I often get comments and DMs from people who feel overwhelmed by decolonization and do not know where to start. And I always say: start small. It is unrealistic to believe you have to undo generations of conditioning overnight while still surviving in the middle of empire. Your ancestors, your family, your body, and your society were forcibly shaped over time. So of course unlearning will also take time. Decolonization is not a one-time achievement. It is a constant practice. It is the slow adjustment of your mind, your relationships, your habits, your desires, and your life. Think of it literally like exercise. Calisthenics means small, repeatable practices that build your capacity over time. You do not build strength by walking into a gym once and trying to lift the heaviest weight in the room. You start where you are. You build the muscle. That is what I mean by decolonizing calisthenics. Maybe, for now, the practice is simply sitting with the discomfort of the subject without running away from it. Once you build capacity for that, maybe it becomes questioning one inherited belief. Then maybe it becomes changing one habit, one relationship pattern, one way you relate to land, family, time, love, or community. You add as you go. You do what you can manage. You move in ways that feel honest, grounded, and possible. Because ultimately, this is not about performing purity. It is about coming back to your soul.
Decolonization & History
Monogamy as we know it has a history, and much of it is colonial. This is the thinking the whole project is named for: how compulsory monogamy, the nuclear family, and marriage got exported and enforced, and which relationship structures existed long before and alongside them. A few captions are short provocations. Others walk the history step by step.
I love talking about monogamy as a social construct, because of how deeply it’s been internalized by folks as a norm while its history is often erased. Anthropological research shows that strict, lifelong monogamy has not been the dominant human arrangement across societies; many Indigenous and pre-colonial cultures practiced a range of relationship systems, including polygyny, fluid partnerships, and kinship networks not centered on nuclear families. Even Engels, in The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State, argues that monogamy emerged alongside private property and inheritance systems rather than as a natural human default. The very word “family” comes from the Latin familia, meant the slaves of a man. And colonization to the Latin word for farmer. This ties to the agricultural revolution which marked a turning point where land ownership, surplus, and inheritance became central, reinforcing patriarchy and control over women’s reproductive capacity. Scholars widely link this period to the consolidation of male dominance and more rigid family structures. European colonialism exported these hierarchical systems globally, often suppressing diverse Indigenous kinship models in favor of patriarchal, monogamous norms. These structures later aligned with capitalist systems that depend on unpaid reproductive labor and gendered divisions of work. A society organized primarily around care, reciprocity, and collective well-being would challenge these foundations, which is why these relationship norms are so tightly defended and reproduced. If you’re ready to go deeper, we offer: 📝 Relationship agreements for dyads, and polycules 📚 Substack essays for deeper dives into polyamory, decolonization, politics and relational ethics
Bei nicht-monogamen Beziehungsmodellen scheiden sich die Geister. Die einen sehen darin Freiheit, die anderen pure Bindungsangst. Eine Frage, die dabei kaum gestellt wird: Warum lieben wir eigentlich so, wie wir lieben? Warum gilt Monogamie als Standard, den man verteidigen oder verlassen kann, aber nie als Konstrukt mit eigener Geschichte? Und was hat die eigene Präferenz bei der Partner*innenwahl mit Rassismus zu tun? Millie Boella und Nick Piperno von @decolonizinglove stellen genau diese Fragen. Im Interview sprechen die beiden Beziehungscoaches darüber, wie tief koloniale Narrative in unser Liebesleben eingeschrieben sind, welche Verbindung es zwischen Polyamorie und Queerness gibt und warum Nicht-Monogamie unbedingt auch im Zusammenhang mit kritischer Männlichkeit gedacht werden muss. 🔗 Das vollständige Interview findest du jetzt im Magazin über den Link in unserem Profil. [🖼️: Bildbeschreibung im Alternativtext]
Monogamy and colonialism go hand in hand because both are built on the belief that people can be owned. Land. Bodies. Labour. Love. Colonialism taught people that possessiveness is devotion. That control is safety. And monogamy, as a social system, took that same scarcity logic and dragged it into intimacy. Now even love is treated like private property. This is why polyamory feels like an attack to some. It asks the ultimate question: If love were truly free, would it still choose you? Would someone still come home if they were free?
