Polyamory, a subset of ethical non-monogamy, where the assumption is that all partners may seek out multiple loving relationships, is still in its nascency. There was still a touch of jaw-drop scandal about the high-school throuple in HBO Max’s reboot of Gossip Girl, or Alfonso Cuarón’s Y Tu Mamá También (2001), or Woody Allen’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008). The idea of the triad was explored with more nuance in the five seasons of the Audience Network series You Me Her, which actually took the viewer into the judgement, fears, balance, and navigation of the world of polyamory. Closer home, the subject has only ever been subtly alluded to in Shuddh Desi Romance (2013), or Angry Indian Goddesses (2015), that barely skim the surface of sol0 polyamory (easily disguised as simply being ‘single’). The odd actor–Ezra Miller, Tilda Swinton–has been vocal about being “poly” but even in the parallel universe of celebrity, monogamy–or at least public-facing monogamy–has usually been the norm.
But it is a norm that seems on the precipice of change. While currently only about 4 per cent of Americans and 7 per cent of adults in the United Kingdom say they were in an open or polyamorous relationship (2021, YouGov), 25 per cent and 27 per cent respectively say they’re open to it. In India, Bumble reports that 61 per cent of single Indians were more open to exploring ethical non-monogamy, with 60 per cent viewing it as a relationship model for the future (2023). Dating app Happn found that 19 per cent of both men and women have tried the structure (2024). The actual reported numbers of existing polyamorous relationships are, however, hard to come by.
Why is this so? The reasons are, well, polyfold. But primary amongst them is the sense of judgement and discrimination directed towards those who are vocal about being in a polyamorous relationship. While polyamory is part of the conversation now, there is an ‘othering’ that comes baked in. It is antithetical to the Sima Aunty narrative that the average Indian millennial is raised with; it rarely results in marriage, with children–if any–born ‘out of wedlock,’ to possibly multiple parents. The structure, while accepted in elite spaces with the sense of fascinated distance that queerness was two decades ago, is still very much an outlier, divergent from the ‘hum do, hamarey do’ heteronormativity the average Indian is made to believe. It makes for a difficult conversation to have in an Indian workplace; and legal protection for it is a far cry, leading to a community that often lives (or, in this case, works) in the shadows.
Mumbai-based Aili Seghetti, founder of The Intimacy Curator, thinks that ideology is too deep-set for polyamory in the workplace to have oxygen in India right now. “I get a lot of poly clients; non-monogamous, or exploring non-monogamy. I think CNM [consensual non-monogamy]–open relationships–are practised by a lot of people. ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ situations are pretty common among married couples. But polyamory in its truest structure is not,” she says.
"THEY DON'T WANT PEOPLE TO KNOW THEY’RE POLY, BECAUSE MOST PEOPLE AROUND THEM ARE MONOGAMOUS AND WILL NOT UNDERSTAND”Aili Seghetti
Dismissiveness, salacious curiosity and palpable discomfort are all side-effects that can accompany a disclosure to management, keeping poly people from talking about it at work. A 2017 study in the Journal of Sex Research showed that polyamorous individuals reported higher levels of workplace discrimination, with fears of being judged or misunderstood by colleagues and employers. Which is why, for Goa-based photographer Siddhi Soi, telling people she works with, is a non-starter. “I’m not open about it in my work spaces. There is one client I work with who is also a friend, so they know, because we also meet socially. But I definitely prefer to keep it private. If I build a rapport with any client, I still only mention my long-term partner, if the topic comes up. I don’t talk about being polyamorous, because it feels too personal. It veers into the intrusive, invites too much.”
Mumbai-based digital content specialist Kray Konnojia tells co-workers; but not employers. “I am open about being polyamorous at work with my peers. Not with my bosses, or not with the management so to speak. I’m open about it on my social media, but never specifically disclosed it [to management].” However, this hasn’t always been the best experience for Konnojia. “When I went out for drinks with my colleagues and mentioned talking to a couple of people at the same time, their reaction was: ‘Why can't you just settle for talking to one person? Like, what's the deal there?’ I did feel judged. But I’m not going to stop talking about it just because they don’t understand it.”
