Polyamory Boundary Frameworks: When varying needs of freedom and transparency collide

The most shocking thing I’ve ever heard from a polyamorist was that she didn’t care about contracting an STI—so much so that her polycule didn’t even have a safe sex policy. As someone who has never been monogamous and advocates fiercely for polyamory, this was both baffling and deeply concerning. As one of the biggest polyamory influencers in the world, I’ve spoken to thousands of polyamorists from all walks of life, each sharing their unique approaches to polyamory.

One thing I’ve consistently noticed is that polyamorists tend to have better safe sex practices than monogamous people. This isn’t just a coincidence—it’s the result of being intentional about our relationships, fostering open communication, and having a heightened awareness of the risks that come with multiple partners.

In fact, nearly every polycule I’ve encountered has a well-defined safe sex policy. These agreements range from mandatory use of barriers, particularly with new sexual partners, to regular STI testing schedules within the group. For many of us, these practices are not just about physical health but also about cultivating trust and respect—pillars of ethical and responsible polyamory.

Consequently, when I was talking to this woman about creating agreements and boundaries in polyamory, using safe sex as a relatable segue, I was stunned to find out that she didn’t believe in a safe sex policy. She felt that STIs were simply a risk one takes in being free and that, for her, the freedom for her polycule to do as they wish without checking in on each other mattered more.

“What about incurable STIs?” I inquired.

She responded, “If it happens, it happens.”

Talking with this woman led to an epiphany: there are two distinct camps in polyamory, and she and I embodied the two opposing extremes.

On one side, there are people like me who prioritize consent and transparent communication. We embrace numerous boundaries because they are crucial for building and maintaining secure, healthy relationships. I call our camp the "transparency-prioritizing polyamorists."

On the other side are those who value freedom and autonomy above all, often viewing boundaries as optional or restrictive. I call them the "autonomy-prioritizing polyamorists."

These opposing views often ignite intense reactions between us. Transparency-prioritizing polyamorists may perceive autonomy-prioritizing polyamorists as chaotic, while autonomy-prioritizing polyamorists may see transparency-prioritizing polyamorists as controlling. However, most people fall somewhere along this spectrum and can navigate these differences by negotiating agreements. They adapt to their partners' needs, offering understanding and grace to both autonomy- and transparency-prioritizing polyamorists, while staying true to themselves. I call these individuals “adaptive-connecting polyamorists”. My partner Nick is a great example of an adaptive-connecting polyamorist.

Mind you, there are some people who embody the extremes of both transparency and autonomy prioritizing—wanting to know everything their partner does, while being unwilling to disclose what they do. I call these individuals "one-sided polyamorists".

With the exception of the adaptive-connecting polyamorist, I suspect that most other approaches to boundaries in polyamory are rooted in trauma. This perspective comes from reflecting on my own experiences, conversations with partners I've dated, insights gained through my coaching practice, and the feedback I’ve received from followers when I’ve shared my theories on various boundary frameworks within polyamory.

Because I’m a transparency-prioritizing polyamorist, I believe it’s only fair to begin by sharing the reasoning and personal history that shaped my boundary framework—starting with my approach to sex. I am meticulous about safe sex practices, requiring any potential partner to provide a recent STI test before engaging in intimacy. In turn, I prioritize regular testing for myself, even during periods without new partners. For years, I took these precautions to an extreme, using gloves and dental dams even for non-penetrative sexual activities, to ensure safety.

A significant reason I approach safe sex the way I do stems from compounded trauma. Growing up in Kenya, a country with one of the highest HIV rates in the world, I witnessed the devastating impact of HIV/AIDS, including losing family members to it. In my teens, I moved to the Netherlands, where safe sex education was a constant—something positive in theory but often delivered through fear-mongering and manipulative tactics. Starting at age 12, doctors would find almost any excuse to put you on birth control: needing to lose weight, feeling depressed, struggling with acne—you name it, the solution was always “get on the pill.” This combination of experiences left me with significant anxiety around sex and reproduction.

Despite this I have no hesitation in dating someone living with HIV, as long as transparency around current health precautions is prioritized. Thanks to advancements in modern medicine, such as PEP and antiviral therapies, HIV is no longer the dire diagnosis it was in the 1980s. Today, it’s entirely possible to maintain safe, fulfilling, and healthy sexual relationships with someone living with HIV. I’ve also had relationships with individuals who have herpes, where clear communication and precautions during active outbreaks ensured everything remained manageable. In every case, openness and honesty have been the foundation of these experiences, it’s what allows me to feel safe and in control of my body.

But I’ve realized that some people interpret my need for safe sex and transparency as me trying to control them. At first, that perspective really threw me off because I’ve always felt that boundaries are not about imposing rules on others—they’re about compatibility. If someone can’t or won’t respect my boundaries, I don’t try to change them. I just recognize we’re not a match and move on.

My boundaries in polyamorous relationships are for the most rather simple and pragmatic: I need to know before my partner sleeps with someone new, and I also need to meet my metas (my partners' other partners) for three reasons:

1. I can be certain that cheating isn’t occurring.
2. To confirm that my metamour has entered the open relationship willingly and without coercion.
3. To avoid logistical challenges in the future, such as handling emergencies involving the hinge partner or coordinating major events and celebrations.

