The myth of monogamy

My first term has ended, and I've been meandering about the Northwest ever since. One night in Seattle, my partner and I were feeling a bit under the weather. We made a delicious pot of soup, and settled in for the evening. We discovered a movie on Netflix that we had both watched and enjoyed in high school - Never Been Kissed.

In Never Been Kissed , '25 year old' Drew Barrymore finds true, everlasting, heterosexual love. Prior to her fantastical discovery, she has never kissed anyone, been in love, or had a relationship. Yet she has no doubts that she is totally emotionally and sexually prepared to enter into a relationship that will be forever (with a man she has misled and betrayed!). Why does she think this? Because it's her destiny!

From the very beginning of the movie, Barrymore's character lectures the audience on the process of true love. First, you share a kiss similar to a fireworks display. Second, you get married and live happily ever after.

Now, it doesn't really matter if you haven't seen this movie. It could have been any movie. The specifics of the plots may differ, but the message remains constant. Growing up in North America, it's difficult to wonder at what the 'appropriate' path for development is. However, if one were to have doubts, they could just have a little movie night.

The relationships portrayed in these movies are not just overwhelmingly white and heterosexual, they are monogamous. They are unquestionably monogamous. Barrymore's character believes that she will share her life with the first person she kisses. In fact, she saves her first kiss for this person. The audience is supposed to support this idea. Further, we are supposed to cheer when the 'happy' couple share their much-anticipated kiss.

Realistically, it is far more likely that their partnership will not work out than that they will triumph in heterosexual monogamous bliss. Divorce rates alone would suggest this; however, what about something way more basic? Monogamy is not simply natural for people. Monogamy must be worked at. It is something that we as North Americans learn to view as natural. And talk about a construction that is heavily promoted! The promotion of monogamy basically engulfs us from birth. Never Been Kissed is one measly example of a movie that reinforces the myth of monogamy.

I wrote this (in a little notebook) while on a plane to Austin, TX. My partner sat next to me, reading the Ethical Slut, a practical guide to polyamory (a book that should have seriously rethought the white privilege of their title), and the man across the aisle kept eyeing us and the book. It is not a coincidence that non-monogamous relationships are more common in the queer community. As queers, we have already failed to fit the bill. We will never be able to live up to society's standard for appropriate, hegemonic relationships. This failure opens up a lot of possibilities. One of them is polyamory. Of course, this isn't just about queerness. This is about all types of relationships that are non-normative: ones that cross racial lines, span age differences, cross religions and cultures. Any failure to fit the mold creates new spaces for exploration. Let's fail in style.

Point of clarification: I do not mean to suggest that people cannot choose to be in monogamous relationships. But that's what they are doing - choosing. Monogamous relationships are not the natural form of relating to each other as in they are social constructions - just like so much of our worlds. They should not be privileged over other types of relationships. People should be able to choose whatever types of relationships fulfill them; no relationship model is inherently more 'natural' than any other in this way.

The assumption game

Welcome back. Today we're going to play a game inspired by my latest trip to the gynecologist. It's called 'find all the assumptions'! It's pretty self-explanatory. I'm going to recount the major verbal interaction in the visit, and we're all going to see how many assumptions we can find 'buried' within the conversation. Ready? Okay, let's play!

Today I went to the gynecologist. After a (very) brief chat about why I was there, the doctor dug into some important basic, background questions. We were discussing sexual activity and partners, when she asked/stated: you're heterosexual, yeah?

L: No, I'm not.

Dr: Oh, then who are your sexual partners?

L: I sleep with women.

At this point, the doctor is getting ready to do a pelvic exam. She asks me if I have ever had sex with a man. This seems entirely irrelevant to my visit and, well, my life, but I responded in the affirmative.

She was relieved! The fact that I had slept with a man meant that she would be able to perform a pelvic exam on me. This seemed like strange logic to me. Luckily, she explained.

L: You know, you could use a speculum even if I had only been with females.

Dr: Many lesbians (her term) can't have a speculum inside.

L: I find that hard to believe. You know females who have sex with females also have penetration, right?

Dr: Some do. Many don't.

Our conversation went on, but that was real gist of the interaction. Let's discuss, shall we?

First, clearly, is the assumption of heterosexuality. Not only did the doctor assume that I was heterosexual, but the way she asked the question implied that it would be offensive to suggest otherwise. I present as queer. There are many reasons for this. One of the reasons is that I want to be read as queer. I am certainly not offended when someone assumes I'm queer. In North American society, you are assumed straight until proven queer. From her question, tone, and inflection, it's clear that my doctor really wanted to give me the benefit of the doubt and the 'chance' to be straight.

While not an assumption, I'm going to go ahead and say her question about my experience with men is inappropriate and, again, offensive. But oh, did it get better! Assumption: queer women can't fuck each other. This is, obviously, false. Unfortunately, my (ex)doctor still labors under the misapprehension that sex is a penis-in-the-vagina game. That's too bad for her. It's also too bad for every one of her queer patients. There are many issues with power dynamics involved in doctor-patient relationships. These can be exacerbated in a gynecological setting because of the vulnerability of the set-up. When a doctor systematically disregards or pathologizes your identity, it doesn't exactly neutralize those concerns.

Moreover, not only is it entirely offensive to suggest that I would not be able to receive a pelvic exam because I don't sleep with men, but it's also just bad medicine. I'm a 25 year old, sexually active female. You are a gynecologist. You need to find a way to give me an exam. That is your job.

I spoke to a pretty rad medical student recently. She told me about the training on GLBTQ issues they were receiving at her school. It makes me hopeful that ultimately there will be some shift in language and care. However, the basic assumptions my doctor made (of heterosexuality and that queer women don't have 'real' sex) are not just part of the medical community. Those assumptions exist everywhere. They are constantly reinforced.

Where do you see them in your life? How do they affect you?