By S. L.
Content warning: discussions of anti-asexual sentiments
Growing up I always knew there was something ‘off’ about me. I didn’t get crushes in the same way my friends did, I didn’t fantasise about being swept off my feet like others in my class. As I got older, into high school, I remained uninterested in sex. I wanted someone to fall in love with me, but the fantasies stopped there – it would fade to black after a (very dramatic) confession.
Of course, everything was made so much more confusing by compulsory heterosexuality, the constant exposure to heterosexuality and the suppression of alternatives. I thought that I had to be attracted to men, and so I made up crushes and fantasies about whatever boy in school was the least annoying. This continued even as I realised I liked girls, and it was a constant fight between who I wanted to like and who I thought I should. At this point, I was a blossoming feminist and had surrounded myself with other queer people online. I knew I was somewhat queer, so shouldn’t I be fantasising about girls? I convinced myself that I had crushes on people, although I only ever thought about having an emotional connection.
But here is my confession: I knew what asexuality was. I did my research, read people’s stories, and even felt relief that I was not the only one who felt like that. But I pushed it away. This continued for around eight years – I would read a post about someone’s experiences as an ace person, feel that lightbulb moment of, ‘Wow, that’s me!’, and then push it down again and again. I didn’t want to believe it was true. All I wanted was to be ‘normal’.
The truly insidious thing was that I knew that it was okay to be ace*. I knew other ace people at that time, and loved and respected them and their experiences. But the idea of applying that same respect to myself seemed ridiculous. I wanted to be ‘normal’ so badly that I thought I could make myself become someone I was not. Despite everything I knew and everyone I loved, I still could not conceptualise myself as ace without defaulting to thinking of myself as abnormal and needing to be fixed.
Allonormativity is the assumption that everyone feels sexual attraction, desires sex, and aims to take part in sexual activities. It assumes that romantic relationships must include sex, and places these relationships at the centre of the ideal human experience. This is also related to amatonormativity, which insists on romantic relationships as not only the norm, but the ultimate goal and more intrinsically valuable than other relationships. Particularly in the West, we learn to position an intimate partner relationship as the ultimate priority, sidelining all other platonic and familial relationships as somehow weaker and less important than a romantic relationship.
It is widely known that conversion therapy, including ‘corrective’ rape, has been used against lesbians (specifically allosexual* lesbians). Asexual people have also been subjected to this torture, in an attempt to make them ‘normal’. A 2018 UK study found that among the queer community, asexual people were most likely to be offered conversion therapy, and just as likely as gay men and lesbians to receive it. However, this is not just something that happens to ace people. Internalised aphobia* can lead ace people towards sex in an effort to fix their ‘brokenness’, leading only to more shame and feelings of violation. In this society, made for and privileging allosexual people, many ace people experience self-loathing and a desire to ‘fit in’.
Rainbow couple. Image via Canva.
As an ace person, it's often hard to exist in a society which such an obsession with sex and (particularly hetero)sexuality. It’s everywhere – social media, advertisements, books, movies, music, conversations, and more. Sex is perceived as an essential part of healthy life, and many symbolic and cultural life stages are based around it. My internalised aphobia is not my fault, it is simply a product of the society we live in.
I have accepted myself as an ace person, but I still struggle with internalised aphobia. I still wish I could have the same experiences that everyone else seems so infatuated with. I still wish I could be ‘normal’. But slowly, year by year, I find myself growing into a person who could be openly proud of their ace identity. Unlearning aphobia is a long process, and it’s okay to not be comfortable with your identity yet. But, as I’ve learnt, connection and love are not static sensations. Ace, aro, and other queer communities are working to redefine relationships around different types of connection. Platonic life partners and queer platonic relationships particularly emphasise the importance of emotional intimacy in relationships. There has also been a rise in discussions surrounding different types of attraction and forms of intimacy, such as intellectual, creative, spiritual, aesthetic, non-sexual and value-based intimacy. There are so many different ways of being loved that we can, and will, find.
*Glossary of Terms
Asexual/ace: An umbrella term, referring to people who experience little or no sexual attraction and/or experience sexual attraction in a non-normative way. Asexuality exists on a spectrum that includes sex-favourable, sex-neutral and sex-averse people, as well different experiences of attraction such as demisexuality or grey-A sexuality.
Allosexual: Individuals who experience sexual attraction in a ‘normative’ way (according to society). This term is typically used to contrast between allosexual and asexual experiences.
Anormativity: The assumption that all people desire love and romance, typically associated with a long-term, monogamous, romantic relationship. Examples of this include questions from family members about ‘when will you settle down’ and the structuring of society around married couples (i.e. houses and taxes).
Allonomativity: The assumption that all people are allosexual. Examples include an equation of sexual inexperience with immaturity, the assumption that a lack of sexual desire is both a cause for concern and something that can be fixed, and the assumption that if you are not having sex (being sexually liberated), you are repressing your sexuality. It is important to not, however, that some marginalised groups, such as the disabled community, continues to be ‘desexualised’ by media and through normative ideas of what an allosexual person should be or look like.
References
https://www.oulgbtq.org/acearo-spectrum-definitions.html
https://honisoit.com/2022/02/sex-education-needs-an-asexual-perspective/
https://www.gaytimes.com/life/ive-realised-im-asexual-but-have-internalised-aphobia-so-what-now/