Conjugalities and sexualities in conflict: monogamy and polyamory among LGBT groups

This article analyses how monogamy, polyamory and other forms of non-monogamy are displayed, interpreted and debated among LGBT groups. Is there a defence of affective and sexual multiplicity or does an endorsement of monogamy predominate, in order to claim greater legitimacy? The study was conducted between 2012 and 2017, based on ethnographic research carried out with virtual LGBT groups. I argue that there is no consensus that monogamy is an oppressive norm analogous to heteronormativity among lesbians, gays, and bisexuals, nor that polyamory is their ideal model for overcoming it. Through this study, I contribute to the understanding of the moral conflicts developed in the field of ‘sexual politics’ in contemporary Brazil. This article shares some of the results of my doctoral thesis anthropology concerning the construction of a public debate on polyamory in Brazil. It analyses how LGBT 1 groups display, interpret, and debate the issue of sexual-affective exclusivity. Do we encounter a defence of the need to overcome monogamy? Or do we find a tendency to disengage from the struggle for non-monogamy as a strategy for claiming greater legitimacy and respectability? What is specific in how lesbians, gays, and bisexuals represent monogamy and its alternatives? Does ‘polyamory’ feature as a relevant category and a desirable model of conjugality? between 19 and 25 years of have a more flexible outlook on pre-established social norms comparison in their 40s or over. One difference among interviewees is that between and 25 years of age expressed greater acceptance of diverse ways of experiencing less traditional sexualities – non-monogamy, open relationships […]

they constituted numerous and active spaces with an intense exchange of messages, linking people up across Brazil. We carried out an observational 'netnography' (Kozinets, 2010;Bowler, 2010), without direct interaction with participants, restricting ourselves to published content. We did not analyse the profile of the posters or their sexual-affective biographies, focusing only on their arguments, opinions, and views on the theme during ongoing online debates. This article therefore investigates the moral conflicts and dilemmas surrounding monogamy, polyamory, and other forms of non-monogamy among a varied set of subjects who identify as gays, lesbians, and bisexuals in social networks 3 .
Research began with a survey of the most numerous Brazilian LGBT groups on Facebook 4 . Since these groups were mostly composed of gay people, we expanded to include groups that were composed exclusively of lesbians 5 and bisexuals 6 . The research also included gay and lesbian groups that were specifically concerned with non-monogamous relationships 7 , as well as posts in other websites 8 which were read and debated in these groups. Analyses are restricted to publications that refer to monogamy and/or polyamory, honing in on recurring issues, controversies and specificities. The messages that provided data for the analysis were published between 2012 and 2017. To preserve anonymity, the names of all authors have been omitted.
The article is divided into three parts, each concerned with one of the main discussions sustained by, respectively, lesbians, gays, and bisexuals. In the first part I show how sexual-affective freedom and the defining structure of a relation (monogamous or otherwise) are seen by lesbians to be less relevant than other issues, such as dialogue, honesty, and care between partners. I then draw attention to the fact that, for gays, monogamy (in opposition to so-called 'promiscuity') is more concerned with the search for multiple sexual partners than for multiple amorous relationships. Finally, I look at how bisexuals reject claims that they are unable to live monogamously, and how this can lead to a broader rejection of any association of bisexuality with polyamory and other forms of non-monogamy.
In the first publication to mention polyamory in the website 'Sapatomica.com 9 ', called 'Stop being the lover', the condemnation of the 'lover', who is considered to be a secondary, used, and neglected woman, is attenuated by the recognition of polyamorous setups. The publication touches on relations of infidelity and encourages women who have been betrayed to leave their unfaithful partner. In what pertains to the present discussion, the visibility of polyamory allows the break with monogamous exclusivity to also be construed as a deal: "STOP EVERYTHING! Unless the person proposes a polyamorous relationship, in which all parts know about each other and accept it, You can't be with someone when you're always second best, who you can't even go out with, not even as friends." (10-01-2014) It is as if polyamory neutralizes the negativity attributed to extra-conjugal ties, creating a break with the premiss that having more than one relationship necessarily implies in dishonesty. Even the very possibility of being an affective 'second choice' comes to be countenanced, so long as it is consensual. Thus, in a context in which polyamory is an option, the moral defence of monogamous fidelity is not absolute. What these monogamous and polyamorous moralities share is an affirmation of 'honesty' between partners as the condition for a dignified and legitimate conjugal relationship.
