I often feel that I don’t fit in with my generation… mostly because I don’t use Instagram. In Gen Z’s vernacular, the word ‘commitment’ has only romantic connotations. “Single or committed?” is the question of the hour. As a person who has never been committed in this sense, I feel like an imposter while writing about this. However, it is undeniable that there is something quite romantic and exotic about being committed to a person. Devoting your undivided time, attention and affection to someone as a deliberate act – at least, that’s how I view it.
Weirdly, perhaps due to an obsession with commodification rewiring our brains, ‘investment’ comes to mind when thinking about commitment. A commitment is a calculated risk – we assess the situation, what’s at stake, what there is to gain, and then make a decision. Sometimes it works out and you rake in the profits, and sometimes you run at a loss.
Something that I have noticed in my generation, in many of my peers and also feel myself, is that there is a loneliness that looms over us. However, I cannot be sure that it is generational, as loneliness is something that has plagued humanity for over centuries. There is a hesitation to commit, or invest, sometimes stemming from insecurity or scepticism. Vulnerability is key to commitment; the fear of not being on the same footing haunts one. This occurs in all kinds of relationships – platonic, familial, romantic, sexual – this fear of embarrassment, shame and abandonment. To an extent, it has also to do with ego.
In order to form any kind of meaningful bond, one has to take a risk and embrace vulnerability; otherwise, we are left with pleasantries or a desire only to have fun together masquerading in place of a deep meaningful bond. The former – a casual, and almost transactional kind of relationship – feels precarious, like it’s not something you can lean on or expect to have your back. And that’s what it is – a relationship without expectations; people opt for it as expectations lead to disappointment or because we feel that we are unable to try to understand and meet those expectations. But in actuality, such relationships only make us feel lonelier and adrift. Or perhaps I just have an idealistic way of looking at relationships. Another idea that bothers me quite a bit is that commitment feels like it is reserved for romantic relationships. A preoccupation with labels makes everything feel like a test we have to ace.
I sometimes feel that my sexuality exists in a vacuum. If I am the only one that witnesses or interacts with it, is it even real? This also offers me an easy way out, as I don’t have to deal with the different social realities that come with one’s gender and/or sexuality being outside of the accepted norm, if it is non-existent. So, I guess I am not committed to my sexuality. And perhaps, I don’t feel the need to be. The way I understand it, much of gender and sexuality exist in a fluid or flow state. Oftentimes, it is a complex and confusing amalgamation of feelings, emotions and thoughts, out of which it is hard to discern what came from nature, and what from nurture. On top of that, it can also change and evolve with time, just as our perspectives and priorities change. If we’re sure about who we are and what we want, we should be free to pursue and embrace that. The alternative – suppressing our identity and emotions – only brings misery and a sense of helplessness, by which we and our relationships suffer. However, committing to one’s identity does not look the same for everyone. Each person goes through their own journey. For some, their safety and security might be compromised; for others, their family and loved ones might not accept a part of their identity.
On the other hand, if one is not sure about one’s identity to begin with, it is worth letting life take its course while allowing one’s self to have the space, freedom and time to try out things and figure out one’s life.
Our society generally perceives sex as something that solely exists for procreation, or only within marriage. At the same time, in practice, it essentially posits sex and sexuality as a key to commitment – in which having sex would automatically signal a willingness to marry and settle down. This stems from the obsession with virginity and the ideas of purity and honour which are frequently associated with it, the burden of which falls almost entirely on women. The concept of marriage as an institution in itself relies heavily on sex as it is often sociologically defined as the socially acceptable or sanctioned way to have sex. On the flip side, marriage is also regarded as a ‘right to have sex’. It is interpreted as unequivocal consent or a ‘license to have sex’ which is why the Indian judicial system is yet to recognise marital rape as a crime.
Although sexuality in itself is stigmatised and policed in our society, and there is a general apprehension surrounding it, people have always continued to explore it, albeit in sometimes unsafe or exploitative environments. With growing awareness among the youth about sexuality, there is a renewed openness and understanding in discussions around this topic that encourage people to have a healthy relationship with their desires. Commitment in this context can also take different forms such as polyamory or consensual non-monogamy which defies traditional notions about commitment and love, while respecting individual autonomy and dignity.
Personally, I feel that relationships in general tend to be messy, and people may not always match up to our expectations. However, that is not to say that anything goes; self-respect and dignity are equally important as empathy and understanding.
Whenever the question of queerness or commitment pops up in my head, my response is the same: I sigh to myself and think, “I’ll cross that bridge if/when I come to it”. The scepticism surrounding commitment may be rooted in insecurities on a personal level as well as in societal constraints. If we take the example of queer people, many of them may limit themselves to casual sexual relationships because they are not in a position to even imagine what a committed relationship might look like for them. Marriage is regarded as the ultimate form of commitment in our society, and it is not a right that is extended to same-sex couples. So, what is the point? The romantic, or perhaps grandiose notion of a revolutionary love that defies the world, comes to mind. But the point is also about dignity. At the end of the day, all of us are only trying to feel a little less lonely, and we may have a million reasons as to why we may choose to commit or not to commit.
Cover image by Michaela St on Unsplash
