CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES i

The Fluid and Blurred Boundaries of Love:

Challenging Mononormative Bias in Counselling to Support a

Multitude of Monogamies and Beyond

Miranda E. Harvey

A Capstone Research Project submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree

of

Master of Counselling (MC)

City University of Seattle

Victoria BC, Canada site

June 2, 2021

APPROVED BY

Danelle Kabush, PhD, RCC, Capstone Supervisor, Master of Counselling Faculty

Shelley Dewar, MA, RCC, Faculty Reader, Master of Counselling Faculty

School of Health and Social Sciences CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES ii

The Fluid and Blurred Boundaries of Love:

Challenging Mononormative Bias in Counselling to Support a

Multitude of Monogamies and Beyond

APPROVED:

______(Faculty Advisor)

______(Principal of Canadian Programs)

CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES iii

Abstract

Consensual non-, or romantic pluralism as I prefer to call it, is increasing in acceptance and visibility in Western society. In response, institutions like academia and helping professions like counselling are working to respond appropriately by challenging mononormative bias, the presumed superiority of monogamy and its associated scripts, for the sake of romantically plural individuals and families. However, the rising popularity of these relationship styles and factors like high divorce and infidelity rates among monogamous couples are influencing the expressions and practices of monogamy as well: the line between monogamy and romantic pluralism is blurring on the romantic spectrum and in everyday life. Unfortunately, the literature tends to dichotomise romantic pluralism and monogamy, leaving a gap in evidence- based guidance for meeting the needs of contemporary monogamous individuals and families.

To help bridge this gap, challenging mononormative bias and complementary non-dualistic therapeutic approaches prepare counsellors in meeting the diverse needs of clients identifying anywhere along the romantic spectrum.

CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES iv

Acknowledgements

I am grateful to live, learn, work, and play as an uninvited guest on the unceded and traditional territories of the Lək̓ ʷəŋən peoples, particularly the Songhees, Esquimalt and

W̱ SÁNEĆ peoples. Without the graciousness of my hosts and their relatives, this paper would not have been possible.

I also want to acknowledge Robert van Tol, whose phrase “fluid and blurred” graces my title, as a poignant way to describe the boundaries we impose between relationship styles (van

Tol, 2017, pp. 277, 279, 280).

CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES v

Dedication

To my family for protecting me, my friends for pondering with me, my romances for pushing me, my therapists for palliating me, and my faculty advisor and reader for helping polish my work: I am forever prostrated in gratitude.

In particular, thank you to:

Laura Hébert, editor – thank you for your precious friendship and invaluable feedback

Dr. Danelle Kabush, faculty advisor – thank you for your contagious enthusiasm and critical eye

Dr. Shelley Dewar, faculty reader – thank you for your professional wisdom and expertise

CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES vi

There is little one can say about love. It has to be lived, and it’s always in motion.

~ Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī

The fundamental human need for love, for connection, for passion, for transcendence will never

change. The expressions, the forms, the institutions in which we will seek those fundamental

human aspirations will continuously transform.

~ Esther Perel, “The Lies We Tell Ourselves About Monogamy and Relationships with Esther

Perel and Lewis Howes” [YouTube.com]

CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES vii

Table of Contents

Abstract...... iii

Acknowledgments...... iv

Dedication...... v

Quotes...... vi

Table of Contents...... vii

Chapter 1: Introduction...... 1

Introduction...... 1

Background...... 2

Definition of Terms...... 3

Relationship...... 3

Adultery, Affair, Cheating, and Infidelity...... 4

Relationship Style...... 5

Romantic Pluralism...... 5

Polygamy...... 6

Mononormativity...... 7

Mononormative Bias...... 7

Stability...... 8

Compersion...... 8

Purpose...... 9

Thesis Statement...... 9

Significance...... 10

Scope...... 11 CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES viii

Outline for the Remainder of the Paper...... 11

Chapter 2: Literature Review...... 12

History of Relationship Counselling...... 12

Context...... 12

Tradition...... 13

Evolution...... 19

Relationship Assumptions and Constructs...... 22

Casual Sex...... 22

Trust...... 24

Jealousy...... 26

Stability and Exclusivity...... 28

The Romantic Spectrum...... 31

Monogamy...... 32

Monogamish...... 34

Consensual Nonmonogamy (CNM)...... 36

Open Relationships...... 39

Polyamory...... 42

Relationship Satisfaction and Romantic Pluralism...... 46

The Problems with Mononormativity...... 48

Institutional Bias...... 48

Seeking Legitimacy...... 49

Forms of Mononormative Bias and the Ideas that Challenge Them...... 51

Chapter 3: Challenging Mononormative Bias in Counselling...... 59 CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES ix

The Personal: Challenging Mononormative Bias from Within...... 59

Language...... 60

Beliefs...... 61

Monogamy: Natural Selection or Selected to Be “Most Natural”?...... 61

Stigmatised Styles...... 62

Shaking Stability to Its Core...... 63

The Place of Privilege...... 64

Working Through It: Some Tangible Resources...... 67

From the Bottom Up...... 68

The Professional: Challenging Mononormative Bias from Without...... 69

Making Meaning...... 69

The Dance between Freedom and Belonging...... 69

Tearing Down to Build Up...... 70

Resilience Rather Than Rigidity...... 71

The Profound: Challenging Mononormative Bias for Wider Application...... 72

New Attitudes, Same Partners...... 73

Abundance...... 74

Branching Outside of Monogamy...... 75

Sex and Spirituality...... 76

Chapter 4: Summary, Discussion, and Conclusions...... 79

Summary...... 79

Discussion...... 79

Recommendations...... 79 CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES x

Implications for the Profession of Counselling...... 80

Additional Considerations...... 84

Do No Harm...... 84

Some Will Not Be Challenged—At Least Not Yet...... 85

Blind Spots...... 86

Conclusions...... 86

References...... 89

Appendix...... 107

CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 1

Chapter 1: Introduction

Introduction

I initially learned of romantic pluralism from a lover who identified as polyamorous. He was the first person I ever dated who was most willing, and perhaps still holds the position as most interested, to openly and frequently discuss our relationship as it evolved, as opposed to just seeing what happened. He recommended I read two books: Easton and Hardy’s (2009) The

Ethical Slut, and Ryan and Jethá’s (2010) Sex at Dawn. While my library of relationship guides and resources has expanded to include the field’s greats like Esther Perel (2007, 2017), the

Gottmans (Burton & The Gottman Institute, 2011), and Susan Johnson (2008), who stand alongside complementary feminist, philosophical, and spiritual works, these two books have maintained a sacred place; they are the first words of romantic pluralism for me and subsequently became my romantic bibles.

Yet I do not practise romantic pluralism. While I am not opposed to being involved in such an arrangement, the logistics have always seemed too consuming and have kept such relationships out of reach, not to mention the resistance I have experienced with former lovers.

In the last few years, however, when I enter into new relationships, I do make a point of saying that romantic pluralism is an interest of mine: at least for me, it is on the table. And certain practices of romantic pluralism, like open and frequent discussions of the relationship, have become of primary importance to me, informing the kinds of relationships I have, leave, and want. What I have learned from the world of romantic pluralism, including from my community where it is broadly accepted if not practised, is informing my relationships in beneficial ways,

 I try to use British spelling versus Canadian spelling (which blends both British and American spelling) as a rebellion against American capitalist influence in Canada. I feel British spelling, which also has French influence, honours my family history and resists homogenisation, and more accurately represents my values. I hope the reader will consider honouring this preference, especially as it appears acceptable in journals (e.g., International Journal of Narrative Therapy and Community Work). CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 2 including the ways in which these ideas spark friction when rubbing against what I now know to be mononormative bias. It is these benefits and frictions, experienced primarily in monogamous contexts (and culminating in what I call conscious relationship), that got me wondering how counsellors are working with these ideas and have inspired the pages that follow.

Background

Just this past year, the Canadian Counselling and Psychotherapy Association released a revision of its Code of Ethics that explicitly includes “relational affiliation/orientation” as part of its definition of diversity, which counsellors are required to respect and attend to (CCPA, 2020).

Seven years earlier in the United States, the American Psychological Association created a task force to meaningfully respond to this cultural group (APA, 2013), though their findings have yet to influence their own Code of Ethics (APA, 2017). These changes, as well as the lack thereof, reflect trends in mainstream culture. On the one hand, at least in North America, the rejection of the monogamous status quo is resulting in an increasingly viable selection of relationship options under the umbrella of romantic pluralism, reflected both in scientific research (Brewster et al.,

2017; Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016; Fairbrother et al., 2019; Haupert, 2017; Levine, 2018;

Thompson et al., 2018) and in more popular forms of media (Fairbrother et al., 2019; Moors et al., 2015; Schechinger et al., 2018). On the other hand, there is little research and few other evidence-based resources that challenge mononormative bias in therapy to support those who practise romantic pluralism (Bairstow, 2017; Brewster et al., 2017; Cassidy & Wong, 2018;

Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016).

Because research and evidence-based resources that challenge mononormative bias are in early stages, romantically plural clients may be considered to be disadvantaged in a counselling context relative to their monogamous counterparts. However, there is another group that has yet CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 3 to be considered through this lens, another group currently being disadvantaged: monogamous clients who are dissatisfied with the mononormative status quo and whose interests overlap with the romantically plural. These individuals and couples may not be interested in the romantic script that they have inherited: to seek the One, invest all one’s resources into that person with the hope that they will meet all one’s relational needs, and together weather the world as an island of two. Instead, perhaps they want deep friendships, large communities of support, to indulge their personal interests, or even to flirt with strangers, all without the stigma and script of betrayal that would traditionally accompany such behaviour of the partnered. The goal of challenging mononormative bias is to make space for these pursuits for the romantically plural but perhaps, given the interests some monogamous individuals share with the former, the project can benefit them as well.

Definition of Terms

With the possible exception of the more academic terms, there are possibly as many definitions of the relational terms below as there are people who use them to describe themselves: they can be very personal, but there is also great inconsistency of definitions in the literature (Bairstow, 2017; Brewster et al., 2017; Cohen, 2016; Conley & Moors, 2014; Haupert et al., 2017; Johnson, 2013; Jordan, 2018; Moors et al., 2015; Pitagora, 2016; Ritchie & Barker,

2006; Rios-Spicer et al., 2019; Séguin, et al., 2017; van Tol, 2017). However, I will attempt to define them as they are used in this paper (informed by the literature) with the explicit caveat that they may be used differently by the clients I hope to serve indirectly by writing it. I will start with more general terms and build in complexity as the terms become more specific to this topic.

Relationship CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 4

The term relationship could be synonymous with “significant others” (Conley & Moors,

2018, p. 56), partners, and spouses, extending the connection beyond “purely physical sexuality into other forms of intimacy” (Pitagora, 2016, p. 392). Yet a relationship can lack the commitment or intimacy implied by these terms. Alternatively, it might be described as a dynamic where one or more people are “romantic, sexual, and/or, emotionally engaged”

(Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2018, p. 421). It is typically a combination of two or more of these facets, and assumed to be exclusive but not necessarily so. These qualities delineate it from a familial or professional relationship, and from a friendship, as the combination of two or more of those qualities and assumed exclusivity in any other type of relationship would typically be seen as wrong or shifts it into the type of relationship we are focussing on here. Where necessary, I have attempted to make these nuances clear. I often choose the adjective romantic as shorthand for the combination of two or more of these facets because of its association with winning over another’s interest (Oxford University Press, 2021) in regular physical and emotional intimacy.

Part of the difficulty in defining this term is that we are using it to describe both monogamous and romantically plural relationships here, the latter of which is mired in stigma and often associated with the language of infidelity, preventing the adequate development of terms to contain various ways of relating (Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Pitagora, 2016; Ritchie & Barker,

2006).

Adultery, Affair, Cheating, and Infidelity

The words above are synonymous terms that represent serious violations of certain assumed or explicit boundaries in a relationship, often leading to a crisis or the end of a relationship (Cohen, 2016; Levine, 2018; Mitchell et al., 2014; Ritchie & Barker, 2006). It could be sexual activity with someone outside the relationship(s) (Mitchell et al., 2014) or a number of CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 5 other behaviours, both physical and emotional (Bairstow, 2017; Cohen, 2016; Kisler & Lock,

2019; Williams & Prior, 2015). The key is that the activity occurs without the other partner(s)’s awareness or consent, or is perceived by someone outside the relationship as occurring in this way (Fairbrother et al., 2019; Lehmiller, 2020; Zimmerman, 2012).

Relationship Style

A relationship style refers to the kind of romantic relationship one is engaging in or wants to engage in, as an identity or simply a practice (Ferrer, 2018; Johnson, 2013; Kisler &

Lock, 2019; Lehmiller, 2018; Pitagora, 2016). I chose to use style over type because of the static connotations type has in psychological discourse (e.g., personality type), whereas style encompasses both the freedom of fluidity, as from a queer theory perspective (Berry & Barker,

2014; Conley et al., 2012, as cited in Ferrer, 2018; Jordan, 2018), but also includes the potential for endurance without necessitating permanence, similar to attachment style (The Attachment

Project, 2020; Davila et al., 1997; Dewitte, 2012; Finn, 2012). The phrase is also common in the literature and the vernacular, though the characteristics that categorise various styles may not always be consistent (Bairstow, 2017; Brewster et al., 2017; Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Cohen,

2016; Conley & Moors, 2014; Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2018; Fairbrother et al., 2019; Ferrer,

2018; Finn, 2014; Haupert et al., 2017; Johnson, 2013; Kisler & Lock, 2019; Lehmiller, 2018;

Moors et al., 2015; Pitagora, 2016; Ritchie & Barker, 2006; Rios-Spicer et al., 2019; Séguin, et al., 2017; Williams & Prior, 2015; Zimmerman, 2012). Relationship styles can be understood as on a spectrum between monogamy and romantic pluralism, and a person’s style can change or remain stable throughout their lifetime.

Romantic Pluralism CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 6

When discussing romantic relationships that allow for more than one partner per person

(i.e., that are consensually inclusive), an umbrella term is helpful. Some consider open relationships or polyamory/poly as umbrella terms (Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Cohen, 2016;

Pitagora, 2016; Richards & Barker, 2013, as cited in van Tol, 2017; Zimmerman, 2012), but these can also be considered specific relationship styles. Others consider consensual non- monogamy (or CNM) a more comprehensive catch-all phrase (Brewster et al., 2017; Carlström &

Andersson, 2019; Cohen & Wilson, 2017; Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2018; Haupert et al., 2017;

Jordan, 2018; Ritchie & Barker, 2006; van Tol, 2017), but the label’s inherent negativity and exclusivity seems antithetical to the spirit it endeavours to represent (Pitagora, 2016; Ritchie &

Barker, 2006; van Tol, 2017). Esther Perel’s (2017) book The State of Affairs: Rethinking

Infidelity is the source of my use of the term romantic pluralism in favour over the others, a term she associates with those who are not romantically or sexually exclusive, but “have done more thinking about the meaning of fidelity, sexuality, love, and commitment than many monogamous couples ever do, and are often closer to each other as a result” (p. 264). (While certainly not all whose identity can be contained under the romantically plural umbrella are quite so conscious, this does appear to be the general ethos behind their relationship satisfaction; this will be elaborated on in later chapters.) Romantic pluralism helps us to distinguish between two ends of the relationship spectrum while at the same time resisting mononormative conventions.

Polygamy

The terms polyamory and polygamy are often erroneously conflated: polygamy is

“multiple marriages of one man to multiple women or one woman to multiple men” (Williams &

Prior, 2015, p. 268). Because polyamory (or just poly) can often be an umbrella term for other romantically plural styles (Johnson, 2013; Pitagora, 2016), the other styles are often erroneously CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 7 conflated with polygamy too. Compared to the various forms of romantic pluralism, which are more associated with freedom and choice, polygamy carries connotations of religious or cultural duty, and greater degrees of condemnation in North American culture, particularly when it appears to be non-consensual (Brewster et al., 2017; Carlström & Andersson, 2019; Johnson,

2013; Mitchell et al., 2014; Perel, 2017; Williams & Prior, 2015). For these reasons, it is not considered to be under the umbrella of romantic pluralism, and any discussion of it is explicitly delineated.

Mononormativity

The largely unchallenged ideology and dominant discourse that monogamy is the normative and “natural” relationship style, against which all others are compared, is mononormativity (Brewster et al., 2017; Carlström & Andersson, 2019; Ferrer, 2018; Finn,

2014; Jordan et al., 2017; Levine, 2018; Pieper & Bauer, 2005, as cited in Cassidy & Wong,

2018 and McCoy et al., 2015; Pitagora, 2016; Ritchie & Barker, 2006; Schechinger, 2018;

Sumerau et al., 2020; Williams & Prior, 2015). Frequently, mononormativity intersects with heteronormativity, cisnormativity, and misogyny (Finn, 2012; Fortenberry, 2019; Jordan, 2018;

Klesse, 2018; McCoy et al., 2015; Sumerau et al., 2020). It is similar or even synonymous with monocentrism and monogamism (Ferrer, 2018; Jordan, 2018).

Mononormative Bias

Mononormativity in action is mononormative bias, a persistent set of beliefs that favour monogamy and stigmatise romantic pluralism despite, or in ignorance of, evidence for equal or greater relationship satisfaction, harming romantically plural individuals by maintaining monogamy privilege (Bairstow, 2017; Ben-Ze’ev, 2018; Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Jordan et al., CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 8

2017; Jordan, 2018; McCoy et al., 2015). It is similar or even synonymous with monogamous bias (Jordan, 2018).

Stability

Relational satisfaction is often related to stability in the literature, but is frequently conflated with qualities like exclusivity and permanence (Cohen, 2016; Finn, 2012; Moors et al.,

2015). This sense of the term is associated with patriarchal governance, where marriage is considered a microcosm of other powerful institutions like political governance and endurance is a highly desirable trait (Finn, 2012). To this end, stability-maintaining strategies (which can be interpreted as rules) have been developed and, most relevant to this paper, have been promoted in psychological contexts like family and relationship counselling (Finn, 2012; Finn, 2014;

Fortenberry, 2019). These strategies have been developed by studying couples and often through a lens of attachment theory, which has led stability (and its associations with exclusivity and permanence) to also be conflated with security (Finn, 2012), which sometimes leads to extrapolations that those who do not practise monogamy in the traditional sense are unstable or insecure (Cohen, 2016; Finn, 2014). Unless otherwise stated, this is typically the meaning of stability that is used in this paper, as it is often used in opposition to more fluid dynamics (for example, chaos or creativity) and other non-traditional ways of achieving relational health and satisfaction. However, romantic pluralism and challenges to mononormative bias reveal the possibilities of stability and security in non-traditional relationship contexts. A more nuanced and sustainable understanding of stability and security is slowly encouraged, positioning them as qualities to be creatively cultivated instead of moment-to-moment states to be preserved

(Carlström & Andersson, 2019; Finn, 2012; Finn, 2014; Moors et al., 2015; Pistole, 2010).

