Commensalism: Towards Difference, Beyond Mutualism in Relationships
commensalism
towards difference, beyond mutualism in relationships
the egret resting gently upon the cow’s shoulders, taking note of everything they stir up while grazing. here, she finds not only companionship, but a high perch where she feels safe and can more readily scout out her next meal.
a beetle who makes home in the fur of a sloth, eager to eat the algae that grows on this slow-moving tree lover - moths and others may also gather here, thankful for the tiny, sheltered green they find woven into the sloth’s coat.
remoras hugging close to a shark’s belly, protected and able to conserve energy as they glide easily alongside; they stay out of the way, picking up what bits the shark leaves behind –
sometimes even offering relief by clearing away more harmful residents on the shark’s body.
these relationships show the nature of
commensalism,
often defined as “an association between two organisms in which one benefits and the other derives neither benefit nor harm.” in this kind of connection, one individual has greater ability or – especially – access to resources which may be necessary for the other’s thriving, something which that individual may not even recognise as important or which may not meaningfully harm their own well-being.
though i have long been struggling with the idea of mutualism as the only option for how to connect with others, i was introduced to this term – commensalism – just some months ago when a person and i were discussing our relationship in detail.
we were talking about our connection and the feelings each of us brought to it; namely that this person had seemed to become distant recently, and i was curious if they were still “interested in”, “attracted to” me.
in short, i was asking if the relationship was still “mutual”.
at some point, it came up that some of the physical experiences we had had together, experiences i had viewed as very mutual and fulfilling and exciting, this person viewed as things they had chose to do largely because they knew i found them meaningful. at first, this really hurt because my brain asked “do they not feel the same towards me?” i asked if i had done something wrong, if i had abused or tricked this person for them to engage in experiences they now said they didn’t “want”.
quickly, i realised that actually, i really appreciated this – that this person had recognised something that was meaningful to me, even if they struggled to find it personally meaningful for themself. when we discussed it further, it became clear that they had not taken any trauma away from the experience, that they had found it fulfilling to connect with me, too, just not at the degree of intensity i felt.
they told me that they saw a lot of our relationship as commensal.
this was a biological term, a word i hadn’t recalled hearing before. when i looked it up, i found that textbooks used it to talk about the relationships between other animals, to describe how they are meaningful. however, what i didn’t find was this term being explored in human-human relationships.
we are animals.
i say this because humans seem (very conveniently) to forget that we are animals and – importantly – that we have much to learn from other animals. while many of us often pride ourselves on humans being the most evolved, the most developed animal, barely animal, i think one of the most defining features of humans is how much we sabotage ourselves – how we throw away countless opportunities to grow and connect with each other, how we establish rigid social norms to keep ourselves from engaging meaningfully with one another.
in response, i have found that looking at other animals and how they relate can be deeply insightful into how we can reclaim our own animality, our own ability to seek relationships which protect, support, and nourish us.
here, i’m hoping to share reflections on one of the most recent things i’ve been learning from other animals: that not everything is (or needs to be) “equal”, that there is much more healing we can experience if we open ourselves to relationships not based in mutualism and reciprocity.
mutual? reciprocated?
the first thing i want to ask is: what does it actually mean for something to be mutual? what does it mean for something to be reciprocated?
take a few moments and reflect on the relationships/connections you most value in your life. are those relationships “mutual”? if so, what makes them mutual? how do you know that they are mutual – is it from things the other person does, that they tell you it’s mutual, or..?
and if you found out the relationship wasn’t “mutual”, would you still find it a meaningful relationship? what would change in how you perceive the relationship?
from my own observations, i have found that actually, very little in most relationships is mutual. if we look closer at how we connect, it seems doubtful that anyone two people think or feel the same way, at the same time, with the same frequencies, and at the same intensity.
two people who feel “in love” often start out feeling passionately, infinitely enamored, but equally often one finds passion fading as they grow more familiar.
two people who shared closeness throughout their childhood might find themselves suddenly unable to relate to each other’s interests, feeling distant.
two people who grew in distinct homes or cultures may find it difficult to enjoy the routines and traditions that are most meaningful to the other.
but that is more than okay – what if we could imagine relationships where we can say “i’m not experiencing the same thing you are, and i still choose to be with you”? “i don’t find this meaningful in the same way as you, and i can still choose to be with you”.
in a world where our perception is so subjective that we have arguments over what colors a dress is or whether it’s “laurel” or “yanny” – where we are literally witnessing the same thing and yet experiencing it differently – sameness does not seem a reliable path to togetherness.
but isn’t it wrong, abusive for there to be imbalances in relationships?
this is a question i hear really often, and i see it as part of a narrative coming from mutualism – no surprise there. the problem with this question is that it suggests that imbalances are not already present in how we relate to one another.
and by imbalances, i don’t just mean what we just discussed – how each of us brings distinct feelings, desires, interests, abilities to each relationship, at various levels, various intensities. i mean imbalance in the sense of how these things are also political, motivated by societal conditioning. how there are always structural, “power” imbalances – based in our experiences with race, gender, ability, nationality, and so many other concepts that inform how we show up in our relationships.