The exception that seems to have the most crossovers is in the openly queer community, perhaps because a fight against heteronormativity is already underway. Mumbai-based journalist and researcher Tejaswi Subramanian is a textbook example of that. “My past employers were very much rooted in cis-heteronormativity. They did not realise how polyamory was systemically oppressed. They would liken it to their own experiences by saying, ‘Oh, we had such a hard time talking about our marriage to our parents too, you know.’ A lot of my past employers have ‘accepted’ my identity–my queerness, my being poly–but never actually made space for me and really engaged with what that means.”
Kannojia believes they’re the trifecta because “I'm queer, I'm non-binary and I'm also polyamorous. People around me are mostly cis-het, or even if they were queer, they’re monogamous. I’m open about it, but the fear of ostracisation is very real. I’ve often felt like I don’t belong.”
It becomes tricky to be vocal without having it percolate into the workspace. Basit Manham, an IT professional from Bengaluru, can confirm. “I’ve always been open about it on social media, so ‘everyone knows’. Because I've been so public about poly life on social media (and there are some articles about me online), it’s hard to keep it under wraps.” But he’s tried to keep it on the down-low at his current workplace. “With my previous workplaces, I felt like most of my colleagues were open-minded and didn't care. But here, my colleagues seem conservative, they would be bothered by it. So, I decided not to actively talk about it and try to avoid conversations around it.” Manham also shares that he’s had his work questioned for it in the past. “I once heard that the founder of the organisation I was previously working at was questioning my moral values because of the fact that I am polyamorous.”
Digital marketing and branding consultant Anagha P has always been vocal about being poly, but introduces the subject softly. “I apparently tend to start stories with ‘one of my partners…’ in casual conversations. Many employers and co-workers get shocked first, and curious later. It took multiple coffee-slash-smoke breaks and Q&A sessions, but they were all kind about it.” She has felt the weight of not being part of a ‘traditional family set-up’, in terms of it cutting into personal time. “It means being the first one to be called when there is work at night, or during weekends. But it didn't matter because I also demand and receive flexibility during weekdays,” says Anagha.
Seghetti believes it's an underground community for exactly that reason; and likely to stay that way for a while for most professional spaces. “A lot of people from the creative fields practise it, or are familiar with it. But nobody comes out [as polyamorous]. It's rare, unless they're young. Nobody's going to talk about it, especially at the workplace because there’s a lot of discrimination and stigma. I have clients from the film industry, film, OTT, advertising, music–they come for events as well, but they don't want to be seen. They don't want people to know they’re poly, because most people around them are monogamous and will not understand.”
In a world where the conversation itself is still a tricky space, how does actual legal protection help? To Bengaluru-based counselling psychologist Nidhra, it simply doesn’t. “Polyamory or non-monogamy, in general, is not legally protected in the same way as monogamy. In terms of employee-benefit structures, I don't think I have been able to gain any benefits at all.” Anagha says she’s ‘mostly worked with smaller brands that don't offer such employee benefits.’ “In addition, since I follow solo polyamory and don't have a nesting/primary partner, the lack of spousal benefits doesn't matter much [to me].” But where she would like legal protection is from a medical perspective. “One of my partners should be able to sign informed consent on my behalf or collect my body when I'm dead.”
Seghetti believes any kind of benefits are a long way away. “Do you think the Indian government is structured for this? I don't think any structure is ready for polyamory right now. Before they start changing legislation, people need to understand what polyamory actually means. It’s looked at just ‘having fun and multiple partners’ and it’s not. That’s reductive.”
Kannojia is inclined to agree. “Most organisations currently don’t even cover same-sex partners benefits. They are barely being accepting of the queer identity right now. Expecting them to accept the polyamorous identity, and then give me benefits around that –it’s just…not going to happen anytime soon. We live in a heteronormative, monogamous world. Breaking that structure will take a lot of time.”
Not just time, but systemic change too. Polyamory as a structure faces an identity challenge that is reminiscent of queerness in its early era. The two might seem incomparable, because one is sexuality whilst the other is a structure. But what they have in common is being a counter to the traditional desi relationship ideal that is driven into our conditioning from a young age. It is a counter to heteronormativity, and indelible in the context of individual identity. Like anything else in that vein, it will take one hell of a fight.