Colonialism distorted our relational practices by imposing compulsory monogamy, fragmenting communities, enforcing amatonormativity, promoting the nuclear family, instilling hierarchical thinking, fostering a scarcity mindset, and encouraging transactional relationships, all of which have resulted in significant suffering. Yet, there’s little awareness that these relationship paradigms are not natural or inevitable; they are colonial constructs that can be reimagined and improved to create more fulfilling lives. Decolonizing your relationship will be uncomfortable at times and will truly test your commitment to your stated values. It’s important to have strong boundaries so that you don’t let others push you to go against those values. There’s a lot to unlearn, and it won’t be just an intellectual process. Your nervous system has been conditioned to fear vulnerability, minorities, and to take pleasure in domination, so you’ll need to unlearn a lot on a somatic level. However, decolonizing your inner being is worth it for more fulfilling relationships that are authentic and aligned with your values. Good luck on your beautiful journey. Next Event 📆 The Art of Being a Hinge Workshop - April 24 5:00pm PST / 8:00pm EDT / April 25 5:30am IST / 9:00am JST / 10:00am AEST / 2:00pm NZST
I first encountered puritan leftism in my early twenties, in the early 2000s, while organizing with social justice groups at university. I was part of a Black advocacy group when a Ghanaian friend and I were pulled aside by some Caribbean students and questioned why we identified with our specific African tribes before identifying as Black. It struck both of us as deeply odd. Our answer was straightforward: our tribes existed long before the colonial imposition of race as a category. Our primary lens would therefore remain African, not the Western racial one imposed from outside. They were not pleased with that response. Since then, I’ve watched puritan leftism grow increasingly rigid, absurd, and aggressive. Identity politics has largely displaced any serious focus on class issues. This dynamic is enforced by people across racial and class backgrounds. People absolutely use it to oppress racialized people but radical Black voices seem to be policed the most aggressively. I remember bell hooks being booed at my university about a decade ago. More recently, I’ve seen a few times adrienne maree brown repeatedly dismissed in comment sections as “problematic.” When thinkers of their depth and contribution can be casually dismissed as insufficiently pure, it raises the question: who, exactly, is pure enough to meet these ever-shifting standards?
Polyamory is revolutionary because it breaks the chains of scarcity, ownership, and conformity that the system has forced onto us. Capitalism, patriarchy, and white supremacy all depend on teaching us that love is limited, that commitment only counts if it is exclusive, and that partners can be treated like property. That’s why governments in the West only recognize monogamy, because they know controlling love is a way to control people. To practice polyamory is to reject that lie. It’s to say love is abundant, autonomy is non-negotiable, and interdependence is strength. It is to look jealousy and fear in the face and answer with communication, courage, and truth. Polyamory tears down the “relationship escalator” and the myth that adulthood means following a script: date, marry, reproduce, consume, die. It challenges the nuclear family model that isolates us and keeps us exploitable, and instead builds networks of care, solidarity, and resistance. It honors Indigenous and pre-colonial traditions that colonizers tried to erase, and it makes space for queer, trans, and non-normative lives to thrive. Polyamory demands that we love with intention, that we fight against possession and domination, and that we build communities where freedom is not just personal, but collective. To love differently is to resist oppression. To organize love beyond their rules is to organize power. Next Events: 📆 The Art of Being a Hinge Workshop - April 19 (SOLD OUT) 📆 The Art of Being a Hinge Workshop - April 24 5:00pm PST / 8:00pm EDT / April 25 5:30am IST / 9:00am JST / 10:00am AEST / 2:00pm NZST
The call for decolonization should not mean rejecting all aspects of modernity in favor of a complete return to past ways of life. That's neither realistic nor entirely desirable. Some products of modern civilization, like the internet, have undeniably connected us in valuable ways. Rather, decolonization means dismantling oppressive colonial systems and incorporating practices that promote harmony and sustainability. Colonial capitalism, with its thirst for wealth, power and individual gains above all else, has caused tremendous social and ecological damage. Built on greed and isolation, it has fed unsustainable consumption and exacerbated inequality. Decolonization challenges and seeks to replace these harmful structures. It encourages a return to the proven ways of sustainable community and governance that characterized Indigenous societies - ways that balanced human needs with nature's limits. This does not mean abandoning technology, but harnessing it to complement principles of harmony and sustainability. The key is adopting an economic model centered on holistic wellbeing rather than unlimited growth. Next Events: 📆 The Art of Being a Hinge Workshop - April 19 (SOLD OUT) 📆 The Art of Being a Hinge Workshop - April 24 5:00pm PST / 8:00pm EDT / April 25 5:30am IST / 9:00am JST / 10:00am AEST / 2:00pm NZST
