Polyamory, page 10
I have identified as lesbian since I was 23 years old. That’s a long time now. I fall somewhere on the spectrum of bisexuality. I was definitely straight as a youth and teen, and married a man quite young. I didn’t really know there was such a thing as a lesbian when I was a child, but even if I had, I suspect I still would have identified as straight. My early fantasies, crushes, and relationships were with men. I discovered my attraction to women in college and came out as lesbian at age 23. Currently, and for the last 25 years and counting, I’m in a relationship with my now-finally-legal spouse, JoAnne. At the time I came out, in the mid-1980s, identifying as bisexual was unusual, because bi identity was marginalized by not only straight people, but also gays and lesbians. This is still true to a lesser but still significant extent. According to the Kinsey Scale, however, I’m clearly bisexual, probably somewhere close to the middle—or pansexual, because I’m attracted to all genders, not just binary ones. Remember that thoughts, feelings, and behaviors all count as part of what defines attraction, not just behaviors.
The Kinsey Scale
You have probably heard of the Kinsey Scale, which was developed out of thousands of extensive interviews conducted by Alfred Kinsey’s research team and first published in 1948, in Sexual Behavior in the Human Male. Sexual Behavior of the Human Female followed in 1953. Together, these are referred to as the Kinsey Reports. The Kinsey Scale is an important part of sex history, because it looked at what people actually do, think, feel, and desire sexually, separate from whatever labels they might use to self-identify. Kinsey definitively established that the vast majority of people don’t fit into strict categories of hetero- or homosexual. Rather, when taking into account thoughts, feelings, and behaviors, almost no one is exclusively attracted to either the same sex or the opposite sex. Basically, everyone is somewhere in the middle, on the bi-spectrum.
It is also important to acknowledge that Kinsey didn’t address all sexual orientations or identities. Hundreds of later studies have provided more nuance, as well as additional measures. For instance, the Klein Sexual Orientation Grid (Fritz Klein) looks at seven variables and three times: past, present, and ideal. The Storms Scale (Michael Storms) places eroticism on an x and y axis, providing for a lot of variability. These and many other measures clearly establish that there is tremendous variation and normalize that variation as being, actually, normative.
Additionally, gender identity and gender expression are a separate topic from sexual attraction, identity, and behavior. We now know thinking of gender in a binary way (in terms of two genders) is overly limiting, as there are plenty of people who experience themselves as not having any gender at all, or having both genders, or shifting around through an infinite spectrum of all gender possibility. Unfortunately, despite a lot of progress throughout the years, our culture still hasn’t quite gotten the memo that heteronormativity isn’t actually all that normative, and as a result of this lack of awareness in the larger culture, LGBTQIA+ populations are still marginalized.
When you consider Kinsey’s findings, it really puts identity issues, not to mention sexual shame, into perspective. If essentially everyone who has erotic experiences and thoughts has them about multiple genders, then anyone who was raised to believe only heterosexuality is normal (which is still a lot of people) is likely to have some confusion, internal conflict, and distress about the thoughts, feelings, or behaviors they experience. That means there is probably just about no one in your practice who doesn’t have some issues, however buried and hidden, about queerness and their own sexuality. I find this to be sobering, and also fascinating. I wonder how different the world would be if every therapist knew this and asked about, taught about, and normalized same-sex or nonbinary attractions and identities, as well as kinky thoughts, diverse sexual templates, and polyamory or interest in having multiple consensual partners. Think of the sexual shame that would begin to lift. Think of the energy that could be liberated to use for the forces of good in the world.
Overlap between LGBTQIA+ and Polyamory
Why is there so much overlap between LGBTQ populations and polyamory? There are many reasons.
Various forms of open relationships, including “open” and “monogamish,” have been part of gay male culture forever, and this is still true today. Of course, not all gay men have open relationships or even “monogamish” ones; diversity is the one rule that wins the day in every category.
It’s not uncommon for a person to explore polyamory because of an emerging awareness of sexual attraction to a gender other than that of an existing partner, which is sometimes followed by a desire to explore this part of themselves. This can be challenging for both the person who is experiencing an emergence of a new aspect of themselves and a preexisting partner who didn’t see this coming, especially if they are not particularly interested in or familiar with either that form of sexual attraction or polyamory. Working with this emergence is a therapy based in supporting differentiation of self, so refer to chapter 8, “Conceptualizing the Case: If Polyamory Isn’t the Problem, What Is?” It can be a challenge to help the client find ways to stay emotionally connected with and intimate with the preexisting relationship (if they want that relationship to remain in their lives) when a lot of psychic energy and curiosity is focused in the new direction, even if there isn’t another intimate relationship in the picture. Some people don’t feel it is important to explore the emerging aspect of their sexuality through intimate relationships, whereas others decide they do want to explore that aspect of their sexuality and may end up breaking up with their preexisting partner to do so. Still others want to explore their emerging identity and don’t want to end the first relationship. In that case, for some, polyamory can be a workable solution.
