Beyond Mono-Normativity: How Stigma Creeps into Our Relationships

The Relationship Script We All Inherited

I am writing this from lived experience, especially from navigating relationship structures we were never taught to understand or even imagine. Anything beyond mono-normativity tends to live in the shadows of "other," "risky," or "just a phase."

We were given a script: you meet someone, you date, you define it with a label like boyfriend, girlfriend, or partner, then exclusivity happens, you move in together, get engaged, maybe get married, buy a home, have kids, and follow the classic relationship escalator straight into the so-called “American dream”.

Wait. What? Hold on a minute. That American dream does not hold up the way it used to. It was rooted in a very specific template: one man and one woman, with clearly assigned gender roles. He went to work and provided for the family. She stayed home, took care of the children, and held the household together. Today, relationships exist across an entire spectrum of gender identities, orientations, family structures, roles, and commitments. Women work. Men stay home. Both partners work. Queer and trans families exist openly. Sometimes there is more than one partner involved. The structure is no longer one-size-fits-all. So, if identity, financial roles, autonomy, and partnership have evolved, why do we still cling to the idea that love should only look one way?

For me, this was not about rebelling. It was about unlearning. Not a fight, but an awakening. It took years of research, writing, reading, community connection, personal experience, and healing to deprogram the old beliefs and integrate new ones into my psyche.

Ok, to the point, you say. I am talking about ethical non-monogamy (ENM), academically known as consensual non-monogamy (CNM), which can take the form of polyamory, open relationships, swinging, and relationship anarchy. Most people who live this way do not emphasize the word ethical; they call it non-monogamy because the ethics are built into how it functions: consent, communication, care, clarity, and respect. And if someone like me, fully immersed in the research, the lived experience, and the academic exploration, still needed time to fully integrate this shift, of course it would be overwhelming for someone who has only ever known the monogamous template! But that does not mean that someone raised in monogamy is incapable of understanding it. It just means their starting point is different. Their framework for love was shaped by a model that centres on possession, certainty, and prescribed milestones. When something challenges that script, it is not just the relationship structure that feels threatened; it is their sense of identity, security, and what they believe love is supposed to look like.

When Concern Becomes Stigma

Stigma does not always show up as judgment or rejection. More often, it arrives disguised as worry, politeness, confusion, or commentary that feels supportive on the surface but carries a sting underneath.

I came out of a long-term monogamous marriage, the classic kind we were all told was the pinnacle of love. I genuinely believed I had found my soulmate. We followed the script, hit all the markers, and for a long time, I thought that meant we were meant to last forever. Until one day, I realized we were not soulmates in the way I believed. That realization cracked the illusion wide open, and with it, the entire framework I had attached my identity to.

So, when I eventually stepped into non-monogamy, it was not because I was lost or broken. It was because something in me finally had space to wake up. But the world around me did not see it that way. I once had someone tell me they were "concerned" and assumed polyamory was just a phase I was going through after the end of my marriage. At the time, I absorbed it quietly because I did not yet have the confidence or language I have now.

Later, when I entered a new relationship that appeared monogamous from the outside, I was congratulated for “getting through that time” in my life. As if my relational identity had been a breakdown I needed to recover from. And, if I am being honest, I internalized that message for a while. I tried to believe I had finally landed in the place everyone said was the goal. When I met him, I entered openly. I was clear about my polyamorous nature and my values. But slowly, without realizing it, I began slipping back into the monogamous mould. Not because I chose it, but because traditional expectations have a way of filling in the silence. Assumptions become rules. Rules become standards. And standards become prisons when you never actually consented to them.

Over time, the silence inside me got louder. What started as discomfort became a scream. That familiar trapped sensation crept back in. I remembered the work I had done to dismantle old beliefs and reclaim my truth. I tried to explain it to the partner I deeply loved, but he could not see it. Not because he lacked care, but because his understanding of love was built on scarcity, fear, and the monogamous script. Eventually, it turned into an ultimatum. And there I was again, facing a question I never thought I would return to: do I choose myself, or do I choose love in the way I was taught it is supposed to look?

That is what stigma does. It does not always slam the door. It nudges you back into it. It convinces you that shrinking is safer than expansion. It makes you question your worth, your desires, and even your sanity. It tells you to be grateful for what you have, even if part of you is quietly suffocating. It tells you that wanting more connection or more honesty is a threat, a flaw, or proof that you are unstable.