Compersion CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 9

Jealousy will be a topic of this paper and, alongside it, a unique approach to (or complete supplanting of) it will be highlighted: compersion. Compersion is an antonym and antidote for jealousy from the romantically plural community1; it is both an active and passive non- possessive response to the awareness that one’s partner is receiving some kind of romantic, sexual, or emotional satisfaction from someone else (Bairstow, 2017; Jordan et al., 2017; Jordan,

2018; McCoy et al., 2015; Pitagora, 2016; Ritchie & Barker, 2006; Zimmerman, 2012). Some romantic pluralists prefer to use the synonym “frubbly” instead, believing it better captures the positive feelings (e.g., warmth, delight, pleasure) associated with the concept and the kind of bonding that can result from its cultivation (Ritchie & Barker, 2006, p. 595-596).

Purpose

Mononormative bias is a relatively new consideration in the field of therapy. Currently, challenging it is aimed at supporting romantically plural clients, which is an undeniably worthy project. However, the following research and discussion will reveal that people who identify toward the romantically plural end of the relationship style spectrum are not the only ones who can benefit from challenging mononormative bias; those who identify on the monogamous end can also benefit from it. This paper endeavours to increase understanding of mononormative bias, the ways it can be challenged, and how challenging that bias can manifest between counsellors and monogamous clients.

Thesis Statement

There are some basic values underlying many of the interests and behaviours of people who identify as romantically plural, despite or in opposition to mononormativity’s undermining of them. These values are also important to many people who identify as monogamous. This

1 The origin of the word compersion is attributed to the Kerista community, a polyamorous group that was based in San Francisco between the 1960s and early 1990s (Kerista, 2020; The Polyamorous Society, 2020; Thouin, n.d.). CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 10 paper aims to demonstrate how challenging mononormative bias in counselling serves monogamous clients by making space for exploring and living out these values.

Significance

Counsellors are called to challenge mononormative bias as part of their professional and ethical responsibilities to clients (APA, 2013; CCPA, 2020). Currently, the research on mononormative bias and challenging it for romantically plural clients is sparse but growing

(Bairstow, 2017; Brewster et al., 2017; Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016;

Fortenberry, 2019; Jordan, 2018; Levine et al., 2018; Pitagora, 2016; Sumerau et al., 2020). At the same time, while mention of its benefits to monogamous clients exists (Conley & Moors,

2014), there is little if any explicit academic attention given to the subject. In addition to the ethical obligation to challenge mononormative bias, three facets of contemporary romantic relationships and who is in them illustrate why extending the challenge for the sake of monogamous clients is significant. The first is the high divorce and infidelity rates which reveal dissatisfaction with, or even inability to perform, the expectations we have culturally inherited about monogamy as well as the failure of our institutions, including the field of therapy, to help manifest them (Brewster et al., 2017; Conley & Moors, 2014; Ferrer, 2018; McCoy et al., 2015; van Tol, 2017). The second factor is that, given the vast majority of those who are surveyed identify as monogamous (Brewster et al., 2017; Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016; Fairbrother et al.,

2019; Haupert, 2017; Levine et al., 2018; Thompson et al., 2018), a significant proportion of clients entering therapy will also identify as monogamous. Finally, romantic pluralism, while still facing stigma, is increasingly entering popular discourse and gaining acceptance, tangibly influencing monogamy whether academically recognised or not (Fairbrother et al., 2019; Kabas,

2020; Moors et al., 2015; Schechinger et al., 2018; van Tol, 2017; Yaroshenko, 2016). These CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 11 facets pressure counsellors and academics alike to devise evidence-based resources for challenging mononormative bias on behalf of monogamous clients who may not totally align with the dominant discourse of monogamy.

Scope

The majority of literature on this subject is built upon studies that involved primarily

White, heterosexual, cis-gendered, middle-class, North American individuals, which also reflects my own identity for the most part. This bias will inform recommendations that are skewed toward clients who similarly identify. As such, most of the discussion that follows tends to be about and/or for those clients who similarly identify, though there are some exceptions which are explicitly stated. Research and its subsequent literature should address this diversity shortcoming so that the benefits of challenging mononormative bias become increasingly accessible and applicable.

Outline for the Remainder of the Paper

The remainder of this paper contains a literature review, suggestions for practice, and a chapter for summary and conclusions. The literature review will begin with a brief history of relationship counselling, explore major themes in the field, describe some of the most popular relationship styles, discuss relationship satisfaction, and analyse mononormativity and mononormative bias. The chapter that follows will outline how challenging mononormative bias can be done personally and professionally, and how doing so applies to monogamous clients.

Finally, a summary of the preceding text will lead into a concluding discussion which includes an exploration of the implications for the counselling profession and some additional considerations.

CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 12

Chapter 2: Literature Review

History of Relationship Counselling

While an exhaustive history of relationship counselling is beyond the scope of this paper, and not all significant contributors could be included, the following sketch will hopefully help readers gain a basic understanding of how relationship counselling developed, and from where it is being asked to continue its evolution.

Context

The history of relationship counselling, or what is often known as couples counselling, is tied to the histories of monogamy and romantic pluralism. Couples counselling arose within a

Judeo-Christian cultural context where heterosexual monogamy was standard and reflected in the homo- and mononormative environment that surrounded it (Williams & Prior, 2015). The

Bible’s first human protagonists, Adam and Eve, are celebrated not only as the ideal relationship characterised by fidelity and sexual profundity, but also individually as the necessary ingredients for such an ultimate union where each represents the totality of masculinity and the totality of femininity, respectively. This foundational story is at the root of about half the world population’s belief systems, those of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, and predominantly features in Western understandings of gender, sex, family, cosmic balance, and much more

(Jegede, 2019).

The earliest forms of Western science, the bases for modern medicine and psychology, were immersed in such a context. In terms of , figures like Thomas Hobbes,

Thomas Malthus, and Charles Darwin, all of whom were born into Christianity as their faith tradition, cemented mononormative bias in modern thinking (Ryan & Jethá, 2010). For example,

Darwin’s observations of mammalian females as sexually reluctant compared to the males of the CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 13 species mirrored the Biblical female’s passivity (Eve created from Adam in Genesis 2:22 New

International Version, Eve tempted by the snake in Genesis 3:6) and, influenced by Hobbes’ earlier speculation that premodern human life was comparable to the “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short” lives of animals, led him to conclude that the Victorian family ideal that was based on monogamous marriage and strict gender roles, particularly the nurturing stay-at-home mother, was natural (Hobbes, 1651/2006, p. 102; Ryan & Jethá, 2010).

It is also notable that René Descartes is a contemporary of Hobbes and a predecessor of

Malthus and Darwin. Alongside their ideas, his philosophy of dualism—shaped by his own

Christian education at a time when Christianity very much defined itself against a pagan or non-

Christian other (Gaukroger, 199)—dominated Western thought well into contemporary times.

Whether limited to the Cartesian dualism of mind and body (Thibaut, 2018), applied to gender roles (Schmitter, 2018), or demonstrated in the way relationship styles are often categorised as either monogamous or non-monogamous, Descartes’ influence on the ways Westerners come to understand themselves and the world is fundamental.

Tradition

Just as the histories of monogamy and romantic pluralism are intertwined with the history of relationship counselling, the story of couples counselling is wedded to that of family counselling. Couples counselling, however, was dominated by its focus on dyadic partnerships and, eventually, the presence of both partners in counselling sessions, bringing in an emphasis on communication now that the patterns between couples were visible (Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002;

Kollind, 2003; Simmons, 2006).

While Sigmund Freud is often the logical person to begin an account of modern psychology’s history, due to the fact that his psychoanalysis was practised almost exclusively CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 14 with individuals, his early twentieth-century contemporary Alfred Adler may be the more appropriate figure to begin with for building an understanding of the history of relationship counselling. Adler conceived of the family as a constellation of purposes and goals that are enacted relationally, and his work expanded therapy beyond the individual (Adler, 1930/2013;

Carlson & Dermer, 2017). While efforts to approach family therapy with a theoretical base were certainly taken, most marriage counsellors in the first quarter of the twentieth century might be thought of primarily as educators, providing advice and guidance to uphold Christian values and demystifying the physical requirements of such a union as part of the marriage guidance movement (Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002; Simmons, 2006). Therapeutic approaches were echoed in marriage manuals and romantic fiction, with an emphasis on stability that logically followed the tumultuous and devastating Second World War (Finn, 2012; Simmons, 2006).

The importance of stability in the larger family was emphasised during this post-war period as well, both as a way to cope with the negative consequences of rapid modernisation and as a way for families to contribute to it (Kollind, 2003). Developmental theories that emphasised early attachment to mothers led to John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, which permeates contemporary family therapy today (Ainsworth & Bowlby, 1991; Carlson & Dermer,

2017). At the same time, Harry Stack Sullivan emphasised interpersonal relations in therapy, leading to the philosophy of participant observation and paving the way for second-order cybernetics (Carlson & Dermer, 2017), which includes the understanding that the clinician is part of the therapeutic system and worthy of observation (Baron, 2007). A notable mention at this point is Don D. Jackson, who not only originated the term conjoint therapy in 1959, but also attributed relationship dysfunction to unspoken or disagreed upon rules meant to maintain each partner’s dignity which required unveiling or resolution to improve the relationship and create a CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 15 mutual sense of dignity (Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002). This shift toward disclosure gained momentum in the form of intimacy research at a time that positions it likely as a reaction to the cultural rebellion of the 1960s against monogamy and its exclusive association with relationship satisfaction (Finn, 2012).

The field was largely dominated by men during this period, but two women who were contemporaries of each other stand out: Virginia Satir and Lynn Hoffman (Carlson & Dermer,

2017). Satir emphasised the importance of clear communication of wants and needs in healthy relationships that value personal freedom, and also incorporated elements of Eastern culture in her work, such as her human mandala intervention, which helped therapists explore with families the eight personal-relational aspects she identified in an individual (Bitter, 2014; Carlson &

Dermer, 2017; Kollind, 2003; Satir, 1988). This latter influence may have contributed to her identification of self-esteem and individual growth as fundamental to satisfying relationships

(Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002; Kollind, 2003; Satir, 1983), though it also parallels Murray Bowen’s ideas about differentiation (for example, separating thoughts from feelings and self from others;

Bowen, 1978; Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002; Kollind, 2003). From another direction, Hoffman’s work with language and metaphor influenced family therapy toward postmodern, or context- oriented, approaches (Carlson & Dermer, 2017; Hoffman, 2002). The combined contributions of these women coincided with the transition of marital therapy from typically individual approaches to typically conjoint approaches, paralleling the association of dysfunction to systems instead of individuals and the dawning of systemic therapy (Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002; Kollind,

2003).2 Finally, in 1987, the developments of the latter half of the twentieth century culminated

2 The expansion from individual to conjoint counselling usually involved bringing in the husband to join the wife, who had typically been the member of a couple to enter into counselling. This change was both influenced by and had consequences for shifts in gender roles in broader society during and after World War II (Simmons, 2006). CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 16 in the extension of attachment theory to romantic relationships by Cindy Hazan and Phillip

Shaver (Finn, 2012).

Drawing from the work of Milton Erickson, who showed that a small solution-focused change in behaviour could have a significant influence on positively shifting the system as a whole (Haley, 1973/1993), another significant contribution to the family therapy field that is relevant to our topic is the introduction of Solution-Focused Therapy in the 1990s, particularly the use of exception questions (de Shazer et al., 1986; Carlson & Dermer, 2017). This emphasis on new possibilities from within the same context being discussed arose alongside a broader challenge to dominant discourse via Michel Foucault’s ideas about deconstructing dominant discourses and elevating alternatives (Carlson & Dermer, 2017). This influence helped bridge the gap between the methods of the structural-strategic period (1950s-1990s), methods which were imposed from the therapist onto the clients; and those of the postmodern social constructionist and feminist period (1990s-present), methods characterised by curiosity and the positioning of the client as expert (Carlson & Dermer, 2017). Narrative therapy in particular externalised problems and situated them in context, making space for preferred stories and realities from an expanded menu of possibilities (Carlson & Dermer, 2017; White & Epston, 1990).

The feminist critique of family therapy is one of the most significant drivers of change in the field, spurred by Rachel Hare-Mustin as early as 1978 (Carlson & Dermer, 2017; Hare-

Mustin, 1978). It forced therapists out of their comfortable seat of neutrality and brought gender issues into the family counselling room, spawning an approach that is collaborative, personalised, and works to free the marginalised from oppression (Carlson & Dermer, 2017). For example, Marianne Walters challenged the typical approach to the pursuer/distancer dynamic in couples therapy where the wife (the typical pursuer) would be asked to “relax” so that the CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 17 husband (the typical distancer) could approach; instead, Walters illuminated the gender- socialisation behind these dynamics by questioning how seeking intimacy came to be pathologised (Walters, 2012). Another example is Peggy Papp who, specifically in treating depression, would explore how gender-socialisation has influenced the meaning and sources of identity in clients’ lives, normalising symptoms as signposts to conflicting inner values and creating space for clients to attend to values that do not fit typical gender norms (Papp, 1999).

The feminist approach, particularly as it incorporates more diverse voices into its white, middle- class roots, also reflects the shift from viewing the family as a dutiful social institution to a freely chosen form of companionship (Kollind, 2003), a shift that is still evolving today, expanding into newer arenas like romantic pluralism.

Another characterisation of the transformation of couples counselling between the structural-strategic period and the postmodern-feminist period is in the use of terms; the word marital was replaced by couple when categorising counselling in order to be more inclusive of various forms of committed relationships (Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002).

The context in which we find ourselves today, with a renewed vigour toward evidence- based treatments, is strangely similar in some ways to the days of Hobbes, Malthus, and Darwin, with the same dualistic trap set by Descartes persisting. Pressure for such treatments is being spurred by insurance companies, driven by efficiency but lacking in the personalisation that contributes to the most successful outcomes (Carlson & Dermer, 2017; Simmons, 2006). This pressure has also arisen out of the fact that divorce and unhappy partnerships are costly to public health more broadly (Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002).

Frank Dattilio’s Cognitive-Behavioral Family Therapy, based on the role emotions play in connecting family members to or distancing them from each other, is one example of an CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 18 evidence-based practice that reflects the shift in valuing enmeshed dependence to valuing boundaried attachment (Carlson & Dermer, 2017; Kollind, 2003). The Cartesian trap is the idea that “couples therapy is [thought to be] fundamentally different from family practice...[centering] its work on intimacy and the intense energy that occurs when two people interact within a binding relationship” (Carlson & Dermer, 2017). This intensity serves as the basis for therapies such as Jean McLendon’s extension of Satir’s work which attributes communication patterns to the family-of-origin, as well as Susan Johnson’s Emotionally Focused Therapy (Carlson &

Dermer, 2017; Johnson & Greenberg, 1985; McLendon, 1999). An example of a therapy that works with this special intimacy is the Napier’s approach which treats the couple bond as fragile because of the focus on emotional relationality, working with clients to avoid taking the bond for granted by emotionally nurturing it (Carlson & Dermer, 2017; Kollind, 2003), an idea similar to the premise of Esther Perel’s international bestseller Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic

Intelligence which strives to balance intimacy with eroticism (Perel, 2007). Major scientific contributions have also been made by the Gottmans, who have normalised conflict in relationships and suggest that factors, like the ratio of positive to negative affect in conflict management and the degree of friendship in a relationship, can predict divorce (Babcock et al.,

2013; Carlson & Dermer, 2017; Gottman & Levenson, 2000). Johnson’s Emotionally Focused

Therapy is another well-known and evidence-based couples therapy that works to uncover the hidden and painful emotions that often underlie negative interactions within couples, and to address each partner’s need for secure attachment through the building of trust (Johnson &

Greenberg, 1985; Johnson & Greenberg, 1987).

While couples therapy has certainly shown increasing promise throughout the last century or so, specifically by becoming more inclusive and less pathologising, it largely remains CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 19 characterised by the earliest “science” of human sexuality outlined in the previous section; specifically, most research for evidence-based therapy is based on heterosexual couples assumed to be monogamous if not explicitly stated as so. Logically, most of these therapies, particularly the evidence-based ones, are designed for these research subjects, for couples, and so it is unclear how they might apply to partnerships that do not identify as monogamous. With a Cartesian division between the methods appropriate for family therapy and those for couples therapy, it is difficult to imagine a satisfactory resolution for clients in romantically plural partnerships.

Evolution

As with most fields, couples counselling continues to evolve and take on new forms. One of these forms is the preventative movement, designed to not only help couples maintain satisfying relationships but also to mitigate the public cost of poor relationships; an example is the Prevention and Relationship Enhancement Program which helps couples build conflict- tolerance and constructive management skills (PREP; Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002; Renick et al.,

1992). But the most important aspect of couples therapy’s evolution is its diversification, as influenced by feminism, multiculturalism, and postmodernism (Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002).

Despite academic and practical assumptions continuing to the contrary in many cases, it is increasingly problematic for couples therapists to assume their clients are heterosexual, White, middle-class, or any other privileged identities or positions that previous iterations of couples therapy largely took for granted, and to assume that their clients are all shaped by and expressing themselves in the same contexts. An example from each philosophical position listed above illustrates this point: the complementarity of male and female partners that particularly characterised the earliest forms of family and couples therapy and held academic interest is shown to be a “social prescription masked as a scientific description [emphasis in original]” by CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 20 feminists (Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002, p. 231); multiculturalism has helped the field understand that each partner brings a different set of beliefs, expectations, and experiences around intimacy, power, and extended social networks into the relationship (Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002); and the shift in emphasis on the client’s meaning and experience rather than on broad generalisations and explanations is a gift from the postmodern perspective (Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002).

