The opposite of sex. Or not.
Let's talk about asexuality.
I've seen various comments in recent months about Sherlock and asexuality, as if being asexual is something that has to be fixed. Or that is psychologically fucked up. Or that means that Sherlock is broken or in need of rescue.
Bullshit.
Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.
And these comments--none of them meant cruelly, I'm certain--have started to frustrate me. Because, you see, I'm beginning to come to terms with the fact that I am an individual who exists on the asexuality spectrum.
Some people avoid labels. I like them for myself because they help me understand myself better. So when I label myself both a biromantic-lesbian with polyamorous leanings and a romantic asexual under the Grey-A umbrella, that helps me deal with a rather complex and complicated sexuality and sexual history.
All my life it's been easy for me to be celibate. Far easier than most anyone I know. I've always been more interested in the emotional aspects of being in love than with the physical. Yes, I've had sex. Yes, I've had good sex. But I have very little actual erotic interest in sex ; I'd much rather enjoy emotional intimacy than physical. I fall into the Grey-A category of asexuality because every once in a while I feel a small flash of physical attraction towards someone. Take my fangirlishness about Tom Hiddleston, for example. 75% of it is pure attraction to his personality and intellect. Probably about 20% is an aesthetic appreciation of his appearance. And then the rest is a physical attraction. Still, that's a pretty small fragment of my overall attraction to someone--and honestly, I'm far more drawn to people for who they are rather than what I'd like to do physically with them, and I'm far less likely to feel a physical attraction to someone I know in RL than, say, an obviously unattainable celebrity like Hiddles who holds more of a fantasy role.
A few myths to explode: Asexual individuals are not always aromantic. Sometimes we might be. A lot of times we're not. I fall in love; I have romantic relationships. I'm just not interested in sex the way sexual people are. Asexual people can be married --to each other or to sexual people. Asexual people can have intensely emotionally intimate romances. Sometimes asexual people will even engage in sexual behavior--maybe because we want to express love to a sexual partner, maybe because we ourselves decide we want to have sex for whatever reason we choose. Asexual people may choose to masturbate--either for the physical release or because we find fantasies more fulfilling than actual sex. And while some asexuals are sex-repulsed, others of us aren't. I like to write about sexual relationships because I find them intriguing and interesting and I think sexual dynamics are fascinating, but I'll be honest and admit ninety percent of the time I skip sex scenes when I'm reading because unless the way the sex is written hits my emotional intimacy button, it does very little for me. Still, the handful of times when it does...it does.
I'm content falling on the Grey-A romantic autoerotic limb of the asexual family tree. My emotional, love and intimacy needs are met. I don't feel a desperate need to have sex. I'm happy. I'm not broken, and I certainly don't need to be "fixed" by someone who thinks that I can be "cured" with the right sexual partner. Frankly, that's just as fucking tacky as my brother's friend who offered to "fix" me by fucking me when I came out as a lesbian. Yeah. Right. It's offensive enough to suggest that a penis could turn me straight; to deny my sexual (non)expression by suggesting that I just need the right person to make me orgasm is even more so. Are there people who might be broken sexually for one reason or another? Sure. Some therapists would probably say my disinterest in sex stems from my childhood abuse. Maybe they're right. Or maybe it's just me. I have family members who I would suspect fall into the asexual spectrum as well who weren't abused.
Honestly, I'm tired of pretending I'm anything other than who I am. In recent months it's been made clear to me through one circumstance after another that I want to stand up for sex-positivity and queer rights, particularly in the realm of theological thought but also in fandom. And to do that, I have to start being honest here. We like to think we're sex-positive in fandom because we don't blink an eye at kinks that would shock the general public. We like to think because we write about two men or two women shagging we're supporting queer rights. But you know, that's not always true. Fandom is NOT sex-positive in a lot of ways. Fandom likes kinks. Fandom likes to pat itself on the back for being supportive of alternative sexualities. But fandom slut-shames too. Fandom kink-shames. Fandom, as much as fandom claims otherwise, is, even in slash fandoms, shockingly heterocentrist at times and often based around straight interpretations of queer relationships. (But perhaps that's a discussion for another day.) And fandom sometimes seems to think of asexuality as an oddity. As something that must be fixed, changed, and not accepted as a valid sexual orientation.
