Rethinking Love: A Fresh Perspective on Heterosexual Relationships
For many straight women, there can be a temptation to view their sexuality as a burden. While it’s a common narrative to criticize the shortcomings of men, it often deflects from the uncomfortable truth that we may also exhibit selfishness and cruelty in our romantic interactions. In a 2019 piece for New Inquiry, Asa Seresin coined the term “heteropessimism,” which captures the mindset some straight women adopt. Seresin argues that this perspective is ultimately unproductive, as it allows women to evade the responsibility of fostering equitable relationships. If we dismiss men as irredeemable and romantic love as a source of inevitable disappointment, we forego the opportunity to engage in the challenging work required to enhance our connections.
A Hopeful Perspective in Love in Exile
Shon Faye’s memoir, Love in Exile, offers a refreshing departure from heteropessimism, aiming instead to convey a message of hope. A trans woman, Faye grappled for years with feelings of being an “exile” from the realm of heterosexual romance. Nevertheless, she posits that this sense of exclusion is not exclusive to her experience. Faye contends that we place excessive demands on romantic love, expecting it to remedy all our issues. When love inevitably falls short, we can feel cast out from the “happy kingdom” of successful partnerships. Rather than attributing love’s disappointments to men, Faye examines her past breakups with the aspiration of reimagining healthier relational dynamics. While Love in Exile reads like a memoir, it also offers self-help insights aimed at guiding both Faye and her readers toward new ways of loving.
If we have to end capitalism before we can have successful romantic relationships, then my future – as a single, 33-year-old woman – looks bleak.
An Underlying Political Thesis
Underlying much of Faye’s deeply personal writing is a political framework that critiques the impact of capitalism on love. Referencing the work of academic Mark Fisher, she argues that capitalism has led to the privatization of love. The weakening of the welfare state has put immense pressure on couples, creating the expectation that romantic love will serve as the sole source of emotional support, which should naturally be supplemented by community bonds and labor unions. While Faye provides a concrete analysis of how budget cuts have eroded social care infrastructure, some aspects of this argument left me unconvinced. While it’s clear that improved social care could relieve stress on couples, attributing the difficulty of finding love solely to capitalism seems an overreach. Historically, haven’t humans always sought specific intimacy and affection from romantic partners, even amidst well-funded community networks? And if we must dismantle capitalism to achieve successful romantic relationships, my own future – as a 33-year-old single woman – looks grim.
Individual Changes for Enriching Relationships
Love in Exile becomes particularly enlightening when Faye proposes tangible, individual-level changes that we can implement to enrich our relationships. Throughout the memoir, she encourages self-reflection and acknowledges her accountability in creating dysfunctional dynamics. Discussing her sexual experiences, Faye reveals that she sometimes downplays her desire to conform to societal expectations placed on trans women. By acting as a passive participant, she notices that she aligns with cultural stereotypes, evoking less threat and more acceptance in others’ eyes.
Embracing Agency and Vulnerability
The most compelling writing in this memoir recognizes that our experiences of love unfold within a capitalist patriarchy, yet it does not reduce women to mere victims of these systems. Embracing heteropessimism may feel easy, but acknowledging our own agency can be uncomfortable – and ultimately liberating. In a later chapter, Faye discusses embracing kindness and compassion towards herself, sharing strategies such as the importance of saying “no” and quieting her inner critic. Her humor and self-deprecation ensure her advice is relatable rather than lecturing, while she even mentions that regular prayer has brought her moments of tranquility. Love in Exile exudes sincerity reminiscent of bell hooks’ seminal work, All About Love. Like hooks, Faye is unafraid to extract lessons from her experiences, even if they reveal her vulnerability.
No Redemption, Just Hope
Importantly, Faye does not present a redemption arc. In her postscript, she candidly shares that she has not yet discovered romantic love or achieved total self-acceptance. In fact, while writing the book, she endured another heartbreak, realizing she had not gained new control over her emotions. The pain remained unchanged. However, the conclusion of Love in Exile holds a significant sense of optimism. Faye rejects cynicism and commits to the possibility of trying again. Her writing invites a reevaluation of love, and by the time I finished the book, I found a renewed hope for men and heterosexuality in general, an unexpected gift given my recent breakup.
Love in Exile by Shon Faye is available from Allen Lane at £18. Support the Guardian and Observer by purchasing your copy at guardianbookshop.com (delivery charges may apply).
