"What Was It Like?"

"I wish there were more polyamorous parents out there that we could have all learned from. Polyamorous families are a generation or two behind LGBTQ families in acceptance and general visibility within society. I also wish you raised-polyamorous kids didn't have to teach polyamory 101 to so many adults." –Jean

Tea Time

The conversation generally starts around the time you are looking to open up to one another about your lives and what brought you to the point you are at now. How you get there changes, but the process of coming out tends to follow the same thread. I talk about my family for half an hour, drawing a silly map in the air in front of me while the person across from me tries to follow my gesticulations while wearing an expression of avid confusion.

Sarah was different, though. She was sweet and intelligent and genuinely laughed at my cheesy gay jokes. It was our second date, and we had been seamlessly chatting for over an hour, barely drinking our tea, just holding our mugs until our hands had drained the warmth from them. I was still figuring out what all I could share with her. She obviously knew I was queer and polyamorous, but I had only hinted at the rest, briefly mentioning my family in passing on our first date. I finally took a deep swig of my cold tea, draining my mug, and set it on the table. When I brought my attention back to her, she was looking at me inquisitively.

The look was familiar, a spark of curiosity laced with apprehension. Here we go, I thought. I could tell: Sarah was about to ask the question that all kids who come from heterosexual, happy and monogamous families ask. "If you don't mind me asking, what does your family actually look like? How did that work?" she said in a rush.

I took a deep breath; at least she was curious, and it seemed genuine. I just wished I had a pen and paper on me; it was so much easier to draw. I should keep a printed copy on me for times like these, I thought.

Sarah was looking at me expectantly, hoping I would entertain her curiosities. "Like, do you know who your, um —" she paused, and I assumed she was looking for a politically correct way to phrase her question "— b-biological parents are?" she stuttered. I smirked; her apprehension was quite adorable. I was feeling fairly comfortable about having this conversation right now; our location was safe, and I had the patience for it today.

"Yes, I do," I replied plainly. "I have a mom, Angi, a dad, Gary, and I know they are my biological parents. Not all kids of polyamorous families know, though," I added quickly. I needed to make sure she understood it's okay not to know who your bio parents are and that my experience isn't universal to all polyamorous children. "I have some friends who have grown up happily knowing only that they have a bunch of parents taking care of them and loving them all, equally." Sarah nodded, indicating she understood.

"My bio-parents," I went on, "met in the late '80s participating in medieval reenactment through the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism). There wasn't a commonly circulated word for nonmonogamy yet; their friend group was just openly promiscuous, and everyone was actively communicating about it. Growing up, they told me about how everyone would all go to the local Denny's, get together and talk about the state of all of their relationships, and how there was a clear sense of tribe among all of them. Some of the members of that tribe started having kids in the early '90s, and several of them decided to raise their kids together, as a unit. That unit is the polycule I consider my family —"

"Polycule?" she interrupted. "What does that mean?"

You have to define it, I thought. "It's like a molecule for your polyamorous life. It's a metaphor that I use to describe how multiple relationships work. I'm a nerd like that." I smiled, and she smiled back brightly. I blushed and continued.

"Anyway, beyond my bio-mom and my bio-dad, I have three other people I consider my polyamorous parents: two other moms and my uncle."

"Your uncle?" she interrupted again. Geez, she's asking a lot of questions!

"Yeah, my dad's ex-girlfriend married my mom's brother!" I rattled off. Her brow furrowed, and I giggled. Got her! Now she'll listen.

"So, one of my moms, Jean, was dating my bio-dad around the time that my bio-mom and bio-dad met. My dad and Jean's primary partner, Mark, were best friends as well, and my bio-mom met the three of them when she was finding her way into Seattle's alternative community after getting out of the air force. My bio-mom and Jean took a little while to get comfortable with each other, but by the time they were both pregnant (Angi by Gary and Jean by Mark), they had developed a deep friendship; when Jean and my bio-dad broke up, everyone stayed close. Jean's partner Mark left after both of her children were born, and when I was five years old, Jean began dating my Mom's youngest brother, Jim. Jean and Jim got married when I was nine. Jim has always been a close male figure in my life, and he has been very present in my upbringing. I don't consider him a father figure, he's my cool uncle! He's definitely counted as one of my polyamorous parents, though; he's always been there for me."

Sarah let out a soft "Ohhh" of understanding.

"Making sense so far?" I asked. You generally have to check in at this point, to make sure you aren't losing them.

She nodded and then cocked her head. "You said 'both of Jean's children' ... how many does she have?" Wow, she really is paying attention, I thought. It's always nice when someone catches the details.

