Ace of the deck

My experience with asexuality and why it is underrepresented

Asexual is not a word I hear often. The first time I heard it was in a high school biology class when we talked about bacterial reproduction. I had no idea that word might apply to me someday.

Asexuality is defined by feeling little to no sexual attraction towards other people. Many asexual people may also experience little to no desire for sexual activity.

At first mention, many assume it means that someone never wants to have sex in their life or that they are disgusted by sexual topics. However, asexuality covers quite a spectrum.

Everyone experiences it slightly differently.

I was confused for a long time. I realized at one point in middle school that I was not experiencing certain things the same as my friends or classmates. They often discussed their crushes, and I would have no idea what to say when they asked me because I did not always have one.

In high school, my friends talked about wanting to start having sex and wondering what it would be like. I sat there uninterested, wondering when I could get back to whatever show I was watching.

I saw people around me getting into relationships and imagined what it must be like. However, when I ended up in intimate situations, I did not know what I was getting myself into.

I found out about this definition of asexuality from, of course, the internet. It was not until I got to college that I looked into it more. I scrolled for hours, reading about other people’s experiences. That is when I discovered the term demisexual. This is defined as someone who feels sexually attracted to someone only after developing an emotional bond with them. This is what made me realize how broad the spectrum is and how I am not alone in this experience.

Despite appearing in more media over the years, such as “Heartstopper,” “Sex Education” and “Bojack Horseman,” asexuality is still a highly criticized and underrepresented part of the LGBTQ+ community.

On April 6th, International Asexuality Day, the author of Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling, tweeted, “Happy International Fake Oppression Day to everyone who wants complete strangers to know they don’t fancy a shag.”

It is just not as simple as that. I do not feel oppressed or want pity. I just want to put a name to a feeling and know it is not just me.

I have felt insecure about my asexuality for a long time. Not knowing whether I would ever be able to feel that closeness with someone without the lingering possibility of sex. That was until I read the book “Loveless” by Alice Oseman. The book follows Georgia Warr as she starts university and navigates her aromanticism and asexuality. Throughout, she learns that while it is not the same, the deep love she feels for her friends can replace the love she wishes to give to a partner. Georgia’s cousin, who is also aromantic asexual, gave some advice that stuck with me: “Give your friendships the magic you would give a romance. Because they’re just as important. Actually, for us, they’re way more important.”

I accepted that I did not need that kind of intimacy to have a strong, meaningful connection with someone. The time that I was spending worrying about whether or not I would end up alone forever should be spent growing and deepening the relationships I already had and valued.

I have learned a lot on this journey to figure out my feelings. Asexuality is real and valid. No one person will experience it the same as another. Some are sex-positive, some sex-negative. Many are sex-averse, but a lot are sex favorable. As I said, it is a broad spectrum.

I do not wish to force anyone to adopt the asexual label, even if you relate to any of this, but rather present something that helped in accepting what was different about me. I just want to bring awareness in a sex-filled world.