In one of the groups researched, a debate emerged involving a woman who was in a relationship with more than one person. What was roundly disapproved was unfaithfulness, so that many interlocutors suggested an open or polyamorous relationship as an alternative: "If it was a polyamorous relationship between the 4 grt, but if they don't know I don't agree"; "it's one thing if all parties are aware of evrth it's another to cheat"; "If all are followers of free love, what's the prob? We have to break paradigms and accept existing varied forms of love."; "Polyamory, free love, or open relationship is better than cheating on someone you love. The main thing is to be honest".
Before the approval of civil unions between same-sex people, in a context in which there were no formal institutions for lesbian relationships, Carvalho (1995) argues that honesty was the central guarantee for maintaining the relationship. Betrayals were thus often discovered, considering the efforts at transparency that permeates these unions. The author argues that there are two reasons for this: not only is honesty actively promoted by the parties in a relationship, it is also much more difficult to lie to a woman, as expressed by one of her interviewees: "with women you can't have any secrets, a woman knows everything, understands everything, wants to know everything" (Carvalho, 1995: 151).
Most of the women Carvalho interviewed prefer 'closed' relationships, without any overture to triangular or plural arrangements, in the belief that it is not worth risking the main relationship. Similarly, Vencato (2005) considers serial endogamous monogamy -successive relationships within a same group of people -to be an inclination among lesbians. The subjects of my research also claimed, on many occasions, to prefer monogamy, refusing non-monogamous relationships: "I am monogamous and would not live in a polyamorous relationship"; "No, thank you, you're welcome. I like monogamy"; "In brief: it's not for me LOL"; "Never been in one, no desire to be in one". Others say that they have participated in such relationships, but felt frustrated by them: "My feelings on open relationships can be summed up in one word: trauma"; "I was in one and it murdered my sanity".
Even if monogamy remains hegemonic, the last few years have seen an intensification of debates on alternative forms of conjugality. In this sense, there has been a call to recognize and explain monogamy, whereas previously it had not been a subject of debate.This can be seen in the group 'PoxaSapatão 10 ', with four topics discussing non-monogamous relationships between June and July 2015, in contrast to the previous year when neither monogamy nor polyamory were discussed. According to Toledo and Filho (2012: 96), this recent growth in narratives that favour non-monogamy has mostly centred on young lesbians: 9 Sapatomica.com, maintained by three women aged between 22 and 24 years, was described in 2015 as the greatest blog for lesbians in Brazil. At present it is inactive, appearing only as a Facebook page, in YouTube and in Instagram.  11 , an emphasis on freedom is attenuated by a concern for the feelings of one's partners.
Instead of insisting on the need to accept this freedom, participants admit that they are more committed to mutual care, letting go of their autonomy in accordance with the limits and sufferings of their partners: Non-monogamous lesbians thereby believe that freedom and its effects should be an object of discussion and reflection, aiming for a joint deconstruction of feelings that may compromise the quality of the relationship.
Men are treated as antagonists, as 'affectively irresponsible' and ethically uncommitted. The idea of recreating non-monogamy from a feminist perspective is thus posited; a non-monogamy that would not prioritize a liberal political freedom as men are said to do when they hold their female partners to account for feeling insecure. We find here a criticism of non-monogamous men, since, in the view of the lesbians I researched, they are not privy to a pact of mutuality, respect and empathy, placing greater value, instead, on a selfish freedom, devoid of care.
