Asexuality is, in my experience, one of the lesser-discussed identities that falls underneath the LGBTQ+ umbrella. It is also lesser understood, to the point where some don’t believe it exists, including other members of the LGBTQ+ community.
So, what is asexuality? Generally, it just means that someone does not experience sexual attraction the way that allosexual people (or non-asexuals, who are understood to be the norm) do. It’s important to note that asexuality is a spectrum — and honestly, so is sexuality in general, whether you are heterosexual, allosexual or neither.
Asexuality can co-occur with aromanticism (lack of experiencing romantic attraction in the way alloromantics/most people do, which also exists on a spectrum), but it doesn’t always. What most people think of as asexual usually falls at the most extreme end of the spectrum: someone who does not want to have sex, ever. And this does cover some people. There are sex-repulsed asexuals who are uncomfortable with discussions or even book descriptions about sex, and those who truly never want, desire or will have sex. But there are also sex-positive asexuals and asexuals who make quite a lot of sexual jokes. Candidly, I am one of the latter. I have the sense of humor of a middle school boy, but I digress.
Asexual people can want and have sex, although not all do. Some asexual people can even experience sexual attraction at a different and lower rate than allosexuals, though usually only under certain conditions. For example, with demisexuality, which falls under the asexual umbrella, individuals only feel sexual attraction to people they know very well.
Asexuality can be hard for even asexuals to understand. After all, asexuality is describing the lack of something you’ve never experienced (sexual attraction in the way other people do). This is made even more difficult due to most people assuming sexual attraction is something everyone experiences and therefore, don’t feel the need to discuss what experiencing sexual attraction is like.
Because of this, I learned what asexuality was long before I considered that I might fall under that category. After spending an unholy amount of time online from the young age of 11 years old and onwards, and on a children’s book forum for dragons no less, I learned what asexuality was. It was probably around the time I was in middle school.
It wasn’t until I was 16 that I seriously considered identifying myself as asexual. In addition to how difficult it is to figure out if you’re failing to experience something others do and don’t often talk about, I was raised and identified as Christian for a good chunk of my life. This meant I spent a lot of time gaslighting myself into thinking I was completely and totally straight, as anything else would be difficult to reconcile with my faith.
Retroactively, there were probably what should have been signs, such as a genuine comment I made, “I’d be okay if I died a virgin,” and remarking that people look better with their clothes on.
Also, sex as a concept just sounded gross to me. And frankly, it still kind of does. You’re telling me smashing genitals and saliva with someone else is supposed to be anything but unhygienic?
Despite all this, I still didn’t think of myself as asexual until later in my life because as a Christian, I was expected to eventually get married and have sex to consummate that marriage as God intended, even if I wasn’t sure if I wanted to and was totally okay going my entire life without ever experiencing sex.
Of course, not everyone is Christian, but in America, there seems to be an increasing presence and expectation of sex in media, and in general. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing — far preferable to slut-shaming and pearl-clutching at the thought of extramarital sex — but it’s good to remember and leave room for asexuality too.
I’ve seen other asexuals discuss feeling isolated from their peers when it comes to sexual identity, partly because of how prevalent and expected sex is nowadays. Honestly, I can’t relate too much, except on one occasion.
One time in South Dining Hall during my freshman year, my friend and her roommate said, “Wow, the guys here are so much hotter than at Northwest,” and I just stared at them blankly.
In that regard, I’m lucky. Most of my friends are either on the asexual spectrum themselves (like calls to like, I suppose) or just not getting any action. No shade to them — they’re all lovely people who will find someone in their own time — it just means sex isn’t a topic that comes up much, so I’ve never really had any significant experience of feeling isolated or disconnected from others as an asexual.
But I know that’s not true for every asexual, and no one should have to experience isolation because of their identity. Just as it should be okay for other people to have and want sex, it should be okay for people to not want any of those things. So, this Valentine’s Day, while we are celebrating love and sex, let us also remember that asexuality is aces.
If you’d like to learn more about asexuality, you can go to asexualityarchive.com.