Monogamy and The Partnership Paradox
The affair. The possibility of another. The third.
In Western culture, people are socialized to bind themselves to one individual for the rest of their lives. It is the Judeo-Christian thing to do, which means it is also the moral thing to do. Nonetheless, many television shows, songs, and films have often made the affair, the primary focus or at least as a subplot of the wider narrative. From Ciara+Future, Beyonce’s seminal album Lemonade, Pleasure P’s hit song ‘Boyfriend #2’, VH1 reality shows, office gossip, “Gone Girl” to the murders committed by the now infamous Chris Watts, “the other” exists. Globally, it appears that many individuals seem to struggle with staying faithful in a monogamous relationship or find difficulty in upholding their marital vows. It goes without saying that the emotional trauma and pain that come from infidelity can often be life altering. Which leads to the question: is being in a monogamous relationship good for people’s mental health?
For most of my adolescence, I spent my summer vacation in Senegal. During the dreary New York City winters, I would reminisce about my time there. The sunny days at the beach; eating street fare of BBQ meat and fried fish; and talking to my cousins under the stars, in our village compound. One memory that remains fresh in my mind is the time I attended my teenage cousin’s wedding. Like me, she was 16 years old. I was a junior in high school, destined to attend Spelman College in two years; while her fate was to be our neighbor’s second wife.
The wedding was held on a beautiful day, with several changes of outfits for the bride, who beamed happily throughout the daylong ceremony. I laughed and feasted; but through it all, I couldn’t help but contemplate the prospect of being a teenage bride, furthermore sharing a spouse. Some nights, I would go with my cousins to visit the newlywed, whose new home, like a high rise, housed each co-wife and her children on a different floor. She settled into her new home without a hiccup, forming a congenial relationship with her co-wife.
Then there is the woman, for whom I am named. She is financially independent; a fearsome business woman with her own company; and a beautiful home. Yet, her husband has a second wife. She doesn't need her husband to support her. However, in the Wolof culture, to be unmarried is to be an “unwoman”.
Growing up in the West, when I heard anyone judge the tenets of polygamy, I didn’t scoff at this part of my background/cultural heritage. Instead, I would mull over the inherently patriarchal aspects of polygamy. Hearing men openly state that they were in the market for a new wife always seemed one sided to me. I always wondered about the other wives? Didn’t they have a say in who joined their ranks? Were these women really willing to share their husband’s affection, wealth and time with another woman? Or were the societal pressures so great that they had to conform?
Once, as a cheeky teenager, I jokingly said to my father who has four wives, just as his father before him, “Dad, if you can have four wives; I’ll have three husbands.” The outrage showed instantly in his eyes, as he hushed me to silence, making sure I did not embarrass him in public. Imagining the existence of female gender equality in having multiple partners was unthinkable to him. Whenever I openly questioned the practice of polygamy to my father, his favorite counterpoint would be, “What about all the unmarried Black women in the United States?” According to statistics from the 2010 U.S. Census: 71% of Black women in America were unmarried. Of that group, 71% of Black women between the ages of 25-29 and 54% between the ages of 30-34, had never been married. In comparison, 43% of non-Hispanic white women between the ages of 25-29 had never married.
One may wonder, what is the ideal situation for a Black woman who desires to be in a heterosexual partnership? Is it better to be in a monogamous relationship with the possibility of an unseen interloper, acting as a source of angst? Or is it better to be married to a man, knowing that the possibility exists for him to take a younger wife as you age? Is it a more honorable situation for a man to have two wives, rather than a wife and a mistress (or two)? Is polygamy in the 21st century just another opportunity for men to be in pseudo-open relationships, sanctioned by religious and cultural beliefs?
Now, as a married woman and a mental health provider, I find both social constructs inherently flawed, since they often seem to leave women at a disadvantage. How can Black women restructure their romantic relationships so that they thrive emotionally , and are not disempowered by overarching cultural beliefs? Please tell me your thoughts!
