More Than Two: A practical guide to ethical polyamory

by Eve Rickert

"You are personally responsible for becoming more ethical than the society you grew up in."

Being ethical means that you're willing to look at your actions and their effects on other people. If you're presented with evidence that you're causing harm, or that what you're doing won't achieve what you and your partner(s) want, you will look for ways to change this. In making decisions, you will consider the well-being of everyone involved, not just some.

Have I disclosed all relevant information to everyone affected by my decision? Have I sought input from everyone affected? Have I obtained their consent where my decision overlaps their personal boundaries? Does my decision impose obligations or expectations on others without their input or consent? Am I seeking to have my needs met at the expense of the well-being of others? Am I imposing consequences that will make others feel unsafe saying no to me? Am I offering others the same consideration that I expect from them?

Understanding and programming your own mind is your responsibility; if you fail to do this, the world will program it for you, and you'll end up in the relationship other people think you should have, not the relationship you want.

The problem with being idealists about polyamory is that we risk putting ourselves into situations we're not ready for. If we do that, we risk hurting other people.

Why do I have romantic relationships? What do I get out of them? What do I consider essential, indispensable elements of a relationship? Are there specific kinds of relationships that I know I am looking for? Kinds that I know I don't want? What do I bring to the table for others? What makes me feel cherished, loved and secure? What makes me afraid in relationships? Why? In what ways do I protect myself from being hurt? Do those strategies help or hinder my search for connection?

It's impossible to "make" another person be secure. We can provide a compassionate and supportive environment by providing reassurance, by listening, by acting in thoughtful ways, but these actions cannot make someone else secure. Internal work is required for a sense of security and confidence. It's almost impossible to build a strong relationship of any kind amid insecurity. This seems especially true in polyamory. Insecurity invents its own evidence and supports its own premises. No amount of someone else's time and effort is enough to make an insecure person see the light and realize that the insecurity is unfounded. He or she must intentionally and deliberately challenge, understand and then choose to move past the insecurity. Intentionally and deliberately challenging, understanding, and choosing to move past insecurity is frightening, uncomfortable work. Staring our inner demons in the face is so uncomfortable that it can make crawling through broken glass dipped in alcohol and rattlesnake venom seem like a cakewalk. It is the rare person who's willing to do this without being prodded into it. And this principle has a corollary. Trying to avoid upsetting a partner by giving in to their insecurity, or steering around their sensitivities and triggers, can become enabling: reinforcing rather than alleviating the problem. The very things we do to try to make a partner feel more secure can make the insecurity worse.

"Our beliefs about ourselves are all made up. So it's a good idea to make up some good ones."

Good relationships always change us; it's one of the best things about them!

An important skill in creating happy poly relationships involves learning to see other lovers, particularly a partner's other lovers, as people who make life better for both of you rather than a hazard to be managed.

We do not, by and large, have the right to expect things of people without their consent. We cannot be angry at someone for failing to do something she did not agree to do in the first place.

And we can never reasonably be upset at someone for failing to live up to our expectations if we haven't talked about our expectations in the first place.

Why do I have relationships with other people? What needs do I have from my partners, in terms of time, emotional availability, commitment, communication and intimacy? What does "commitment" mean to me, and why? When I think about the future, what does it look like? Is there room for change and growth? How much do I value personal autonomy, transparency, cohabitation, having and raising children, shared finances, community, tradition, the opinions of my friends and family, adhering to social norms? What values are the most important to me in myself and in others? Are the choices I make in alignment with these values? Who are my mirrors? Whom do I rely on to call me on my mistakes? How do I respond to criticism from people close to me? How do I evaluate my choices when the effects of my actions are impossible to predict? What do I expect of others, and why?

When we talk about communication in polyamory, we're actually talking about a very specific type of communication: speaking the truth about ourselves, our needs and our boundaries with honesty and precision, and listening with grace when our partners speak of themselves, their needs and their boundaries.

