By the time Ada and her boyfriend decided to “open things up,” she thought she knew what she was signing up for. They had been together for three years, lived in the same neighbourhood in Abuja, and had reached that restless, curious stage. “He was the one who first brought it up,” she says. “He sent me this podcast about polyamory, and we listened to it together. It sounded so… evolved.”

Two months later, she was crying in bed while he sexted another woman on the opposite side of it.

“I was the one doing all the emotional gymnastics,” she says now, half-laughing. “I had to soothe him when he got jealous, reassure him when I went on dates, and still be ‘understanding’ when he spent the night with someone else.”

In theory, ethical non-monogamy (ENM) — the broad term for relationships where everyone consents to having multiple partners — is meant to dismantle old power structures. It’s about honesty, communication, and freedom from outdated norms. But in practice, many women are finding themselves performing the same unpaid emotional labour that’s always been expected of them, just in more complex settings. In many heterosexual and mixed-gender pairings, the existing, deeply ingrained habits of patriarchal delegation are simply transferred to the new structure.

The term emotional labour, originally defined by sociologist Arlie Russell Hochschild, refers to the act of managing one’s own feelings and those of others, often for the benefit of a social or organizational structure. In a conventional relationship, this includes remembering milestones and anticipating needs. In an open relationship, this workload expands exponentially. The new structure introduces an array of logistical and emotional challenges: communicating evolving boundaries, processing jealousy, and facilitating communication between the primary partner and external partners. 

None of this is an indictment of ethical non-monogamy itself. Many people, women included, find it generative, sex-positive and more honest than some monogamous arrangements. The issue is fairness. The potential for ENM as a liberatory structure is severely undermined when it simply replicates patriarchal expectations of domestic and emotional servicing. Women are already conditioned as the caretakers and emotional gatekeepers, making the transition of this ingrained role into a new relationship format seamless — and very unfair. 

That realisation that communication itself is work is something many men raised in emotionally reserved environments struggle with. “We weren’t taught how to talk about feelings,” 28-year-old filmmaker Jide says. “We were taught to toughen up. So when you get into these setups, it’s like learning a new language from scratch.” It’s tempting to excuse men for not pulling their emotional weight by blaming socialisation. But at some point, unlearning becomes a choice. “I thought being in an open relationship meant I was progressive,” Jide continues. “But my girlfriend pointed out that she was the one constantly bringing up boundaries, emotional check-ins, all that. I just wanted to vibe. I didn’t realise how much work she was doing until she got tired and called me out.” 

The irony is that non-monogamy is supposed to require more communication, not less. Poly communities often preach transparency as a sacred rule. But practice lags behind theory. “People think open relationships are about freedom,” says Amaka, 27, a graphic designer in Port Harcourt. “But they’re actually about discipline. You have to talk, negotiate, apologise, manage. And let’s be honest, women are better at that because we’ve been forced to be.” Amaka says she enjoys the openness of her relationship, but she’s noticed that emotional labour often goes unacknowledged. 

Globally, similar dynamics show up. A 2023 study published in Frontiers in Psychology found that while men and women in consensually non-monogamous relationships reported similar satisfaction levels, women were significantly more likely to describe managing jealousy and maintaining communication as “draining.” The researchers called it “a gendered residue of emotional responsibility.”

In a society quick to judge women for non-conformity, the exhaustion from this labour is compounded by intense social scrutiny. Most times the woman in an open relationship is often cast as the “fool” for allowing it, so part of what traps women in these cycles of labour is the performance of chillness, the myth of the enlightened, unbothered “cool girl” who’s too evolved for jealousy. She doesn’t get mad; she doesn’t ask many questions. This performance is not a very effective defence mechanism. By presenting herself as fundamentally unbothered, she effectively silences her own needs and boundaries, ensuring that she — and she alone — becomes the solitary manager of the relationship’s emotional complexity. The simple act of being cool prevents her from demanding that her partner pull his weight.

There is a lot of concern in the persistence of patriarchal dynamics that reproduce unequal distributions of labour, power, and recognition. A relationship model of any kind that sustains such hierarchies cannot be regarded as emancipatory. For ethical non-monogamy to have genuine meaning, it must address the question of honesty, trust and fairness. Fairness, in this context, means absolute reciprocity: the mutual exchange of care, responsibility, and accountability within relational structures. It involves examining who provides emotional support during conflict, who assumes responsibility for reconciliation, and who bears the social or reputational risks attached to non-conventional partnerships.

An ethic of non-monogamy therefore begins not with the number of partners involved but with the principles governing their interactions. It demands the equitable sharing of emotional labour, decision-making, and social accountability. This requires a collective commitment to developing emotional literacy, cultivating empathy, and redistributing the often invisible tasks that sustain relationships. Only through such reciprocity can non-monogamy fulfil its claim to be both ethical and transformative. “I’m done being the ‘understanding babe,’” says Ada. “If we’re both grown enough to have multiple partners, we should both be grown enough to handle our own feelings.”