"She has two. Royce is my brother. He is four months older than me, and Jean likes to call us 'bookends' for each other. Growing up, we were these opposing forces who, for as much as we butted heads, balanced each other out quite well. Before we started attending school, our parents began teaching us basic academia. Royce was good at math, and I learned to read first. I was a strong, stocky toddler, and he was skinny, nimble and wow, could he run! We were a dynamic duo that raised hell for our parents and taught them the beginning intricacies of navigating kids who were the same age in a blossoming tribal family!" I finished excitedly.

"You've said that a lot, haven't you?" Sarah asked jokingly.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "You know, an interview here, an interview there. You have to have your spiel down for the clamoring media." She outright laughed at me. Little did she know how serious I was; the media had misrepresented my family multiple times, and I had to know how to talk about it. We'd get to that later, if she really wanted to know. I decided to move on.

"And Jean's youngest child is Reed, who is five years younger than Royce and me. Jean and Jim starting dating when Reed was six months old; Reed took to Jim as a father figure over Mark, who is their bio-dad. Jim and Reed are basically two peas in a pod and have been a remarkable example of family being about connection and the investment of time versus straight biology.

I consider Reed to be my closest sibling and best friend in the world. Reed is the person who knows me better than anyone, sometimes including myself. I will bend over backwards for them; using all of my capabilities to help them be successful. At some points this has made me an overbearing big sibling, and Reed has called me on it, stating their own capacity to make mistakes and live their own life —"

Sarah interjected, "Sorry, you keep saying 'them'; how does Reed identify, um, gender-wise?" She was apprehensive again. Hey, cool, she cares enough to ask. She didn't want to screw up the gender question. I get it, it's not the easiest to ask for some people, even queer people, and can be important to identify when you are talking about a singular person in a story containing many characters.

"Reed is nonbinary, identifying with male, female, neither, other and sometimes E: all of the above. Reed uses they / them / theirs gender pronouns, and that's how we refer to each other. I also use they / them / theirs pronouns and identify as nonbinary; it's been exceptionally cool to have a common perspective about how to support each other in our gender identity." Her eyes went wide.

Uh-oh, I thought. Did I take it too far? Was this the aspect of my identity that was just too weird to handle? Maybe I can just wrap up and say goodnight. ...

Sarah blurted out, "I am so sorry for misgendering you this whole time!" Huh, apologies are so rare. Maybe she can actually handle all of my identities. "I — I mean, you were presenting so femme when we met the other day ... I am still getting into the habit of asking anyone, everyone! I mean, it's so important, and I want people to feel safe with me!" I watched her slump a bit then, getting down on herself and making the moment about her inadequacy instead of my gender. Great, another well-meaning person calling themself an ally without backing it up. This had become a defining moment: do I pull her up and educate her or just let her sit and not become her personal fountain of knowledge? Who am I kidding, she's definitely making an effort to act in allyship; so she doesn't have practice with pronouns, at least she knows what they are. Besides, I chose to tell her my life story; I'm already in fountain-of-knowledge mode.

"It's great that you recognize how asking about people's pronouns is important; I hear your apology and accept it." I dropped my chin and looked over my eyebrows at her. Sarah looked up, frown in full effect.

"Yeah?" she asked.

I held her eye contact and said, "Yeah, we can talk more deeply about my gender later; do you still want to hear the rest about my family? You're doing great; generally people lose interest by this point." I grinned, still holding her eyes. My eye contact is fairly irresistible when I'm feeling confident.

She didn't smile back at me, but she nodded, "Yes, please. I like hearing about your life. I will listen to anything you'd like to share."

"Okay, where was I?" I asked.

"Reed and Royce," she responded without hesitation. She really is listening, I reminded myself.

"The third woman I consider to be my mother is a woman named Phoebe, who is Jean's best friend from college and has been in an evolving life partner triad with Jim and Jean since the time I was born. She has no biological children of her own but had almost-daily involvement with Jean's two biological children, Royce and Reed."

She was still staring at me, frowning. I didn't want her to feel like crap; I needed to lighten the mood. "Our parents always told us that Royce and I met when we were in utero. We would get really active; kicking at each other when Angi and Jean were belly to belly. When I was a teenager, the truth came out. One day I was recounting the story I had been told, and Jean candidly shared that this prenatal activity specifically came up when Gary, Angi and she were having a threesome. I was in mild shock, and in classic teenage fashion I needed to confirm this gruesome and disturbing detail of the story. I went directly to Angi, my bio-mom, and accused her of not tellingme.

"'Well —' she said, actively failing not to snicker. 'I was waiting for you to grow up a bit before sharing that part with you; but, yes, your dad was having himself a pregnant lady sandwich.'