Queer culture includes a sizeable population of people who operate from an assumption of nonmonogamy for a variety of ideological reasons, in addition to individual preference. Some don’t believe in imposing “rules” on partners but would rather have their partners freely choose what their lives and relationships look like, even if that sometimes turns out to be quite inconvenient for them. This is a group that highly values personal growth, individuality, and differentiation. Some might describe themselves as polyamorous because they don’t believe in controlling or placing claims on others. Many people in this category have nonhierarchical polyamorous relationships. Of course, the egalitarian belief system doesn’t guarantee a bump-free road. Nor do all people who identify as queer have this perspective about relationships; remember the supreme overarching concept: diversity.
Attraction, Behavior, Identity, and Labels
The most important thing to know about queer identity is that behavior is what a person does. This is not the same as identity, which refers to how a person conceptualizes themselves inwardly. Behavior and identity do not have to match, although for some people they do or come close. Attraction also does not have to match either behavior or identity. A person can identify as gay and sometimes be attracted to or even have sex with members of other genders. A person might identify as straight and engage in fantasy or sex involving members of the same gender. A person can identify as one gender on some days or times and another gender at other times. Everything can shift throughout time—whether that’s a short time or a lifetime. For some people, these things don’t shift at all. Throw the rule book out the window: If you can imagine an evolution or a configuration, there are plenty of people who are living it. For that matter, things I can’t yet imagine are certainly also being lived out by someone somewhere, and that is a beautiful thing. I love the exciting diversity, new terminology, and evolving understanding of people, possibility, and relationships.
Labels are yet another thing. I think of labels as being a shorthand we offer to other people so they can make assumptions about us. Given that there are no labels that accurately encapsulate the fullness of who any of us really are, I believe everyone should pick and choose the labels that lead to assumptions they are most comfortable with. It is not anyone’s responsibility to provide others with accurate and nuanced information about their most interior or intimate life and preferences. Moreover, even if it were possible to choose a list of labels that would be technically accurate, and even if the general population understood what those labels meant, that level of disclosure doesn’t fit well with a surface or casual acquaintance, or a desire for personal privacy, let alone the risks incurred by coming out as being in a marginalized group.
Labels can feel restrictive and reductive, but they aren’t all bad. They help us avoid having inappropriately detailed conversations about private matters, while still experiencing some degree of feeling seen. For instance, if I don’t provide a label (lesbian, in my case), most people will assume I’m straight, which renders my 25-year-long relationship, and an enormous aspect of my day-to-day reality, invisible. So I choose to use the label “lesbian.” I think it conveys a picture of a woman facing me at the dinner table and sharing life and intimacy with me. That is a comfortable reflection of my life, given that I’m in a decades-long same-sex relationship.
If, instead, I used the label “pansexual,” which is more technically accurate, I would have to explain what it means, because most people aren’t familiar with the term. I would also be opening the door to plenty of conjecture, unless I wanted to sit down and explain how it is that I experience attraction to all genders when I’m in a long-term relationship with a woman. That’s too esoteric (and personal) a discussion for me to have with acquaintances.
That’s just one example of how a person, in this case, myself, might come to terms with the inevitable simplification that comes with assigning a label to the infinite range of human experience and sexual expression. Everyone approaches this issue in their own way. Someone in the same boat as I am might end up choosing a totally different way of defining themselves. That’s okay. These are very individual perceptions and choices.
Fluidity is also an important aspect of this discussion. Many years ago, I was married to a man. If you would have asked me about my identity then, I would have provided the label “straight” and the identity “questioning.” Now I provide the label “lesbian” but the identity “pan.” That is an example of fluidity throughout time.
Someone might also have fluid gender identity if, for instance, they used to identify as one gender and now identify as another. Or someone might always have identified internally as a different gender from what was assigned to them at birth, but the way they present to the world may have shifted throughout time from their assigned-at-birth gender to their current gender identity. Or someone might identify as different genders during the span of a very short time, like a day or a week; that person might identify as gender-fluid or gender-queer.
Why would a person choose any label at all, you might be wondering, when this is personal, private, and no one’s business? I imagine if you asked 20 queer-identified people that question, you might get 20 different answers. For me, the answer lies in our heterosexist culture. What I mean by that is, in the absence of any other cues or direction, the assumption most people in the United States make about people is that they are straight. Since my partner is a hugely important aspect of my life, I don’t feel like someone knows me until they understand that I have a long-term partner. If I just say I’ve been married for 25 years, the image people in our current culture get is one of me having a husband. If this is a conversation with an acquaintance or it isn’t important to me to feel known, that might be okay with me, although it still feels uncomfortable. It can feel sort of like I lied, which is truly weird because it all started with assumptions made about me, and it’s hardly my fault if they mis-assumed. The point is, it is often important to me to feel like someone actually knows me. At that point, I will have to have a coming-out discussion of some sort.
