In recent years, polyamory has emerged as a prominent relationship model within queer communities, often celebrated as a radical act of resistance against heteronormative narratives and as an embodiment of free, unconditional love. Yet beneath this liberatory tale, a more complex emotional landscape remains largely unexamined.

What if, for some, the turn toward polyamory is less a conscious evolution of love and more a coping mechanism for deep-seated insecurities, attachment wounds, or a fear of intimacy? What if the language of progressiveness is, at times, being used to mask aspects of ourselves we don’t feel ready to face?

WESTERN POLY

In Western societies, polyamory has emerged as a distinct relationship model that foregrounds personal autonomy, emotional transparency, and negotiated consent. Rooted in values of individualism and self-expression, Western polyamory often centers on fulfilling multiple romantic or sexual desires while maintaining open communication. It is frequently practiced as a deliberate lifestyle choice that challenges traditional monogamous norms and emphasizes boundary-setting tailored to each individual’s needs and identities. Yet, in its pursuit of freedom and authenticity, Western polyamory can sometimes veer toward a hyper-focus on the self-privileging personal gratification and identity performance over the collective, interdependent dimensions that relationships inherently embody.

This tension becomes especially apparent in queer and progressive circles, where polyamory often functions not only as a personal choice but as a political statement. Within these spaces, there is an unspoken expectation that non-monogamy signals liberation, radicality, and moral evolution. This raises a vital question: Are we practicing polyamory because we genuinely have the capacity to hold multiple relationships in grounded, healthy, and loving ways or are we doing it to signal non-conformity, checking the box that distances us from dominant cultural narratives? Are we adopting polyamory as an aesthetic or ideological badge that distances us from the so-called “ruling class” ideal of romantic coupling? We must pause and ask whether our choices are rooted in embodied wisdom or performative ideology.

INDIGENOUS ANCESTRAL POLY

While the modern discourse around polyamory is heavily influenced by Western counterculture and queer movements, the practice itself is deeply ancestral and rooted in many cultures that never saw love as synonymous with ownership and possession.

Indigenous folks do poly best.

Rather than being driven by individual gratification, Indigenous polyamory tends to serve communal harmony, kinship bonds, and the well-being of children and elders. The approach is fluid, and emphasizes care, transparency, resource sharing and collective thriving over ownership or exclusivity.

During a volunteering trip to rural Kenya, I stayed with a polygamous household that reshaped my view of polyamory. One that was less about romantic love and more about social structure, lineage, and practical cooperation. One man, four wives, and nineteen children lived under four roofs. 

Each day in a traditional polygamous Maasai homestead begins early, when the family rises around 5 am to milk the cows and prepare chai tea. Each wife maintains her own hut and domestic responsibilities, often rotating days when the husband stays with each. Children help care for the cattle and land as well as fetch water. Cattle remain central to life, not just economically but culturally, as wealth and status are measured by herd size. The wives spent their days cooking, making jewelry, and sharing chores amicably. 

For the Maasai, Polyamorous or open arrangements coexist with polygamy, with cultural protocols to handle lineage, co-parenting, and social responsibility. The attitude is pragmatic and communal rather than romantic or emotionally expressive, emphasizing survival, legacy, and societal balance. 

Unlike the often self-focused ethos of Western polyamory, these indigenous practices prioritize the well-being and cohesion of the group over individual desires, reflecting fundamentally different relational ethics and priorities.

MY EXPERIENCE

My experience with polyamory was short yet intense. It didn’t take long to realize that I was using polyamory not as a pathway to connection, but as a way to inflate my ego and avoid the emotional cost of intimacy that would come with fully committing to my last partner. 

Suddenly, I was free to shamelessly engage with advances I received from others. I could show no remorse for indulging in hedonistic excess with multiple people, seeking pleasure above all and my ego loved that.

I noticed how much insecurity and jealousy had begun building up in me as well, feelings that were hard to admit. I caught myself repeatedly going through my partner’s phone, checking whether she was getting more action than me, or falling for someone else. I watched myself become a walking, breathing red flag. Polyamory became a quiet competition rather than a practice of care.

The truth is, I longed to deepen intimacy with my girlfriend but wasn’t yet prepared to meet such depths emotionally. Eventually, I’d go on dates with women, only to order takeaway from the same restaurant for my girlfriend and try to rush home in time for our bedtime rituals, not wanting to miss any opportunity of being with this special someone.

Everything pointed to two truths: I wasn’t at ease in that relational dynamic, and I couldn’t ignore or condone the qualities I saw myself embodying. If anything, the whole experience forced me to reckon with myself more honestly than ever before.

