misanthropist no more.

When I was a teenager, I thought I hated people.

This general misanthrope continued for several years and I think it’s pretty popular amongst people my age (as in – lots of us were like this as teenagers and lots of us held onto it as a personality trait). Lots of femmes wield it as a defense mechanism and I can’t really blame them for it.

I’ve concluded that I don’t hate people; I love people and their relationships and their communities and the social fabric we weave, tear apart, and repair together.

That social fabric is something I want to be part of, and I can only do it by taking some risks, letting people affix themselves to me, and getting attached in return. I used to look down on all of this as dependency and it terrified me – I wanted to be completely independent with no attachments, no partners, no one close enough that others might see as my ‘partner’.

anarchist relationships.

I started publicly identifying with relationship anarchy as a defense mechanism. I think it’s a very easy philosophy to use as a shield against public perception and assumptions about one’s relationships, and that’s exactly how I used it.

My relationships are special, unique, non-conformist. Whatever comes to mind when you think about my relationships is wrong – I reject all the prescriptions implied by the titles and how dare you assume that ‘partner’ means what you think it means. How dare you think you understand me?

I grew up a bit. Everyone’s relationships are unique, even if it doesn’t look that way from the outside. No one outside the relationship will ever understand how special and precious it is; it is a secret unto the two of you.

And the more I’ve settled into my anarchist philosophy, the less defensive I’ve felt about the labels I use and what people think when they see me with one of my intimates. Sure – that person is my partner, he’s my soulmate, he’s my boyfriend, he’s my best friend, he’s my family, he’s my neighbour. Use and misuse whatever words you want; it doesn’t change what we feel for one another. It doesn’t change who we are, and no one else needs to really understand what the relationship is.

relationships are private.

This has been the most impactful shift in my relationship philosophy: the relationship is a self-contained entity. Just like it is not subject to the rules of external parties, it is inherently immune to whatever assumptions or beliefs that external parties may impose upon it. The public has no place in defining or influencing my relationships.

I have had the experience of loving a lot of very private people who are essentially invisible to certain subsets of my social network. My attachments in these relationships are mostly secure and trusting regardless of our publicity.

relationships are public.

At the same time, I’ve grown to appreciate signs of public affiliation with my intimates.

It has felt silly and frivolous to be so excited about someone waving a flag that says “Lexa is one of my people and I don’t care who knows actively want people to know”. I already feel secure in these relationships; why does the public spectacle make me feel so good?

Why do I feel happy if I know that someone is describing me as a ‘partner’ and not ‘a friend’ when they tell stories about me? Why do I feel cared for when my friend and I take turns paying for one another at brunch and the server sees us as a unit, even temporarily? Why do I feel giddy when someone tags me in their writing? Most of the people who witness these things don’t know anything about our actual relationship, and I wouldn’t want them to.

The weaving of social fabric necessarily happens in the public eye – a single thread does not make a piece of cloth; they all need to touch and cross over and tangle into a tight weave or knit or felt or whatever fabric you prefer. It is meaningful when someone establishes a thread between us, even if there is nothing said about the colour, texture, tenure, or strength of the thread itself. It is meaningful just because it allows the network to take shape – it shows people that I’m connected to the people around me.

It is still precious that the thread exists at all, that we are connected by it, and that we are both willing to name it.

This is no world to be alone in.