Fair and equal. These words can conjure up images of relationships where everyone is doled out the same-size slice of pumpkin pie, even if some folks are hungrier than others and some are allergic to pumpkins.

By hiding the truth, we deny our partners the opportunity to consent to continuing a relationship with us.

"If you're afraid to say it, that means you need to say it."

Coercion happens any time you make the consequences of saying no so great that you've removed reasonable choice.

If your partner says no, and you start preparing for a fight instead of accepting their choice, you're probably being coercive.

Do I use words the same way my partners do? Do I often find myself in discussions about the meanings of words? If I have a problem with someone's behavior, do I discuss the problem with that person? If my partners have a problem with someone else's behavior, do I encourage them to bring it up with that person? Do I communicate passively or directly? Do I look for hidden meanings in other people's words? Do I bury my real meaning? Do I communicate authentically in ways that make me vulnerable? In what ways do I actively listen to my partners?

Usually we think we've communicated just fine, and it's the other person who has a problem.

Asking for what we need, rather than what we think might be available, is kind to our partners, because it communicates what we want authentically—as long as we are ready to hear a no.

Talk about what you actually want, not what you think you should want or what you think might be available.

Assume good intent. Your partners are with you because they love you and want to be with you. Even when problems arise, needs aren't being met or communication goes awry, this is still true. If you start with the assumption that your partners are acting out of malice, communication is never going to recover.

If you can't do what your partner is asking, inquire about the underlying need; is there another way of meeting it? "No, I can't be with you next Thursday, but is there another time when I can help support you?" is better than just no.

We feel what we feel; the secret is to understand that we still have power even in the face of our feelings. We can still choose to act with courage, compassion and grace, even when we're terrified, uncertain and insecure.

Try not to validate, suppress, hang on to or deny your emotions. Just feel them, understand what they're trying to say…and then let them pass. Emotions are like weather; they come and go. Don't tell yourself you "shouldn't" feel them, but don't keep rehearsing things that keep them alive, either. Acknowledge them and let them go.

Take a deep breath from time to time and remind yourself that your lover is your partner, not the enemy. Enemies fight; partners work together toward a common good.

If we want our lovers to be honest with us, we have to make it safe for them to be honest.

How directly do I ask for what I want and need? What can I do to be more direct in my communication? If I hear a hidden meaning in a statement or question, do I ask for clarification before acting on my assumptions? Do I perceive criticism in my partner's statements even if they aren't directly critical? What do I do to check in with my partners? How well do I listen to my partners? What do I do to make sure it's safe for my partners to communicate with me, and to let them know it's safe? Does my communication show that I take responsibility for my actions and emotions?

But one of the things that can make jealousy such a challenge is that it's a shape-shifter: jealousy masquerades as other emotions. Before you can fight it, you need to see it for what it is. Some of the emotions that can have jealousy at their root are fear, loneliness, loss, sadness, anger, betrayal, envy and humiliation. If you are feeling these in connection to one of your partners or metamours and there's no obvious reason, or if the emotion is much stronger than the situation would seem to warrant, ask yourself if it might be jealousy.

Everyone has the right to leave me. Whether they choose to leave me is something I have some control over, by the way I treat them. Ruby left because I did things that hurt her, and that drove her away. But it was within my power to do different things. It was not the hand of fate or the uncaring stars; it was the choices I made. If I had made different choices, if I had made decisions that drew my partners closer rather than pushing them away, I might have had a better outcome.

Separate triggers from causes. The next step is harder. It involves disassembling the jealousy to find those places where you are afraid and insecure. Long-lasting jealousy management can come only from strengthening the places where your self-esteem is weak.

When we create relationships, we invite other people deep into our hearts. We allow them intimate access to our minds, our bodies, our emotions. This intimacy is one of the most wonderful, most profoundly transformative things life has to offer.

If we are to respect the gifts of intimacy we are offered, we have an ethical obligation to treat one another with care.