The association of men with irresponsibility, and even abuse, and with an inclination to impose their desires on women, is a point of contention between lesbian and bisexual women. In some cases, the former go as far as to question the participation of the latter in internet forums, claiming that they are not trustworthy for maintaining intimacy with oppressors. Bisexual women, in turn, accuse lesbians of biphobia. People often quit groups because of such conflicts. This controversy is also studied by Facchini (2004), who argues that lesbians see bisexuals as 'dirty' and potential vectors of disease because of their sexual relations with men, who, for their part, are seen to be necessarily promiscuous. Jaeger et al (2019) suggest that this disqualification of bisexuality feeds back as selfpraise, in the sense that only lesbian women are trustworthy. In this sense, the violence suffered by bisexuals is deemed to be misunderstood by lesbians, since the only suffering possible for bisexual women would be lesbophobia. Bisexuality is thus almost always construed as a joke, something to be despised, ignoring the suffering that stems from biphobia (Jaeger et al., 2019: 9).
Among the groups that I studied, lesbians who were positive about non-monogamous relationships were nonetheless largely resistant to the involvement of their partners with men. Interactions with 'brocialists' or 'bronarchists', as many of the men who participate in the nonmonogamous field are known, is permeated by the protest that their sexual freedom harms, objectifies, and excludes. In some cases not being involved with men is therefore not enough; it is safer to not be involved with those who are involved with men.
This resistance to maintaining partnerships with women who have relationships with men can also be explained by a feeling of inferiority:

"We need to think about why lesbian girls have this problem, it's not because she wants this, it's because she's been led to this, we have always been made inferior by men and raised to feel inferior, when we get with a bi girl we get a little scared of not satisfying her, for example, and then she goes and also gets with men, like, it's violent for some girls, like 'I'm not able, as a woman, to satisfy another woman'[…] the problem is not with bi girls, but with the men and with patriarchy and in
all of the oppression that she's already suffered by all of this, just because she doesn't have a dick -a man-dick, to not be transphobic" (24/10/2014) This feeling of 'inferiority' is enhanced when non-monogamous men allow their partners to freely maintain relationships with other women but not with other men. One participant adds that these men only see lesbian women as fetishes, and do not believe in the viability of the love between two women. Another comment reveals indignation at the depreciation of the lesbian bond, which is interpreted as being a lesser relationship, an ephemeral amusement: We will shortly see that while there is an ideal of morality directed at monogamy and sexual self-control among gays, in lesbian groups it is honesty and consensuality that are more strongly valued. Sexual excess and promiscuity are thus not the main sources of controversy between women; rather, they see infidelity and affective responsibility as the true problems that need to be addressed. Hence the tendency for polyamory to be conceived of as a conjugal possibility in lesbian groups.
Despite their relative ubiquity and positive evaluation, certain obstacles to the construction of nonmonogamous relations emerge, particularly those related to insecurities deriving from 'sharing' their partners with men and male inferiorization of the bond between women. To guard against the 'contamination' generated by proximity with male sexuality, lesbians may avoid relationships with bisexual women. Strategies for contention, control, restriction, and refusal of male sexuality are clearly evident, revealing a perception of the danger associated with its autonomous and spontaneous exercise.

Gays: between monogamy and promiscuity
Comparing the practices of heterosexual and homosexual men and women, Fry and MacRae (1983) note that we commonly find reflections on the benefits and disadvantages of having a single partner ('steady relationship'/marriage) or diversifying, choosing 'sexual adventures'. Among homosexuals and heterosexuals we find defenders of 'open marriages', of 'free love', or of 'traditional marriage': "But how could it be otherwise when both homosexuals and heterosexuals belong to the same society, thereby sharing the same culture?" (Fry and MacRae, 1983: 113).
The authors argue, nonetheless, that in the large cities the opportunities available to men for having noncommittal sexual interactions with other men are near infinite, and are therefore more common than among lesbians or heterosexuals: "Someone once said that homosexuals are the only people who take sex seriously these days, since they function full time.