These influences, perhaps particularly postmodernism, are starting to shake some of the foundations of modern couples therapy. One idea that postmodernism challenges is the notion of an immutable self, one that can be fully and singularly disclosed to another (Finn, 2012), disrupting our assumptions of what constitutes intimacy. It also challenges Western culture’s emphasis on individuality and the individual’s unbridled quest for personal fulfillment, favouring a middle ground where a balance between independence and interdependence is struck, particularly through communication and negotiation skills (Kollind, 2003). While certainly provoking anxiety in some, such disruptions make space for new possibilities and questions like,

“Are stability and exclusivity necessary ingredients for satisfactory relationships?” can be entertained. There is a shift from valuing marriage or permanent relationships to valuing the qualities that permit a mutually satisfying relationship (Kollind, 2003). Challenging cherished cultural values like unification which marriage once stood for, a value seeded by the Bible’s

Adam and Eve, cultivated in the mid-twentieth century, and replaced by more differentiating and individualistic values in the 1970 and 1980s (Kollind, 2003), has taken on a renewed vigour influenced by wisdom gained from the earlier challenges, partly as an embrace and a reflection of the creation-through-chaos phenomenon that is observed in the natural world (Finn, 2012).

But these ideas are not limited to the therapeutic professions and academic research; an article in the widely read New York Times that questioned material attachment (and the inherent CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 21 orientation toward scarcity it implies) reflects shifting public values (Brooks, 2014) that in turn make demands on the therapeutic professions as well.

One such demand comes from a simple fact that, in 2012, 4% of a nationally representative probability sample of U.S. adults presently in relationships reported that they were in an open relationship, a finding that alludes to a larger number of people interested in other forms of romantic pluralism but not interested in an open relationship specifically, or who are interested in being in an open relationship but were not at the time of the study (Levine, 2018;

Moors et al., 2013). Popular interest is generally on the rise, whether that be seen in media coverage, books, or Internet searches (Schechinger et al., 2018). And while a collaborative therapeutic approach is preferable to more directive and hierarchical approaches (Gurman &

Fraenkel), clients who are romantically plural, deemed a sexual minority, cite having to educate their therapists about their identity as a major reason for terminating therapy prematurely

(Schechinger et al., 2018). This problem and the growing popularity of romantic pluralism are pushing the helping professions to challenge mononormative bias, becoming knowledgeable about and adept at supporting these styles of relationships (Levine et al., 2018), an endeavour supported by the most recent iteration of the Canadian Counselling and Psychotherapy

Association’s Code of Ethics (CCPA, 2020). And while it is true that romantically plural- identified clients may have unique challenges that established modes of couples therapy are inadequate for, such as the cultivation of compersion toward a partner’s derivation of pleasure from another partner (Jordan et al., 2017; Ritchie & Barker, 2006), there is a trend toward viewing human sexuality on a spectrum on both social and individual levels (Berry & Barker,

2014). This implies that what we call monogamy itself is evolving, as indicated by the term monogamish which holds monogamy as a core identity but embraces some behaviours that are CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 22 decidedly not monogamous (van Tol, 2017). It also implies that any client can vacillate along the romantic spectrum throughout their lifetime, incorporating experiences from one style that inform experiences of another and inviting prudent consideration. As relationship styles continue to evolve, so too will relationship counselling be encouraged to evolve with them.

Relationship Assumptions and Constructs

There are many assumptions and constructs about relationships that people and therapists alike take for granted when considering what would be considered a good or healthy relationship, and what would not be. Repeated over time by generations, the assumptions and constructs that hold firm form romantic, sexual, and relationship scripts that provide a sense of order to the otherwise infinitely messy realm of human dynamics, often applied without acknowledging their specificity to identities like culture and gender, for instance (Bowleg et al.,

2015). What follows are a few examples of these assumptions and constructs relevant to our topic, both in the micro sense of a specific relationship dynamic (casual sex) and in the macro sense of traits (like trust and jealousy) that are relevant to other areas of human relations.

Casual Sex

Many heterosexual couples today do not view cohabitating as morally problematic; sex is no longer viewed as only for the marriage bed (Zimmerman, 2012). It perhaps comes as no surprise then that heterosexual casual sex is also being viewed as increasingly permissible

(Farvid & Braun, 2013) with the average number of lifetime partners increasing as well

(Zimmerman, 2012). However, the comparison between casual sex and committed monogamous relationships persists and places the latter as the preferred outcome of dating (Farvid & Braun,

2013). Casual sex is often depicted as a phase that precedes such a union, one that runs counter to the “naturalness” of committed sex and requires rules to navigate it, particularly to shape CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 23 behaviour and attitudes in a way that helps a person detach sex from stereotypically feminine emotions like romance and intimacy, discursively denoting femininity and casual sex as incompatible (Farvid & Braun, 2013).

There is an insidious double-standard regarding casual sex when it comes to gender, where men are the recipients and women are seen as giving it away, a notion bound up in the apparent elevated riskiness of casual sex for women as compared to men (Farvid & Braun,

2013). The double-standard is also related to slut shaming, or the disproportionate discrediting of women and girls for behaviour like casual sex in an attempt to control their sexuality (Sweeney,

2017). Such depictions of casual sex help to maintain the ideal of heterosexual marriage by positioning it as a better alternative for women despite its many drawbacks, such as the disproportionate burden of emotional, domestic, and sexual maintenance placed on women and their isolation from social connections and networks which, according to feminist scholars, helps to privilege both the interests of men and capitalism (Farvid & Braun, 2013). For example, unwanted pregnancy is touted as a major risk of casual sex, most particularly for women, but the social context in which a woman finds herself pregnant is often more troubling than the pregnancy itself.

The concept that preferences for partners who are eligible for casual sex encounters differ from those for partners who are eligible for committed relationships corresponds to the prevalent mononormative ideal of the One (Farvid & Braun, 2017). More will be said on that idea in a later section, but it is also relevant here for casual sex’s normalisation of sexual desire and the need to satisfy it as a natural human drive with corresponding behaviour, like hunger and eating

(Dewitte, 2012), while at the same time maintaining the idea that committed and exclusive sexual relationships are preferred (Farvid & Braun, 2017). CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 24

Finally, positive views of casual sex has been linked to insecure attachment styles, particularly the avoidant style (Moors et al., 2015) despite people who are attributed with a secure attachment style being more open to sexual exploration and enjoying sex for the pleasure of it, though in committed relationships (Dewitte, 2012). Though a clear relationship between attachment style, gender, and willingness to engage in casual sex has yet to be established

(Busby et al., 2020), it appears that cultural influences, like mononormative and gender biases, shape the contexts in which the sexual drive is satisfied. Studies that show that younger people’s attitudes toward casual sex are increasingly more progressive suggest that the cultural context rather than individual traits, like attachment style, may be a more significant factor (Graham et al., 2021; Miller, 2021; Twenge et al., 2015).

Trust

Trust is one of the most valued qualities in intimate relationships. It could be characterised as the bedrock on which notions of commitment are built. It is a major indicator of positive relationship function, and is associated with high self-esteem, agreeableness, and secure attachment (Fortenberry, 2019). Because it is associated particularly strongly with sexual fidelity for monogamous couples, even problematically so in some cases (Perel, 2017), it is a primary locale of therapeutic interventions to restore and build safety in relationships that involve infidelity (Dewitte, 2012). Trust is associated with honesty and acceptance, a safe place for the sharing of hopes, dreams, and our entire selves (Perel, 2017).

The association between trust and sexual fidelity contributes to the common misperception that any relationship style other than monogamy is antithetical to this value.

Trust’s link to safety extends to connotations of stability, a quality that monogamy is promoted to uphold in the service of social stability and patriarchal ideals of civilisation (Finn, 2012). It is, CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 25 therefore, often assumed in the literature to coincide with desires for “exclusive and permanent relationships” (Finn, 2012, p. 614). Trust, in this context, is made possible by a process of exclusion and the maintenance of those exclusions (Finn, 2012).

Yet what may be antithetical here is not romantic pluralism to trust, but avoidance to trust. The word trust is synonymous with faith which in many spiritual traditions, particularly in their contemplative (mystical or experiential) forms, is linked to uncertainty not as an antidote to it, but as a tool for holding uncertainty or discomfort without being overcome and paralysed by it

(Batchelor, 1990, excerpt; Suderman, 2020). Instead, romantic pluralism may provide fertile ground for cultivating trust through experiences with uncertainty and discomfort (Finn, 2014;

McCoy et al., 2015; Williams & Prior, 2015).

There are many ways one can be betrayed by another, and these are as unique as the participants in a relationship and the agreements (often unspoken) that they have (Perel, 2017).

While some people associate trust with sexual exclusivity, many do not and instead privilege respect, loyalty, and emotional intimacy (Perel, 2017). Trust and trustworthiness seem to be universal values and aspects to be evaluated across sexual orientation and relationship styles.

Paralleling their monogamous counterparts, it is considered a high priority for people engaged in polyamorous and open relationships (Carlström & Andersson, 2019; Finn, 2014). And while bisexual individuals, who appear to make up the majority of polyamorous-identified people in several surveys, are often viewed as noncommittal, they are typically perceived as trustworthy

(Cohen, 2016). Given that these issues seem universally important, it is unsurprising that one of the main issues people who practise polyamory bring to therapy is trust (Bairstow, 2014) or, more accurately, betrayal. CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 26

While trust’s flip side might be betrayal, it has a dark side, too. Put bluntly, Western notions of trust can be dangerous. Trust’s association with monogamous ideals creates an unfortunately ironic situation: the further entrenchment of these ideals through public health approaches that promote exclusivity as a primary protective factor against pregnancy and STIs may be unwittingly contributing to a romantic script that can lead to riskier behaviour

(Fortenberry, 2019). Rather than conceiving of trust holistically, it is designated to the emotional realm where simplistic ideas about feeling safe become unsafe actions, such as foregoing condoms to symbolise reciprocal trust, intimacy, and commitment (Fortenberry, 2019).

Jealousy

In relation to trust, jealousy may be the ultimate policing strategy (Finn, 2012). Jealousy can be described as an emotional response to a situation where something thought to be exclusively shared or owned is perceived to be shared indiscriminately or withheld (Oxford

University Press, 2020). It serves as a means to control that exclusivity (Jordan et al., 2017).

Jealousy is a frequent complaint of partners, whether they are upset that their beloved’s time is spent at work instead of with them, or that their partner is wearing especially sexy clothes on a night out without them. It can be a dangerous excuse for extreme acts, cited as one of the top explicit motives for nonaccidental homicide (Harris, 2004). The conventional narrative, that jealousy is the responsibility of the person it is in response to, undergirds such violence (van Tol,

2017) yet ironically unmasks the vulnerability at its core through avoidance of accountability

(Perel, 2017).

Jealousy, however, is not necessarily a hard-wired and natural response to certain stimuli as it is often thought to be both in academic works and the popular mind; in fact, jealousy between partners seems to be a prominent feature of romantic relationships only in cultures CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 27 where personal property is highly valued, and sex is prescribed to be confined to marriage

(Harris, 2004). It also seems to increase as a defense mechanism based on experience, such as becoming more jealous after being cheated on (Cohen, 2016). Such examples seem to justify the association between jealousy and the anxious attachment style (Moors et al., 2015).

Jealousy is often portrayed differently for men and women in the literature, mirroring popular portrayals. Monogamous men tend to demonstrate the highest levels of jealousy compared to men in other styles of relationships (Séguin et al., 2017), but that jealousy is often sexual in nature, whereas it is often shown to be emotional in nature for women (Harris, 2004).

This dichotomy is frequently justified as an evolutionary imperative where in theory, the male jealously guards his uncertain paternity by policing the sexual activity of his female mate, while the female jealously guards her male mate’s emotional bond in order to secure resources for the offspring they are raising together (Ryan & Jethá, 2010).

Problems arise, however, when nuances are examined. Most of our evidence about gender differences in jealousy comes from studies on college students, and it seems that these differences are less pronounced among older adults (Harris, 2004). There are also more theoretical postulations about why gender appears to be a factor when it may not be particularly salient, such as men understanding their woman partner’s interest in sex as being emotional in nature rather than sexual, thereby reporting a sexual explanation for jealousy when it stems from both or even exclusively from the emotional component (Harris, 2004). The physiological tests on men that point to high reactivity when entertaining both the ideas of themselves having sex with their girlfriends and of others having sex with them, rather than exclusively demonstrating jealousy, may simply indicate arousal (Harris, 2004). Based less on conjecture, it seems that women’s jealousy shifts from being emotional in nature toward sexual in nature once they begin CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 28 having sex themselves (Harris, 2004). And yet when some violation actually occurs, it seems that both men and women tend to focus more on the emotional aspects of a partner’s affair than the sexual ones (Harris, 2004; Perel, 2017).

Embedded in mononormative culture, romantic pluralists are certainly not immune to jealousy in their relationships (van Tol, 2017), though reports indicate that jealousy may be less of an issue than it is in monogamous relationships, particularly when associated with the secure attachment style (Moors et al., 2015). A key to this difference may be inherent in the ethos of romantic pluralism which to some degree, depending on the specific relationship style, distances itself from capitalistic and patriarchal possessiveness (Farvid & Braun, 2013). The promoted and accepted responses to jealousy in such contexts are mainly open discussion about it and compersion, perhaps the pinnacle practice of this ethos (Pitagora, 2016; Ritchie & Barker, 2006).

Being able to convey to a partner that one feels jealous because they care (as opposed to because the partner was perceived to break a rule) or, a step further, being able to transform jealousy about a partner’s pleasure into satisfaction derived from it whatever the source (Zimmerman,

2012), non-traditional approaches to jealousy have benefits beyond freeing one’s energy for other pursuits. Learning to challenge possessiveness may also contribute to safer and more empowered relationships for women who typically suffer the negative consequences of heterosexual monogamy to a greater extent (Farvid & Braun, 2013; McCoy et al., 2015;

Sutherland et al., 2017). The skill and practice of romantic pluralism also have a reciprocally supportive quality where the diversifying of one’s relational resources interacts bi-directionally with compersion and less intense jealousy (Conley & Moors, 2014).

Stability and Exclusivity CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 29

Because we inhabit a world shaped by the horrors and chaos of the World Wars, where the recent death of the last known living veteran of the first (Kirka & Lawless, 2012) symbolises the freshness of the generational wounds that we are still tending, the cultural desire for stability is understandable. In the personal realm, stability was positioned as the antidote to the chaos of separation (uncertainty), and psychology, particularly attachment theory, gave us the tools in which to maintain it (Finn, 2012). It became heavily associated with healthy relationships (Finn,

2012), perhaps even the definition of them, as demonstrated by evaluations that link desirable aspects to it specifically (Fortenberry, 2019) and the extension of these benefits of marriage to

“those in stable relationships [emphasis added]”, where stability is associated with both permanence and supportiveness (Cohen, 2016, p. 296). An example is the conclusion of one study that found that long-distance relationships are comparatively as “satisfying and stable

[emphasis added]” as their counterparts (Pistole, 2010, p. 115). To this end, though largely geared toward a specific culture of White, middle-class, heterosexual couples, many measurement scales have been developed for assessing stability in relationships (Cassidy &

Wong, 2018; Finn, 2012; Finn, 2014; Kisler & Lock, 2019). Stability is also the personal quality that is conducive to such relationships, as typified (and celebrated) in the secure attachment style

(Finn, 2012). This focus sets up a paradigm where stability is the measure of healthy, satisfying relationships and, therefore, highly prized, despite being a term that lacks precise definition and seems to contain many complementary but not necessarily relevant qualities.

One of the key instructions for achieving such an ideal is honesty and self-disclosure via direct and empathic communication (Finn, 2012). Sexual priming (the presence of sexual thoughts) has been shown to be associated with an increased willingness to engage in intimate behaviours like self-disclosure, which often results in linking intimacy to evolutionary CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 30 justifications for monogamy (Dewitte, 2012). Additionally, proximity is another way to maintain stability, whether that is established through physical touch to release the bonding chemical oxytocin (Dewitte, 2012), or through maintenance behaviours like frequent phone calls or explicit limits on separation (Pistole, 2010). And the ideal context most typically promoted for achieving stability is the heterosexual monogamous marriage (Finn, 2012). This is often typified by the romantic quest for the One, the sole person who both complements and enhances one’s own qualities and values, fulfilling all needs and desires only until death prevents them (Perel,

2007). The extreme of this idea that influences Western beliefs about relationships is that if super-monogamy (total monogamy with the One) is not achieved, the only other choice is to be alone (Emens, 2004; van Tol, 2017). However, in practice things are not quite so extreme; if one finds themselves instead settling for their “0.99” or less, a strategy deemed tenuous in comparison to the ideal of the everlasting “One”, they could adopt supporting strategies for maintaining hetero-monogamous stability: jealous alertness and the corresponding rules that help maintain order, such as holding an inflated view of one’s partner and avoiding extradyadic temptation (Finn, 2012; Harris, 2004).

While containing stability within hetero-monogamy may seem like the simplest solution and, according to Ockham’s Razor3 (Duignan, 2020), the best solution, it also conveniently upholds cultural norms inherited from our Judeo-Christian narrative, even if disguised as the cosmic harmony of gender symmetry (Finn, 2012; Gray, 2004). It also seems meritorious when contrasted against the social upheaval of the 1960s and 1970s, often characterised by the separation of love from sex and overlapping partnerships (Finn, 2012), ultimately culminating in the deadly AIDS crisis of the 1980s (Castiglia & Reed, 2011). However, the proposition that

3 For those unfamiliar with Ockham’s Razor, also spelled Occam’s Razor, it is a philosophical principle that positions the simplest explanation as the preferred explanation when there are two or more to consider (Dunigan, 2020). CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 31 exclusivity is necessary for stability is not substantiated in the academic literature (Finn, 2014;

Mitchell et al., 2014; van Tol, 2017). People who are romantically plural also value stability and intimacy (Carlström & Andersson, 2019), and secure attachment is shown to be possible in cultures where multiple caregivers of children is common, extending this style to romantically plural adults as well (Moors et al., 2015). Romantic pluralists might be said to enact an entirely new form of stability, one based on inclusivity, transparency, and democracy (Finn, 2012). An example might be the negotiation of what is defined as cheating in a given relationship, a definition that is not permanent but that adapts as the relationship evolves (Cohen, 2016).

This broadening of stability creates the intellectual space necessary to question the high value placed on stability itself. Because common ideas of stability rely so heavily on rules and regularity, the risk of sacrificing novelty, mystery, and even personal growth for security is inherent (Finn, 2012). The notion of stability more commonly practised in romantically plural relationships is not in opposition to chaos and uncertainty, but rather another location on the same continuum, or perhaps even a third force generated from such a fluid dynamic (Finn, 2012).

