How do I talk about grieving my girlfriend when not everyone knows I'm poly?

Dear s.e.,

Last year my girlfriend suddenly died. We were polyamorous. I don’t know how to explain to non queer and/or non poly people the enormity of this loss. She was not my primary partner and I was not hers but I am still devastated and was more impacted by this grief than any other in my lifetime thus far.

What do I call her besides my girlfriend who died to people who didn’t know her? How do I refer to my (former??) polycule? Are her other partners my ex-metamours removed via her death? I don’t refer to myself as a widow because we weren’t married or cohabitating and she had very long term partners where calling themselves a widow makes more sense. There isn’t language that works here and it’s been very hard. I had to tell my work that my girlfriend died and I needed bereavement but then it sounded like my primary partner died who did not.

I had to out myself not only as queer but also as poly to my conservative boss at the worst time in my life. Most of my family still doesn’t know I went through this loss because I’m not out as poly to them. I mentioned it in passing to my doctor who added to my chart that my wife died. If I can’t get the language around this figured out I don’t know how others could, but it’s still been a terrible time with my grief amplified by having to explain to how polyamory works to people who think it means swinging.

I miss my girlfriend so much and I want to be able to talk about her in a way that honors what our relationship was. Sorry this question isn’t about a pet but for the record she loved cats very much. I am a dog person.

— Bereft and Adrift

Hey there Bereft,

I am so sorry for your loss and it's terrible that you have to navigate our limited social understanding of love, relationships, and family as you're grieving. This is not a great moment to feel so vulnerable and to be forced into disclosures you wanted to make in your own time, on your own terms, if ever. It's difficult enough to be expected to educate people about polyamory when talking about our relationships in our daily lives.

This is a form of disenfranchised grief: You feel like you can't talk about it, or have to put constraints on yourself when you do talk about it. Disenfranchised grief can be very isolating and it amplifies the sense of loss; you're grieving a person, and also running up against the limitations of your other relationships and community at a time when these things are essential for your wellbeing.

I hope you have supportive people in your life—friends, but also your polycule (which definitely doesn't end with a death) and metamours (who are still shared loves of a person you all loved, even if she is dead). You clearly had an excellent person in common and you shouldn't lose a network of connections to death, especially if they're part of your life in other ways, including through other partners or your community more broadly.

I wish I could unlock a secret "here is the language to use!" door, but alas, I also haven't found the key to that door, and not for lack of trying.

You may be in a situation where the best language to use is situationally-dependent and imperfect, which you are already acutely aware of, and I hate this weaselly answer but I'm also not going to sugarcoat. Obviously in queer, poly-friendly circles, especially those where people know both of you, it's easier to express that you had a deep relationship with one another that you both valued intensely and to talk about the larger constellation of people in your orbit, aka the polycule. In this case it might help to be careful about language like "primary partner" because outsiders, sometimes even other poly people, may use it in a dismissive or devaluing way. She was your partner, and people should understand that this loss isn't lesser because you didn't live together or because she had different kinds of relationships with her other partners.

It's also important to avoid comparing yourself to her other partners. I hope you are in community with each other so you can honor her, and also discuss how to talk about her without making anyone feel slighted or misrepresented. If you're worried about hurting their feelings or "making it all about you," the best way to address that fear is simply to talk to them about it and make it clear you want everyone to feel acknowledged and respected as you carry this together. If you're not close or you're experiencing tensions around this, maybe you can reach out to someone else in your polycule or community to help.

In those social interactions where you really don't want to have to simultaneously navigate ignorance, possible queerphobia, and other unpleasant things, you may regrettably have to resort to a less than ideal "someone very close and important to me died, and I am still deeply grieving her" or "a person I was in a very intimate relationship with died suddenly." You don't have to refer to her as a "friend" or grit your teeth when someone makes that assumption: You can stress that this was an intimate, loving, complex relationship with someone who played a huge role in your life, and talk about what she meant to you, without explicitly calling her your girlfriend, even though I know that doesn't feel quite right. You can also explain that your connection with her also involved a deep connection with a larger group of people who are also mourning her, some of whom also had similarly intimate relationships with her.

With people who know you and didn't know her who might press on with questions, you can talk about how she's from a different part of your life, you're sorry they never got a chance to meet, and you look forward to telling them more about her. We all have diverse social networks and it's not uncommon for two people you're very connected with to not know each other; heck, two of the people in my will don't know each other, and that document is a pretty formal way of saying I really care about someone!

But another option is to take control of this horrible moment and use it as an opening to be more public about who you are and the people you love, although I know that can be really scary. Some people definitely are going to be shitty about this in this monogamy- and heterosexuality-focused culture where everyone has default assumptions about what a relationship should look like. This may not feel like something you want to take on right now, but it's important to know you don't have to be alone here either: You have friends and it sounds like possibly some family who already know, and they can back you up, whether it's clarifying or correcting when people are talking about you, or being with you for some of these conversations.

You can say (or email, if this is not a conversation you want to have in person) something like: "I haven't talked about this yet because I'm still processing it, but I wanted you to know that I'm grieving my girlfriend, who died suddenly last year. I had been hesitant to discuss it because I haven't talked with you about the fact that I'm polyamorous, which means I have consensual romantic relationships with several people, some of whom also have partners of their own. Many of these relationships are long-term, and they aren't swinging or cheating. I would love to tell you more about her, but if you have questions about polyamory, I recommend you check out (some resources)."

Being more open allows you to honor yourself and your current relationships in addition to her memory. You're still the same person, but showing up as your whole self, which could also enrich your non-romantic relationships. Those people (we hope) like you and care about you and should be excited to meet people you love and understand their relationship to you. It may also make your life simpler when everyone knows. People who do know don't have to wonder whether it's safe to talk about your relationships in mixed company.

Being queer and poly is a endless repeat of explaining ourselves. It's very grinding to have to define or lives and relationships constantly, but sometimes I am surprised (in a good way) by how people react. Yes, some people can be ugly, especially initially, but many more are neutral, a little curious, or even supportive. Those who do react badly are telling on themselves, although sometimes, after a cooling off period where they get to do some self-examination, they do come around.

In the long term, the benefits of being out, for me, outweigh the frustrations, tensions, and fears of having to conceal huge parts of myself that I know you are struggling with. BUT, you don't have to do this right now if you don't want to, and you also don't have to do it all at once. And it's essential to do it in community: One advantage of being poly is that you may have a larger network of intimate partners to support you.

Tell yourself (and your dog, because dogs can be such a support and anchor in difficult times) I said...

Sometimes honoring others starts with honoring ourselves