Professional hedonist Morlene Chin on how to lead with love, without attachment
The author of "Ask a Hedonist" on creating "pockets of resistance through joy and connection"
People will always find a way to care for each other, and to create pockets of resistance through joy and connection. When the government wants to legislate our bodies and relationships, just gathering to share a meal or speak vulnerably becomes a radical act. Tending to each other and really listening, while making space for authentic expression, and celebrating non-traditional ways of loving and living, is how we can not only survive but also thrive in hostile times. — Morlene Chin
Morlene Chin is the consummate native New Yorker, someone who moves with ease between different, interconnected communities. One community is her Substack newsletter,
, where she and her readers discuss everything from ethical non-monogamy to being a caregiver for an adult sibling. Another centers around a monthly night of celebration in Chinatown that she co-hosts with her anchor partner for upwards of thirty friends (including me!). Oh, and she also holds down a challenging day job, while leading an Asian employee resource group (ERG) in her workplace.This week, I knew I wanted to seek out Morlene’s perspective, as an expert community-tender, on how we can resource ourselves in community over the next four years. Below, she shares her thoughts on how ethical non-monogamy can teach all of us to connect to others without infringing on their autonomy (bodily or otherwise), and how to create racially and culturally diverse communities that are bound together not just by a shared source of rage but a shared commitment to joy and gratitude.
When we gather under conditions like these, the impossible once again begins to seem possible. I know this is true, because that’s how I feel after leaving dinner with Morlene. I hope that’s how you’ll feel after reading this interview.
Where did you grow up? What else grows there? What was it like for you to grow there?
I’m a born-and-bred Brooklynite. I grew up in a middle-class Brooklyn neighborhood dominated by Chinese and Italian immigrants, then went to high school in the East Village in Manhattan, where I was one of the few not-Black or Latino students. When I went to college in the Bronx, I experienced even more culture shock, living on campus with mostly wealthy, white students from the suburbs. So I learned from a young age to be a cultural chameleon. That definitely shaped how I move through the world. It made me confront my own class and racial position from a young age. It’s also imbued me with a deep appreciation for diversity and the ability to code-switch with ease. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
What is your earliest memory of tending another being?
When I was 5, I watched my older sister Charlene struggle to fit in at our summer camp. She was born prematurely with complications, and had limited verbal ability. The other kids would stare at her, and say things like "she's crazy" to me. I just remember the pit in my stomach, wanting to defend her but at 5, not knowing how. I remember comforting not only my sister but also my parents on the ride home, all of us reaching for a sense of normalcy when everything around us felt so charged and uncertain.
We had a note taped up by the house phone that kept track of Charlene's last seizure, which was a constant reminder of all the medical challenges she faced. Over the years, Charlene also went in and out of different schools, as we struggled to find a program that could meet her learning needs. My immigrant parents didn't have the resources or vocabulary to deftly navigate the system. I quickly learned to be a low-maintenance child, easing the burden on my parents however I could. I also learned from a young age that life isn't always so neat and tidy, and you have to push through the discomfort to advocate for those around you. I may have been the younger sibling, but have taken on a caretaker role with her. And it all started that summer.
What or whom have you most loved tending since?
For most of the last decade, my partner and I have gotten friends together to break bread on the last Friday of every month. The dinners almost always take place at a Chinese restaurant, because of the communal nature of family style dinners at Chinese restaurants, and how lax they tend to be about folks coming in and out at different times. At some point during our meal, each person will share with the group one thing that’s going right in their life. It’s a beautiful exercise, and also a great way to celebrate each other’s wins and catch up on what everyone’s up to. We’ve fondly dubbed the dinner “Chinese Dinner” or sometimes “Gratitude Dinner.” People have shared about so many things: dumping a toxic ex, paying off their student loans, creating a video game, or even escaping death!
New York can sometimes feel so isolating, and this community has been a little oasis for so many. I love witnessing my friend’s journeys and creating a sense of belonging. Our largest dinner ever was the 100th dinner, with 100 attendees, but the average dinner has about 30 people in attendance. People come and go over the years, but our monthly tradition has remained constant—we’re currently on Dinner #114!
What other communities or sanghas keep you sane?
My parents are from Myanmar, a Southeast Asian country with a collectivist culture, and I’m navigating the individualistic norms of my American upbringing, which has been a source of tension and disconnect. Despite our differences, I cherish the deep well of support and love my family provides.