This kind of stability generates possibilities rather than diminishes them, fostering the conditions for both relationship and individual fulfillment (Finn, 2012). Such fluidity also presents the opportunity to experience a wide and complex range of specific emotional states, increasing sensitivity and the potential for adaptive capacity (Ben-Ze’ev & Brunning, 2018).

The Romantic Spectrum

As exclusivity’s irrelevance to relationship satisfaction becomes increasingly apparent, so does the drawing of lines between relationship styles based on this condition alone seem increasingly reductionist. However, mononormative culture practically forces such divisions because of monogamy’s institutionalisation as “desirable, natural, historical, and the most CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 32 beneficial [relationship style] to the family and the community” (Jordan, 2017, pp. 2-3). The division is also forced because monogamy in the West is not considered monogamy unless it is done perfectly or, as popular sex and relationship advice columnist and podcaster Dan Savage says, “You’re monogamous until you fuck somebody else and then you’re not” (Savage, 2010,

0:01:42). Because the literature tends to replicate these constructs, it is nearly impossible to discuss relationship styles without upholding this dichotomy, so it bears repeating: relationships are as unique as the people who are in them.

With this in mind, what follows are descriptions of relationship styles as they are commonly categorised in the literature. An important caveat, however, is that definitions of these terms remain varied and lack agreement (Fairbrother et al., 2019). Additionally, the order in which they are presented attempts to demonstrate a dynamic spectrum of degrees (Cohen, 2016) but may inadvertently denote linearity; however, in reality, individuals’ definitions and agreements are much more fluid (Cohen, 2016; Williams & Prior, 2015), especially when considered over time. What may also become apparent is the degree to which certain relationship styles are considered in the literature; monogamy aside, polyamory and open relationships tend to be more commonly studied than their romantically plural counterparts. And finally, since we begin our discussion with monogamy, it is worth noting that I have intentionally left out much in the way of its merits for two reasons. The first is that the study of monogamy is rarely presented as a style in comparison to other relationship styles; relationships are what are studied, and they are largely presumed to be monogamous, presenting a problem of validity. The second reason is that this paper is meant to benefit clients who are struggling with their monogamous relationship, so I think focussing on its issues are more salient for this purpose.

Monogamy CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 33

In practice, perfect monogamy is rarely achieved (Zimmerman, 2012); about a third of such relationships are affected by infidelity (McCoy et al., 2015). Monogamy may even be increasingly less desirable; for example, a survey of Google searches on certain CNM terms significantly increased from 2006 to 20154 and 11.6% of one representative U.S. sample indicated that attending a party where sex was public or partners were exchanged was appealing

(Fairbrother et al., 2019; Moors, 2017). Similarly, 11.9% of Canadian adults would prefer an open relationship (Fairbrother et al., 2019). Globalisation may be a contributing factor as super- monogamy (Emens, 2004), while practically unlikely, is a relatively rare prescription outside of the West (Moors et al., 2015) and is required in only about 16% of the world’s societies

(Zimmerman, 2012).

Another factor in the loosening of monogamy’s grip on the West is likely the high divorce rate in industrialised nations (Department of Justice, 2015; Statistics Canada, 2015), revealing its fragility in opposition to historical yet increasingly flimsy arguments about monogamy’s naturalness (Finn, 2012; Jordan, 2017; van Tol, 2017). The possibility of divorce symbolises a cultural shift in favour of freedom and choice regarding relationships, particularly for women (Farvid & Braun, 2013; McCoy, 2015). Factors like longer life spans, increasing gender equality, and the Internet’s facilitation of opportunities for love, sex, and dating, are also influencing this trend (Brewster et al., 2017). Accordingly, many of the traditional aspects of marriage are eroding, such as its place as exclusively heterosexual territory (van Tol, 2017). On the micro level, heterosexual couples, representing the majority of relationships and a significant influence on relationship culture in general, are increasingly deciding what works for them in relationships despite traditional narratives that still dominate (Zimmerman, 2012). For example,

4 “The Google searches for terms related to polyamory and open relationships increased from 2006 to 2015, r = .52, p < .001, and r = .63, p < .001, respectively” (Moors, 2017, p. 680). CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 34 while traditional gender roles still tend to shape heterosexual relationships, there is increasing cultural permission to negotiate these and act in defiance of them (Sutherland, et al., 2017;

Thompson et al., 2018b). Negotiation even enters the realm of eroticism and sex, and what is defined as infidelity, personalising monogamy and leading us to our next category (Williams &

Prior, 2018).

Monogamish

In 2011, Dan Savage gave us a term for these “fluid and blurred” boundaries on the edge of monogamy, encompassing behaviour outside of monogamy that can be either consensual or nonconsensual, open or secret (van Tol, 2017, p. 279; Yaroshenko, 2016), and even known but functionally ignored (for example, “don’t ask, don’t tell”; Easton & Hardy, 2009, p. 212). The monogamish relationship style does not oppose tradition exactly, but instead knocks monogamy off its pedestal and grounds it in the human fluidity that characterises its reality (van Tol, 2017).

Critical thought can no longer justify perfectionist ideals and the beliefs that support them, such as the belief that love is inherently exclusive—the existence of parents who love multiple children highlight this intellectual fallacy extensively (Zimmerman, 2012). The concept of monogamish dismisses the fantasy of the One, both encouraging healthy fidelity to a desirable partner through accommodation, as monogamy is still a core value to a great extent (van Tol,

2017), and discouraging unhealthy fidelity to a detrimental partner informed by fears about scarcity (Cohen, 2016).

The increasing permissibility of monogamish relationships may be influenced by the

LGBTQ and kink communities, of which the term’s founder Dan Savage is a member. The tradition of monogamy, as discussed above, is socially constructed and heterocentric

(Zimmerman, 2012), a tradition that one automatically breaks if identifying as anything but CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 35 heterosexual. Attraction to more than one gender, being bisexual for example, seems inherently less compatible with monogamy, and is often appraised as such (Fairbrother et al., 2019), and in communities of gay men, the definition of monogamy may actually be closer to that of monogamish. While the studies have their flaws, gay men are consistently shown in the literature to be the people most likely to engage in relationships that are not strictly monogamous

(Fairbrother et al., 2019; Haupert et al., 2017; Séguin et al., 2017). This presentation of romantic pluralism as natural in gay communities, whether statistically true or factually illusory, may contribute to a more nuanced understanding of monogamy: one study of gay men found that almost a quarter of the men who said they were in a closed relationship and only had sex with that one partner also reported that they had had anal sex with a different man in the past 90 days

(Cohen, 2016).

Heterosexual couples are increasingly embracing a more monogamish approach to their relationships as well. Consistent with the possibility that men are pushing the monogamous boundaries in LGBTQ communities, they appear to be leading this trend in heterosexual coupledom as well (Fairbrother et al., 2019). As early as 1983, one study found that 15%-28% of heterosexual couples had some kind of agreement that could categorise them as consensually monogamish (McCoy et al., 2015). However, because the term is relatively new and the mononormative bias in the literature tends to consider infidelity as the only relevant situation outside of heterosexual monogamy (Bairstow, 2017), it is difficult to determine the prevalence of consensually monogamish relationships at this time. Instead, this mononormative bias seems to be paralleled in the popular imagination as people in sexually unsatisfying monogamous relationships tend to fantasise about sex in ways characterised by infidelity (Lehmiller, 2020). CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 36

The persistence of opting for secrecy over honesty in monogamous relationships as a maintenance strategy further contributes to this imagination stagnation (Zimmerman, 2012).

Consensual Nonmonogamy (CNM)

There is a bridge that straddles the aforementioned relationship styles and the ones that follow, and this is frequently called consensual nonmonogamy (CNM). The term’s controversy aside, it makes a clear break from relationships that are defined as monogamous, especially the ones marked by infidelity. It can contain forms of monogamish, as well as open relationships, polyamory, swinging, and much more, though these are the styles most commonly identified in the literature (Brewster et al., 2017). Though markedly distinct in certain ways, they all appear to share common values such as open communication and consensus about the relationship’s terms

(Moors et al., 2015). However, the literature is young (Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016) and, consequently, these terms’ definitions are inconsistent, eluding precision (Brewster, 2017).

While this may frustrate clean categorisation and comparison, the current context does encourage the kind of open-hearted and open-minded approach to these relationships that therapists would be advised to take when working with clients (Gehart & Paré, 2008), of which more will be discussed later.

The most common statistic on the prevalence of CNM is derived from a large U.S. representative sample, and indicates that approximately 4%-5% of heterosexual adults were involved in such a relationship at the time (Moors et al., 2013). The prevalence is similar in

Canada, with 4% of those in a relationship at the time defining it as “open” (Fairbrother et al.,

2019, p. 700). Other studies, however, have shown that upward of one quarter had these kinds of agreements, though far fewer (7%-9%) had acted on them in the previous year (Haupert, 2017).

The interest and popularity of CNM is reflected in popular and scientific literature, media CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 37 coverage, and Internet searches (Fairbrother et al., 2019; Schechinger et al., 2018).

Contemporary celebrities like spouses Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith are admitting to this kind of relationship arrangement (Moors et al., 2015), and even health authorities responding to the COVID-19 pandemic are creating guides that reflect the reality of multiple concurrent sex partners (BC CDC, 2021). Accordingly, CNM is increasingly becoming relevant for therapists, encouraging both the American Psychological Association and the Canadian Counselling and

Psychotherapy Association to take steps toward increasing therapists’ understanding of it and mitigating against mononormative bias (APA, 2013; CCPA, 2020).

Those who report they desire a CNM relationship tend to be younger than their counterparts, though whether such participants age out of these desires or the general population is becoming more accepting of these styles, beginning with the younger generations, is yet to be determined (Fairbrother et al., 2019). When it comes to people who have actually engaged in some kind of CNM relationship, there is little variance in “education level, income status, religion, political affiliation, and race” (Haupert, 2017, p. 436). Levine et al. (2018), found similar results for education and income, but found that White, non-Hispanic participants were the least likely to report open relationships.

Where things do seem to differ is by gender and sexual orientation. Because men are assumed to be naturally more non-monogamous (Ryan & Jethá, 2010), the assumption that logically follows is that they receive more benefits from non-monogamy; however, this narrative contradicts an issue that many women (and not many men) report: a declining interest in sex with their long-term partner (Jordan et al., 2017). And while engaging in CNM relationships may give women an economic advantage if one of those relationships fail because they have at least one other person to depend on, a situation that is less relevant for men in a patriarchal society, it is CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 38 disproportionately more difficult for women to enter into CNM relationships because of economic disparities (Zimmerman, 2012). While men and sexual minorities were found to be more likely to have had a CNM relationship, the vast majority of those who had had one were heterosexual, reflecting the composition of the general population (Haupert, 2017; Levine et al.,

2018). This is an important point of caution as much of the literature about CNM does not consider heterosexual individuals and may not be wholly generalisable to them (Brewster et al.,

2017; Levine et al., 2018). An example of this divergence is the importance of considering the complicated sexual double-standards in heterosexual relationships: Thompson et al. (2018b) found that men who requested CNM in hypothetical scenarios tended to be judged less favourably by study participants than women requesters were yet, inside their own relationships, women were found to be more accepting of such suggestions than men are. Heterosexuals as a whole seem to prefer monogamy as the relationship norm, possibly due to social desirability, but demonstrate preference for CNM over infidelity as infidelity violates the most relationship norms compared to CNM (Grunt-Mejer & Campbell, 2016; Thompson et al., 2018a; Thompson et al.,

2020).

One explanation for the higher rates of CNM in sexual minority groups may be their inherent openness to sexuality outside the dominant discourse; that is, challenging heteronormativity complements challenging mononormativity (van Tol, 2017). An example of this is demonstrated by the kink community (people who engage in “the collection of activities that involve the mutually consensual and conscious use, among two or more people, of pain, power, perceptions about power, or any combination thereof, for psychological, emotional or sensory pleasure” (Newmahr, 2011, as cited in Wignall & McCormack, 2017, p. 802). It seems that there is 90%-100% CNM among people who practise kink (the range is due to a lack of CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 39 clarity about whether extra-dyadic kink is sexual in nature), though the reverse count (of CNM people who practise kink) seems to be far less extreme (Pitagora, 2016). Unfortunately, that can mean an extra dose of stigma for an already stigmatised population while simultaneously illustrating the importance of CNM for the people who practise it (Levine et al., 2018;

Schechinger et al., 2018). Men who identified as a sexual minority are about as equally interested as women who do in CNM (Levine et al., 2018), though gay men seem to be more likely to actually act on such interests than lesbian women are, perhaps indicating gender role socialisation (Haupert et al., 2017; Séguin et al., 2017). Those engaged in CNM relationships have also been shown to be more likely to get tested for STIs regularly and use condoms with all of their partners than their monogamous counterparts, even the adulterous ones, though Levine et al. (2018) found this condom use to be associated only with anal sex.

Evidence has also been found to support differences of interest in CNM by attachment style. While it has already been demonstrated above that security and CNM are not mutually exclusive, people with an avoidant attachment style seem to regard CNM more positively than people with an anxious attachment style, though both seem willing to try it, possibly because of projections of confirmation bias on CNM: those who are avoidant may perceive a potential for less emotional engagement and people who are anxious may perceive an opportunity for increased affection (Moors et al., 2015; Sizemore & Olmstead, 2018). Avoidantly attached individuals, however, seem to be less likely to actually engage in CNM than anxiously attached individuals, possibly because they tend to avoid relationships more generally than secure or anxious individuals (Moors et al., 2015).

Open Relationships CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 40

As we inch along the romantic spectrum, we come to the relationship style that can be categorised as open. It is worth noting the caveat that this style probably has more similarities to what comes before and after it than it does differences, reminding us that definitions of the various styles are not universally agreed upon (Cohen, 2016; Fairbrother et al., 2019; Williams &

Prior, 2015). It is also one of the oldest and most commonly used terms to describe romantic pluralism (van Tol, 2017) which means it is perhaps the most challenging style to glean accurate descriptions from the literature. However, common descriptions of open relationships are typically characterised by open and honest agreement between at least two partners to engage in extradyadic sexual and romantic relations, and absent of secretive behaviour of this kind

(Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016; Fairbrother et al., 2019).

When forced to confine one’s sexual identity to a single category, one study found that a majority of people in open relationships are comprised of people who identify as gay or lesbian, though a significant minority, 39.2% in one study, identify as heterosexual (Séguin et al., 2017).

As mentioned earlier, a representative study of Canadian adults found that 11.9% of participants would prefer an open relationship; men were almost three times more likely to report this than women (18.0% and 6.3%, respectively; Fairbrother et al., 2019). The portion of all participants who had been in an open relationship at some time in their lives was 2.4%, and the portion of participants that were currently in a relationship and described that relationship as open was

4.0% (Fairbrother et al., 2019). Levine et al. (2018) found almost identical numbers in their analysis of a U.S. representative sample, with 2.6% having engaged in an open relationship, and

4% of those currently in relationships were in an open one. Although examining current relationships only, this study found a similar ratio to that of those interested in open relationships described above: about 3:1 of men to women were presently engaged in an open relationship CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 41

(Levine et al., 2018). While these numbers are not huge, they certainly indicate that many relationships are open, though not necessarily openly so (Zimmerman, 2012).

Recognising this significance, the popular dating website OkCupid includes the option of

“in an open relationship” in their list of relationship statuses as well as “monogamous” and “non- monogamous” as relationship types (Kabas, 2020). They surveyed their users and between 2010 and 2015, the number of people who would date someone in an open relationship rose from 36% to 42% (van Tol, 2017). People often cite freedom, connection, and novelty when describing why they might choose an open relationship, and less frequently cite sex (Cohen, 2016). Sex may be more of a secondary benefit, as an invigorated sex life is correlated with the expression of the aforementioned values (Perel, 2007; Zimmerman, 2012). It appears that sex may simply not carry as much weight in these relationships, while emotional fidelity is maintained as important

(Zimmerman, 2012). This emotional fidelity can even be demonstrated in the way people in open relationships date, as only one behaviour appears to be universally discouraged: only seeing someone once before deciding to end the relationship (Cohen, 2016). In fact, sex may be regarded more like play (Harviainen & Frank, 2018; Paasonen, 2018; Perel, 2017). These qualities, emotional fidelity and playfulness, are important to note together because the necessary vulnerability of honest expressions of feelings and fantasies that goes with them (and, again, not sexual inclusivity) is a primary reason people cite as choosing not to explore open relationships

(Zimmerman, 2012).

The comparison of sex to play also provides a context for the frequent boundary setting and negotiation, or rules of engagement, which are common to open relationships. As Cohen

(2016) put it, they are not a “free-for-all”, and they are certainly not one-size-fits-all, where all refers to both moments in time and participants (p. 310). Honesty is typically cited as the top CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 42 priority in open relationships, tempered by communication strategies that take into account a partner’s feelings (Cohen, 2016; Zimmerman, 2012). Boundaries that are revisited over time are, according to Zimmerman (2012), “the second key characteristic”, such has how “out” the relationship is (pp. 281-282). However, this ongoing conversation about the relationship does require time, energy, and strong communications skills, some of the challenges associated with this relationship style; other challenges include boundary violations, STI risk, social stigma, loss of traditional sex roles, and managing difficult emotions (Cohen, 2016; Zimmerman, 2012).

These challenges appear to be worthy endeavours, however, and perhaps particularly so for women as they seem to be a footnote to a greater sense of freedom and agency than more restrictive relationship styles (or even no relationship at all) might offer (Zimmerman, 2012).

Polyamory

At first glance, polyamory may seem as far away from monogamy as one can get: its premise, as the term etymologically implies, is the desire for multiple concurrent relationships characterised by love and romance (and often sex and commitment), where all partnerships are aware and consenting of each other (Williams & Prior, 2015). To discuss polyamory at the end of this list perhaps conceals the more cyclical quality of relationship styles. In many ways, polyamory returns to monogamous ideals more so than the other styles, particularly in its polyfidelitous form where partners mutually commit to each other and do not date outside those committed partnerships (McCoy et al., 2015). Part of the reason for this is that people who practise polyamory are mostly immersed in the same social context that monogamous people are, and subject to some degree of the same mononormative romantic ideals (Mitchell et al., 2014).