Indeed, among men who participate in the homosexual scene, it sometimes seems to be almost a point of honour to not let any opportunity for a sexual relationship slip away, and this is a constant theme of conversation. Some give the impression that, for them, all men are possible partners". (Fry and MacRae, 1983: 108) Similarly to Fry and MacRae, Heilborn (2004) states that it is in 'gay subculture' that we find the greatest propensity for multiple and anonymous relations, in contrast to heterosexual and lesbian conjugal partnerships which tend to be more fixed, intimate, and stable. As she notes, despite the fact that the HIV/AIDS epidemic of the end of the 20 th Century contributed to a sexual life that was seen to be less 'permissive', not many gays adopted the model of a monogamous family and a stable conjugal life. While there was thus a tendency toward conjugality, the general tone still favoured a multiplicity of sexual partners and a lower propensity for longlasting and monogamous partnerships.
Among the gay subjects of the research, monogamy is contemplated, first and foremost, in opposition to 'promiscuity'. Debates on polyamory and non-monogamous arrangements are hence less common than in other LGBT groups. While some of the rhetoric points to a greater propensity for gays to have multiple sexual partners, supporting the interpretation of the authors quoted above, there is some suggestion that the number of sexual partners has nothing to do with sexual orientation. An article published in the IG Portal 12 , and widely disseminated among the groups I researched, points to an unequal treatment of gays and heterosexuals: "A gay commenting that a 'hunk' on the beach is hot may be sufficient to label him as promiscuous. A straight man who says that a woman sunbathing is hot is just taken to be a run-of-the-mill comment".
The article was hotly debated for opposing the view that gays are 'promiscuous', as this post makes evident: As well as disagreement on a purported prevalence of 'promiscuity' among gays, these debates also revealed a tendency to see promiscuity as intrinsically negative, a less dignified condition than monogamy.
One post says that a multiplicity of sexual partners is an 'empty' and 'grotesque' reality which fails to distinguish men from animals: "we are just a piece of meat, where everyone can have a go". Another participant in the forum backs this view: "a relationship does indeed have to be monogamous […] we should respect the other and respect ourselves, not put ourselves on display like meat at a butcher's".
In recent years, the right to a monogamous marriage has spearheaded the political agenda of the LGBT movement. For Vale de Almeida (2006), the struggle for this right aims to extend citizenship to non-heterosexuals, and does not necessarily imply in a positive view of the institution of monogamous marriage since, even with legal rights assured, some of those who fought for it would choose not to get married. Although the extension of full citizenship is premised on the possibility of monogamous marriage, and not its obligatoriness, I nonetheless noticed in the groups that I researched a critical stance towards those who do no exert their sexuality within the bounds of a stable and monogamous relationship.
The link between homosexuality and promiscuity feeds the fear that it be construed as an impure and undignified sexual orientation, whereas severing this link promotes hope for respect, establishing thus a distinction between 'good' (monogamous) homosexual relations and 'bad' (promiscuous) ones. Through recourse to monogamy, the negativity associated with homosexuality is deflected to those who lack self-control and who therefore do not limit the exercise of their sexuality to monogamy. In this sense, Seidman (2011) asserts that there is a model of homosexuality that excludes, segregates and represses hedonism and promiscuity, transferring the stigma of same-sex sexual practices to sexual acts not anchored in love and monogamy.
This 'anti-promiscuity' stance gained ground in the 1980s-1990s with the HIV-AIDS epidemic, winding back the changes that came in the wake of the 'sexual revolution', endorsing marriage and feeding a general mistrust of non-monogamous relations (Frank Furstenberg Junior, 1994;Bob Simpson, 1994;Meika Loe, 1998).
