Reinforcing Mononormativity at Women’s Expense

Jennyfer Jay’s writing and social media presence offer an intimate, often vulnerable look into her personal experiences navigating contemporary womanhood. Her reflections on casual dating, relationships, and emotional growth resonate with many women grappling with a world that seems increasingly disconnected and transactional. However, despite the sincerity of her storytelling, her work implicitly reinforces mononormative narratives, those that assume monogamy as the only valid or fulfilling form of romantic relationship. This framing not only limits the imagination of what relationships can look like, but paradoxically sets women up for failure in the very dynamics she critiques.

Jay’s essays frequently center on the emotional toll of casual sex and emotionally unavailable men. While these are valid themes, her framing often implies that the natural arc of a woman’s life, and healing, is toward securing emotional commitment from one man. This reinforces the mononormative ideal that stability, validation, and maturity are achieved through exclusive partnership. In her work, men who avoid commitment are treated as broken or selfish, while women who desire commitment are portrayed as evolved or emotionally ready. This binary undercuts the possibility that diverse relationship structures, such as ethical non-monogamy, relationship anarchy, or solo polyamory, might also offer meaningful paths toward emotional growth, security, and connection.

What Jay’s narratives tend to overlook is the systemic nature of the mononormative trap. By valorizing monogamous commitment as the end goal, she leaves little room for women to explore other models of love and companionship without shame. Her reflections, while emotionally resonant, often risk pathologizing women’s unhappiness as stemming from men’s refusal to play their part in the monogamous script, rather than from the script itself. In this way, Jay participates in a cultural feedback loop where women are socialized to desire a particular kind of relationship, and then blamed, or encouraged to blame men, when it fails.

This dynamic is particularly evident in her TikTok content, where Jay sometimes uses the confessional format to speak to younger women about “knowing their worth” or “not settling for less.” While empowering on the surface, the subtext implies that true worth is ultimately validated by a partner who chooses exclusivity. This undermines women who find satisfaction in non-exclusive relationships, or who define emotional success on different terms. Furthermore, it shifts the burden of relational success onto women’s ability to “choose better,” rather than questioning the limiting structures themselves.

To be clear, Jennyfer Jay’s work has value: it opens important conversations, validates emotional experiences, and challenges harmful behaviour, but it is also crucial to interrogate the assumptions it upholds. A deeper, more liberatory feminist approach would challenge the centrality of monogamy altogether, recognizing that love, commitment, and emotional fulfillment need not conform to normative ideals. Without this lens, Jay’s content risks entrenching the very narratives it seeks to critique, leaving women emotionally entangled in systems that do not serve them.

Sources:
• Jennyfer Jay on Medium: https://medium.com/@JennyferJay
• Jennyfer Jay on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@jennyferjay
• Pieper, M. (2020). Mononormativity and Its Discontents. Journal of Contemporary Social Theory.
• Barker, M. (2013). Rewriting the Rules: An Integrative Guide to Love, Sex and Relationships. Routledge.

A Pigeonhole for Every Personality

Have you noticed how obsessed western society is with pigeonholing people into neat little personality categories? From zodiac signs to Myers-Briggs types, it seems we can’t rest until we’ve crammed ourselves, and everyone else, into a box labeled with letters, numbers, or vague, semi-mystical descriptors. Aries male? Oh, you must be stubborn and impulsive. ENFP? Wow, you’re totally creative and scatterbrained. Big Five score leaning high in agreeableness? People-pleaser alert!

And yet, here I stand, a man who simply cannot be boxed. Yes, yes! We all think that! Whenever I take the Myers-Briggs test, my Introvert/Extrovert (I/E) score hovers awkwardly in the middle, waffling like a hungover short-order cook. “You’re not answering honestly,” the test experts claim. Well, excuse me for periodically liking a quiet evening at home and the occasional raucous dinner party. I’m sorry my human complexity doesn’t fit neatly into your binary little grid.

So, after decades of this existential crisis, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands. I’ve created a new label for myself: ANTJ. It stands for “Ambivert (Neither This nor That Junkie),” and it’s a perfect match for my 60-plus years of observational data. An ANTJ thrives on ambiguity, refuses to commit to being either an introvert or extrovert, and gleefully resists every attempt to pigeonhole them.

The world’s addiction to personality tests doesn’t stop at Myers-Briggs. The Enneagram insists we’re all one of nine archetypes, like “The Helper” or “The Achiever,” while the DISC assessment asks whether we’re more “dominant” or “conscientious.” Gallup’s StrengthsFinder suggests that some of us are “Woo” types (which, hilariously, stands for Winning Others Over—basically extroverts on steroids). Even HEXACO dives deep into whether we score high on “honesty-humility.”

But here’s the kicker: these labels are treated like gospel. Once you’ve slapped on your type, whether you’re a “Type 7 Enthusiast” or an “Analytical Green”, you’re expected to live your life accordingly. Changing? Growing? Evolving? Don’t you dare! You’re an Aries male, so start yelling at someone, whilst buying a motorcycle already.

Frankly, I refuse to play along. I’m an ANTJ, a free agent in the world of personality classification. Want me to be outgoing? Sure, I’ll host a dinner party with great wine and bad karaoke. Want me to be introspective? Absolutely, and I’ll write you a heartfelt essay about it afterward.

So, to my fellow fence-sitters, I say this: embrace the waffle. Be an ANTJ, a proud dweller of the in-between. Just don’t let anyone box you in, or worse, force you to buy a subscription to yet another fucking personality test.