The fact that I am on the asexual spectrum does not mean I am broken. It does not make me abnormal. It does not make me weird. It does not make me less of an individual. It doesn't mean I am sex-negative. It does not mean that I judge you for having sex or for not being asexual. It does not mean I cannot write sex. It does not mean I cannot read sex when I want to. It does not mean that I don't occasionally think about sex, or talk about sex, or even engage in sex if I choose to. It just means that 99% of the time I do not have the drive or desire to express my sexuality in a physical manner. For me sex is primarily mental and intellectual. For me sex is more about an emotional intimacy. For me sex is romance, love, laughter, a human connection. The physicality of it doesn't actually interest me.*
I think sex is a wonderful act. I think that a healthy sexuality is something to be strived for, something to be supported, something to be celebrated. For me, my healthy sexuality involves accepting the contradictions of who I am: the fact that I am a lesbian who is on occasion drawn to men, a person who can be polyamorous and yet who has little interest in the physicality of sex, an asexual who is a not-so-secret emotional romantic-seeking-commitment and who thinks sex is amazing--for other people. Do not try to fix me. Do not pity me. Do not suggest I should make an attempt to be involved in a sexual relationship, or that my lack of interest in sex obviously means I'm sexually repressed or frigid. (I will cut you for that. I'm not kidding.) And for fuck's sake do not even start to think I'm in need of being rescued. I can rescue myself, thanks. In fact, I'm quite happy where I am.
So. There we go. There are asexuals in fandom, and sometimes we like to write porn. Enough said? Yes? Good.
Carry on.
----------------
*ETA: Since this is starting to get linked around, let me just say that every asexual experiences asexuality differently. There are many of us; each of us has our own story and our own lines we draw about sexuality and romance. All of them are valid; this post reflects my own experiences. To learn more about asexuality--romantic and aromantic--and to read other asexual people's stories, look through the forums at AVEN. It's a great place to spend a few hours. :)
------------------
This entry was originally posted at http://femmequixotic.dreamwidth.org/508268.html where there are currently
comments. You can comment here or there using OpenID.
I've seen various comments in recent months about Sherlock and asexuality, as if being asexual is something that has to be fixed. Or that is psychologically fucked up. Or that means that Sherlock is broken or in need of rescue.
Bullshit.
Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.
And these comments--none of them meant cruelly, I'm certain--have started to frustrate me. Because, you see, I'm beginning to come to terms with the fact that I am an individual who exists on the asexuality spectrum.
Some people avoid labels. I like them for myself because they help me understand myself better. So when I label myself both a biromantic-lesbian with polyamorous leanings and a romantic asexual under the Grey-A umbrella, that helps me deal with a rather complex and complicated sexuality and sexual history.
All my life it's been easy for me to be celibate. Far easier than most anyone I know. I've always been more interested in the emotional aspects of being in love than with the physical. Yes, I've had sex. Yes, I've had good sex. But I have very little actual erotic interest in sex ; I'd much rather enjoy emotional intimacy than physical. I fall into the Grey-A category of asexuality because every once in a while I feel a small flash of physical attraction towards someone. Take my fangirlishness about Tom Hiddleston, for example. 75% of it is pure attraction to his personality and intellect. Probably about 20% is an aesthetic appreciation of his appearance. And then the rest is a physical attraction. Still, that's a pretty small fragment of my overall attraction to someone--and honestly, I'm far more drawn to people for who they are rather than what I'd like to do physically with them, and I'm far less likely to feel a physical attraction to someone I know in RL than, say, an obviously unattainable celebrity like Hiddles who holds more of a fantasy role.
A few myths to explode: Asexual individuals are not always aromantic. Sometimes we might be. A lot of times we're not. I fall in love; I have romantic relationships. I'm just not interested in sex the way sexual people are. Asexual people can be married --to each other or to sexual people. Asexual people can have intensely emotionally intimate romances. Sometimes asexual people will even engage in sexual behavior--maybe because we want to express love to a sexual partner, maybe because we ourselves decide we want to have sex for whatever reason we choose. Asexual people may choose to masturbate--either for the physical release or because we find fantasies more fulfilling than actual sex. And while some asexuals are sex-repulsed, others of us aren't. I like to write about sexual relationships because I find them intriguing and interesting and I think sexual dynamics are fascinating, but I'll be honest and admit ninety percent of the time I skip sex scenes when I'm reading because unless the way the sex is written hits my emotional intimacy button, it does very little for me. Still, the handful of times when it does...it does.