The Kikuyu people of Kenya were colonized by the British from 1895 to 1963—a period spanning 68 years. My mother was born at the tail end of colonial rule, and I was fortunate enough to have some conversations with my grandparents about Kikuyu customs before colonization. Thankfully, about a quarter of Kenyans today still maintain elements of indigenous ways of life. Even in 2025, our culture continues to carry the weight of colonial legacies, alongside the ongoing impacts of neo-colonialism. My decolonizing journey has been deeply rooted in trying to understand our past—how we lived, how our ways were altered, and why those changes were imposed. I’m constantly learning new things about our traditions, and I feel grateful to be able to ask my mum—who grew up in rural Kenya, where Kikuyu culture is still deeply held—about our indigenous approaches to relationships and community. This particular conversation was sparked when she mentioned that, during polygamous times, people didn’t experience jealousy over a spouse being with others. That insight opened up a whole reflection on what we’ve lost, what we’ve internalized, and what we might still reclaim. Next Events: 📆 The Art of Being a Hinge Workshop - April 19 (SOLD OUT) 📆 The Art of Being a Hinge Workshop - April 24 5:00pm PST / 8:00pm EDT / April 25 5:30am IST / 9:00am JST / 10:00am AEST / 2:00pm NZST
Some people realize their non-monogamy identity early. I’m one of the lucky ones. Not internalizing compulsory monogamy means I’ve grown up always critical of it. I share my life-long observations to help others also decolonize from compulsory monogamy culture. Christianity first forced Europeans into Compulsory Monogamy, and then it was imposed on the rest of the world through colonization, creating a lot of dissatisfaction and issues in people’s dating lives because monogamy is not aligned with our natural disposition. Check out the book Sex at Dawn for more on that. Compulsory monogamy overlooks the diversity of human relationships and desires. However, over the past few years, there has been a notable shift, especially among younger generations, towards exploring alternative relationship styles, including non-monogamy. In the end our natural disposition will always win. Next Events: 📆 The Art of Being a Hinge Workshop - April 19 (SOLD OUT) 📆 The Art of Being a Hinge Workshop - April 24 5:00pm PST / 8:00pm EDT / April 25 5:30am IST / 9:00am JST / 10:00am AEST / 2:00pm NZST
This is my dad and my grandfather and why I am the way I am: political, free, and unafraid. My Italian grandfather came to East Africa as a colonizer. He was arrested during WWII, but something shifted. He began to see how deeply he had been propagandized. He switched sides entirely, using his white privilege to smuggle weapons to one of the world's first guerrilla fighters against colonialism: Kenya's Mau Mau. His family disowned him for it, and again when he married an African woman. He wore both as badges of honor. He raised my father with that legacy, teaching him to stay vigilant and never sleepwalk into blind loyalty. My dad absorbed every lesson. He spent his entire life in service of liberation movements around the world, with his deepest commitment to the Palestinian cause. Even as a teenager he had posters of Yasser Arafat on his wall. He worked as a peacekeeper and diplomat alongside Palestinians. We lived in Israel, the West Bank, and the Golan Heights. He served in Iraq, Cambodia where he helped facilitate their first democratic elections and repatriate refugees from Thailand, Somalia, Rwanda during the genocide, and Bosnia. But he always came back to Palestine. Which is why he commissioned this portrait of himself in the keffiyeh. He made sure we didn't grow up as oblivious diplomat children. He took us to demilitarized zones, bombed-out buildings, and divided farms. My first coffee was with a Palestinian family he was helping reconnect with relatives across the border in Lebanon. I learned what colonialism actually looks like, not as an abstraction, but as land split apart and families separated. My favorite memories are sitting in rooms full of peacekeepers and diplomats, listening to them talk late into the night. That was my real education, watching people wrestle with history as it unfolded. That is where I learned what solidarity means, and what it looks like to choose the right side even when it costs you everything.