The epidemic led the public to be more concerned with numbers of sexual partners (Joseph Catania et al., 1993;Gilbert Herdt et al., 1990) and with a pretence promiscuity among male homosexuals, which was seen to be a public health concern, subject to opinions in news outlets and object of scientific research (Cavalcanti, 1995;Heilborn, 2004;Facchini et al., 2013).
In this sense, Butler (2003: 239-240) claims that the recent turn toward gay marriage is a 'shamed' response to AIDS, condemning so-called promiscuity in order to project an image of health, normality, and the ability to constitute monogamous unions. For Miskolci (2007) the struggle for same-sex civil partnerships in Brazil led to a 'domestication' of the movement, which came to defend 'normalizing' and 'assimilationist' aims which emptied it of its potential to critique the social order. This fact resulted in cleavage between organized movements and a few dissonant voices that questioned whether the right to civil unions would be an actual achievement or a trap 13 .
The 'anti-promiscuity' view, endorsed by some of the subjects of my research, and challenged by these scholars, is also mocked in the groups I analysed. Two texts 14 which were debated in the groups I studied affirmed that the pro-monogamy rhetoric expressed a conservativism of the LGBT movement, incorporating the point of view of the oppressor and turning its back on historical victories for the protection of sexual liberties. Instead of fighting oppression, they would only reveal their own normality by way of monogamy, relegating to a second tier those whose sex life is considered excessive, such as those who attend gay saunas, take part in orgies, and polyamorists. Criticizing the 'assimilation' of the homosexual struggle by heterosexual society, these critics argue that it is not by 'cleansing' their relationships that the community will finally emancipate itself: "We don't need any politics of respect. YES we will have promiscuity! […] YOU WILL NOT ASSIMILATE US!".
Recent decades have seen the proliferation of theoretical approaches to the simultaneity and inseparability between structure and history, reproduction and change, conservation and transformation (see Bourdieu, 1994;Sahlins, 2008, among many others). Confronting understandings of the dichotomy between 'assimilation' and 'resistance' in forms of activism, Ellen Lewin (1998Lewin ( , 2002 claims that resistance favours accommodations and that conformity depends on subversion 15 . Even if, from a theoretical point of view, it may be possible to assume a non-dichotomous position, rejecting the idea that a desire for monogamous homosexual marriages must be interpreted in terms of either 'assimilation' or 'resistance', in the groups I studied these polarities remains actively expressed.
Among the subjects of my research these positions tend to be seen as antagonistic, generating disputes over precedence. Thus, the incorporation of the model of monogamous marriage by homosexuals often falls into one of two explanatory extremes: it is seen to be either a submission to heteronormativity, thereby conserving oppressions and exclusions; or an indispensable tool for reform and the acquisition of full rights, respect and dignity. It is therefore evident that, for some, the goal is to be accepted in the heterosexual world, to be a part of society, with the same dreams and aspirations of love, family, marriage, and property. It is important to fight for these rights and to resist the image of promiscuity. For others, this goal of acceptance is 'assimilationist', and being included in an oppressive and castrating social order is tantamount to perpetuating oppression and repression. It must thus be rejected.
When the implications of the political and moral promotion of monogamous marriage are contested, polyamory emerges as a possibility and an issue. However, as I have shown, there is a tendency for gays to erase this term and, as a consequence, to evade the very view that it is possible and desirable to love more than one person at the same time. Debates surrounding non-monogamy are thus more inclined to be framed as a desire for multiple sexual partners than for an amorous multiplicity. This is even the case where the term 'polyamory' is evident, such as the group 'gay polyamory' 16  Rejection, even dread, of promiscuity is materialized in the defence of both monogamy and polyamory, to the degree that love (whether for one person or more people) is seen to be a more noble sentiment, capable of purifying sex. However, polyamory reveals itself to be ambiguous, sometimes being defined in opposition to promiscuity and, yet, at other times, as referring strictly or primarily to sexual interactions. As a result, some of the members of 'gay polyamory' are critical of messages with erotic content, aiming to support the 'seriousness' of polyamory by dissociating it from promiscuity. In this way, polyamory is approximated to monogamy, validating its emphasis on love and conjugality while criticizing the importance accorded to eroticism and sexual pleasure.