And slowly, you begin to unravel inside your own life.

How Shame and Identity Conflict Form

Shame does not introduce itself directly. It does not say "I am here to silence you." It hides behind hesitation and self-doubt. Sometimes it shows up as compliance. Or silence. Or through explaining too much, minimizing, or apologizing for who you are. My goodness, I’ve caught myself saying sorry so many times, for being… well, me.

Psychologically, shame lives at the intersection of identity and anticipated rejection. You do not even need someone to openly judge you. All it takes is enough cues that who you are will not be accepted, supported, or understood. And when your inner truth collides with the script you were taught, enter IDENTITY CONFLICT.

You start negotiating with yourself:

Maybe this part of me can stay quiet.
Maybe this is something I can grow out of.
Maybe sacrificing this part of my identity is what real love looks like.
Maybe my desires are the problem.

Have you heard of cognitive dissonance? Simplified, it creates an utter cloud of confusion. Your internal truth and your inherited conditioning are in conflict, and your nervous system tries to make them coexist. It can be mentally draining! Even people who are educated, self-aware, and fully immersed in the work can find themselves slipping into old roles. That does not make the identity less real. It shows how strong cultural pressure is when you stop actively resisting it.

When Safety and Possession Are Mistaken for Love

We are taught that love equals exclusivity. That safety comes from ownership. That devotion is proven through restriction. We internalize the belief that wanting more love, more connection, or more autonomy means something is broken.

Common beliefs sound like:

If someone really loves you, they will not want anyone else
If you need more than one relationship, you must be lacking something
If you are open to connection with others, it threatens what already exists

These ideas did not appear out of nowhere. They come from religious systems, patriarchal history, economic survival models, and cultural narratives rooted in ownership. Marriage used to be more about property and lineage than romance or mutual growth. So, when someone expresses a non-monogamous identity with intention and care, it is not just confusing to others. It threatens a template they were taught to protect, and that’s when concern becomes a mask for control with sentences that sound like:

I do not want you to get hurt.
All they will do is objectify you. You’re worth more than that.
Are you sure this is not a trauma response?
I give you everything. Isn’t that enough?

People mistake fear for love, and possession for safety. It is not always malicious. Most of the time, it comes from conditioning, not cruelty. And I’d like to offer you an alternative perspective:

Wanting freedom in connection is not recklessness.
Desiring more than one kind of relational intimacy is not immaturity.
Refusing to shrink your heart to fit an old model is not a sign of instability.

It is awareness. It is autonomy. It is love without fear, fencing it in.

No One-Size-Fits-All Way to Love

There is no single relationship style that holds the moral high ground. Monogamy is not the gold standard. Polyamory is not the rebellion. Open relationships are not reckless. Relationship anarchy is not chaos. These are simply different ways that people love, connect, and build meaning in their lives.

There is no inherent right or wrong. What matters is alignment. What matters is whether the structure you live in supports your values, your nervous system, your growth, and your truth. We are living in a time where love and connection can take many forms, and that is not something to fear. It is something to explore with awareness and integrity. The structure itself does not create a healthy relationship. The values underneath it do.

For me, those values became clear through what I now call the REACH Framework: Respect, Evolution, Autonomy, Communication, and Honesty. This framework did not come from thin air. It came from years of personal experience, academic research, peer-reviewed sources, books, and conversations across communities.

REACH is not a rulebook. It is a foundation you can return to, no matter what kind of relationship you are in.

Respect
Am I honouring the person I am in connection with, and am I honouring myself in the process?

Evolution
Are we growing, learning, and staying open to change together, rather than fearing it?

Autonomy
Are we allowing each other to be whole humans, not extensions of ownership or expectation?

Communication
Are we being clear, direct, and intentional about our agreements, desires, and needs?

Honesty
Are we telling the truth to ourselves and each other, knowing that trust cannot exist without it?

Other people may create their own version of this, and that is perfectly valid. What matters is being conscious of how you show up in relationships and whether your values align with how you are living.

If you are questioning your identity, feeling conflicted about your relationship structure, sensing tension between who you are and what you were taught to want, or feeling lost, silenced, unsure, or ashamed for wanting something different, you are not alone. There is room to explore these feelings without judgment. This is the work I care deeply about, and these are the conversations I hold space for.

If this speaks to your experience, you are welcome to connect with me and begin that conversation.

Warm regards,
Belle Love