I'm content falling on the Grey-A romantic autoerotic limb of the asexual family tree. My emotional, love and intimacy needs are met. I don't feel a desperate need to have sex. I'm happy. I'm not broken, and I certainly don't need to be "fixed" by someone who thinks that I can be "cured" with the right sexual partner. Frankly, that's just as fucking tacky as my brother's friend who offered to "fix" me by fucking me when I came out as a lesbian. Yeah. Right. It's offensive enough to suggest that a penis could turn me straight; to deny my sexual (non)expression by suggesting that I just need the right person to make me orgasm is even more so. Are there people who might be broken sexually for one reason or another? Sure. Some therapists would probably say my disinterest in sex stems from my childhood abuse. Maybe they're right. Or maybe it's just me. I have family members who I would suspect fall into the asexual spectrum as well who weren't abused.
Honestly, I'm tired of pretending I'm anything other than who I am. In recent months it's been made clear to me through one circumstance after another that I want to stand up for sex-positivity and queer rights, particularly in the realm of theological thought but also in fandom. And to do that, I have to start being honest here. We like to think we're sex-positive in fandom because we don't blink an eye at kinks that would shock the general public. We like to think because we write about two men or two women shagging we're supporting queer rights. But you know, that's not always true. Fandom is NOT sex-positive in a lot of ways. Fandom likes kinks. Fandom likes to pat itself on the back for being supportive of alternative sexualities. But fandom slut-shames too. Fandom kink-shames. Fandom, as much as fandom claims otherwise, is, even in slash fandoms, shockingly heterocentrist at times and often based around straight interpretations of queer relationships. (But perhaps that's a discussion for another day.) And fandom sometimes seems to think of asexuality as an oddity. As something that must be fixed, changed, and not accepted as a valid sexual orientation.
The fact that I am on the asexual spectrum does not mean I am broken. It does not make me abnormal. It does not make me weird. It does not make me less of an individual. It doesn't mean I am sex-negative. It does not mean that I judge you for having sex or for not being asexual. It does not mean I cannot write sex. It does not mean I cannot read sex when I want to. It does not mean that I don't occasionally think about sex, or talk about sex, or even engage in sex if I choose to. It just means that 99% of the time I do not have the drive or desire to express my sexuality in a physical manner. For me sex is primarily mental and intellectual. For me sex is more about an emotional intimacy. For me sex is romance, love, laughter, a human connection. The physicality of it doesn't actually interest me.*
I think sex is a wonderful act. I think that a healthy sexuality is something to be strived for, something to be supported, something to be celebrated. For me, my healthy sexuality involves accepting the contradictions of who I am: the fact that I am a lesbian who is on occasion drawn to men, a person who can be polyamorous and yet who has little interest in the physicality of sex, an asexual who is a not-so-secret emotional romantic-seeking-commitment and who thinks sex is amazing--for other people. Do not try to fix me. Do not pity me. Do not suggest I should make an attempt to be involved in a sexual relationship, or that my lack of interest in sex obviously means I'm sexually repressed or frigid. (I will cut you for that. I'm not kidding.) And for fuck's sake do not even start to think I'm in need of being rescued. I can rescue myself, thanks. In fact, I'm quite happy where I am.
So. There we go. There are asexuals in fandom, and sometimes we like to write porn. Enough said? Yes? Good.
Carry on.
----------------
*ETA: Since this is starting to get linked around, let me just say that every asexual experiences asexuality differently. There are many of us; each of us has our own story and our own lines we draw about sexuality and romance. All of them are valid; this post reflects my own experiences. To learn more about asexuality--romantic and aromantic--and to read other asexual people's stories, look through the forums at AVEN. It's a great place to spend a few hours. :)
------------------
This entry was originally posted at http://femmequixotic.dreamwidth.org/508268.html where there are currently
comments. You can comment here or there using OpenID.