I love and adore Dune. Denis Villeneuve is a genius, and we’re proud he’s a Quebecer. He directed the adaptation beautifully. But Dune was written by Frank Herbert, and it’s still important to look critically at the layers of the story, because it carries a number of orientalist and imperial tropes alongside its brilliance. Herbert, George R. R. Martin, and James Cameron all work with related narrative structures. Herbert and Martin draw heavily on feudal systems built around great houses, dynastic succession, and territorial control, then layer those structures with ethnicized imperial conflict and frontier imaginaries. Their worlds feel complex and politically textured, but they are still grounded in hierarchies that echo European aristocratic power and expansionist logic. Across all three, there is also a recurring white-savior pattern: the central figure enters an Indigenous or racialized society, gains legitimacy within it, and ultimately becomes the vehicle through which that society’s future is decided. The “other” becomes the terrain through which the hero proves destiny, leadership, and moral authority. These stories remain compelling and influential, but they also reflect a long tradition of imperial storytelling. Video by @_elnorterecuerda
I’ve been active in social justice spaces for over two decades, and one pattern I keep seeing is how often people conflate terms and then weaponize them in ways that start to resemble the very dynamics they say they’re resisting. The urge to dominate others in the name of liberation and social justice has always been strange to me, though I recognize that’s partly because I was raised by parents who encouraged my voice and supported me in being as different as I wanted to be. When I try to understand why some people become controlling or domineering in movements for justice, even though that seems counterintuitive, I often see that these approaches were normalized for them early on. Research after the World War II found that collaborators were more likely to come from authoritarian family environments, while many people involved in resistance movements came from more liberal ones. If you weren’t raised with experiences of freedom, curiosity, and plurality, it can be hard to practice them, even when those are the values you want for the world. That’s why learning consent, respect for difference, and how to avoid harassment matters so much. Conflict resolution is a skillset, and like any skillset, it has to be learned and practiced. I made this list because I was noticing a lot of terms being blurred together in ways that weren’t helping anyone. My goal was to bring some clarity so that we can disagree more thoughtfully and build spaces where people can engage each other in healthier ways.
Debating the ethics of hierarchy with us is no easy feat. Most people don’t realize the word “hierarchy” was a linguistic ghost before the 16th century. Its explosion into the modern psyche was a deliberate act of intellectual alchemy, largely via Louis Dumont, that reframed raw domination as natural order. What you defend as “common sense” is colonial ideology wearing its latest mask. I didn’t arrive here through a hot take. This framework is the result of years of rigorous, interdisciplinary labor traced through evolutionary anthropology, cognitive science, and the history of egalitarian societies that thrived long before empire. I have taught this across the world, made over 50 videos on it, and sat with every serious challenge to it. We have heard it all and dismantled it all. The receipts are in the highlights; do the homework before you step into the ring. Most people who want to challenge us have swallowed Dumont’s framing without ever knowing his name. It isn’t your fault, colonial cognitivity is engineered to make hierarchy feel like nature. You’ve been taught that scale demands it, that social dominance in animals makes it our human default too. Untrue. Humans evolved as profoundly cooperative, egalitarian beings. Institutional hierarchy is a capacity we developed only 10,000 years ago, not a default we were born into. I genuinely lead with kindness and good faith. But I will be honest: you are not going to out-argue us on this one. Not because debate is about winning, but because we have gone further and deeper into this material than most are willing to travel. The barrier isn’t intelligence, it’s often integrity. The closer you are to the privileges that hierarchies like whiteness, nationality and class afford you, the less likely you are to challenge the pyramid. I’m always ready for the conversation. The question is whether you’re ready to face the mirror.
Unpacking and understanding hierarchy is crucial because most of us currently live inside complex hierarchical systems. We live in societies where institutions like the police and military hold a monopoly on violence and can compel compliance through law. We live under forms of governance where people can dictate what we are allowed to do. We live in colonial cultures structured around domination and power. And we still live within racial and gender hierarchies where white, straight men are granted unequal authority. Hierarchical thinking doesn’t just shape institutions. It shapes our brains. This society trains people into domination-based thinking, competition, and scarcity mindsets. Egalitarianism is more complex, but it is well worth the effort. We are constantly told it cannot work at scale. It is true that large-scale hierarchies expanded historically alongside food surplus, population growth, and the emergence of leaders and militaries. But those systems also became deeply corrupt. Today we live with an Epstein-level billionaire class as a result. Egalitarian systems *can* function at scale. Zoroastrian communities, pirate societies, Teotihuacan, and the Zapatistas all demonstrate that alternative models are possible. And this isn’t only about states or governments. We can practice egalitarianism in our workplaces, in our communities, and in our intimate relationships by treating lovers with dignity rather than reproducing domination dynamics. Humans are one of the few species with the flexibility to organize ourselves either hierarchically or egalitarianly. For most of human history we organized in egaliatrian bands. Only as of 10 000 years ago did we begin to organize in complex hierarchies. But it a choice we can take back. Hierarchy does not serve us well. We can move closer to what fits our nature better: egalitarian ways of living together.