My cousins and I also commiserate with each other and have found community with one another. It’s been a challenging journey for the older generation to accept the realities of our lives, whether it’s my cousin’s transgender identity, my unconventional career path, or the interracial relationships that several of us, including myself, are in. There have been many tears, many long conversations, and there are signs they are slowly coming around. We have a group chat where we lament the struggles, the challenges of bridging those cultural divides, and cheer each other on as we do the difficult work of carving our own paths and doing what our parents couldn’t—speaking honestly and living authentically. In my cousins’ company, I find a sense of understanding that I can’t always access with the rest of my family, and even with my friends.
Your Substack newsletter,
, also carves out such a space, where folks can “speak honestly and live authentically.” Can you tell us more about that?For
, I draw on my background in radio journalism to explore and challenge norms around relationships and sexuality, in essays about topics that many people are too shy to discuss openly, like “Thoughts on Pleasure in the Apocalypse,” “How I Define Loyalty in My [Non-Monogamous] Relationships” and “What Do I Do with My Jealousy?”Writing about ethical non-monogamy has been so rewarding. I’ve been forced to reckon with my own preconceptions, to grow and evolve. But what’s really gratifying is the impact I have on my readers. I’ve heard from people—many in closed, monogamous relationships who are new to these topics—who say my writing has opened their eyes to new perspectives that have helped them in their own relationships.
I’m not chasing a massive audience—I’m satisfied with fostering a community of open-minded individuals willing to engage in challenging ideas. I’m also always careful not to imply that polyamory is superior to monogamy—my aim is to normalize and celebrate alternative relationship formats that many may not be familiar with. I hope that in some small way I’m contributing to more open, honest, and fulfilling relationships for my readers.
When we fight for the freedom to decide what we do with our bodies, our fertility, and our sexuality, we’re fighting to experience pleasure on our own terms…The right frames this as a crisis of values, but really it’s a crisis of control. They’re realizing that shame doesn’t work like it used to, and women are finding ways to live and love that exist completely outside their framework of acceptable behavior. — Morlene Chin, “Thoughts on Pleasure in the Apocalypse”
How did you initially become interested in ethical non-monogamy?
As a teenager, I crushed on people while in a monogamous relationship, and I intuitively understood that my boyfriend did too, and it wasn’t because we were dissatisfied in our relationship. I didn’t know what non-monogamy was, but I started to wonder: What constitutes cheating? Why do we define relationship boundaries the way we do? Why do I feel jealous even if my boyfriend hasn’t technically crossed a boundary?
In college, I started dating another student who introduced me to the concept of ethical non-monogamy and recommended “The Ethical Slut.” This book was a revelation, and gave me the language and tools to answer some of the questions I’d been asking, to communicate my needs in relationships, to be explicit about boundaries, and to feel safe expressing complicated emotions like jealousy, possessiveness, and discomfort. I have not been in a monogamous relationship since.
Of course, ethical non-monogamy isn’t for everyone and that’s okay. What’s important is finding community and relationship structures that align with your values and needs, but also realizing there are multiple ways that people connect and experience love.
If I were to name one main takeaway from this journey, it would be that love isn’t a finite resource that gets depleted when shared. Time is finite, and can be quite limiting, but love and attraction aren’t. I’ve enjoyed seeing how love can expand in beautiful ways when we allow it to.
Ethical non-monogamy isn’t for everyone and that’s okay. What’s important is finding community and relationship structures that align with your values and needs, but also realizing there are multiple ways that people connect and experience love. — Morlene Chin
Your approach to relationships seems to exemplify the principle of non-attachment, in a Buddhist sense—which doesn’t mean not caring, but does mean doing things experimentally, in an ethical way, without getting hung up on how they turn out in the long term. Ethical non-monogamists reject relationship escalator questions like “Is this going to lead to marriage? Kids?” Etc. What can you teach us mindfulness nerds about this sometimes-tricky concept?
I have indeed learned a lot about non-attachment to outcomes. I try to approach relationships more experimentally, focusing on growth and connection rather than trying to control where things end up. This requires a willingness to question societal norms about relationships, and sit with uncomfortable emotions. It’s not always easy, but I’ve found it has led to richer, more fulfilling connections and has helped me get to know my anchor partner even better.
I also try my best to love without clinging or too much attachment, but I’m not always successful. As I’ve explored non-monogamy and sat with the feelings of jealousy that inevitably arise, I’ve gradually developed the ability to love more openly and with less possessiveness. It’s not innate, but a mindset I continue to cultivate through conscious effort and many challenging experiences. It’s been a gradual process of unlearning possessive attitudes and reframing how I view love and connection. This approach has allowed me to find joy in my partner’s happiness, even when it doesn’t involve me.
