration for my queerness. Every time I think about referring to myself in this way it makes me smile. I think that means I am on the right lines.

Header for a post about the rose toys trend

Are Rose Toys Actually That Good? Unpacking the Viral Sex Toy Trend

Published on by Amy

Chances are, if you’re familiar with the sex toy industry or have spent any time in sex positive spaces online in the last couple of years, you’ll have come across rose toys. Perhaps you’ve seen a company advertising them, an influencer gushing about them on social media, or a friend has told you about how much they love theirs. But what exactly are rose sex toys, are they good, and just why are they so popular? 

It Began on TikTok

I don’t really use or understand TikTok, mostly because I am over 30 and get overwhelmed easily. Therefore, I only became aware of this particular viral sensation when it spread out onto other platforms such as Twitter. I kept seeing people talking about this “rose toy for women”, so obviously I had to check it out and see what all the fuss was about. 

The rose sex toys craze seemingly began sometime in early 2021. In one viral TikTok clip dated 4 May 2021, which has over 631,000 likes at the time of writing, user @_queenk_95 claims to have reached orgasm in 30 seconds with her rose adult toy. Her enthusiastic commenters agree. “WARNING USE AT UR OWN RISK YOULL NEVER BE THE SAME” [sic] one commenter claims.

Image: OOTYEMO

Needless to say, this and similar videos had users rushing to try the toy in their droves. The TikTok rose toy trend is probably one of the biggest pop culture moments in sex toys since an infamous scene from a Sex & the City episode led to many stores selling out of rabbit vibrators in the late 1990s. 

“Rose Toys” Aren’t Just One Thing 

The original “rose toy” that took TikTok by storm seems to have been a rose-shaped clitoral suction stimulator from Amazon. However, even a quick search for “rose sex toy” brings up over 1000 results on Amazon’s US site alone, so I think it’s safe to assume that not everyone who posted about the “rose” was referring to the exact same model. 

I also really don’t recommend buying sex toys from Amazon. In a broadly unregulated industry, the chances of getting a mislabeled knock-off product (which may not even be safe) are too high.

Fortunately, there are now numerous reputable sex toy retailers selling rose sex toys, and they come in many different variations. The majority of rose toys are still based around clitoral suction, but they vary in exact shape and design, size, level of power, settings, controls, and so on. There are also versions with protruding tongues designed to simulate oral sex, versions with G-spot vibrators attached, remote control versions, and more. 

In other words, the world of rose sex toys is now a vast one thanks to their explosion in popularity. So if they appeal to you, you’ve got a good chance of finding one you like.

Sex Toys That Don’t Look Like Sex Toys 

For as long as there’s been a sex toy industry, there has been a market for toys that do not immediately look like what they are. From the classic lipstick and rubber duck vibrators, through to modern toys that look like little penguins or ice creams and the glass, ceramic, or steel constructions that look like works of art, there’s a sex toy to meet every preference. 

Image: OOTYEMO

There are probably a few reasons behind this. Many people, unfortunately, still feel embarrassed about using toys (sex toy usage has become far less taboo in recent years but many people still aren’t comfortable with having a toy out in the open). Discreet toys are also easier to pop in your bag—or take through airport security—without worrying about someone seeing them. Then, of course, there’s the sheer aesthetic value of some toys. 

The famous rose toys are no different. They don’t immediately scream “VIBRATOR” to the uninitiated, and one of the most endearing things about them is that they’re really, really pretty. As a femme, I really love pretty things and flowers, so an attractive sex toy that looks cute on my nightstand is an instant win. It’s easy to see why their aesthetic alone has helped rose flower toys grow in popularity. 

A Cute Gift 

Opinions on whether you should give sex toys as gifts differ. There are situations where you definitely shouldn’t (workplace Secret Santa, yes I have seen this happen) and situations where it’s maybe okay (a very close friend with whom you have that kind of open and frank relationship.) In the context of an existing sexual relationship where you know the other person’s body and preferences reasonably well, though, I’m all for it! 

A rose toy could be a great gift for the flower-loving femme in your life. It’s an imaginative and sexy twist on a traditional gift, and will bring pleasure that lasts a lot longer. 

Are Rose Toys as Good as the Hype Implies?

Having tried a number of rose toys at this point, I’ve had somewhat mixed but overwhelmingly positive to very positive experiences with them. As they’re primarily based on clitoral suction, rose toys deliver focused clitoral stimulation via pulses of air, which offers intense pleasure without any of the numbing effect you can get from poor-quality buzzy vibrators. 

Everyone’s experience is different, of course, but many users say that clitoral suction toys such as rose toys help them to orgasm more quickly, more reliably, and more intensely than any other type of stimulation. 

Today’s post was sponsored by the good folks at OOTYEMO, an online sex shop offering numerous different iterations of the rose toy as well as many other products. All writing and views are, as always, my own. 

Header image for a guest post about being a submissive with ADHD by Redridingbrat

[Guest Post] Being a Submissive with ADHD by Redridingbrat

Published on by Amy1 Comment

While I don’t have an actual diagnosis of ADHD, I’ve long know that it’s something I probably have. Whenever I see any ADHD content, from medical information to memes, I find myself going “yep, it me”. It impacts virtually every aspect of my life. So I wasn’t altogether surprised when I also found this piece from my friend Redridingbrat (she/her) about ADHD and its impact on BDSM and kink deeply relatable.