this is a fact i had been noticing for years before in previous connections, but which had really become solid when i found terms like “commensal” and started really challenging related concepts (friendship, platonics, mutualism). before, where a connection was “mutual”, it still often felt abusive, as if there was still something missing. casual relationships felt particularly abusive, as these “go with the flow” interactions tended to actually mean that i would be expected to give a lot more than the other person and receive very little in return.
my attempts to acknowledge and address these imbalances were immediately dismissed as “too intense”, as “expectations” in casual relationships, and more involved, serious relationships quickly became more casual as well, any time i shared how passionate i was about being treated with care – “i guess i just don’t feel as intensely as you do”, “you seem really into me”, or “this feels like a lot”.
mutualism has been one way (among many) for others to be unaccountable for how they show up as racially-insensitive and gender-unaware in relationships with me; difference is rendered as conflict which is rendered as a problem, a reason for separation.
mutualism is often the “all lives matter” of interpersonal connection; when someone says they have a need which has not been adequately addressed and we respond with “but we’re all equal”, then we have committed a violence.
when we recognise that there is imbalance, we can begin to adjust to assure that structural wrongs are righted. this doesn’t necessarily mean the relationship becomes balanced or “mutual”, in itself; it means that the relationship becomes purposeful and healing. we can also recognise that imbalance is a form of difference, that each of us comes to relationships with varied needs, abilities, and skills, and we can set up the relationship’s structure to support what is lacking.
so, mutualism is completely shit, then?
not at all. my intention in writing this article isn’t to convince you that everything mutual is “bad”; my intention is to ask you to reflect (and support you in reflecting) on what mutualism does in your relationships, as well as what other tools are available.
there are times when mutualism and commensalism make sense, each in their own way, so we can ask: when should we choose commensalism, and when mutualism?
what can mutualism do for us, and what can commensalism do for us?
mutualism is well-suited for agreements. when we choose a mutual approach in making agreements, each person involved is able to participate in and consent fully to the decision being made. this not only helps us avoid building contempt (from being unable to meet uncommunicated expectations) but also to engage our agency in the relationship. mutualism allows each person to leave the agreement-making knowing “i chose this, and i understand what is expected of me in this specific interaction”. it is abusive for one person to be making independent decisions on their own and then expecting that that agreement will be fulfilled by the other(s), though this is often what happens because of societal conditioning (in race, gender, ability..).
commensalism, however, is well-suited for exchanges. while we can (and should!) make agreements mutually, with both/all people defining and understanding each agreement, this does not at all mean that the amount of energy or other resources exchanged should be equal. in other words, we can make mutual agreements which are one-sided (or mostly one-sided) in their exchange.
for example, the united states might make a mutual agreement with black + indigenous peoples to return stolen lands and other resources; all parties should understand why this exchange is necessary (because of historical and current violences), but the exchange itself should be one-sided: the united states must commit to returning what was/is stolen across years of enslavement, displacement, and cultural erasure. this is the beginning of a healthful relationship.
and on a more individual level, a person who has said “i am not attracted to you” or “i’m not a touchy person” might also reflect and understand that these statements are also politically informed, motivated by subtle conditioning in gender, race, and more – this person might make a mutual agreement with someone they care about, committing to exploring this conditioning and offering physical interaction even if they don’t feel drawn to it for their own immediate fulfillment. this is also a healthful agreement.
traditionally, we are not taught that commensalism is an acceptable option in relationships, so this is something we avoid, only seeking what appears mutual. i am here to affirm that we can learn other ways of being, to know multiple potentials for how to connect with one another.
commensalism illustrates another way of connecting, one which not only affirms the beauty of knowing diverse ways to love on each other, but
one which helps heal structural and historical violences.
commensalism helps us meet needs and does not bind us to the idea that we must give for the sake of giving; rather,
we learn to give what others need and what they can meaningfully receive.
in this, we see that commensalism offers us a pattern of being able to give without needing the gift to be personally meaningful to us, to our benefit –
we can give without it being about us.
we can love others who have varied “love languages”, not needing their language to be the same as ours.
we can recognise that no two people actually have the same language, that our needs and experiences are diverse and importantly nuanced.
we can emphasise the value of being able to learn other languages, of growing and seeking beyond what was provided to us.
we can affirm that meaningful connection is possible even where there is difference, and sometimes especially because there is difference.
we can celebrate similarity without mistaking it for sameness, and we can celebrate difference for giving us space to grow, to witness, to reach, to see, and to feel.
may we swim easy,
finding sanctuary beneath the belly of those who may provide us protection.
may we dig deep,
finding nourishment among the soils of those who grow more than they need.
may we fly high,
finding clarity in the support of those who share calm and gentle strength.
may we be animal;
may we seek our fear
and find it leading to an abundant love.
may we give, and give beyond what is for us;
may we give, and give that others may receive.
may we love through, beyond, and towards our difference;
may we know it as a threat to sameness,
and forever a path to togetherness.
Amani Michael
intuit.hue founder + guide
