The Asexual Visibility and Education Network says, “An asexual person does not experience sexual attraction—they are not drawn to people sexually and do not desire to act upon attraction to others in a sexual way.” The asexual identity is an umbrella for many sub-identities like demisexual, grey-asexual or greysexual, queerplatonic, lithosexual, fraysexual, and others. It also includes some microlabels, which can’t stand on their own, and need to be complemented by other labels of asexuality – like aegosexuality. The core of all identities, however, is that sexual attraction is limited, absent, or conditional.
Asexuality is often confused with celibacy, but the former is a sexual identity based on the lack of sexual attraction, while the latter is a conscious choice that reflects in behaviour, abstinence from sex. This distinction is important because sexual behaviour is not a determining factor in asexuality—asexual people can and do engage in sexual activity, and also enjoy it. A person is asexual if they say they are, whether or not they (like to) have sex.
Most popular understandings of asexuality are centered around a ‘lack’ of something (sexual attraction).
This makes it easy to think of asexuality as a disorder or problem that needs to be fixed. This is legitimised by the fact that disinterest in sex can be a symptom of actual mental illness(es). It also makes it easy for asexual people to invalidate their identity or explain it away using an external event. For instance, asexual people who have survived trauma may attribute their asexual experience to trauma or depression, or think of the lack of sexual attraction or desire as a trauma response. This is because disinterest in sex can be a trauma response or a symptom of depression. However, a person is asexual simply if they say they are, regardless of the experience of mental illness or trauma – asexuality is not an exclusive experience.
We conducted a two-day reflective workshop for asexual people to help them make meaning of their identity in a compulsory heterosexual world. We encouraged participants to reflect on their relationship with themselves and the world, and how it was mediated by their asexuality. We started with a word association activity to bring out the various facets of the asexual experience, followed by the participants’ feelings about their ace identities. To aid this process, we introduced the concept of a lightbulb moment—the moment when their asexual experience made sense to them.
Next, we asked them to imagine a world that was not compulsorily heterosexual—what would relationships look like, what would expectations and goals in romantic/queerplatonic relationships be like, and what would the world be like if sex was not on the pedestal that it is on right now. To close the workshop, we asked the participants to make a starter kit for new aces; and this is what some of them came up with!
Since aces are often asked how they can go about their lives without thinking about, having, or wanting to have sex, we subverted the question for allosexual people—
Asexuality as a valid sexual orientation is a topic of debate even in queer circles on Twitter, so expecting acceptance from the larger allosexual society seems like a big ask at the moment. What might help, without putting the onus on asexual people for bringing about awareness, is representation in popular media—TV shows, books, movies. Thanks to its extensive reach and the potential to portray diverse experiences, the media can play a huge role in making changes in public perception of asexuality. More importantly, popular culture can help to decenter sex from the pedestal position it enjoys. But as long as we position sexual relationships at the top of the hierarchy of interpersonal relationships, asexuality will be looked down upon.
By Gargi, a counsellor at The Alternative Story
