Decentralising Love

Cynicism around love today often comes from the way we’ve been trained to measure it: by whether it ends in marriage, whether it produces kin. Historically, locking love into the institution of marriage was essential for centralising kinship and inheritance. But in contemporary life, intimacy, care and belonging are increasingly being decoupled from marriage. 

The signs are everywhere. In the US, “mommunes” – co-living setups where single mothers pool childcare and resources – show that care can be organised beyond the nuclear couple. Multi-generational households are creeping back, driven by economics and caregiving demands. LGBTQ+ movements have long exposed how marriage excluded so many, sparking debates over legitimacy and kinship. 

Polyamory and ethical non-monogamy are also becoming more visible, challenging the idea that intimacy has to be exclusive. Even the loneliness epidemic is pushing people to find new ways to belong – through friendship networks, chosen families or digital communities.

Anthropologist Janet Carsten reminds us that kinship is “a process, not a structure” (2000) – a set of practices of relatedness rather than rigid family categories. Friendship, communal care, chosen families: these are now legitimate spaces of intimacy, equally deserving of recognition. 

This shift has three big implications:

• First, it loosens marriage’s grip as the ultimate framework for intimacy.
• Second, it pushes institutions to rethink laws that still prioritise marriage, from taxes to inheritance.
• Third, it asks us individually to imagine life differently: what does intimacy look like when marriage isn’t the inevitable centre?

Marriage still matters – sometimes as a ritual, sometimes as a legal safety net. But decentralisation asks us to see it as one option among many, not the default. As cultural theorist Eva Illouz (1997) notes, love always mirrors social and economic change. Today’s change is toward plurality.

What does this mean for brands?

Right now, most brands are fine just reflecting the shift. Ads with queer couples, blended families or multi-generational households signal they “get it”. See: H&M’s recent “My Chosen Family” campaign focussing on the concept of non-biological families that play an essential role for many LGBTQ+ people.

But representation alone isn’t enough. If love is a verb, brands need to act. They have to be part of creating the rituals, infrastructures and symbols that let new forms of intimacy, care and belonging flourish.

Once, religious institutions – churches, temples, mosques – codified marriage, inheritance, legitimacy. Now those centralised authorities are losing their monopoly, and brands are stepping into the cultural mix. By changing the stories they tell – who they celebrate, what relationships they honour, which rituals they invent –  brands have emerged as powerful cultural co-creators. A jewellery brand offering “rings of chosen kinship”, a financial service recognising co-parenting among friends or a housing company building for communal living isn’t just selling stuff – they’re validating ways of life.

bell hooks reminds us in All About Love (1999): “Love is a verb, not a noun.” That’s the key to understanding decentralisation: love is no longer defined by its shape – marriage, coupledom – but by the acts of care, responsibility and recognition that sustain it. Decentralisation isn’t a weakening of love. It’s an expansion: a wider playground for how kinship can flourish, intimacy can be lived and care can circulate.