Some of the subjects of the research lament this 'anti-promiscuity' crusade: "They want to sneak into polyamory the same square and restricting moralism present in traditional relationships"; "They make orgies out to be something disrespectful, criminalize relations that are based only on sex, as if there were something wrong in that"; "It's

easy to do that after a bunch of crazy fags put their necks on the line, sometimes dying fighting for us to have a modicum of freedom and then come on the internet and tell others what to do".
The most fundamental notion to emerge from debates on conjugality among gays is 'promiscuity', which takes on a diffuse, general, and pathologizing meaning, as casual, multiple sex, devoid of affective/subjective involvement. As an 'umbrella term' used to express a binary logic, promiscuity gathers the power to deny monogamy, which becomes its opposite. Among the consequences is that other categories which indicate alternative conjugalities, such as polyamory, open relationship, swinging, relações livres (free relations), and relationship anarchy, are rendered invisible.
The neglect of the contrasts between sexual-affective practices is evident in the propensity to leave them unnamed and unindividualized, so that they become subsumed under the air of totality that 'promiscuity' assumes. Although they are recognized, as I have shown for 'polyamory', there is a widespread suspicion that, in the end, they have the same meaning as 'promiscuity'. Both monogamy and that which escapes it are homogenized, blurring other possible borders, which lose their ability to multiply and differentiate sexual-affective arrangements. As the antagonism between promiscuity and monogamy hardens, it becomes increasingly more difficult to confer legitimacy to 'loveless' sex, or to think of love outside of the confines of an exclusive and dyadic relationship.

Bisexuals: invisibility and 'fetishization'
As Lewis (2012) stresses, bisexuality is widely assumed to be a transitional phase, or a lack of nerves in coming out as homosexual. The belief that a 'true' sexuality will at some point prevail is proof of an understanding of bisexuality as an indecision, a non-place, or as a flux toward one of the unquestionable and stable extremes of the 'homo'/'hetero' binary. In the groups that were part of my research, these representations are a source of discomfort, generating an effacement of bisexuality, since they consider that, in the final analysis, everyone is monosexual -that is, exclusively "hetero" or "homo".
The invisibility of bisexuality also leads to the view that true sexuality can only be revealed by the gender/ sex of one's partner. In contrast, the bisexuals who are part of this research define sexual orientation not through the sex/gender of the person they are involved with at a given moment, but by desires that are built up throughout their lives. Current relationships are hence not definitive of one's sexual orientation, so that a woman would not cease to be bisexual for being in a monogamous relationship with a man, nor would she be a lesbian if this relationship were with another woman.
When bisexuals strive to carve some visibility and recognition, so that their sexual orientation is not reduced to a phase or indecision, they are almost necessarily treated as being non-monogamous and/or promiscuous.
This characterization generates profound discomfort, since bisexuals are seen to be incapable of living with a single person. The allegation is that, as bisexuals are interested in people of both genders, when they are in a relationship they have to suppress their desire for the absent gender 17 .
Some studies do indeed suggest a correlation between bisexuality and non-monogamy, concluding that there is a tendency for bisexuals to adopt arrangements that do not demand sexual-affective exclusivity (Rust, 1996;Page, 2004;Sheff, 2005;Wosick-Correa, 2010). In contrast, in the groups I studied, this connection is frowned upon. It is alleged that having desires for more than one person is universal, and not a reality circumscribed to bisexuals. Therefore, the fact that some people do not limit their partners by gender does not make them more or less inclined to monogamy.
It is thereby argued that bisexuals can be monogamous like any monosexual person, so that they do not "it's a FACT and respect for the existence of others to admit that some bi people feel dissatisfied in monogamous relationships because they miss other gender/bodies" (man).
