Why Polyamory is Part of My Queer Identity

By Jaxson Benjamin

I’ve always liked the idea of a big family. Blood relatives are included in that picture, sure, but really it’s about chosen warmth and community—lots of people sharing space, intimacy, laughter, and safety. Maybe it’s because I’m an only child from a small, disjointed family. I’ll never know, and I don’t know how much that root matters. What I do know is that, after dating for over 10 years, I identify as polyamorous whether I am partnered or not. This label didn’t become clear to me overnight. I always had this thought about a big home with big love, but didn’t talk about it much. It didn’t feel safe to bring up, and I didn’t have the language to do so anyways. 

Growing up, I crushed hard, and often, on peers of all identities. I was drawn to close friendships with artsy kids and outliers: the beginnings of a queer community. I would channel all my feels into one infatuation based on what I thought relationships were meant to be like and the expectations dating partners would have for each other. It took a lot of unlearning (and mistakes) to develop boundaries filled with self-love thanks to therapy and polyamourous role models to figure out what polyam* means to me. 

Since beginning dating, I’ve been in three serious polyamorous relationships—one wonderful, one fine, and one horrible. I’m currently single, but as I shared, still identify myself as a part of the polyamorous community. Access to therapy, along with the privileges to pursue my Master’s of Education in Human Sexuality, has provided me with a greater understanding of why I now consider polyamory to be inseparable from my identity. For example, I’ve learned through the work of Antoinette and Kevin Patterson that I enjoy what’s called “kitchen-table style” polyamory. In this organizing of relationships, there is no hierarchy of partners—everyone has an equal seat at the table and strives to share in at least friendship together. There is an emphasis on independence for me here. Come to the “shared meal” ready to be in community space together. This prioritizes self-love, care, and flexibility in my mind. Yes, these concepts exist in monogamous relationships, but a polyamorous arrangement invites a queerness in my mind through the openness needed to unlearn traditional social norms. 

As I continue to learn about relationship styles, I’m understanding more how other parts of my identity intersect with this label. A pattern has started to emerge for me in dating. On my online dating profiles, I tend to write something like “Queer. Disabled, chronically ill. Polyam, kitchen-table style, currently single.” When I match with someone, I try to talk about boundaries as soon as possible. 

Is polyamory new for you? Do we need to take time to figure things out between us before there’s space to add more folks into our dynamic? What boundaries will assist us in how we grow as individuals and together?

The pattern goes something like this: The person hasn’t dated polyamorously before but has been open or likes the idea of a polyam dynamic. Things go well, we check in regularly, and then two or three months in—the talk. Unfortunately, they are realizing that polyam isn’t going to work for them and need to end things romantically. I absolutely applaud and thank those who have realized this boundary instead of continuing a relationship that would hurt everyone. 

I am frustrated at the continued scarcity of my dating pool. Finding folks to date who meet the parameters of what I’m looking for is getting harder and harder as I realize what’s important to me. T. Hunter, who I had the pleasure of recently connecting with, talks about the limitations for polyam people with marginalized identities on a recent episode of Queers Next Door. For queer folks, we’re already in a smaller dating pool than the heteronormative world. The age bracket we’re interested in, where we physically are in the world, our common interests, and chemistry shrink that pool further down. As Hunter says, for Q.T.B.I.P.O.C., the pool can feel even shallower. Dating as a disabled person, especially this past year with COVID, presents its own set of ableist challenges. Now add on polyamory and interest in the same kind of polyam dynamic—that olympic-sized dating pool is more like a bird bath now. Political morals, cultural understandings, and conversational styles need to align, or at least be seriously worked on, for a healthy dynamic.

What I’ve figured out with the lessons of my privileges and work on emotional growth is that polyamory is more than a preference for me, it’s how I operate. At this time in my life, I don’t know how to think about dating without what a polyam dynamic can help me design. It provides me with an openness to many people and many types of loves. This is also my queerness in a nutshell. Polyamory is an innate part of me, as is my queerhood. In fact, being polyamorous is part of what shapes my queer identity. It’s what energies I crave and what feels like home. 

*Polyamory is often shortened to “poly.” However, many Polynesian advocates, like Lily Stone, have shared that “Poly” is used in the community as a safety identifier. “Polyam” has generally been agreed to be a good abbreviation for polyamory. To my knowledge the first-known public post about this was shared on Tumblr; unfortunately, I cannot find a live link or author. Lily’s page on Instagram is available here as an additional link for legacy work.

Jaxson Benjamin is a queer, disabled, social justice educator and sexologist raised on the land of the Lenni Lenape People in re-named Philadelphia. Jax’s work is rooted in the empathic and story-telling approaches of Community Development that aim to disrupt Eurocentric teachings. Check out their work at www.jaxsonbenjamin.com.

Headshot Description: Jax, tan olive skin tone, short dark curly hair from the chest up looking at the camera. Wearing brown utility suit and black top underneath, with long white earrings, dark purple-ish lipstick, and gold septum hoop. Blurred tall green and tan plants and a river can be made out in the background.