What my lesbian relationship taught me about interdependence

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8 hours ago

My girlfriend and I have a night routine that starts promptly at 8:30.
After I make dinner and we trade stories about our day, we set up camp on the couch to continue watching the latest scandal in Desperate Housewives or Vanderpump Rules. We each have our jobs when it's time to finally migrate to bed. She does the dishes, and I pack our lunches for the next day. She sets up our toothbrushes, and I turn off the lights. We go to bed each setting two alarms: one for ourselves, one for the other.
These may be small acts, but to me, they are everything.
Being in this partnership has given me both freedom and trust in ways I didn't know were possible. Before, the idea of being in a relationship meant working hard at every corner to preserve your sense of self. Now, the forging together of our lives has brought me true peace and joy. Our relationship has brought me distinctly recognizable fulfillment in both the giving and receiving of care that feels intrinsically connected to my lesbianism.
So, where does this myth of independence originate?
You know, the one that says our freedom is at stake if we can't be completely self-reliant. Or the one that says our identity is less than if we need something. In reality, there isn't a single person who doesn't rely on someone. Whether it's the train you take to work, the doctor you see when you're sick, the friend you call when you're sad: we need each other. We've been conditioned to believe that we can navigate life independently. But we can't. Suppose we can agree that codependency, especially in relationships, can be a symptom of heteronormativity and patriarchy. In that case, hyper-independence might seem like the natural challenger, but let me raise another point: the joy of interdependence.
Interdependence doesn't have tunnel vision; there is not just "me" or "you," there is us together, us by ourselves, us for ourselves, and everything in between.
Interdependence reveals that individuality and connection are two sides of the same coin. It focuses on how each person in a relationship can feel seen for who they are outside of the relationship, while also showing up for the other person. Recognizing the importance of interdependence in my relationship has alleviated any fears that mutual reliance would stifle my autonomous sense of security.
Although lesbian relationships have often become synonymous with uhauling and quickly paced life stages, lesbian relationships, and many queer relationships in general, have grown together in the fulfillment of interdependence. My relationship with my girlfriend has shown me how self-determination and dependability flourish together when they are nurtured in queer relationships. As much as I care for my needs, I care for their needs and our mutual needs, and they do the same. The love we have for each other and for ourselves is abundant.
This is evident, too, in queer relationships beyond just romantic ones. For queer people around the world, interdependence isn't a choice but an act of survival deeply ingrained in our identity. It's a chance to rest your head on the shoulder of someone you love and know they will hold you, and know you will one day return the favor. Interdependence tells us we can't do it alone. Interdependence has many faces, but it becomes blindingly apparent in the consciousness of community care for other queer people.
I ask myself, then, why do queer relationships have such a strong natural proximity to interdependence? If I've noticed anything, this lifestyle is noteworthy to straight people, all the while it appears intuitively and rhythmically in my relationship. What I've learned is that to be queer (socially, politically, romantically) is to nurture the collective. It's both innate and actively conscious to care for yourself, your partner, and your community. Yes, in part, there is a sense of obligation, but along with it comes a sense of purpose and triumph.
I don't just see interdependence in the mutual reliability of my relationship with my girlfriend; I also see it in the way we support each other. I see it around me everywhere; in other queer relationships, with my sister, with my best friend. I hear it in the thud of my dresser as my best friend and I help each other move into a new Brooklyn apartment on an early fall night. And I smell it in the cup of tea I pour for my girlfriend after she's had a long day. We do the work because we want to, and we want to because we care. We show up for each other because our love is an endless resource.
Interdependence creates systems of care and security in the face of hardship and isolation. However, beyond just necessity, interdependence is an entry point to true partnership and intimacy. It's an undiluted act of vulnerability to put trust in someone else, to know they see you, and to trust that they will be there. Reciprocity brings true joy and fulfillment to the queer community, which is something we need now more than ever, as we are stronger and more resilient together.This article originally appeared on Pride: What my lesbian relationship taught me about interdependence