Unlike polyamorists, who identify an intersection between bisexuality and polyamory, placing value on the fact that both enable a widening of amorous possibilities (Pilão, 2012), in the groups researched this connection is seen as incidental and idiosyncratic and not as an inclination that all bisexual should share. The ensuing need to ratify the possibility of monogamy among bisexuals is sometimes thereby converted into a refusal of any association with non-monogamous relations, as if these would be capable of disqualifying bisexuality.
In other cases, the association is not seen to be intrinsically negative, although there is a recognition that it can reinforce the idea of an interdependence between the two. Faced with this possibility, most arguments are directed against a reduction of bisexuality to debates on non-monogamous relationships rather than on their outright rejection. The main point is that, in seeking to affirm the autonomy of bisexual identity, claiming the same legitimacy and visibility as homo/heterosexuality, bisexuals tend to condemn straightforward links between bisexuality and a type of conjugality.
When this aim is converted into a defence of monogamy, some messages tend to reveal disapproval: "we have to be concerned so that our final goal is not assimilated to the traditional values of society, contributing to a tidy bisexuality, while those who are confused, non-mono, those who want to be promiscuous, are tossed in the bin" (man);

"It's that idea that we have to look 'tidy'. Like, it's OK for you to be bi, but you have to be monogamous. […]" (woman).
In contradistinction to the gay movement, which is interpreted as being 'assimilated' by the monogamous norm, they defend an activism that moves away from the 'conservative standard': Although polyamory has more enthusiasts among the bisexual women I researched, there are also critiques of the non-monogamous scene, claiming that they are treated as objects for 'sexual consumption', 'fresh meat for the slaughter', and 'unicorns 21 '. The 'high value' that non-monogamists place on bisexual women is thus perceived as a 'fetishization' (Rust, 1996;Ritchie e Barker 2007;Bornia Junior, 2018)  There is thus a set of views on the dangers of non-monogamous relationships with men, which see the latter's desire for 'openness' as perhaps compromising the freedom and dignity of women. This view inevitably recalls a feminist position, which reached its peak in the 1980's, according to which, as Rubin (1984) observes, 'sexual freedom' emerges as a way of objectifying women and perpetuating male privilege.
On this matter, Gregori (2003: 101-102) claims that feminist anti-sex moralism, promoted by 'radical feminism', rejected heterosexual sex not only on the basis of desire, but as the consequence of a particularly deterministic interpretation of the power dynamics of heterosexual relationships. In light of this, practices as diverse as pornography, sadomasochism, prostitution, and sexual promiscuity are interpreted as manifestations of violence, and a danger to women.
It is possible to say that the critiques of non-monogamous relationships are focused mostly on the role played by heterosexual cis men, who are singled out as being responsible for the suffering of bisexual women 23 .
Thus the freedom promoted by polyamory may be considered illusory, dangerous and perverse, coercing women to act in accordance with male expectations. It is furthermore important to reiterate that the subjects of my research constantly face the dilemma of having to choose between criticism of the monogamous norm or the presupposition that they are polyamorous and, therefore, incapable of practicing monogamy.

Concluding remarks
As Foucault (1976) argues, the fact that monogamy became the structuring element of marriage, family and the expression of legitimate sexuality in the West between the 18 th and 19 th centuries strengthened its naturalization, so that it was no longer necessary to formulate it or even name it. The 'silent' or 'discrete' reality of monogamy operates much like Latour's (2000) 'black box', in that its context of elaboration is effaced so that it may emerge as an unquestionable truth.
Analysing how polyamory is received and interpreted in LGBT groups, I have sought to contribute to overcoming the erasure and invisibility of contemporary reflections on monogamy in studies of gender and sexuality. By opening the 'black box' of monogamy, our gaze is no longer restricted to behaviours considered 'aberrant' or 'deviant', including the hegemonic structure of conjugality, the 'natural' form that need not be explained or uttered, the only legal model of marriage in the West.