Although my experience with polyamory got me overwhelmed, ego-driven, and ultimately dissatisfied, that doesn’t mean it isn’t viable for others. I’m just not that girl and if I wanted to be her, I’d clearly need serious inner work and upskilling to adapt to a non-monogamous lifestyle.

THE ISSUES AND NEEDS OF POLYAMORY

So, is polyamory just gentrified cheating? 

Although it initially appears to be the antidote to infidelity – an evolved, ethical upgrade – much like communism, it often proves easier in theory than in practice. While polyamory can be a noble relational structure rooted in moral values, oversimplifying it can be problematic. 

Polyamory doesn’t solve monogamy’s problems; it amplifies them.

More partners don’t equal more intimacy. Without presence, depth, and attunement, connections can risk becoming shallow or transactional, echoing the same emotional disconnect many experience in monogamous setups.

Contrary to popular belief, jealousy doesn’t disappear; it becomes a recurring visitor that polyamorous individuals agree to meet, process, and learn from over and over again. Managing multiple relationships means more potential for conflict, more misunderstandings, and far greater emotional complexity, making refined communication and emotional literacy absolutely essential for repair and conviviality.

Time, too, becomes a form of care, not just a logistical challenge. Sustaining multiple relationships demands intentional scheduling and emotional availability. When time is stretched thin, presence suffers, and the risk of neglect, burnout, or resentment increases.

After speaking with various practitioners of ethical non-monogamy, I realized that despite ideals of equality and aspirations to disrupt rigid relational systems, power imbalances and hierarchies still persist within polyamorous arrangements. These hierarchies often emerge organically, favorites are chosen, primary partners are subtly prioritized, and not all people stand at the same intimacy level as the others.

At its worst, polyamory can become the ultimate escape hatch for avoidant individuals who crave connection but lack the awareness and tools to cultivate true intimacy. It can also offer a low-maintenance model of relating that appeals to those who are perpetually indecisive or reckless, seeking surface-level, low-accountability mating opportunities, which often turns out toxic.

There’s the common dynamic where one partner is polyamorous while the other consents reluctantly to preserve the status quo out of fear of losing the other. This isn’t enthusiastic consent; it’s emotional compliance. Often called “poly under duress,” it can create power imbalances and erode the foundation of trust. Instead of fostering freedom and intimacy, the relationship becomes a performance of agreement where one partner self-abandons. In such cases, polyamory doesn’t liberate; it confines.

Ultimately, success and longevity in polyamorous bonding are skill-dependent, relying on effective communication, metacognition, emotional self-regulation, open boundary negotiation, and strong time management.

IN SUM

We’ve moved past demonizing different ways of relating, whether in terms of sexual orientation or relationship styles. Approaching the choice of either lifestyle through a lens that is psychological and relational rather than moralistic might be best. Yet, we can benefit from evaluating idealistic poly ethics and utopian illusions about loving multiple people simultaneously, and instead face the very real human messiness of relating.

The level of intentionality required in polyamory is both admirable and costly. It isn’t for everyone, nor is it inherently superior or more enlightened than monogamy. Amid the online wars that vilify one or the other mode of relating, we should worry less about which relationship orientation is best for the collective and focus more on whether we have the necessary intrinsic skills to navigate either, and where we truly stand in our relational growth.

Polyamory can work for some people and offers opportunities for honesty, exploration, and relational growth as long as it’s consensual, ethical, and transparent. Yet, we should consciously choose what works best for us rather than defaulting to trends.

Given how complex this path can be, here are some questions to help you navigate the process:

      • Am I poly to uphold an identity?
      • Am I poly to feed my ego?
      • Do I desire freedom or do I just fear commitment?
      • Am I practicing polyamory to expand my capacity for love or to escape the discomfort of depth?
      • Does my polyamory serve anyone else beyond myself and my partner?
      • Am I ready to be jealous? Do I have the emotional maturity and communication skills required to navigate hard feelings?
      • Are my boundaries set to protect the relationship or just to avoid vulnerability?
      • Do I use polyamory to justify avoidant behavior or to signal moral superiority?
      • Are my choices rooted in embodied truth or performative ideology?
      • Am I willing to be accountable not just to my desires, but to the impact I have on others?
      • Am I choosing polyamory from a place of true expansion or from a place of self-protection?
      • Am I willing to invest the time, energy, and inner work necessary to maintain multiple relationships without neglecting myself or others?
      • Am I honest about my capacity to care for more than one person?
      • Can I be truthful with myself and my partners about my limits, fears, and needs, even when it’s uncomfortable?
      • Am I prepared to face the complex realities of polyamory and still choose to grow through them?