Ode to Valentine’s Day from an Aromantic Anarcho-Communist
Every common, logical, and even ‘woke’ critique of Valentine’s Day is a talking point I recognise as valid: the occasion reinforcing the idea that to be an object of romantic desire is to be worthy; the correct assertion that our loved ones should be reminded of their value daily, not merely annually; and the enduring reminder that the hearts and the candy and the commodified enviability are all nothing but another product capitalism can sell only the most gullible among us.
For the following spiel, I thought getting ahead of the people that do not like fun and joy and participation was a good way to start. To the second position of importance, I assign the following caveat to the above preface: I am a transmasculine, aromantic relationship anarchist whose singular life goal is to sit at home, take naps and never even consider the word ‘productivity’ ever again. As such, the usual responses are effectively mitigated by me existing and living my life on what I consider to be my own path of least resistance. Conversely, I enjoy the frequent acquisition of themed acrylic nails year-round, am an avid consumer of predominantly sappy, sickeningly sweet HEA (‘happily ever after’ for people with a life) fanfiction, and an unrepentant Valentine’s Day zealot.
I know, I know. All of the above seems contradictory at best, and a poorly-cobbled together attempt at nuance, at worst. Regrettably, the former is true. My brain and body are in constant, ceaseless reconciliation with the structures I understand to be propping up the world and the things that bring me coveted simple enjoyment. Valentine’s Day and increasingly nebulous ideas of love and intimacy are two such pleasures.
I am often asked ‘if you don’t feel romantic attraction, how do you separate your friends from the people you date?’ The answer I usually give is simple to me, but seems to leave people wanting me to have said something else: ‘the label and the boundaries we agree to.’ Personally, I think this is an efficiently demarcated line to draw in the proverbial sand. The only thing that separates my close friends with whom I have deeply nourishing relationships and my partners around whom I gleefully plan my life is the latter decision which is a relationship many people would argue is foreclosed exclusively to coupling deemed as romantic. This representation is pars pro toto of the overall ways in which I structure my enjoyment of things.
Pleasure for me is beholden to two soft yet stringent metrics:
Emotionally, does it give me more than it costs?
Is it a pleasure to be sustained?
To place these principles in the real world examples, my very first hyperfixation as a child was Harry Potter. To a poor, black child raised in the Global South, all common media created by white people was shortsighted on race and the way labour organises societal relations. So, the racism and classism allegations, while not beaten, were accepted as par for the course by white authors in the late nineties. She Who Shall Not Be Named’s repeated and virulent transphobia, however, exceeds my tolerance for a lack of understanding (yeah, yeah. Get the chuckles out.) Yes, the teenagers defeating fascism was fine, but the transphobia was not. This is indicative of principle one above. It was costing me far more than I was gaining, so I kissed it goodbye and now only engage with the media through my beloved AO3 bookmarks.
“To feel love, to experience it as mutual between your closest-held heartpeople and to fulfil the urge to proclaim it from the rooftops whenever possible is an expected metric for locating breath in a body or synapses in a brain. The fact that we have a day about this is a notion that is unerringly gentle as deeply as it is inextricably capitalist.”
Regarding the sustainability of pleasure, I am a hyposensitive autistic person who also has ADHD. My body and brain thoroughly enjoy a good concentrated stimulant. I am also someone who acknowledges that the unregulated quality and pricing of recreational drugs is a safety hazard. Additionally, the validity of biochemical research about the effects of unmitigated stimulant use also proves itself to be compelling, to say the least. Therefore, stimulants are a leisure moderated by principle number two. With these guiding maxims as a roadmap to enjoyment, there are a surprising amount of frivolous activities left for satiating consumption. See: professional ice hockey (requiring minimal emotional investment), deep fried tofu, a cold shower on a hot afternoon, and Valentine’s Day. The final item on the list is probably what strangers would consider to be least congruent with the kind of person they would assume me to be.
Opening paragraph notwithstanding and pleasure-choosing principles wholly accounted for, Valentine’s Day is my second favourite holiday. It is a distant second from my birthday (as a November Scorpio the events of my internal world are what I count as public ordinances to be observed) and has Halloween hot on its heels as an incredibly close third (because duh, I’m gay). I genuinely just feel like Valentine’s Day is my ideal public event.
I love hearts - naturally, this in an earnest and camp way rather than a ‘shallow heterosexist definition of femininity’ way. My favourite colour is pastel pink. I am quick to enjoy a lovely rose and I believe discounted candy on the fifteenth of February is one of life’s oft-overlooked small sanctities. This is all underscored by a meltingly soft tripartite somersault performed in my chest when I think about love as an inevitable product of sentience. Fondness, joy and an appreciation of community are all widely observed phenomena in beings within which emotion can be observed. It is not only human to form, sustain and ritually commemorate important social bonds; the science and literature display it to be what seems like an existential imperative. To feel love, to experience it as mutual between your closest-held heartpeople and to fulfil the urge to proclaim it from the rooftops whenever possible is an expected metric for locating breath in a body or synapses in a brain. The fact that we have a day about this is a notion that is unerringly gentle as deeply as it is inextricably capitalist.
Certainly, corporations attached the expectation of commodity and consumption to a very common experience by way of reinforcing cisheteropatriarchy and alloromantic performance. However, the reality that the experience of bonding is so ubiquitous that we treat it as reverent and mark it with deliberate and conspicuous sweetness never fails to make me feel warm and gooey inside. Valentine’s Day is the one day of the year where public displays of affection aren’t regarded as gross or maudlin by a society that requires people to be disaffected to be seen as mature or intelligent. Valentine’s Day is celebrated by lovers, friends, metamours and families alike.
Is it a capitalist science fair made up by ‘Big Love’ to sell more chocolate? Undoubtedly. Is the reminder that everyone is not a Jane Austen protagonist, besotted and soppy even while jaded, profoundly embittering for people who assume Valentine’s Day is solely about romantic coupling? Indeed. What it also is, however, is a reminder of how love never stops being a guiding force. The expectation that people have at least one person in their lives that they love enough to buy a (functionally useless) red, mylar balloon shaped like a heart is so reliable that the capitalists have staked an entire market in it. Is this indicative of the fact that not even our private and prospective emotions can escape being seen as a product? Absolutely.
Additionally, though, it is an assertion that love can be used to do anything. Love is a product of community, love is an expressive display, love is a hypervisible yet underestimated motivator and perhaps, most pressingly, love is a weapon.
Valentine’s Day asks us to consider the people we love as worthy of commercial participation. With Valentine’s Day as a point of departure, I ask us to consider that the people we love are worth fighting for. Consider futures with your loved ones as a driving force. Consider softness and gentle regard and wholehearted expression as virtues to cultivate rather than weaknesses. Consider love to be a concept in need of reformation rooted in good faith rather than a violent hindrance to be discarded.