When I have shared this on my social media, autonomy-prioritizing polyamorists have argued that this approach is controlling, suggesting it would infringe on their freedom and autonomy. For many of them, cheating isn’t even a thing—their framework for polyamory revolves around doing as they please without feeling burdened by boundaries.

For autonomy-prioritizing polyamorists their version of trust often thrives in secrecy. Some are naturally private, introverted, or solitary, and for many their need to avoid knowing every detail stems from how they cope with their past trauma. For me conversely the need to know as many details as possible stems directly from my trauma.

I grew up moving constantly because of my dad’s job with the UN—12 countries and 18 schools. That instability made me crave predictability and control. Knowing where I stand helps ground me. I had an abusive stepmother, and leaving her house out of my own volition was my first real act of setting boundaries. That experience taught me the importance of cutting off people who cross my boundaries because, in my experience, boundary violations often escalate.

Despite the chaos in parts of my life, I was fortunate to grow up with biological parents who gave me a lot of freedom and affirmed my self-esteem and voice. That balance of adversity and affirmation gave me a strong sense of self-awareness and justice.

Not everyone has that foundation. Autonomy-prioritizing polyamorists from my talks with them have shared how they grew up with controlling parents, which makes boundaries tricky for them. When your voice is constantly stifled, and you’ve had to rely on secrecy or deceit just to express yourself, boundaries might feel threatening or like an attempt to control you. If you’ve never been allowed to set boundaries against a controlling parent or partner, how can you be expected to understand or respect someone else’s?

This is why people-pleasers often emerge from controlling environments—they survived by conforming. For someone still in the process of discovering their sense of self, boundaries can feel threatening. Polyamorists who deeply crave freedom often do so because they are navigating a crucial developmental phase, they never got to experience as children of breaking free from external control and reclaiming their autonomy and full personhood. This stage is about experimenting with autonomy, exercising their independence, being able to be disappointing and not conforming to social order and through that chaos gradually transitioning from exploration to a more solidified sense of identity, free from the shadows of past parent and community constraints.

Trauma shapes frameworks that make sense to us but can be deeply triggering to someone else’s trauma-shaped framework. When autonomy-prioritizing polyamorists and transparency-prioritizing polyamorists interact, our boundary frameworks often clash, causing us to unintentionally trigger each other’s traumas. Unfortunately, that clash often leads me to cut people off—triggering autonomy-prioritizing polyamorists in turn because their deepest fear is that their truth will result in rejection, exile, or punishment. For many autonomy-prioritizing polyamorists, this fear is rooted in how their families punished nonconformity. While I empathise with this and I understand that some people are still figuring themselves out, I refuse to lose myself by letting others cross my boundaries so they can find their freedom. Boundaries are essential to maintaining a sense of self and individuality because they define where one person ends and another begins. They help us:

• Define ourselves: Boundaries clarify what we’re comfortable with and how we expect to be treated, allowing us to uphold our identity.
• Protect our values: They ensure our actions align with our principles, keeping our self-respect intact.
• Safeguard emotional health: Boundaries prevent emotional manipulation, allowing us to protect our energy and self-esteem.
• Foster autonomy: They enable us to make decisions that honor our needs and growth.
• Strengthen relationships: By setting clear limits, we build mutual respect while maintaining individuality.
• Enhance communication: Boundaries teach others how to engage with us in a respectful, healthy way.

I’ve worked hard to build a strong, unique sense of self. I’ve swum against abusers and conformity enforcers to get here. My individuality is hard won. Someone in my comments said in response to this that all individualism is “Western” and “colonial,” which is laughable because a strong Black enby with high self-esteem is exactly what the colonial system hates. In truth, my independence is deeply Kikuyu, rooted in a culture that values strong, independent-minded women.

I am interdependent—a strong individual with a deep sense of community. My love for others, however, does not come at the cost of sacrificing myself. I firmly believe that you cannot truly love others well if you do not love yourself first. People with Narcissistic Personality Disorder illustrate this clearly—they often lack both self-love and the ability to genuinely love others.

In my experience, people with healthy boundaries (neither rigid nor porous) demonstrate the most self-love, and as a result, they love others best. Healthy boundaries, open communication, and vulnerability are what make relationships meaningful. Interestingly, it’s not us polyamorists who prioritize consent, open communication, and honesty who cause most of the drama in polyamory. It’s usually the freedom-and-autonomy-at-all-costs folks. That says a lot about which approach fosters healthier dynamics. While autonomy-focused relationships can work, they often lean toward toxicity, like DADT (Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell) situations.

For those struggling with fearing simple boundaries due to being controlled in the past, therapy is essential for developing a strong sense of self and learning to respect others boundaries without feeling constrained by them.

That said, rigid boundaries can also be problematic. One-sided polyamory, for example, is often rooted in control. These individuals crave freedom for themselves while demanding complete transparency from their partner, all while fiercely guarding their own privacy. This behavior is frequently tied to disorganized attachment, a pattern born from severe past trauma—neglect fostering a deep fear of abandonment, and abuse creating an equally strong fear of control.

The ideal would be adaptive-connecting polyamorists—individuals who are truly remarkable in their ability to find compromise without ever compromising themselves.

I see this in my partner, Nick, who can date autonomy-prioritizing people while still supporting my need for transparency. It’s quite the balancing act, especially when it comes to polycule agreements. I’ll delve more into that in another piece.

These are my thoughts—biased, sure, but rooted in experience.