The polyamory debate, which intensified in Brazil during recent years with controversies concerning 'polyaffective' civil unions (Pilão, 2020), has laid the groundwork for monogamy to be more explicitly recognized, named, and examined, inviting agents to take a stand regarding a theme that was not previously an object of consideration. Although polyamorists understand monogamous and heterosexual norms to be complementary, I have shown divergences among lesbians, gays, and bisexuals.
My study has revealed that the central interest of gays lies in the struggle for the right to monogamous marriages. This has led to a depreciation of sexual promiscuity, which is seen as an obstacle to obtaining respect.
Against the tide of endorsing monogamy, we find a defence of 'sexual liberty' and of so-called 'promiscuity', with the matter of amorous multiplicity rarely emerging at all.
In lesbian groups we encounter an emphasis on dialogue, honesty, and care between partners, along with a desire to break with what they perceive as a (male) logic that privileges freedom over affective responsibility.
Here polyamory can be as legitimate as monogamy, so long as relationships with bisexual women are avoided, because the latter are seen to be subordinate to interests of men, accomplices to male domination.
Among bisexuals, the reduction of bisexuality to non-monogamy is seen as a barrier to a process of claiming a specific identity. The need to show that sexual orientation is independent of any conjugal arrangement results in two attitudes: one considers that monogamy and polyamory are equally possible for bisexuals; another, seeking to prove that bisexuals can also be monogamous, criticizes any link between polyamory and bisexuality.
A shared theme among lesbians, gays and bisexuals is the need to deal with accusations of being incapable of love and of building solid unions. Thus, bonds between women are seen to be less relevant, relations between men are seen to be purely sexual, and bisexual people are considered to be unable to commit to a single partner.
In an effort to resist the delegitimization of their amorous experiences, to refuse the image of an inaptitude for profound and stable relationships, lesbians, gays, and bisexuals often distance themselves from polyamory in order to avoid a 'double' stigma.
In this way, the polyamorist agenda's struggle for sexual-affective multiplicity and the deconstruction of monogamous marriage can be seen to be a mostly heterosexual concern -one, that is, created by those who have always had the privilege of monogamous marriage. As Bornia Junior (2018) recognizes, for non-heterosexual people these issues are less relevant in the organization of identity. This may explain the smaller number of lesbians and gays in non-monogamous groups when compared to heterosexual men and bisexual women (Pilão, 2012;Silvério, 2018). There thus seems to be a distance and a lack of compass between non-heterosexuals and the non-monogamous scene, either because non-heterosexuals prefer to emphasise their capacity to be monogamous, or because they do not feel welcome in non-monogamous circles (Bornia Junior, 2018).
Although the political discourse of non-monogamous activism in Brazil is critical of heteronormativity (Barbosa, 2011;Pilão, 2015;Silvério, 2018;Bornia Junior, 2018), there is a perception that their groups are dominated by heterosexual men. As the questioning of male sexuality is a constant theme of LGBT groups, it is difficult to see polyamory as safe and non-oppressive, particularly for women. Fear of masculinity and its refusal (particularly cis in opposition to trans), is expressed by lesbians in their rejection of relationships with bisexual women, since the latter maintain relationships with men. Among bisexuals, this refusal is evident for those who allow open relationships with women, but not with men.
It is even present among gays who affirm that men are promiscuous and incapable of love. All these views share an image of cis men as obstacles to the construction of long-lasting, profound, and responsible affective relationships. Practicing activism and being in a relationship with them thus poses a huge challenge.
Finally, I stress that even if polyamory and other forms of non-monogamy have influenced LGBT groups, raising questions about what type of relationships can be adopted, influence seems to flow more in the opposite direction. Thus, the greater visibility polyamory acquired in recent years has repercussions in multiplying formulations and evaluations coming from LGBT groups. This fed back into the non-monogamous movement, leading to self-reflections on the perpetuations of sexual and gender oppressions.