Consider how much more complicated, and pressing, this might feel to someone who feels dissonance between their internal sense of knowing themselves and their gender expression as others perceive it. Many people in this situation experience people using incorrect pronouns to refer to them, which can feel extremely traumatic and dehumanizing. Many cisgender people find the issue of pronouns confusing; here, again, language is ever-evolving. But referring to someone in the way they would like to be referred shows respect for the person and respect for human diversity. In my case, I identify as cis-female, meaning I’m comfortable with the gender I was assigned at birth (that is what cis- refers to), which, in my case, is female. Personal pronouns have something to do with how I, and others, communicate about gender identity to others. In my case, I am comfortable with the pronouns she and they, but the pronoun “he” doesn’t feel like a good fit for me.
It is worth taking some time to learn about diversity of gender expression and pronouns, and become comfortable with having conversations about it. While you’re at it, get comfortable making a repair when you accidentally misgender someone. Perfection doesn’t come overnight, if at all; let your heart and your authenticity lead, and you’ll be okay.
Marginalization
Anyone who is in any way outside of the cis and heterosexual norm will, unfortunately, have already had to put up with a lot of mistaken assumptions, inconvenient and intrusive conversations, reductionist labels, and assumptions derived from the heterosexist cultural norm, and will continue to do so, in some cases on a more than daily basis. Consider, for a moment, the potential that kind of marginalization has to make someone feel bad about themselves and also angry at others and the culture that puts them through this. Imagine, most importantly, the feeling of not being known or understood that someone might have concerning these issues.
What about someone whose internal sense of their gender doesn’t match how they appear to others from the outside, who gets constantly misgendered? Or someone who is extremely principled and doesn’t want people to make inaccurate assumptions about them, perhaps sometimes at the cost of their ease, comfort, privacy, and safety? Or someone who is closeted about one or many aspects of their gender, behavior, relationship structure, or identity and never gets to feel truly known because the danger of losing friends, family, or a job is too high? The internal and social consequences of invisibility run deep.
It is also easy to assume that in this day and age, people aren’t really discriminated against for being gay, lesbian, trans, bi, queer, nonbinary, asexual, or intersex anymore. Let me assure you, that is far from true. Ask any LGBTQIA+ person about the ways they have experienced marginalization and discrimination, and listen to what they have to tell you. It is heartbreaking. I’ve been out for many years, and I have kind of come to terms with all of this for myself. But even so, I’ve experienced plenty of discrimination and marginalization, some of which still feels raw on occasion. I can tell you from personal experience, you will be doing your clients a beautiful service by allowing them to unpack what is almost certainly a big bag of trauma related to being abused, bullied, ignored, blamed, shamed, avoided, attacked, misunderstood, and more—not to mention the associated losses, like holding anxiety about multiple aspects of self and relationship, struggling with mixed feelings about self-disclosure, lost jobs, relationships, feeling afraid of holding hands with a partner in public, and never quite feeling safe. I could go on and on.
Add to this the concept of intersectionality. Being a member of multiple different marginalized groups leads to unique and specific experiences of marginalization, amounting to an experience that is far larger than the apparent sum of the parts. In addition to being members of some or many of the LGBTQIA+ groups, people experience marginalization and discrimination as a result of race, culture, language, accent, class, physical ability, cognitive ability, mental health, body shape and size, clothing choices, and many other aspects of self and self-expression (e.g., sexual practices like kink and such family structures as polyamory).
LGBTQIA+ in Therapy
When I work with LGBTQIA+ clients, usually their LGBTQ-ness is not the focus of the therapy. Rather, it is generally an aspect—or aspects—of themselves that is working fine. As with other populations I discuss in this book, you don’t need to be an expert to get started working with these populations. That’s a good thing, because there aren’t nearly enough queer-identified therapists to work with the many people who share that identity. But you do need to have some basic understanding and a willingness to embrace a broad diversity of sexual and gender expression to honor those aspects of your clients’ selves. You will also have to have ways of demonstrating your openness. Ideally, you should be willing to have a frank discussion of marginalized experience, as well as receive feedback from your client if they feel misunderstood or slighted.
It’s important to get good at inviting and responding in an attuned way to feedback, because it can provide an extremely therapeutic reparative experience. Imagine having multiple past experiences of marginalization and then going to a therapist and having some feelings of marginalization come up. Imagine being brave enough to speak up to your therapist about it or, better yet, having your therapist inquire about your experience of them in therapy. Imagine how healing it could be for your therapist to acknowledge and validate your perceptions and experience. Furthermore, imagine how amazing it would feel for your therapist to make a thoughtful repair for any error or misunderstanding on their part, validating your experience and perception.