Polyamory’s tendency to be hierarchical in nature, where there is a primary partnership that incorporates partnerships that are secondary, tertiary, and beyond, also mimics monogamy in its CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 43 privileging of a particular relationship over others, like a romantic partner over friends (Cassidy

& Wong, 2018; Pitagora, 2016; Sutherland et al., 2017; van Tol, 2017). This fact is not without its controversy, however, both for those who are outside the primary relationship and those whose polyamory is political, rejecting dominant discourses like capitalism and patriarchy, and decidedly not hierarchical (Jordan et al., 2017; Pitagora, 2016; van Tol, 2017).

Polyamory does demonstrate a number of differences in the literature, however, in comparison to other relationship styles. For example, the majority of people who practise polyamory seem to be bisexual as opposed to the heterosexual majority in monogamy (Haupert et al., 2017; Seguin et al., 2017). Polyamory often seems to be a choice made after being frustrated by monogamy, as divorce rates and civil union rates are higher in this population than they are among monogamous people (Carlström & Andersson, 2019). And polyamory may represent somewhat of a leap in relationship philosophy, as individuals who practise polyamory seem to believe lack of satisfaction in one relationship is because one person naturally cannot meet all of another person’s needs (Conley & Moors, 2014; Johnson, 2013; Kisler & Lock,

2019). Polyamorists value their relationships for what they are and distribute investment in them relatively evenly, whereas individuals in open relationships are more likely to personalise flaws and match investment in a relationship to its level of satisfaction (Zimmerman, 2012). One factor in this shift may be an orientation toward diversity over partiality, and promoting intimacy over protecting it (Ben-Ze’ev & Brunning, 2018). People who practise polyamory are often motivated by this relationship style not only because it affords opportunities to diversify one’s social network and resources for wellness, but it opens individuals up to new aspects of themselves through the increased variety and frequency of intimate encounters (McCoy et al., 2015).

Another factor of this shift may be the common belief among people who practise polyamory CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 44 that one’s emotional state is one’s own responsibility, as the section on jealousy above exemplified (van Tol, 2017). However, any individualistic harshness attributed to this belief is tempered by a strong orientation toward collective values and an understanding that cohesion is an outcome and not a given, requiring explicit management of intimacy and conflict through activities such as regular check-ins where one can benefit from others’ perspectives on and support in managing one’s emotional state (Ben-Ze’ev & Brunning, 2018). Aside from the most obvious and defining quality of polyamory (that is, multiple simultaneous lovers), it is also commonly known to strongly value the intimacy and durability of relationships, and the use of honest and frequent communication to achieve these values (Carlström & Andersson, 2019;

Klesse, 2011, as cited in Mitchell et al., 2014). These skills may help to manage one of the most significant and insidious consequences of the divergence from monogamy, namely the potential for isolation due to the fears of legal action and general social stigma against polyamory

(Carlström & Andersson, 2019; Williams & Prior, 2015). Despite these elevated risks, people who practise polyamory are found to have similar levels of mental wellness, intimacy, and relationship longevity as people who practise monogamy, and sometimes are shown to be even happier (Ben-Ze’ev & Brunning, 2018; Cohen, 2016; Cohen & Wilson, 2017; Conley & Moors,

2014; Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016; Fairbrother et al., 2019; McCoy et al., 2015; Pitagora,

2016). This advantage seems to be attributed to the skills people who practise polyamory develop to maintain and nurture their relationships, which are conducive to adept management of diverse experiences and adaptation to diverse situations, contributing to a comfort with complexity that frees individuals from the suffering associated with the more simplistic approach to relationships of rule-following with its inevitable rule-breaking (Ben Ze’ev & Brunning,

2018). In a way, people who practise polyamory are vigourously cajoled into these skills by CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 45 navigating a relationship style that is outside the dominant discourse and lacks a definitive script

(Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016).

There are a few notable misconceptions about polyamory, not least of which is the misperception of it as inherently dysfunctional (Mitchell et al. 2014). In fact, among a sample of monogamous people, polyamory was deemed more acceptable than swinging and open relationships (Cohen & Wilson, 2017). However, initiators of polyamory are still harshly judged, illustrating that it does carry stigma (Thompson et al., 2018b). This stigma is maintained by another problematic belief, that additional partners will threaten the pre-existing dyad: from a large sample from a diverse range of locations across the globe, Mitchell et al. (2014) found that dyads within polyamorous relationships operate largely independently from each other.

Unfortunately, this also means that a commonly lauded benefit of polyamory, new relationship energy (where excitement about a new relationship spills over into the pre-existing relationship or relationships), may actually be quite rare (Mitchell et al., 2014). Another major misconception is the conflation of polyamory with polygamy, particularly through popular and sexualised depictions that portray polyamory as one man with many women (Duplassie & Fairbrother,

2016). However, polyamory is distinct from polygamy not only because marriage is not requisite

(and, therefore, is technically legal in most Western contexts), but also because it tends to level rather than exacerbate power dynamics, particularly for the benefit of women (Duplassie &

Fairbrother, 2016; Farvid & Braun, 2013; Klesse, 2007, as cited in Finn, 2014; Finn, 2012;

Jordan et al., 2017; Jordan, 2018; “Legality of polygamy”, 2020; Williams & Prior, 2015;

Zimmerman, 2012). People who practise polyamory are also not immune to others’ beliefs that children are disadvantaged by nontraditional relationship styles, yet research refutes this and shows that children seem to do well in poly-families, though parents’ disclosure of their romantic CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 46 arrangements to their children is not universal (Sheff, 2011 in Brewster et al., 2017; Conley &

Moors, 2014; Jordan et al., 2017; Williams & Prior, 2015). Research also refutes the sex negative stigma that romantically plural relationships are less healthy than monogamous ones, or that the individuals who take part in them are less healthy themselves than their monogamous counterparts (Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016). In fact, when measuring various markers of psychological wellbeing and pathology, Rubel and Boagert (2014) found no statistical differences between individuals practising monogamy and those practising romantic pluralism.

While true for all relationships, it is important to note that there is much diversity among individuals who practise polyamory. For example, while many polyamorous arrangements contribute to more sexual frequency and partners than monogamous arrangements do for many individuals (Ben Ze’ev, 2018; Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016), some people who practise polyamory have fewer partners than their counterparts who practise monogamy (Pitagora, 2016).

Also, much research has found that individuals who practise polyamory have higher rates of economic, education, and racial privilege (Jordan et al., 2017; Levine, 2018; van Tol, 2017), though there is some evidence that this information may be skewed toward people who can afford to be out as polyamorous (Carlström & Andersson, 2019; Jordan et al., 2017).

Relationship Satisfaction and Romantic Pluralism

In general, it appears that relationships which have some degree of romantic pluralism to them are about equal in satisfaction compared to monogamous relationships (Duplassie &

Fairbrother, 2016; Levine et al., 2018; Morrison & Beaulieu, 2013; Séguin et al., 2017). Factors like marital adjustment, happiness, sexual satisfaction, longevity, and reasons for breakup were all found to be statistically similar across relationships with various degrees of exclusivity

(Ferrer, 2018). Fairbrother et al. (2019) found more mixed results, but that satisfaction is CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 47 relatively equal when relationship agreements are adhered to, indicating the importance of consent. Avoidantly attached individuals, who seem to be less willing or able to honour relationship agreements, are less prevalent in CNM relationships, presenting the potential significance of attachment style as a factor in relationship satisfaction, apparently more so than sexual, emotional, or romantic exclusivity (Moors et al., 2015; Séguin et al., 2017). When satisfaction was found to be lower in open relationships than monogamous ones, Levine et al.

(2018) postulated that this difference was likely due primarily to minority stress, but also to lower levels of open communication. Open communication is reported as a significant factor in the maintenance of both romantically plural and monogamous relationships (Duplassie &

Fairbrother, 2016).

Opening a relationship up in a way that aligns with one’s values can also improve the quality of the pre-existing relationship (Conley & Moors, 2014; Moors et al., 2015). Two-thirds of polyamorous couples in one study reported increased satisfaction in their primary relationships after becoming polyamorous (McCoy et al., 2015). However, the increase in satisfaction appears more personal than it does physical. As mentioned earlier, women in particular seem to benefit from romantic pluralism, such as gaining or maintaining qualities like independence and connection to individuals and communities, as well as access to the resources they entail, qualities which protect against objectification and violence (Dickerson, 2013;

Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016; Farvid & Braun, 2013; Jordan et al., 2017; McCoy et al., 2015;

Zimmerman, 2012). However, again, it is not likely that the romantic pluralism itself is determining satisfaction, but the alignment of the relationship to one’s values, which seems true no matter the relationship style (Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016). Cohen and Wilson (2017) found that when individuals held attitudes and beliefs that were associated with practising CNM, they CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 48 were more satisfied if they were in a CNM relationship and less satisfied when they were in a monogamous relationship; the reverse was also true. This may seem basic and obvious, but it speaks to larger themes of the elevated importance of personal agency, growth, and development

(for both men and women) for the maintenance of romantically plural relationships, and arguably for all relationships in general (Cohen, 2016; Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016; Kisler & Lock,

2019; Klesse, 2011 as cited in Mitchell et al., 2014).

What becomes increasingly clear is that relationship satisfaction is hardly exclusive to monogamous relationships, and exclusivity is not particularly relevant to relationship satisfaction. Notions that people who practise monogamy are dissatisfied when they cheat, that people enter into romantic pluralism because their monogamous relationship is unsatisfying, or that romantic pluralism will make an unsatisfying relationship satisfying, ideas that all reduce satisfaction to the level of exclusivity, simply seem to have no significant evidence in the literature (Cohen, 2016; Fairbrother et al., 2019; Jordan, 2017; Mitchell et al., 2014).

The Problems with Mononormativity

Institutional Bias

Cultural competency is a major value of the counselling profession, explicitly written into its ethics codes. The CCPA (2020) recently revised their Code of Ethics with this particular focus in mind, and it now states in their section on diversity:

Diversity refers to various differences which include but are not restricted to: age and

generation, sex, gender, biological heritage/genetic history, ethnicity..., cultural

background..., geographic history, linguistic background, relational affiliation/orientation

[emphasis added], religion/spirituality, educational status, occupational status,

socioeconomic status, mental health, physical health, physical (dis)ability, sensory CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 49

impairment and/or (dis)ability, learning differences and/or (dis)ability, intellectual

(dis)ability, historical issues of prejudice, discrimination, oppression, collective trauma,

etc., current issues of prejudice, discrimination, oppression, collective trauma (p. 33).

I believe including the section in its entirety is important for situating relational affiliation/orientation within the context of what the CCPA now considers important aspects of diversity. This message is a significant elaboration from the previous version of the section in

CCPA’s (2007) ethics code which states in full, “Counsellors strive to understand and respect the diversity of their clients, including differences related to age, ethnicity, culture, gender, disability, religion, sexual orientation and socioeconomic status” (p. 6). Another section includes colour and marital status (CCPA, 2007), but it is clear that relationship style is missing. Now, not only is the CCPA demanding more nuanced cultural sensitivity and respect generally, they are also specifically recognising relationship style for distinct and legitimate consideration.

For comparison, the American Counseling Association’s (2014) ethics code contains a similar list to the one contained in the CCPA’s 2007 version of their code, as does the American

Psychological Association’s code (APA, 2017), and the American Mental Health Counselors

Association (2015) has a more simplified list. None of these contain reference to sexuality beyond orientation, and definitely not to relationship style. The APA, however, is joining the

CCPA in their call on therapists to challenge mononormative bias, and have formed a task force to promote “awareness and inclusivity about consensual non-monogamy and diverse expressions of intimate relationships” (APA, 2013), which will hopefully improve future versions of their

Code of Ethics.

Seeking Legitimacy CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 50

Challenging mononormative bias not only brings family therapy one step further into the

21st century, but also helps broaden its perspective on history. As Zimmerman (2012) notes, there is substantial evolutionary, biological, and cultural evidence that undermines monogamy’s dominance, and indeed much research has demonstrated it to be an exception rather than the rule.

But it is not enough to anchor romantic pluralism to our deep past; monogamy’s grip on Western culture has been perpetuated for centuries by academic and political institutions as the only

“morally correct relationship structure” (Pitagora, 2016, p. 396). Today’s romantic pluralism is now in the difficult position of having to prove itself, and while evidence of relationship satisfaction like the examples given above are giving it credence by entering academic and popular discourse, it faces a temporal challenge to its legitimacy: its recognisable longevity. For example, the earliest reference to the term polyamory is only from 1953, communities and individuals were not widely identifying that way until the 1990s, and Oxford only entered it into its English dictionary in 2006 (Jordan et al., 2017; Pitagora, 2016). It is not even 70 years old.

Though romantic pluralism seems to be struggling for legitimacy, it may be helped along by monogamy itself. Mononormativity is rooted in Western, Judeo-Christian tradition (William

& Prior, 2015), yet these cultural norms are not immune to the exposure to diversity that our current paradigm of globalisation facilitates. Sociosexual attitudes are becoming generally more permissive allowing, for example, the widespread use of birth control (Zimmerman, 2012). The high infidelity and divorce rates are demonstrating that monogamy as it has been inherited by contemporary generations is often not adequate or even practical: on one hand, the restriction of traditional marital law to heterosexual couples is increasingly challenged, and on the other, the pressures of modern life in the West often are too much for two to handle (Duplassie & CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 51

Fairbrother, 2016; Johnson, 2013; McCoy et al., 2015; Perel, 2007). Monogamy is evolving, as the relationship styles of monogamish and open relationships demonstrate above (van Tol, 2017).

While diversity and adaptation might be considered progress as far as inclusivity is concerned, mononormative bias still shapes the ways in which romantic pluralism becomes accepted and monogamy evolves. The confirmation bias that influenced the conclusions Darwin and his scientific contemporaries made about human sexuality is alive and well in our society, and specifically in psychology and its corresponding professions. For example, stability is deemed a marker, and perhaps even the definition, of a healthy romantic relationship, a mononormative stronghold with measurements created for White, middle-class, heterosexual couples, but imposed upon people from all backgrounds who enter the therapist’s office, including sexual minorities, diminishing or erasing alternative expressions and possibilities of stability and healthy relationship (Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Finn, 2012; Finn, 2014; Kisler &

Lock, 2019). If expressions of mononormative bias like this are left unaddressed, they can influence the therapeutic relationship in varying degrees of harm, from pathologising romantic pluralism when relationship complaints may have little to do with the relationship style itself

(Bairstow, 2017; Berry & Barker, 2014; Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016;

Finn, 2014; Johnson, 2013; Jordan, 2018; Kisler & Lock, 2019; Mitchell et al., 2014;

Schechinger et al., 2018; van Tol, 2017; Zimmerman, 2012), to globally celebrating or condemning an individual based on their relationship style alone, known as the halo and devil effects (Condon et al., 2019; Haupert et al., 2017; Thompson et al., 2018b).

Forms of Mononormative Bias and the Ideas that Challenge Them

There are indeed many ways that mononormative bias shows up in therapeutic settings.

Perhaps the most obvious way is to assume that clients are monogamous. Aside from potentially CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 52 inflicting microaggressions on the client, the therapist risks maintaining the harmful holding cell of secrecy that many romantically plural individuals both create and feel forced into in order to protect themselves and their family(-ies) from issues like stigma and legal consequences, compromising the possibility of addressing the roots of their complaints (Carlström &

Andersson, 2019; Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Johnson, 2013; Jordan et al., 2017; Jordan, 2018; van

Tol, 2017; Williams & Prior, 2015; Zimmerman, 2012). An intersectional lens and familiarity with minority stress theory (which posits that the stress from discriminatory experiences accumulates over time resulting in both mental and physical health issues as well as indicators of resilience) in counselling can help the therapist more quickly uncover the ways in which a client identifies and how those identities may interact to inform presenting issues (Carlström &

Andersson, 2019; Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Haupert et al., 2017; Jordan et al., 2017; Levine et al.,

2018; Pitagora, 2016; Schechinger et al., 2018). More broadly, a systemic approach may also reveal the supports and hindrances in a client’s life (Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Kisler & Lock,

2019; McCoy et al., 2015; Mitchell et al., 2014; Zimmerman, 2012).

Another way this bias may be present is in the assumption that a romantically plural relationship has some kind of hierarchy, with a primary relationship at the top (Bairstow, 2017;

Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Finn, 2012; Jordan, 2018; Pitagora, 2016). This assumption makes well- meaning advice in the literature seem innocuous, such as how one has to feel secure in a primary relationship in order to open it up (Zimmerman, 2012), but it could actually exclude people who are not interested in hierarchical configurations. It also conceals the possibility that the relationship appears hierarchical as a way to cope with stigma, where individuals present themselves in more culturally acceptable hierarchies of dyads, potentially against more CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 53 egalitarian preferences (van Tol, 2017). This has the unintended consequence of limiting positive evaluations of romantic pluralism to the degree that they most resemble monogamy.

To think that when a couple is exploring the possibility of opening up their relationship both partners need to be equally interested in doing so and come to total agreement about how to do it is probably too lofty a goal and another unhelpful assumption (Bairstow, 2017). One reason this is problematic is that opening up a relationship can be motivated by all kinds of incentives, such as domestic responsibility diversification or self-growth, and it may not be possible for both partners to agree fully on the reasons for opening it up, particularly if one partner is anxiously fixated on sexual motivations, whether or not that is of primary relevance to the other partner

(Conley & Moors, 2014; Zimmerman, 2012). Part of the process of, and typically a motivation for, opening up a relationship is to achieve more freedom, which naturally comes with some uncertainty (Ben Ze’ev & Brunning, 2018; Cohen, 2016; Zimmerman, 2012). This challenges mononormative attachment to stability and rules of exclusion, turning toward flexibility and inclusion (Conley & Moors, 2014; Finn, 2012; Finn, 2014; Mitchell et al., 2014). Rather than hammering out clear rules and boundaries, the couple might be better served by exploring what opening up the relationship means to them, both in positive and negative ways, as well as strengthening communication (including negotiation) skills and tolerance of discomfort

(Bairstow, 2017; Ben-Ze’ev & Brunning, 2018; Cohen, 2016; Conley & Moors, 2014). This approach, while not necessarily resulting in the opening of a relationship, both equips the couple to do so more gracefully if they choose, while also helping individuals and the relationship itself become more authentic by becoming more open to possibilities (Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Finn,

2012). This is a stance on authenticity and interrelatedness that is supported by both ancient and modern philosophies (Bourgeault, 2016; Heidegger, 1927/1962; Hick, 1994; Watts, 1954), as CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 54 well as counselling modalities, particularly Narrative Therapy (Dickerson, 2013; Dickerson &

Crocket, 2013; Gehart, 2018; Gauthier, 2017; Paré, 2013).