When we engage in intimate relationships, we open up our mental boundaries. We let a chosen few affect us, deeply. This is beautiful and amazing, and one of the things that makes life worth living. But your mind always belongs to you, and you alone. Your intimate partners, your family, your boss and the woman at the grocery store only ever get your mind on loan, and if that intimacy is damaging you, you have the right to take it back. Always.

I will not be involved with someone who is not open and honest with all other partners about dating me. I will not have unbarriered sex with partners whose sexual behavior does not fall within my level of acceptable sexual health risk. I will not become involved with someone who is not already committed to polyamory. I will not remain in a relationship with a partner who threatens me or uses violence. I will choose the level of closeness I want with my partners' other partners, subject to their consent.

Rules tend to come from the idea that it's acceptable, or even desirable, for you to control someone else's behavior, or for someone else to control yours. Boundaries derive from the idea that the only person you really control is yourself.

There are many toxic myths about love, but perhaps the worst is that "love conquers all." This myth hurts us in all kinds of ways—such as the untold zillions of hours and wasted tears spent by people trying to heal, reform or otherwise change a partner. Especially pernicious is the idea that we're supposed to "give until it hurts"—in fact, for some of us, that the measure of our worth is our ability to give, right down to the last drop of ourselves. That is wrong. Love isn't supposed to hurt, and we should not and do not need to sacrifice our selves for good relationships.

The choices we make belong to us, but so do their consequences. If you emphasize personal autonomy to the exclusion of listening to your partners' needs, you're not asserting boundaries, you're being a jerk.

The key with boundaries is that you always set them around those things that are yours: your body, your mind, your emotions, your time, intimacy with you. You always have a right to regulate access to what is yours.

There are many signs of a harmful relationship dynamic, but the most unmistakable one is fear. Why am I so afraid in this relationship when there's no imminent physical danger? If you find you are asking yourself this question, check your boundaries. Do you know where they are? How much power have you given to others to affect your well-being, your self-esteem, even your desire to live?

When we have these boundaries, however, it is our responsibility to express them, preferably before we have put someone else's heart on the line. We cannot expect, with this or any other kind of boundary, another person to guess our boundaries.

Is my partner asking me to give up control of my autonomy, my body or my emotions? Am I being asked to consent to something in a way that I can't later withdraw my consent? Am I afraid to say I may need to leave this relationship? Am I afraid to say no or to disagree with my partner? Is someone threatening my well-being, safety or livelihood? Are decisions about my actions or access to my body being made without my involvement or consent? Am I being asked to participate in, or be complicit in, something I consider dishonest or unethical? Does my partner make me feel worse about myself? Am I being asked to give up relationships with friends or family? Do I feel I have no expectation of privacy in my other relationships? Do I feel that my partner considers me inferior to him or to his other partners? Am I asked to "respect" my partner or her other partners, but feel that this respect is not reciprocated? Am I afraid to express my boundaries? Do I feel they won't be respected? Am I treated as an adjunct to, or as an extension of, my partner's other relationships, rather than as a person in my own right?

An intimate relationship is one in which neither party silences, sacrifices, or betrays the self and each party expresses strength and vulnerability, weakness and competence in a balanced way.

In an ethical negotiation, any person with a disproportionate amount of power must negotiate compassionately, rather than using that power to browbeat others to "consensus."

Leading with the need ("How can we help make sure I understand how I am valued by you?"), rather than the action, opens the door to finding ways to solve the problem without imposing rules.

Many people say, "I need rules in my relationship," but when they are asked why, it quickly becomes obvious that what they need is actually something else. It is usually something like security or stability, a sense of empowerment, predictability, or safety. Those are all reasonable needs. What's not obvious is that it's possible to have those things without rules.

You have to trust that your partners want to take care of you—that given the freedom to do whatever they choose, they will make choices that respect your needs and honor their commitments.

A partner who can't be trusted to meet your needs can't be trusted to follow your rules. What you need is a trustworthy partner. And you need to be trustworthy yourself.