"I exclaimed, 'Oh my Gods, Mom!' and dropped the conversation while Angi giggled at me, mischievously." Sarah covered her mouth, trying not to choke on her sip of tea. Yes, I got her to smile! I went on without pause.

"This was the core family structure throughout my childhood. There were, of course, other tribe members and love interests in my parents' lives. My bio-mom is also the kind of person to 'adopt' all of the local kids and be the cool aunt figure, with everyone calling her the 'Nanny' of the community. There are loads of people to talk about, but these were the people I considered to be my parents and siblings. We've all lived with or near each other throughout my life; my bio-mom and bio-dad ended their romantic partnership when I was about four, and I primarily lived with Angi when I was a kid. Gary did end up living with us again, though, when he was in need of a place to live. My bio-parents have always said that even though they split up romantically, they will always consider each other life partners and co-parents."

I paused to take a breath, and Sarah filled the silence. "Did they get a divorce, though?" she inquired.

"No. They never got married. Their relationship was off-and-on when they had me, so they didn't want to formalize anything they didn't know if they could keep the promise of. The court wasn't there when they made me, why should they be involved in my upbringing? Oh my Gods and Goddesses!" I suddenly clapped my hand to my forehead, very dramatic.

"What is it? Are you okay?" Sarah exclaimed, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I totally sounded like my dad just now, and it felt so weird!" I began laughing, and I heard her laughing too. Her laugh had such life in it. She had held through the entire explanation and seemed able to roll with it; maybe there was something here that we could build off of.

I took a breath. "Enough about me. What about you? Where did you grow up? What's your relationship with your family like?" I asked animatedly.

Sarah's face became suddenly still and guarded. "Oh, I mean, not nearly as interesting as yours," she said. She looked away from me. Maybe it's hard for her to talk about it, I thought.

"You don't have to share if you don't want to, I get it. I also want to let you know, it's not about comparing our families. Just because my childhood takes ten minutes and an infographic to explain doesn't minimize yours. I'd love to hear about you; I will listen to anything that you'd like to share." She visibly relaxed as she looked at me. I winked at her and adjusted myself on the couch, getting into the ideal listening position, ready to hear her share herself with me, whatever that was.

She took a deep breath and began her tale. I listened intently to her life story, making sure to show her the same respect she had shown me. As she shared, I found there to be threads throughout her life that deeply reflected my own experience and helped me ease my feeling of otherness and truly reciprocate the openness she had showed me up until now. Though we came from vastly different backgrounds, our stories weren't entirely different after all.

Adulting, Part One: The Alt-Barbie Princess

I sat there in my aggressively orange-painted ivory tower, amongst the messy pile of blankets and pillows that decorated my gothic four-poster bed. I was staring at my laptop screen through a haze of the newest sativa strain I had spent my last twenty dollars on at the local bud shop. I'd been in this exact situation for over a year, since turning eighteen, with all of the privilege I could've hoped for: a supportive alt-polyamorous family, a stable house in a rich neighborhood, settled in one of the most progressive cities on the North American West Coast. And I was so depressed that I couldn't appreciate any of it.

My fingers sat unmoving on my keyboard while my brain lost itself in endless brainstorms about how I could change the world through sex education and what I should be doing to live up to the hopes and dreams my tribe had for me as their alt-Barbie princess. I was their ideal spokesperson for multigenerational alternative families. I was young, attractive, femme, and a trained actor who loved the spotlight and held all of the same identities and beliefs as my parents and tribe. I had a solid, communicative and loving connection with each of my parents, where not all of the kids in polyamorous families in my generation did. My local tribe subconsciously looked to me to fulfill the relationships they didn't have with their parents or their children, or else they saw me as a role model for their children to look up to and emulate, whether it was natural for them or not. This was solidified for me each time a tribe member asked about what my next project was or did I need any help, and when they expressed their appreciation for me doing the work that I did in the world and being such a good example of a well-adjusted young adult from a polyamorous family.

My tribe wanted success for me so badly that I internalized it. I felt familial pressure that was amplified by how many people it was coming from — an entire community that is always looking for the societal acceptance that the overculture, as my mother calls it, is unwilling to give them. I lived between their pedestal and my own microscope, and I smoked every day to alleviate the pressure. I didn't smoke just to escape, I smoked as a form of self-sabotage. I didn't think I could ever be the projection of what they wanted me to be, so I figured I might as well scramble my brains enough to be unable to accomplish my own goals either. I wanted to move to San Francisco, I wanted to be a famous sex educator who travelled the world, teaching and working for myself, and I wanted to be affluent.