The assumption that stability is the key indicator of relationship health is a major symptom of mononormative bias. This notion is the basis for much of what we call couples therapy, spawned from Bowlby’s attachment theory and given great purchase by contemporaries like the Gottmans (Finn, 2012). While stability might be ideal for many people, it is not an ideal that is valued by everyone, nor is it desired in every circumstance by those for whom it is ideal.

The rules that govern monogamy to keep it stable can zap the creative forces from the relationship, leaving lovers feeling performative rather than passionate (Finn, 2012; Perel, 2007).

This tendency has been inherited by the romantically plural community, whose practitioners are often characterised both from within and without as rule-oriented and experts at rule negotiation, luring those who wish to help them to put emphasis on rule-making in therapeutic settings and those who wish to judge them to prefer the styles with rules that most resemble monogamy

(Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Cohen, 2016; Finn, 2014; Kisler & Lock, 2019; Pitagora, 2016). Both these consequences of mononormative bias further entrench Western society’s favour of order and a narrow idea of relational safety, which also permeates patriarchy’s governance of women and children and capitalism’s governance of our desires (Finn, 2012; Jordan, 2018). Instead, feminist thought and queer theory, with their critiques of oppositional binaries, help us to challenge these ideas and make space for new, creative paradigms (Jordan, 2018). These new ways of relating to one another, particularly romantic pluralism, are not classified as dis-order, but rather celebrated for their many and diverse opportunities for transformation (Finn, 2012;

Finn, 2014). The goal is not predictability but sensitivity and responsiveness (Finn, 2012). To CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 55 shed mononormative bias and this narrow view of stability in particular is to affirm the legitimacy of romantic pluralism (Finn, 2014).

To assume that mononormative bias is limited to monogamous people would also be a mistake (Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016; Kisler & Lock, 2019). The dominant discourse influences everybody to some degree, including people who practise romantic pluralism, requiring personal explorations of such influences (Moors et al., 2015; Schechinger et al., 2018).

While it is easy to discuss ideals such as flexibility and openness as qualities that sustain relationships, particularly romantically plural ones, putting them into practise is another matter, and people who practise romantic pluralism are not immune to antithetical issues such as jealousy and infidelity (Bairstow, 2017; Conley & Moors, 2014; Jordan et al., 2018; Kisler &

Lock, 2019; Pitagora, 2016; van Tol, 2017; Williams & Prior, 2015). Again, exploring the meaning of these issues may serve to unpack the influences of mononormativity on individuals who practise romantic pluralism, as well as centralise choice, which existential therapy may be particularly well-suited to: the practices of bracketing or suspending preconceived notions, and horizontalisation or situating the client’s identity and experience in context, provide the opportunity to respond to difficulties in preferred ways (Berry & Barker, 2014; Cassidy & Wong,

2018).

The assumption that monogamous people do not share similar values or desires as people who practise romantic pluralism is another unfortunate product of mononormativity (Cassidy &

Wong, 2018). The sexual negativity of our society, informed by mononormativity but also by other biases such as heteronormativity and cisnormativity, establishes a narrow range of possibilities for socially acceptable expressions of love, romance, and relationship (McCoy et al.,

2015). For example, long-distance relationships challenge mononormative ideals (particularly CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 56 stability, as discussed above), and yet offer benefits that are similar to those offered by romantic pluralism, such as increased novelty and autonomy, while also presenting similar challenges that require the same strong interpersonal skills to manage (Pistole, 2010). Another Narrative

Therapy technique that may be useful in these instances is related to philosopher Jacques

Derrida’s concept of the is/is not, or the idea that one knows joy by knowing pain, for example: listening for what is working when a client describes what is not working may help to elicit preferences that challenge mononormativity (or any bias) and encourage the client toward enacting their own values (Dickerson, 2013).

Long-distance monogamous relationships are just one example of how values may overlap among people who identify as monogamous and those who identify as romantically plural, and if there are shared values, it is very likely that practitioners of monogamy might benefit from the practices that characterise romantic pluralism. Heterosexual relationships can be particularly prone to the detriments of monogamy, as movement toward gender equality has also come with the costs of more subtle expressions and overt denials of sexism, maintaining double standards that particularly disadvantage women and may be increasingly more difficult to identify (Dickerson, 2013; Farvid & Braun, 2013; Sutherland et al., 2017). Conley and Moors

(2014) helpfully summarise practices and beliefs common to romantic pluralism that strive to address the oppressions of monogamy in a brief but not exhaustive list, including: expanding one’s circle of support, particularly beyond a single partner; readjusting expectations for sexual attraction, both toward one’s partner as well as toward others; enjoying multiple loving relationships (romantic, sexual, or otherwise) as a healthy practice for the individual and the system; practising strong communication skills as they nurture all relationships; and, finally, prioritising communication about relationships as a necessary endeavour. A main tenet of these CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 57 ideas is the reorientation of sexual or romantic relationships away from their status as sacrosanct, particularly in their monogamous form, and the elevation of the importance of other kinds of relationships like friendships (Conley & Moors, 2014). By disrupting the monolith of monogamy in this way, people in monogamous relationships, particularly women, are also empowered to enjoy the equalising benefits of romantic pluralism, without necessarily adopting a different relationship style (Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016; Jordan et al., 2017; McCoy et al., 2015; Moors et al., 2015; Zimmerman, 2012).

The existence of mononormative bias maintains monogamy as the central human relationship around which all other relationships are organised. This positioning is part of a larger patriarchal system that relies on conformity to maintain stability and generate power for those in control through capitalist enterprise, which relies on conforming to the dominance of the economy in our lives. Difference, whether expressed via gender, sexual orientation, relationship style, or any other form of cultural identity that does not fit the system’s idea of standard, is seen as a threat to these systems and attempts to assimilate are relentless. However, the human spirit is much stronger than any of these forces, and people, even if just a few, will always attempt to live out their values, especially values that tend to be shared more commonly than not (Kisler &

Lock, 2019). Romantic pluralism is one example of a minority of people living out values that are often common to the majority, values that actively undermine the forces designed to prevent their expression (Jordan, 2018). Counsellors, whose primary responsibility is to “respect the integrity and promote the welfare of their clients...[and] work collaboratively with clients to devise counselling/therapy plans consistent with the needs, abilities, circumstances, values, cultural, or contextual background of clients” (CCPA, 2020, p. 9), are uniquely positioned to support the unfolding of society’s true preferences. By challenging mononormative bias, they CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 58 vitalise the ethical ideals of the profession by opening themselves and their clients, whether monogamous, romantically plural, or somewhere in between, to new possibilities of relating and being in preferred ways. The next chapter will explore how exactly counsellors might do this.

CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 59

Chapter 3: Challenging Mononormative Bias in Counselling

As discussed earlier, challenging mononormative bias is an ethical imperative for counsellors in Canada as explicitly outlined in the CCPA’s (2020) Code of Ethics. This obligation might be broken down into three areas for our consideration: the personal, the professional, and the profound (though they certainly overlap). The personal contains the ways in which a counsellor might untangle mononormative bias in their inner world, developing new attitudes as a foundation for the next area. The professional is the realm in which the counsellor puts their learning (and unlearning) into practice, grounded in evidence and meeting the challenge’s intended purposes: service to the romantically plural client(s). The final area, the profound, is the extension of these attitudes and practices to populations these endeavours were not initially designed for, but who could benefit nonetheless; in the case of this paper, extending the work of challenging mononormative bias to individuals or couples who primarily identify as monogamous but have values and preferred ways of being that challenge or are not being served by the dominant mononormative paradigm.

The Personal: Challenging Mononormative Bias from Within

Johnson (2013) states that “a basic issue for the individual counselor is whether or not

[they are] able to work effectively with persons who have chosen to explore or live in alternative types of relationships” (p. 5). Whether this is a conclusion a counsellor has reached for themself, or a question they have not yet answered, engaging in the personal work of challenging mononormative bias is important for prioritising the interests of the client(s), even if that entails referring out to other professionals (Kisler & Lock, 2019). Avoiding this work, Johnson (2013) warns, could inhibit the client(s) from seeking out mental health services altogether as values are not validated and negative experiences accumulate. For those who do reach the conclusion that CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 60 they are willing to work with such clients, which will be the focus of this chapter, challenging mononormative bias will primarily help the counsellor peel off the layers of socialisation that distort the feasibility of romantically plural relationships in general and equip them to distinguish between healthy and problematic forms of these relationships more specifically (Johnson, 2013).

On a hopeful note that positions this work as broadly accessible and perhaps quells some fears.

Johnson (2013), though speaking specifically of polyamorous clients, assures counsellors that working with people who are interested in or actually practise romantic pluralism does not require the individual counsellor to practise such preferences in their own lives or even demonstrate expertise before beginning such service. She states that it is enough to become critical of their assumptions and display willingness to engage in the continuous process of redefining belief systems based on “factual data and empathic understanding” (Johnson, 2013, p.

8). A notable caveat, however, is to take responsibility for such learning and not rely on clients to educate, though invitations that allow them to correct the therapist should be explicit (Bairstow,

2017; Jordan et al. 2017; Kisler & Lock, 2019; Schechinger et al., 2018). The counsellor should also be comfortable articulating their own sexuality and preferences (Zimmerman, 2012), however fluid they might be.

Language

Perhaps the first place counsellors might begin to correct their personal mononormative bias is through the language they use. Invitations for the client(s) to define their relationship(s) in their own terms should be offered from the beginning, such as on intake forms, with careful consideration of the words supplied to the client as well (Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Jordan et al.,

2017; Kisler & Lock, 2019). For example, referring to the type of counselling being offered as couples counselling should be avoided, employing more general alternatives instead, like CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 61 relationship counselling (Jordan et al., 2017; Jordan, 2018). By using the client(s)’s own terms to discuss their relationship(s), the therapist is more equipped to avoid imposing their own relationship ideas, particularly those drawn from monogamous privilege, on the client(s) as microaggressions which inhibit therapeutic progress (Berry & Barker, 2014; Jordan et al., 2017).

Beliefs

While language may seem superficial, the beliefs we hold add layers of meaning to it by shaping the words we use and the context we use them in (van Tol, 2017), so a rigourous reformation must delve much deeper. Because the idea of challenging mononormative bias is relatively new in the literature, counsellors may find it useful to borrow from theoretical positions that have supported the undoing of other forms of bias. Examining one’s beliefs may be done through a feminist, social justice, multicultural, or social constructionist lens (or, preferably, a combination thereof), perspectives which have previously supported addressing issues of power and culture in family therapy (Jordan et al., 2017). For example, the term consensual non-monogamy represents a socially constructed belief that monogamy is standard; using terms that describe what something is rather than what it is not (like romantic pluralism) can be more affirming, an important consideration when working with a stigmatised population.

Monogamy: Natural Selection or Selected to be “Most Natural”? Understanding that monogamy’s dominance is a prize awarded to it, and not an organic or natural position that arrived at the top without intervention, is perhaps the starting point for such intellectual scrutiny.

While infidelity and divorce rates should be enough to convince anyone that monogamy is not the human species’ most natural relationship style (van Tol, 2017), the point that monogamy has been positioned as natural to serve the goals of human-created systems like patriarchy and capitalism (Jordan et al., 2017; Ryan & Jethá, 2010) might be demonstrated more palatably for CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 62 human egos with an example from the non-human animal realm. The 2005 hit film March of the

Penguins inspired comments drawing parallels between the birds’ monogamous mating and offspring-rearing practices to human “nature”, from sources as diverse as the president of

National Geographic Feature Films and the editor of the conservative media publication The

National Review (Ryan & Jethá, 2010). However, these and the film’s other millions of viewers

(it is one of the most popular documentaries ever; Welk, 2020) were victims of confirmation bias, often mistaking a one-season agreement between two birds for a lifelong commitment despite the explicit (though brief) statement to the contrary in the film itself (Reiss, 2009). In fact, the director of the film disputed this view (History.com editors, 2009), which seems to have been inspired by strategic editing for an American audience (the film most readers will likely be familiar with is this version of the original French film; Plummer, n.d.). Just as a well-crafted story of monogamy can generate maximum profit at the box office, so can one sustain powerful institutions like patriarchy and capitalism. However, this misperception is certainly not limited to penguins (Ryan & Jethá, 2010; van Tol, 2017) and, in particular, stories of monogamy do not translate to factual underpinnings for the belief that it is humans’ most natural relationship style.

Stigmatised Styles. Other beliefs that hover under the umbrella of mononormative bias must also be brought out into the open for examination and transformation. For instance, therapists have been shown to harbour ideas that relationship styles like polyamory are simply excuses to cheat or are inherently unstable, ultimately threatening the welfare of children (Jordan et al., 2017; Williams & Prior, 2015). This has been demonstrated to be untrue for people who practise polyamory, citing heightened satisfaction in their relational wellbeing, personal growth and development, and a greater sense of community compared to previous involvement in monogamous relationships (Conley & Moors, 2014; Kisler & Lock, 2019), not to mention the CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 63 children in these families fare just as well as they do with monogamous parents (Cohen, 2016;

Jordan et al., 2017; Williams & Prior, 2015). Left unchecked, however, these biased and stigmatising beliefs not only violate the ethics of the profession but can produce negative outcomes for clients, an especially worrisome matter given the marginalisation this population already endures (Jordan et al., 2017; Kisler & Lock, 2019; Levine et al., 2018; Schechinger et al.,

2018). Successful outcomes, on the other hand, were linked to the therapist’s openness, accountability for research, awareness of the diversity of romantically plural relationship styles and acceptance of the client(s)’s personal definitions, and welcoming of the entire romantic system into sessions (Cassidy & Wong, 2018; McCoy et al., 2015). The separation of the client’s presenting issues from the relationship style itself is one way to manage such beliefs and also addresses the common complaint of romantically plural clients, that these two things are often conflated (Johnson 2013; Kisler & Lock, 2019; van Tol, 2017). The example of how the treatment of clients in long-distance relationships has evolved from associating distress with the relationship style itself to associating distress with unmet attachment needs, presenting intervention opportunities that do not require an overhaul of the client(s)’s circumstances

(Pistole, 2010), lends credence to this strategy for managing the beliefs that inform treatment of romantically plural clients as well.

Shaking Stability to Its Core. The focus on stability as a goal is nearly ubiquitous in family therapy, but is also a belief worth questioning to help therapists challenge mononormative bias. Stability became the epitome of healthy relationship characteristics in a mononormative context, with strong ties to exclusivity (Cohen, 2016; Finn, 2012; Fortenberry, 2019). Yet we know that stability is desired and functional in romantically plural relationships (Carlström &

Andersson, 2019), and separating the two concepts helps therapists attend to these preferences CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 64 while being supportive of the client(s)’s relationship style. It also expands the potential understanding of stability, incorporating values such as inclusivity and transparency as healthy qualities of stability, instead of relegating them as its antidotes (Finn, 2012), and nudging stability to be more closely associated with security than stasis.

Taking this aspect of challenging mononormative bias one step further, stability as a goal itself may be considered critically so as to make space for “chaos and its infinite possibilities”, which may create new understandings of relational health (Finn, 2014, p. 4). Additionally, disentangling stability from identity and accepting that relationship styles themselves are fluid also makes space for monogamy to be expressed in diverse ways that include any or all of the aforementioned values (van Tol, 2017). The purpose of questioning stability as part of exorcising mononormative bias gives clients the power to sculpt relationships as a personal expression, rather than trying to fit themselves into a standard relationship mould. This personalisation has the potential to create relationships that are more resilient to change in general, but also to the rapidity and diversity of change experienced in contemporary society in particular (Finn, 2014).

The Place of Privilege

Challenging mononormative bias in a more personal sense also entails acknowledging the ways in which monogamy is related to privilege. Perhaps the more obvious way with regard to our topic is how monogamy is privileged over other relationship styles (Jordan et al., 2017).

Monogamous privilege is most evident in the benefits associated with the legal right to marry, a status being increasingly extended to couples in the LGBTQ community but still dominated by heterosexual couples (Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Jordan, 2018). Outside of this ultimate form of privilege and its associated benefits, privilege is extended to those who have a relationship that closely resembles marriage, but in gradually fewer ways the less the person’s relationships CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 65 resemble committed heterosexual dyadic unions. For example, a traditional wedding invitation welcoming “you and a guest” would be received rather differently between someone in a married but open relationship where romantic trysts are only permissible when travelling apart and someone in an unmarried polyfidelitous triad. While this example may seem rather trivial in isolation, it is only a matter of monogamous privilege degrees away from serious issues like visiting rights at a hospital. While learning to recognise such forms of monogamous privilege in all their expressions could help validate the client(s)’s experience, it is important that the therapist avoids falling into the trap of unconsciously supporting strategies to help the client(s) pass as monogamous; doing so only further marginalises the romantically plural community by entrenching monogamy as ideal (Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Jordan et al., 2017). Instead, the therapist must engage in deep critical consideration and possibly open discussion with the client(s), remaining open to the possibility that the client(s)’s needs for personal safety may inhibit their ability to fully live out their values.

It is also worth noting the applicability of intersectionality in such considerations as studies have shown that those in romantically plural relationships tend to be White and of higher socioeconomic classes, so experiences of stigma and social barriers are likely to be more intense for those romantically plural clients outside of these and other communities of greater privilege

(Haupert et al., 2017). However little evidence-based interventions there are for romantically plural clients, even these are likely to be less applicable for clients with greater degrees of identification with marginalised communities as research teams and subjects are more likely to be identified with communities and positions of greater privilege (Fortenberry, 2019; Pitagora,

2016). Acknowledgement of such realities and careful attention to collaboration with clients is CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 66 important for working through such barriers and producing meaningful therapeutic outcomes

(Gehart & Paré, 2008).

