For the majority of my life, I felt broken. There always was this acute disconnect that existed from my brain to my body that was overwhelmingly poignant. My friends would describe feelings that I had never felt and would perform actions I couldn’t understand. It wasn’t until I was 17 and found a post describing a list of sexualities that I discovered who I was: an asexual.
The first thing everyone should know about asexuality is that it isn’t a choice. Similar to all sexualities, I didn’t choose to abstain from feeling sexual attraction. Rather, asexuality was embedded as an integral component of my DNA since birth. When I look at a person, I can notice how aesthetically pleasing they are and I can notice the qualities that draw me to them in a romantic sense. Despite these aspects of attraction, my thoughts will never extend to having sex with them. Mostly, that’s because I don’t feel that emotion — I have never associated with it and will never encounter it. It has never been a concern of mine that I will never feel a sexual connection to anyone, because it feels fairly natural to me to not have one in the first place.
I’ve heard a myriad of jokes due to my sexuality, for those that hear it and immediately respond with, “So you’re going to reproduce through yourself?” Yes, your jokes about asexual reproduction are certainly not original. I’ve also encountered many misconceptions regarding asexuality, such as that asexuality is just another synonym for celibacy. While there are asexuals who abstain from sex, asexuals do not choose to not have sex. Instead, we don’t feel a sexual attraction. If this is confusing, imagine how I felt back in high school. Depending on the individual, an asexual may choose to have sex with a person just because, to try it out or even to reproduce. It is possible to have sex with someone and not have any sexual interest in them; the body will respond to sexual ministrations, it’s just the mind that won’t. This also doesn’t mean an asexual cannot masturbate. Getting off also isn’t a problem when you have an absence of sexual feelings, it’s honestly just an interest in your own genitalia, and not a sexual one at that.
Asexuality exists on a spectrum that varies from person to person. At the uppermost level, an asexual feels no sexual attraction to anyone, not even a smidge. At the bottom is sexual feelings, which an asexual does not experience. Then there’s a grey area where gray-asexuals and demisexuals thrive. Gray-aces vary, as this specific category varies. People who identify as gray-a may feel a sexual attraction some of the time, very little of the time, at random moments, or may feel like they don’t exactly fit in with the category of asexuality but exist on the spectrum. Demisexuals are those individuals who may experience a sexual attraction after they have developed a strong emotional bond with someone else. If you ask me where I fall on this spectrum, I would tentatively answer gray-a, as I know I don’t feel any sexual attraction but I often question if I could.
My confusion is a product of the minimal knowledge I’ve acquired over the years. Despite asexuality being a part of the LGBTQ community, it is rarely referenced or accepted. This is probably due to the fact that only 1% of the world population is asexual, according to expert Anthony Bogaert. This has always left me feeling suspended through feelings I have fabricated to fit in and my actual reality. For a long time, I didn’t feel like I was a person. Now, while the confirmation that I am apart of a community is reassuring at points, I still feel isolated.
Another misconception of asexuality is that because I don’t feel any sexual attraction, I don’t want a relationship. I understand the doubts, who would ever want to be in a relationship with someone who won’t put out? One of the most hurtful things I’ve heard regarding my asexuality is, “Well, you’re never going to get married then.” It’s a fear that follows me through every interaction I have with any person I have an interest in. I am scared of the prospect that I’ll never have a future with anyone simply because of who I am. Although I know that sex isn’t the only part of a relationship, for some people it is imperative to have both an emotional and physical connection. I’m afraid even if I do get into a relationship that my lack of physical interest will signify that I don’t care for them or that I won’t be able to ever make someone happy. Despite the falsity of such a fear, I do feel it is founded when cinema, media and the overall American atmosphere demonstrates how integrated sex is in our society.
While I love to make jokes about my asexuality, my favorite being when someone shouts out “f*ck you” and I can respond with “no thanks, I have no interest,” there are issues I deal with on the daily. A lot of people have told me that my asexuality is a phase that I’ll grow out of once I meet the “right person.” To be honest, they could be the “right person” and I’d still feel less than nothing for them sexually. If they’re truly my other half, it’ll be because they accept me for who I am, rather than “what” I sometimes believe I am. I’ve had people tell me that if I continue to hang out with someone who I have no interest in originally, eventually “I’ll feel something.” If I don’t think I’ll have an emotional connection with someone, nothing will be fostered by my spending more time with someone who has already made me uncomfortable. I have also been told that I making this up, which there are many sites, books, and personal accounts that will prove how wrong this is.
I have come a long way from where I was just two years ago. For the most part, I have come to terms with who I am and find comfort in the knowledge that despite my invisible sexuality, it exists and persists. I have a strong support system of friends who look out for me and who reaffirm that there is nothing wrong with me, not like there ever was. Asexuality is a sexuality that does not define me, but rather I am part of its definition.