I feel very strongly that kink is for all consenting adults who want to engage in it. Many of the images we see online and in the media are reductive, exclusionary, and harmful. That’s why it’s so important to me to represent a diversity of experiences on this blog. To that end, I’m thrilled to host RRB’s thoughts on ADHD in a BDSM relationship.

As always, you can help me to pay more lovely guest writers by chipping in via the tip jar.

Amy x

ADHD and Kink: Being a Submissive with ADHD by Redridingbrat

What comes to mind when you think of the perfect submissive?

Perhaps it is someone who is entirely focused on their Dominant? Someone who finds it easy to follow the rules and pre-emptively do whatever their Dominant might desire?

How does this approach to kink change when you have ADHD?

ADHD, or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, is a medical condition that affects the way a person thinks and acts. This often presents as someone being inattentive, hyperactive, and impulsive—three things that can often clash with the pop culture view of submission. As a submissive with ADHD, I have had to work with my Dominant to make sure that my submission and BDSM relationship isn’t adversely affected by my ADHD.

ADHD, Kink and Forgetfulness

One of the ways inattention in ADHD can affect a D/s or kink dynamic is forgetfulness. Forgetting rules, forgetting tasks, forgetting where things have been placed… not something that is in the picture-perfect view of a sub! Thankfully, this is something this can be easily accommodated. Having the rules written up and displayed somewhere is a straightforward alternative to relying on the memory. Having things placed in see-through or open containers lets you quickly see where they are. A long-term solution is to have your Dominant help you create habits, so you do not need to remember a thing.

Another annoying symptom of ADHD is being prone to distraction. Sitting in a corner with no stimulation is my personal idea of hell. It isn’t just me who can suffer as a result of this, though; losing interest in an activity halfway through a scene can very quickly make a Dominant feel like they failed at a scene, and make the submissive then feel guilty for not being able to concentrate. This does not have an easy fix but there are things that help.

Doing shorter activities can do wonders, as this gives less chances for the brain to wander off. Sensory deprivation can also help as it can force the submissive to focus on their other senses. The biggest things that can help are open communication and being self-aware. By letting your Dominant know when you are having a bad day focusing, you can reassure each other that neither is at fault when focus issues arise.

Hyperfocus, Kink and ADHD

On the opposite end of the spectrum, another symptom of ADHD is hyperfocus; getting so consumed by a task that everything else is ignored. When a task is interrupted by something else, it can be extremely hard to bring yourself out of the task and into the new thing, regardless of how urgent it may be. In extreme cases, this can lead to ignoring the need to drink or use the toilet for hours on end.

One thing my Dominant has found to help with managing this aspect of my ADHD in our kink relationship is simply asking “when will this be done?”. This helps me to verbalise what “done” looks like as well as giving me a cue to start bringing myself out of the task. Having a set routine and structure also helps with this as it ensures that my body becomes accustomed to performing certain activities at certain time, with an external check (my Dominant) making sure it is adhered to.

Managing Motivation as a Submissive with ADHD

Another symptom of ADHD that is often overlooked is internal motivation. I can often sit in “standby mode”, endlessly scrolling social media whilst given tasks go unfulfilled. Part of this is that a larger task can be overwhelming if not broken down into smaller steps. This overwhelm can make it physically uncomfortable to get started. Something that can really help prevent situations like this is breaking a large task down into multiple smaller parts, while also being clear about what signifies completion of each part.

One example of this ADHD hack in a kink context: “make yourself presentable for me” can be broken down into “take a shower, style your hair into a high ponytail, put on a full face of makeup with red lipstick, and wear the red underwear. I want these tasks to be complete by 5pm.” Rewards-based dynamics are also excellent for those who require the internal motivation to be turned external. Extra orgasms for doing a large task? Yes please!

ADHD and BDSM: The Positives

I have spoken at length about the challenges of having ADHD in a BDSM relationship. But it does come with a number of positives too. Those of us with ADHD often excel when in “crisis mode”, meaning we can be very good if something goes wrong in a kink scene. ADHD folks are also creative in our problem solving, making us the perfect people to do puzzle-based tasks or mend broken toys. And ADHD people can also be more adventurous, making us the ideal partner for trying new activities in the bedroom.

ADHD can make submission hard. It breaks many of the pre-conceived notions of what a “good submissive” looks like. Someone who is forgetful, distractable, and hard to self-motivate is not the “ideal” that is written about in popular BDSM literature. However, there are things that can help overcome the barriers that ADHD puts up in a kink dynamic.

The main thing to remember is that D/s is not one size fits all. You can customise and change how your relationship looks. You are not a failure if it does not look like the glamorised novels. Anyone can be a submissive. All you need to do is identify as one and find someone who adores you and your style.

Redridingbrat is a switchy brat who loves nothing more than to engage her submissive side. Her main experiences involve rope, D/s and discussions surrounding disability within the kink community.