A more subtle way in which Western culture privileges marriage or similar relationships is by valuing them higher than other types of relationships (Conley & Moors, 2014; Farvid &

Braun, 2013), but it is a prominent theme throughout Western history. The pressure to marry that

England’s Elizabeth I faced throughout her reign provides a convenient example, as her refusal highlights well-documented patriarchal standards of lineage and occupation (McCallen, 2017) and required the kind of graceful political maneuvering we associate with her today to ensure she was perceived as upholding the highest Christian virtues rather than dangerously denouncing them (Bliss, 1992). Another rather well-known example comes from a similar time and place, but from the lower ranks, underscoring more boldly the danger of such circumstances: the witch trials that ravaged Europe and North America primarily targeted unwed women, partly because without the support of a husband they posed a financial burden on the community, but also because they did not have the luxury Queen Elizabeth did to occupy a man’s role, a situation which frequently forced these women to resort to unvirtuous (i.e., status quo threatening) means like herbalism and prostitution to support themselves (All That’s Interesting, 2015; Bucholz &

Key, 2004; University of Edinburgh, 2016). My favourite cultural epitaphs come in the form of folk songs such as the traditional “Katie Cruel” (Dalton, 1971/2006)5 and a contemporary song that blends lore and history, Lankum’s “Hunting the Wren” (Lynch, 2019)6. While this diversion

5 The song is about a wandering woman who is first welcomed for her company, but who is eventually chased out of town for the company she offers, particularly the lyrics, “When I first came to town / They call'd me the roving jewel / Now they've changed their tune / Call me Katie Cruel” (Dalton, 1971/2006, track 4).

6 Playing with the Irish tradition of hunting the wren (a bird) on St. Stephen’s Day and its metaphorical association to an actual group of unwed or widowed women who could not afford shelter and lived in virtual nests on the open ground (called wrens) is the basis of this song. The lyrics generally paint a tragic story of trying to survive in such a state, especially the vulnerabilities that can be exploited, but these particular lyrics strongly illustrate the point: CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 67 through history may seem like a wayward trip down Western culture’s memory lane, these examples illustrate the primacy of committed relationships then and now by way of what is not expressed explicitly: presumably most of these women and those in similar circumstances came from families, made friends, had children, or otherwise had bonded with somebody in their lives, but they were criticised, cast out, and sometimes condemned because they did not have the kind of relationship society valued most. Today, the intensity may have waned, but the stigma remains. Friends and other forms of relationship are equally or more important to many clients who come through a counsellor’s door, particularly for single and romantically plural clients, and so examining one’s biases in this way would help therapists better align strategies of support with the client(s)’s preferences or circumstances, helping individuals avoid isolation and, particularly for women, avoid “dyadic withdrawal”, the allocation of time spent increasingly with a partner or partners to the exclusion of others (Conley & Moors, 2014, p. 57).

Working Through It: Some Tangible Resources

Beyond being required by governing bodies like the Canadian Counselling and

Psychotherapy Association (CCPA, 2020), challenging mononormative bias may seem like a noble venture for many therapists, but it can also seem overwhelming, especially as the academic literature is relatively sparse on the subject or biased itself (Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016;

Pitagora, 2016; Sumerau et al., 2020). However, there are still many angles from which counsellors may tackle this project with resources to support them, but some concrete examples of how to do the inner work may be helpful here. Jordan (2018) outlines the ways in which feminist and queer theory can support this work, but also provides tangible examples of ways in which a practitioner might explore and challenge mononormative bias, recommending

“With cold want and whiskey / She soon is run down / Her body paraded / On a staff through the town” (Lynch, 2019, track 8). CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 68 experiential exercises as particularly useful for those who identify as monogamous themselves for critically examining “deeply held beliefs” (pp. 115-116). Jordan (2018) provides a set of reflexive questions to help acknowledge monogamous privilege and identity (see Appendix A for examples), a guided imagery exercise to help personalise the issue, a sentence completion exercise to measure implicit bias, and a case conceptualisation exercise to evaluate multicultural competence and identify prejudice. Comprehensive and deep engagement with such work not only helps the practitioner avoid imposing their personal beliefs on clients, but helps transform them in ways that assist individuals in establishing and maintaining healthier relationships of myriad expressions, and that also support the advocating of healthier human systems in general

(Jordan, 2018).

From the Bottom Up

Lastly, given the increasing interest in and prevalence of romantic pluralism, it is crucial that the entire field of therapy accept responsibility for challenging mononormative bias, including graduate programs, clinical supervisors, and researchers, so that individual trainees and therapists are not burdened with the task of great personal transformation in isolation (Kisler &

Lock, 2019; Levine et al., 2018; Schechinger et al., 2018). This sort of broad institutional acceptance bridges the work of challenging mononormative bias from the personal to the professional by supporting the personal work of counsellors to effectively address the demand for such service. It also goes beyond the professional by bringing romantic pluralism in from the fringes and helping to legitimise it in other spheres of society. This goal is shown to be realistically achievable by the progress toward acceptance the LGBTQ community has enjoyed due in no small part to psychiatry’s acceptance of it in 1973 when homosexuality was removed from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (Drescher, 2015). While this formal stamp of CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 69 approval is certainly not necessary for most individuals practising romantic pluralism to recognise their relationships as legitimate, it would provide more visible allyship and open doors for navigating and sustaining these relationships with more ease.

The Professional: Challenging Mononormative Bias from Without

Becoming the sort of person who has the foundational means to minimise harm done to romantically plural clients is one thing, but maximising growth and beneficial therapeutic outcomes for them is another. Linking the personal challenge of mononormative bias to evidence-based practices in counselling is where the project becomes more recognisably professional. While an exhaustive exploration of every issue and its appropriate intervention is beyond the scope of this paper, a general survey of some of the approaches and philosophies therapists and clients alike are finding success in will construct a bridge between romantically plural clients and their monogamous counterparts, illuminating how challenging mononormative bias can be broadly beneficial.

Making Meaning

The Dance between Freedom and Belonging. The idea of using the client(s)’s own language and terms to discuss their relationship is part of a larger philosophy that resists binary thinking and rests on meaning as subjective, essentially resisting reductive tendencies. Berry and

Barker (2014) note that work with LGBTQ clients has shown this stance to be preferred as it also resists pathologising relational behaviours, and helps tailor interventions to the client(s)’s unique experiences and preferences. It is also relevant given the intersection between romantic pluralism and LGBTQ communities (Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Schechinger et al., 2018).

Challenging socially constructed relational “scripts of sexual health and normality” in this way can be found in existential sex therapy (Berry & Barker, 2014, p. 22), though one might CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 70 replace the term sex with relationship as sex is not always the primary focus when working with romantically plural clients (Bairstow, 2017; Jordan, 2018; Kisler & Lock, 2019; Williams &

Prior, 2015). Therapists can help clients explore their experiences and preferences by asking the client(s) to describe their relationships, how much transparency and disclosure is involved, and what rules or lack thereof (and the values behind them) guide relationship decisions and behaviours with particular attention to meaning-making around freedom and belonging, and the client(s)’s experience of interconnectedness (Berry & Barker, 2014). To achieve these goals, the therapist needs to become adept at bracketing, or setting aside prejudices, and horizontalisation, or linking the client(s)’s identity and behaviours to their broader story (Berry & Barker, 2014).

Tearing Down to Build Up. Within the realm of meaning-making is meaning un- making, or the deconstruction of attachments the client(s) may have to dominant discourses, particularly monogamy. By engaging in such a discussion, the client(s) can experience benefits such as decreased shame as well as difficult emotions like anger about a partner’s limitations, and increased hope for the relationship as well as connection between partners (Brandon, 2011).

It is specifically recommended by van Tol (2017) to address partners’ interlocking scripts as potential supports or areas for transformation. A fitting topic for deconstruction is jealousy: by revealing how the client(s)’s performance of jealousy might be shaped by monogamy, the therapist can help the client(s) recognise their own needs and desires, particularly those that are neglected, and work together to find meaningful solutions that might not be apparent in a mononormative context (Jordan et al., 2017). Other topics might include infidelity (Williams &

Prior, 2015), what the utility of sexual identity might be (Condon et al., 2019; Jordan, 2018), who to have sex with or build relationships with and how to do so (Farvid & Braun, 2013;

Williams & Prior, 2015), how to raise children (Jordan et al., 2017; Jordan, 2018; Zimmerman, CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 71

2012), and much more, all discussions that would benefit from the attitude that suffering may have more to do with society’s values than the client(s)’s (van Tol, 2017).

Resilience Rather Than Rigidity. The process of constructing and deconstructing meaning may not only reveal a client(s)’s current preferences, but also the momentariness of them. The client(s) may find that certain preferences apply in certain situations, or have changed over time, and the therapist’s approach has the power to support or discourage this complexity.

Given the inherent value of diversity within romantic pluralism, supporting this “chaos” by challenging the mononormative tendency to emphasise stability and permanence can actually help to cultivate trust, open communication, and honesty while maintaining the flexibility that such a complex relational world demands (Finn, 2014, pp. 9-10). When the therapist is able to hold space for these inconsistencies and resists judgement and pathologising, there is more room for possibilities to be discovered and channelled by the client(s) in a conscious way that creates or maintains vitalising relationships—in other words, relational health may already exist for the client(s), but just needs to be revealed for them as it is expressed outside mononormative standards and may not be obvious (Finn, 2014; Zimmerman, 2012). Focussing on helping the client(s) understand and state or negotiate their boundaries is important, but an understanding that boundaries evolve, the conversation about them is ongoing, and compromises may be necessary is crucial (Zimmerman, 2012).

Because of this attention to exceptions, Solution-Focused Therapy is a viable option in working with romantically plural clients as long as the suffering they experience because of varying degrees of marginalisation is attended to, and preferences are noted but not rigidly adhered to (Gehart & Paré, 2008). This loose hold on what constitutes a good relationship, particularly when research and evidence-based interventions are sparse regarding this population, CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 72 better enables the therapist to tune into the difficulties that warrant attention and amplify the client(s)’s own resources (Kisler & Lock, 2019; Mitchell et al., 2014).

While a couple specific approaches were highlighted above, the commonalities between them appear to be more salient, culminating in a safe therapeutic relationship. For example, deconstructing social conventions, validating the client(s)’s experiences and maintaining a non- judgemental stance, and supporting connection-enhancing behaviours and activities across the client(s)’s entire relational world all encourage the client(s) to find their most preferred expressions of being (Berry & Barker, 2014; Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Schechinger et al., 2018).

Communication skills can be practised in-session and entwined with these activities to enhance the ongoing dialogue and experience of relational safety that are necessary for attending to the ever-evolving needs of the romantically plural system (Conley & Moors, 2014; Duplassie &

Fairbrother, 2016; Finn, 2014; Zimmerman, 2012). Practices of mindfulness are also commonly recommended as supporting this type of work (Berry & Barker, 2014), particularly for their capacity to strengthen the ability to think critically and deconstruct what can be taken for granted

(wisdom) and their ability to elevate relationality and interconnectedness as sources of wellbeing

(compassion) (Condon et al., 2019). It can also be taught to clients to help reframe or diffuse difficult emotions and experiences (Pitagora, 2016). What may seem apparent is that these ideas are present in therapeutic approaches that span topics far beyond romantic pluralism. It seems fair to conclude, then, that these core facets of working with clients who identify as romantically plural are the same core facets that can help clients who identify as monogamous live out the preferences they have for their own relationships, the topic to which we will turn our attention now.

The Profound: Challenging Mononormative Bias for Wider Application CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 73

Because of the growing acceptance of romantic pluralism in mainstream society and the increasing likelihood of clients being exposed to these ideas, we have entered a paradigm where the relationship counselling models of the past not only fall short for clients who identify toward the romantically plural end of the spectrum, but may be becoming less relevant for clients who identify toward the monogamous end as well. It may be helpful to note that human sexual, romantic, and relational behaviour defies precise categorisation and in reality is on a spectrum

(Ferrer, 2018). Romantic pluralism, in perhaps its simplest sense, is a solution to the confines of mononormativity, but the lack of exclusivity is just one facet of this solution. It is for this reason that challenging mononormative bias should be considered an ethical imperative for all counsellors and the institutions that support them, enabling them to meet the diverse and increasingly complex needs of clients. This section will consider monogamous clients and how challenging mononormative bias specifically serves them, as well as what we might look for in therapeutic approaches and philosophies to support this work.

New Attitudes, Same Partners

Challenging mononormative bias is not about making monogamy vulnerable to ruin, but is rather about making space for the infinite potential of love’s expression. Whatever romantic pluralism’s place in society, there will always be couples who choose to be monogamous. Just as romantic pluralism may not be the issue when such clients engage in counselling, so too is monogamy itself often not the issue; if it seems that it is, it is more likely some aspect of the codified version of it, mononormativity, that is the source of the vulnerabilities of the relationship. Monogamous couples that take their struggles against the mononormative script to counselling, like their romantically plural counterparts struggling to redefine relationship, may CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 74 therefore benefit from a distillation of the strategies and philosophies employed and embraced by the romantically plural.

Abundance. Reversing the mentality that partners are the main source of comfort and support may be a helpful place to start with a monogamous partner or couple struggling with dissatisfaction in the relationship. Helping the client(s) to identify others in their social support network that can attend to pertinent needs (particularly beyond transactional relationships) not only relieves pressure on their partner, but opens them to the diversity of perspectives that contribute to personal growth and self-esteem through the strengthening of communication skills and relational bonds (Conley & Moors, 2014). This goes beyond emotional support, however, as sharing other domains traditionally relegated to between partners only, such as child-rearing and household management, can free up energy for more personal connection between partners

(Conley & Moors, 2014). Particularly for those couples whose sexual intimacy has declined, this kind of diversification strategy, without extending that diversification to extradyadic partners, can counteract the high levels of intimacy and security that actually frustrate erotic desire

(Conley & Moors, 2014; Perel, 2007).

Of course, the idea that one can rely on others for those domains mononormativity relegates to between partners only can seem strange and uncomfortable, sparking fears and worries that the partnered relationship might be weakened. The therapist might approach the issue using narrative techniques like externalising, positioning lack of sexual intimacy, for example, as a problem created by the mononormative context, listening for and reflecting back preferred ways of being together (Dickerson, 2013). Rather than explicitly calling out mononormative bias, which may not itself be a helpful discussion for the client(s) (Dickerson,

2013), the therapist could respond to a complaint of something like “After I spend all day CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 75 looking after the kids, I have no energy left for my partner never mind any to connect with my friends” with “I’m hearing that you care a lot about your family but are having trouble sharing your love more evenly, as well as connecting with your community outside your family. It sounds like having a break from the kids might save some energy for your partner—I’m wondering which of your friends could help with that?”, encouraging client-centred solutions.

Establishing preferred ways of being could quickly devolve into devising rules, however, which could lead to strife if not attended to. Just as a counsellor might explore the meaning of any rules, how they might evolve, and how to handle infractions with those who identify as romantically plural, so too would it be beneficial for the monogamous client or couple to unpack their values, particularly any that challenge mononormativity as these might be the most difficult to sustain. Borrowing from Finn’s (2014) recommendations for therapists working with romantically plural clients, reframing uncertainties and discomfort as creative and productive inputs helps the couple maintain their relationship and their values by way of elasticity instead of rigidity. For example, a couple has decided to set aside Tuesday evenings for spending with friends apart from each other but, one week, one of the partners has an extended family function on Tuesday evening and they would really like their partner to join them. If the couple understands the personal meaning behind such routines and what kinds of compromises may be called for if any, they may feel more resilient to life’s inevitable curveballs, prioritising the relationship and its corresponding values, and managing them as a team instead of as adversaries focussing on their individual needs and circumstances.

Branching Outside of Monogamy

When a partner or a couple is interested in exploring romantic pluralism, it is important to enter into this new territory carefully without exaggerating its novelty. Normalising the interest CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 76 in or attraction to people outside the dyad is important, but so is exploring what these attractions, and what acting on them, might mean to those most directly involved (Conley & Moors, 2014;

Haupert et al., 2017). This type of exploration can help the client(s) determine which desires might be crucial to personal fulfillment when met and which might be fantasies that are fine to stay that way—there is a substantial gap between the two when it comes to romantic pluralism, and simply discussing such fantasies and desires can benefit the relationship by balancing intimacy with novelty and autonomy (Lehmiller, 2020; Perel, 2007). Narrative techniques, like reflexive listening where the therapist engages on a specific subject with one individual while the other listens, are well-suited to such an exploration as they can help thicken the meaning both the speaker and the listener attribute to the topic, while modelling communication skills that are useful in negotiating wants, needs, and compromises (Dickerson, 2013).

Sex and Spirituality

The existential quest to be true to oneself yet still belong is just one piece of a larger spiritual engagement with the world. And while this engagement does not have to be formalised in a religious way, recognising that therapy and spiritual traditions share sacred roots can open therapeutic doors to methods that have spiritual associations. Buddhism, for example, shares with therapy the common purposes of alleviating suffering and cultivating connection, and so is a wellspring of healing wisdom, especially given its thousands of years of diligent consideration of these issues (Condon et al., 2019; Gehart & Paré, 2008). The basic understanding of

Buddhism is that suffering is a product of our attachments, whether they are expectations or social constructions, along with the recognition that there are methods for loosening our grip on these attachments and consequently reducing suffering by connecting in ways that reflect reality rather than our imaginations (Gehart & Paré, 2008). CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 77

While Buddhism and its therapeutic derivatives, like mindfulness, have much to offer counselling and its clients, the key ideas for our discussion are that wisdom and compassion are mutually inclusive, and that their place of expression and cultivation is in community (Condon et al., 2019). Wisdom, or shedding egotistic attachments and seeing clearly by acknowledging one’s vantage point, can be isolating and breed apathy if not balanced with compassion; compassion, or ensuring others’ wellbeing, can be draining when one does not value one’s own viewpoint and needs (Condon et al., 2019). The problem with mononormativity, from this perspective, is its demand for stability and, in particular, self-stability: the script (which is nearly impossible to adhere to) instructs us to find a mate that complements and enhances a static view of ourselves, with the promise of ease and comfort that defies personal growth or any kind of transformation that naturally comes with time’s inevitable changes (Condon et al., 2019). The demotion and even dissolving of a core self in Buddhism through practices which promote wisdom and compassion lends itself well to both romantically plural and monogamous clients because it tempers the self’s pursuit of pleasure and avoidance of pain by elevating the relative importance of relationship(s) (Condon et al., 2019).7 These skills are comparable to the flexibility cultivated by the narrative and solutions-focused approaches discussed above, offering the client(s) tools to embrace fluidity and evolve together (or perhaps evolve apart, but in a way that respects each other’s dignity).