I don’t think I’m unique in having the capacity for this kind of love. I believe most people can cultivate it with patience, reflection, and practice. I don’t claim to have all the answers. but I write about what I’ve learned so far in hopes that it might resonate with or help others in their own journeys.
If folks are interested in exploring this more, they can also pick up “Polysecure” by Jessica Fern, which explore attachment theory in the context of non-monogamous relationships, and Chill Polyamory, which features really great short form and approachable content around different non-monogamy topics.
These texts aren’t rule books, just starting points for your own ethical exploration. It’s quite useful to also hear real life experiences and engage in real discussion.
Who else do you read for inspiration as a writer, or community tender?
I find myself continuously drawn to the insightful work of beauty culture critic
and her Substack (formerly “The Unpublishable”). Her thorough, nuanced approach to exposing the exploitative tactics of the beauty industry has been transformative for me. What I admire most about DeFino’s work is her ability to tackle complex, emotionally-charged topics with such clarity and compassion. Her writing is also an example of how to approach the daunting task of unlearning deeply ingrained beliefs. It inspired me to provide the same nuance to my own writing on complex subjects like ethical non-monogamy -- to peel back the layers, and give readers the tools to forge their own path to being liberated from the scripts society has written for us.She is truly a legend.
One shared theme I notice in our work — meaning yours, mine, and Jessica DeFino’s — is this commitment to creating something with people and for people, rather than attempting to impose one’s own way of thinking and working on them.
So, I’ll ask a question that I also asked educator Rachel McEvoy earlier in this series: How do you balance having a vision for your community as a leader with making space for others, allowing them to have a voice as well?
I think cultivating cultural competency isn’t really about getting to a place where you know everything, but about constantly challenging our own assumptions and biases. Too often, leaders come in with preconceived notions about what a community needs without taking the time to truly understand the nuances of the people they’re serving. Active listening and really hearing people’s stories and experiences can help me attune to the needs of my community.
At the same time, co-creating spaces with people who do share your specific experiences can be really nourishing. For example, we created an Asian-specific Employee Resource Group in my workplace in 2021 in response to the Atlanta spa shootings and rise in violent crime against the Asian community. Initially we hosted many meetings just to mourn, commiserate, and express our fears. Over the last couple of years we’ve brought on speakers to talk about imposter syndrome, we’ve learned about Asian American history through documentaries, and I especially benefited from an event where we brought in a life coach who specifically works with second-generation children of immigrants to talk about intergenerational trauma. To cry in a [virtual] room with others who just got it was deeply healing.
This kind of cultural competency strikes me as being important for pretty much everyone working in super-diverse New York, but also for anyone who wants to cultivate a community that isn’t entirely composed of people who look and think like them, which will be essential for many of us in the next four years.
This does all feel especially crucial now, with Trump returning to power. When I think about tending to communities—whether it's our Asian ERG processing collective fears about the rise in hate crimes against our elderly population, or the relationships I write about in Ask a Hedonist—I realize how important these safe spaces become under threat. This political movement wants to isolate us, shame us, and control our bodies and choices. Their vision for society leaves no room for difference, for chosen family, or for relationships that don't fit their narrow script.
What I've learned from years of building community in New York, from monthly Chinese Dinners to workplace support groups, is that people will always find a way to care for each other, and to create pockets of resistance through joy and connection. When the government wants to legislate our bodies and relationships, just gathering to share a meal or speak vulnerably becomes a radical act. Tending to each other and really listening, while making space for authentic expression, celebrating non-traditional ways of loving and living is how we can not only survive but also thrive in hostile times.
Relatedly, how do you tend to your physical body, after a hard day of tending others?
Movement is a non-negotiable to me. What started as an effort to build strength and prevent back pain has evolved into a full-blown obsession. It’s very meditative to push my body through the high intensity intervals of a bootcamp class, the flows of a yoga or pilates session, and the release of boxing. I enjoy the feeling of the raw power of my muscles and the challenge to my balance and flexibility. My mind is usually so busy, but it’s in these moments I can be fully present. I’m uncompromising about making that time for myself, and I tend to work out solo. Movement is my way of re-centering and refueling so I can show up for the people and causes I care about.
How can people actually submit a question to Ask a Hedonist if they’re curious to hear your perspective?
You can comment on any of my newsletter posts, or reply to any individual post via email, which will go directly to me. I’ve also created this Typeform for people to submit questions to me anonymously.
Where can people find you if they want to engage further with your work?
You can subscribe to my newsletter, “Ask a Hedonist” at www.morlene.substack.com!
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