Or… how to be naughty… and fight fascism. About 10 years ago I started posting on here doing what I would call #knowledgetraps— they were more seductive photos of myself with a caption filled with the history of redlining, or King Leopold in the Congo Free State. Anyways I knew how to get attention but I wanted people to care about things that actually mattered. So 10 years in I realized I can still apply that same concept with things like anarchist calisthenics which always sounds a bit heady at first. For those of you who don’t know— “Anarchist calisthenics” is a concept coined by anthropologist James C. Scott in his 2012 book Two Cheers for Anarchism. It refers to small, daily acts of, often, breaking trivial laws or challenging petty authority to keep one’s “resistance muscles” fit and ready for significant, necessary acts of defiance. It is a form of mental and behavioral exercise aimed at fostering autonomy and challenging unnecessary conformity. So these are some beginner ways to practice. Of course it gets easier over time because I’ve been practicing for a few years and now I’m posting this— so it takes time to build but it’s like a muscle you can use more and more as you practice small acts of resistance. Plus, I’m gonna be old and wrinkly one day— so it’s nice to capture and share photos of me over the past few years while I still have a little bit of this essence left. Anyways, happy scrolling and happy resisting.
The more I follow the news, the more I find myself drawn to the same conclusion: we need to return to a matriarchy, one where elder women steward rather than rule. A matriarchy isn't reverse patriarchy. It's not about seizing power; it's about organizing society around care and wisdom. There's a difference between leading from strength and leading from ego, and I think that difference is exactly what's been missing.
Baloji, a Congolese rapper, has a line where he says he is going to become so big that he'll ensure the world knows who Patrice Lumumba is. That through his fame, a door would swing open to a man the world was deliberately taught to forget. That lyric is a mission statement. It understands something profound: that visibility is a form of justice, and that Black and African icons have been systematically erased. And there is an entire constellation of names that deserve that same moment of discovery. Winnie was more iconic for me growing up than Nelson. I want the world to know them not as footnotes or February features, but as the permanent, luminous fixtures they are. I want their names in the mouths of people who look nothing like them, because that is what it means to belong to human history rather than just to one corner of it. And that is exactly what made doing this trending challenge with Nick so meaningful. My work is not about exclusion but an invitation. Knowledge has to start: at home, with the people closest to us. So how many of these folks did you know? 💖 Use our Relationship Agreement Generator to set boundaries and agreements for your polycule! Also in bio.
How we form relationships is central to power. That’s why systems built on domination, like capitalism, colonialism, and white supremacy, so heavily favor monogamy, the nuclear family, and social isolation. Monogamy as a dominant social structure is relatively recent, yet most people never stop to ask whether it’s actually authentic for them. They inherit the script and follow it, and often direct hostility toward those who don’t. The more people are invested in structures that don’t nourish them, and that instead feed insecurity, scarcity, and hierarchy, the less capacity they have to organize, resist, or imagine new worlds. Relational inauthenticity is not accidental. It’s a feature, not a flaw. When people are disconnected, fearful, jealous, and alienated from one another, they’re easier to control. That’s why loving in free, abundant, and authentic ways is revolutionary. That’s why building real community, grounded in trust and care, is a threat to empire. Looking for polyamory support? Book a 1:1 coaching session today, let’s build the skills to support you and your partners with confidence. Use our Relationship Agreement Generator to set boundaries and agreements for your polycule. Links in bio.
This post was inspired by watching three racialized progressive women be slandered in my feed this week: Amanda Seales (who I think is brilliant), Stacey Patton being labeled “transphobic” as she releases a book on America’s history of lynching Black children, and a socialist federal candidate in Canada’s by-election being casually called “ableist” with little beyond assumption. I’ve experienced this too. As one of the few Black African educators bringing explicit decolonial politics into polyamory spaces at this scale, I know that when you occupy those intersections unapologetically, you become a target. What was most disorienting was watching the language of accountability and “calling in” used in ways that had nothing to do with transformative justice. Language meant for repair was being weaponized. When Black women and other radical women start connecting dots that threaten colonial and patriarchal structures, slander often follows. People dig up past statements, strip them of context, and redeploy them to bury the person in order to bury the work. Trigger words that mobilize the left: elitist, condescending, transphobic, Zionist, ableist etc carry real weight, which is why they’re effective when used strategically. Naming real harm matters. Weaponizing those labels to mobilize harassment does not. I’ve had people privately try to recruit me into campaigns to cancel other Black women creators. My response is always the same: absolutely not. We can do better.