From the personal to the professional to the profound, what these strategies have in common is a basic systems approach achieved through collaboration (Finn, 2014; Gehart & Paré,

7 I think it is important to note that there are many spiritual traditions that have these or similar ideas at their core, and practices and teachings to cultivate them. I am most familiar with the Christian contemplative tradition myself, but recognise that the popularity of Buddhism means greater accessibility to such resources, so I chose to focus on it here. However, if a client identifies with a particular tradition, exploring its experiential practices and teachings may be more appropriate (e.g., Taoism has teachings about rules: “Forget the rules. / Be untroubled”; Lao Tzu, ca. 250 BCE/1997, p. 23). If incorporating spirituality seems beneficial, it is important to explore and honour the client(s)’s preferences. CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 78

2008; Jordan, 2018; McCoy et al., 2015; Mitchell et al., 2014). Romantic pluralism is perhaps more obviously a system (at least in the romantic sense) as it includes more than just two people but, from a family systems sense, so is monogamy. This reality is disguised by mononormativity’s attempts to restrict the resources of a monogamous couple to each member, isolating them from extra-couple networks by exaggerating the promises of stability and the merits of self-sufficiency, despite our social and creative proclivities. Mononormativity does not argue for monogamy’s naturalness so much as it does a particular hyper-independent form of it.

Instead of being a goal unto itself, however, monogamy understood and treated as a system, dynamic, or process, rather than a static product, can help partners become conscious of its rich and creative potential, which is then consciously cultivated by the collaboration of current or additional system members (romantic or otherwise). Mononormativity renders romance tenuous through its rigid clinging to an idealised form of monogamy that paradoxically denies the existence of other relationship styles while demanding the couple isolate themselves in order to protect them from outside influences. Challenging mononormative bias, on the other hand, invites monogamy to find its place on the romantic spectrum, increasing the potential for relational satisfaction through generative proximity to other relationship styles and practices, and through the welcoming of a rich relational network into the couple’s world.

CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 79

Chapter 4: Summary and Conclusions

Summary

In 2020, the Canadian Counselling and Psychotherapy Association revised their Code of

Ethics, and among these revisions was the explicit inclusion of relational affiliation/orientation in their section on diversity considerations (CCPA, 2020). The requirement to challenge mononormative bias in counselling addresses recent shifts in society that are contributing to increasing practise and visibility of romantic pluralism, shifts like the public’s increasing acceptance of romantic pluralism as a potential solution to the problem of high rates of divorce and infidelity (Brewster et al., 2017; Moors et al., 2015; van Tol, 2017). Given that this is new territory for most people, it is inevitable that clients who practise romantic pluralism will seek out counselling to support their relational needs.

These shifts in society also make space for reimagining the practise of monogamy, particularly by undermining a rigid adherence to romantic and sexual exclusivity by blurring the lines between monogamous, monogamish, and open relationships (Brewster et al., 2017;

Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016; van Tol, 2017). These shifts also challenge the primacy of the romantic partner in non-romantic and non-sexual contexts. Particularly for women, economic and social pressures encourage strategies that help them avoid dyadic withdrawal and maintain networks of support beyond one’s partner to increasingly permit the assistance of friends, family members, and even paid help in managing anything from emotional needs to practical needs like childcare (Conley & Moors, 2014; Perel, 2007).

Discussion

Recommendations CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 80

In order to address these evolving circumstances and adequately serve clients who are troubled in their romantic and relational lives, counsellors need to examine and challenge mononormative bias personally, professionally, and in profoundly creative ways that consider relationship styles across the romantic spectrum. Counsellors do this by choosing the language they use carefully (Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Jordan et al., 2017; Kisler & Lock, 2019); examining their beliefs about monogamy and relationships more generally, particularly to identify healthy and unhealthy relationship behaviours without conflating them with a relationship style (Johnson

2013; Kisler & Lock, 2019; van Tol, 2017); exploring the meaning of the client(s)’s preferences and values while remaining curious and suspending judgment (Berry & Barker, 2014; Brandon,

2011; Dickerson, 2013; van Tol, 2017); holding space for uncertainty and experimentation (Finn,

2014; Zimmerman, 2012); helping clients practise communication skills and tolerance of difficult emotions and ambiguity (Conley & Moors, 2014; Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016; Finn,

2014; Zimmerman, 2012); and helping clients cultivate attitudes of abundance, creativity, and curiosity (Conley & Moors, 2014; Finn, 2014; Haupert et al., 2017; Lehmiller, 2020; Perel,

2007). Exercises like the ones Jordan (2018) provides (see Appendix A), practices like mindfulness (Berry & Barker, 2014; Condon et al., 2019; Gehart & Paré, 2008; Pitagora, 2016), and therapeutic approaches that are collaborative, possibility-oriented, and systemic (Dickerson,

2013; Finn, 2014; Gehart & Paré, 2008; Jordan, 2018; McCoy et al., 2015; Mitchell et al., 2014;

Zimmerman, 2012) all contribute to counselling that supports clients with all manner of romantic inclinations in establishing and maintaining relationships that are committed to mutual flourishing, or what I call conscious relationship.

Implications for the Profession of Counselling CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 81

In 2012, representative studies in Canada and the US showed that 4% of adults were in what they categorised as open relationships at the time of survey (Moors et al., 2013). Since then, popular interest in, depictions of, and discussions about these kinds of romantic arrangements have increased (Schechinger et al., 2018), including a recent judgment in BC that ruled all three members of a polyamorous triad should be registered as parents (Proctor, 2021). The Canadian

Counselling and Psychotherapy Association recently amended their Code of Ethics to help address the divergent needs and desires of romantically plural clients (CCPA, 2020). But as monogamous individuals confront the realities of high divorce rates, infidelity, and other pressures of contemporary society (Brewster et al., 2017; Moors et al., 2015; van Tol, 2017), and binary conceptions of reality are challenged in domestic and scientific arenas (Carlson &

Dermer, 2017; Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002; Jordan et al., 2017), their needs and desires appear more convergent with those of their romantically plural counterparts. A line once sharply drawn between monogamy and non-monogamy is blurring (Brewster et al., 2017; Duplassie &

Fairbrother, 2016; van Tol, 2017).

Challenging any bias is essentially an exercise in challenging binary categorisation or dualistic thinking. Challenging mononormative bias is essential for working with romantically plural clients, but it can also benefit monogamous clients, as all relationships have traditional and non-traditional aspects. While challenging mononormative bias makes space for romantically plural identities and expressions, its task is not to condemn monogamy or glorify romantic pluralism. Instead, it allows for the examination of the definition of monogamy so the dynamics among its constituent parts can be considered and weighed. In this way, the system of assumptions that shape monogamy comes into view, and we can begin to untangle those assumptions from the practices that support healthy relationships. For example, we can separate CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 82 trust in a romantic context from its traditional association with exclusivity because we can see trust practised and cultivated without it (Bairstow, 2014; Carlström & Andersson, 2019; Cohen,

2016; Finn, 2014; Perel, 2017). If trust is brought into counselling as an issue, challenging mononormative bias helps counsellors and clients see beyond narrow and limited ideas of trust and offers clients across the romantic spectrum strategies for building trust that do not necessarily rely on rigid adherence to and policing of any particular rules by opening up avenues to the values and preferences embedded within the client(s)’s ideas of trust and safety. An approach like this frees clients across the romantic spectrum from committing to prescribed ideals they may not be able to uphold and instead encourages an exploration of values-based practices that have greater likelihood of achieving mutual satisfaction.

A collaborative systems approach to deconstructing a concept like monogamy and its limited script is therefore an effective approach for working with clients whatever their relationship style identification. Understanding a romantic relationship (no matter how many people are involved) as a dynamic system which evolves as the individuals evolve through their interactions within the system and with other systems (Finn, 2012; Gurman & Fraenkel, 2002) helps therapists and clients alike avoid clinging to strategies that promote rigidity or are particularly causal. For example, when clients complain of a lack of intimacy, a linear approach that conflates intimacy with self-disclosure might assume that they are not sharing enough of themselves with each other and suggest increased bonding time (Dewitte, 2012), while a collaborative systems approach would consider the interaction between aloneness and togetherness that characterises intimacy, help define what intimacy means to each partner and the contexts in which they experience it, and subsequently uncover which kinds of inputs into the system would cultivate more of it (Perel, 2007). This kind of approach considers the uniqueness CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 83 of the client(s) and the multitude of influences that are shaping their experience, and in this way is particularly suited to serving romantically plural clients (complex systems) as well as monogamous clients (systems that sometimes repress complexity in response to the rigid mononormative script).

Challenging mononormative bias through a collaborative systems approach also helps to evenly distribute responsibility for relationship satisfaction. The monogamous script rewards the commitment of two individuals to each other and their shared vision with eternal and reliable support from each other toward achieving that vision, deemphasising the internal and external systems within and outside the couple, and resulting in the illusion of a closed and static system

(Condon et al., 2019). This illusion can eventually corrupt the couple as personal change and outside influences inevitably alter their system; when these inputs are perceived as negative and against the vision, the couple might respond by isolating themselves to simplify things, which in turn precariously limits responsibility for relationship satisfaction to themselves while at the same time reducing the potential for creative inspiration (Perel, 2007). Instead, a collaborative systems approach that challenges mononormative bias helps to reimagine these internal changes and outside influences as generative, shifting attention toward the processes that support client- defined relationship satisfaction rather than toward an adherence to externally-imposed definitions of it (Dickerson, 2013; Finn, 2014; Jordan et al., 2017; Williams & Prior, 2015;

Zimmerman, 2012). Challenging mononormative bias collaboratively through a systemic lens that is informed by queer theory, feminism, social constructionism, multiculturalism, and social justice (Jordan et al., 2017) provides tools for the counselling profession that help clients live out informed and consent-based relationship dynamics, which subsequently makes space for CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 84 increasingly diverse expressions of relational health and satisfaction, and enables more configurations by which clients can achieve their relational and personal goals.

Additional Considerations

Do No Harm.

The main reason for challenging mononormative bias is to reduce the harm that can be done between counsellor and client(s), as well as between clients themselves (Bairstow, 2017;

Jordan et al. 2017; Kisler & Lock, 2019; Schechinger et al., 2018). Challenging the assumptions we have about healthy relationships and what leads to relationship satisfaction does not equip counsellors and clients with lists of healthy and harmful relationship styles or behaviours, but rather with a set of tools for uncovering preferences and values, and exploring strategies that both express and achieve them. The prioritisation of certain preferences or values over others at any given time is a product of the client(s)’s context, and counsellors must understand that context well in order to meaningfully support the client(s) in achieving their goals. For example, some romantically plural clients may not be ready to publicly identify with their relationship style due to if employment would be at stake (Carlström & Andersson, 2019; Jordan et al., 2017;

Zimmerman, 2012). The counsellor must trust that the client is the expert of their situation and collaborate with them to make space for a variety of options from which they can achieve their preferred outcomes within these confines (Anderson, 2007; Chang et al., 2012; Cormier et al.,

2017) or, in other words, help them make conscious choices.

The ethos of both collaborative counselling and challenging mononormative bias is informed consent, which can guide both counsellors and clients in discerning the healthfulness of a behaviour or choice in a variety of contexts. For example, the choice of a person who is married to begin dating another person can be considered a healthy choice if the spouse is CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 85 enthusiastically consenting, or it could be considered a harmful choice if they are not; additional layers of context such as who knows about this arrangement, what the values of their community are, and what strategies the couple has already employed to try to meet their needs all further complicate the issue. In most cases (violence notwithstanding), there is no clear dividing line between healthy and unhealthy behaviours or relationship arrangements, and sometimes the question must be whether the behaviour is healthy or harmless enough. This ethos can help the counsellor resist biasing themselves to or against certain relationship styles, ideas, or behaviours, and enable them to stay open and curious (Ferrer, 2018), helping to ensure neither partner is being taken advantage of or otherwise suffering needlessly.

Some Biases Will Not Be Challenged—At Least Not Yet.

As I alluded to above, certain biases, like those against violence, should never be challenged by counsellors for ethical and legal reasons (CCPA, 2020). Challenging other biases, like who is welcome in counselling sessions, keeping secrets, the appropriate response to infidelity, whether separation can still be considered success, and how the presence of children influence the conversation, may waver in priority at various career stages due to constraints like depth of bias and difficulty in challenging it or simply time and resources. The most important step is for the counsellor to understand their biases and articulate them in the spirt of transparency to potential clients, including whether referring out may be necessary, so that clients can understand the influence such biases may have on counselling and be empowered to make informed choices early on (Bairstow, 2017; Johnson, 2013; Jordan et al. 2017; Kisler &

Lock, 2019; Schechinger et al., 2018). Challenging mononormative bias is a process and remaining committed to continued engagement with the work, while at the same time recognising that some biases may take longer to transform given levels of experience and CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 86 supports (including research), helps the counsellor maintain the ethos of informed consent that spurs the challenge of mononormative bias in the first place, and that reflects the generative approach to relationships that is made available through this work.

Blind Spots.

The majority of literature on romantic pluralism, relationship satisfaction in this population, and challenging mononormative bias is the result of studying primarily White, educated, middle-class heterosexual people from Western countries. Indeed, I identify with most of these groups myself, and it is very likely that some of the research presented in this paper will not be fully generalisable. The need for evidence-based approaches to working with clients of all relationship styles requires research be done by and done for people of diverse and intersectional backgrounds. For example, research has found couples in formally patriarchal societies with collectivist values (e.g., Iran, Singapore, China) frequently have egalitarian and mutually beneficial relationships (Gehart, 2018). This endeavour will not only help counsellors better discern healthful and harmful behaviours in relationships due to a more in-depth and nuanced understanding, but could also provide common factors of relationship satisfaction that may help further challenge mononormative bias in society more generally.

Conclusions

When counsellors engage in the work of challenging mononormative bias for the sake of romantically plural clients, they will come across ideas that have been generated by and for this community. Perhaps the most foundational idea is the challenge to the monogamous ideal of the

One (Farvid & Braun, 2017; Perel, 2007) and the acceptance that no person can meet all of another person’s needs alone (van Tol, 2017), particularly needs associated with freedom and novelty (Cohen, 2016; McCoy, 2015; Perel, 2007; Zimmerman, 2012). CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 87

To achieve these needs, exclusivity is shelved and yet, in contradiction to the dominant discourse, needs associated with intimacy and security are not necessarily found to be sacrificed and may be met even more sustainably (Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016; Finn, 2014; Moors et al.,

2015; Perel, 2017). The conventional conflations of stability with order (Finn, 2012; Harris,

2004) and trust with certainty (Finn, 2012) are refuted in favour of more expansive, flexible, and fluid dynamics that position values like stability and trust as qualities to be cultivated in an ongoing manner rather than as the results of a fragile and inherited system of limited behaviour and prescribed consequences (Ben-Ze’ev & Brunning, 2018; Carlström & Andersson, 2019;

Finn, 2012). This approach shifts the emphasis from micro-managing the relationship(s) through rules and policing to macro-managing through exploration and dialogue (Ben-Ze’ev & Brunning,

2018; Conley & Moors, 2014; Finn, 2014; Mitchell et al., 2014; Perel, 2017).

These shifts allow relationships to become more focussed on values-based creativity over rules-based predictability inherited from a mononormative script. In turn, increased opportunities for economic, social, and personal benefits are bestowed on the relationship(s) as partners achieve more equal positions of agency and access heightened creativity (Cohen, 2016;

Duplassie & Fairbrother, 2016; Finn, 2014; Jordan et al., 2017; Séguin et al., 2017; Sutherland et al., 2017). The romantically plural community certainly does not have a monopoly on these ideals, as they are also shared by monogamous partners that may be unsatisfied with the isolating mononormative script described earlier in this section.

Just as similar values are shared among relationship styles across the romantic spectrum, so are difficulties. Issues that correspond to the values discussed above such as conflict, betrayal, and jealousy are the reasons relationships of any style typically interact with the counselling profession. Systemic and collaborative techniques informed by queer theory, feminism, social CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 88 constructionism, multiculturalism, and social justice (Jordan et al., 2017) that make and unmake meaning, expand possibilities, situate struggles in context, and explore beliefs and values

(including their emotional and spiritual components) all help to facilitate the client(s)’s development of a conscious approach to relationships that is generative and adaptable (Berry &

Barker, 2014; Brandon, 2011; Cassidy & Wong, 2018; Finn, 2014; Gehart & Paré, 2008; Jordan et al., 2017; Kisler & Lock, 2019; Schechinger et al., 2018; van Tol, 2017; Williams & Prior,

2015; Zimmerman, 2012).

Foundational to challenging mononormative bias is the counsellor’s recognition that each relationship is unique in its collection of values and how it expresses and identifies with them, a recognition which encourages deep understanding of that system in order to draw out the client(s)’s preferences and expand their possibilities. Cultivating such a therapeutic environment creates a model for and context in which partners can attune to each other’s personal collection of values and expressions of identity themselves, learning how to create mutually beneficial relationships no matter how many partners an individual has. In this way, challenging mononormative bias not only polishes the prism of love through which the romantically plural relationship styles cast their many colours, but also cuts facets for the multitude of monogamous iterations that become possible through this worthy and necessary endeavour.

CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 89

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CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 107

Appendix

Reflexive questions to address monogamous privilege and identity (Jordan, 2018, p. 117)

Take a moment to read through each question and reflect on the answer. Pay attention to your thoughts and feelings as you move through the questions.

Monogamous Privilege

 How has your involvement in monogamous relationships been encouraged or rewarded

by your family, friends, and society?

 Have you ever had to defend your relationship against people who tell you it isn’t stable

or realistic?

 Have you ever worried about being barred from your community, religious, or social

organizations because of your monogamous relationship?

 Are you free to display photos of your intimate relationship, or display affection with

your partner in public?

 Do you often see images and media representations of relationships that mirror your

own?

 Is it often assumed that you entered your relationship for sexual reasons only?

 Is it often assumed that the reason your relationship ends is largely based on the

monogamous structure of your relationship?

 Are you easily able to invite your partner to social events and work functions?

 Have you ever worried that if you sought therapy your therapist might try to change the

structure of your relationship?

 Are you ever told that your life is overly-complicated because you are in a relationship

with only one person? CHALLENGING MONONORMATIVE BIAS FOR A MULTITUDE OF MONOGAMIES 108

 Are you ever fearful that your children might be taken away from you based on your

being in a monogamous relationship?

Monogamous Identity

 What has been the most important factor that led to your monogamous status?

 What role does your monogamous status play in who you are as a person?

 What societal, religious, and family beliefs influenced your development as a

monogamous person?

 When was your first monogamous relationship? How many monogamous relationships

have you had since?

 Have you ever experienced desire (sexual or emotional) for another person when you

were in a monogamous relationship? What meanings did you attach to these desires?

 How does your status as a monogamous individual impact your beliefs about

polyamorous individuals?

 How might your identification as a monogamous therapist, impact the way you do

therapy with all of your clients?