Sunday, August 31, 2014

Sex Talk Realness: Asexuality

According to the Asexuality Visibility and Education Network (AVEN), an asexual person is someone who does not experience sexual attraction. "Unlike celibacy, which is achoice, asexuality is a sexual orientation," they explain. "Asexual people have the same emotional needs as everybody else and are just as capable of forming intimate relationships."

But like people of any sexual orientation, different asexual people experience asexuality differently. I spoke with two anonymous asexual women about labels, dating, and what it's like to be a twenty something woman in a world that assumes that everyone wants sex.

So, you identify as asexual. What does that mean to you?

Woman A: To me, it means that someone doesn't feel sexual attraction towards other people. I don't think it means you can't tell when someone is attractive. Even if I can tell a man or woman is physically attractive and dresses nice, I don't fantasize about doing anything sexual with them. In all my relationships I've been OK with nonsexual intimacy but I've never wanted to go beyond that. I knew it was expected but it's not something I thought about most of the time.

Woman B: I've never experienced sexual attraction to anyone else, regardless of gender, but that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me — I'm not immature, or frigid, or broken. It's useful and comforting to have a term for the way I feel (or don't feel) about different types of relationships.

How old were you when you started using the label asexual to describe yourself? How old are you now?

Woman A: I was around 18 or 19 when a friend mentioned asexuality in an offhand way, but I didn't learn the actual definition and start identifying as asexual until I was 22. I'm 23 now.

Woman B: I was 14 or so when I first saw the term online and said, "That's me!" I'm 23 now, almost 24, so it's been about a decade. I became more confident about using the label when I was 17 — that's when I thought, "Yeah, this isn't going away." Or coming. Whichever.

What was it like growing up asexual in a world in which everyone is assumed to want sex?

Woman A: Amongst my friends I was usually dismissed. If the topic of sex came up they stopped me before I started talking because I'd told them about having no interest. But I didn't have many moments where I thought there was a problem with not caring about it.

Woman B: It was frustrating, like the whole world was in on some joke I wasn't. I often felt like I was foolish, immature, or even broken because I never hit any of these "milestones" I was told to expect. No crushes, no dates, and no interest. Full stop. My mom actually asked if I was gay a few times, but gender and sex didn't matter. I'd just shrug.

After learning about asexuality, I felt better knowing I wasn't alone, but that only goes so far. Face-to-face, once I got through explaining what asexuality was — because no one ever knew — I'd get any variety of confused, pitying, or skeptical looks. I was asked if I was sick,was I raped, was I gay, was I picky, was I lying to get out of a date? I even had a near stranger ask me if I'd had a brain scan and hormone test. You could like boys, girls, or any other gender, but to like no one made no sense.

Media was no real comfort here, as it was rare to see anyone who even might be asexual. Most characters weren't human (think robots, aliens, and monsters),and usually their real or perceived asexuality was something to be cured or overcome. It also wasn't something you saw associated with anyone coded as a woman, unless of course you needed someone to thaw her frigid heart. Or shank her for being a monster. The only positive, tenuous portrayal I really knew growing up was Sherlock Holmes, who is still often compared to a machine.

What is it like for you now, as an adult?

Woman A: It seems like if you aren't a sexual person you don't get recognized in books, movies, or television. But now I just move on to something else instead of giving time to things that don't acknowledge me.

Woman B: It's definitely better now, especially with the Internet and slow increase in awareness. I've met people who didn't need an "asexuality 101" talk or Q&A in the last few years, and that never happened growing up. I have the language and experience to understand everything a lot more, and to help others understand, too.

I'm still starving for representation, though. I'd love to see myself in that way in media I consume, and for it to be positive, too. Asexuality is pretty invisible right now unless you're looking for it, and it would be so cool to name a character (or characters!) like me when explaining asexuality, and to one day not have to explain it at all. Even other MOGII [Marginalized Orientation, Gender Identity and Intersex] people tend to disparage, ignore, or forget about asexuality.

Any sexuality can be confusing, but because asexuality isn't well known, I sometimes worry I'll do something "wrong" and discredit the cause or something. It's pretty silly and doesn't make a lot of sense when I think about it, but I still tend to veer between wanting to be some kind of "model ace," or throwing my hands up in the air to say "I am what I am!" I've gotten better since high school and even college, but I still have some stuff to unpack mentally about that.

On the AVEN [Asexuality Visibility and Education Network] website, asexuality is defined as an absence of sexual attraction to other people – meaning that some asexual people experience a physical desire for sexual release, they just have no desire to act on it with another person. Do you ever feel that desire for sexual release, and if so, how does it differ from sexual attraction?

Woman A: I don't feel it, but I do believe feeling the desire for sexual release is different to sexual attraction. I don't think someone having that desire means they want to make anyone else involved.

Woman B: For me, a desire for sexual release is no different from a desire to go boxing or eat a burger. It's a way to feel good, I like feeling good, and it really doesn't matter if anyone else is involved. In fact, the idea of being with another person is so strange, it totally kills the mood. I've heard you're supposed to think of your grandmother or something to stop feeling horny — for me, everyone is my grandmother. Not sexy. (No offense, grandma.)

Do you masturbate?

Woman A: No. I don't even like the idea of actually doing it.

Woman B: Sure do.

Have you ever had sex? If so, what was the experience like for you?

Woman A: Yes, with two different guys. It was incredibly boring and not something I planned on doing again after the first time. It's something I could do without.

Woman B: Never had sex, although I have made out before. I wasn't really into it and we didn't repeat the experience. Not sure it's really my thing. I'm not outright opposed to having sex, but I probably won't be the one to propose it.

Have you ever had a boyfriend/girlfriend? Do you desire a romantic relationship?

Woman A: I've had three boyfriends and one girlfriend.

Woman B: I've dated casually and even had a boyfriend before, and have always been upfront about my asexuality. I've never had any desire for a romantic relationship, and I don't want to lead anyone on. To me, a date or even multiple dates means I value your company — in the same way I value my relationships with my family and friends.

If so, do you prefer to date other asexual people? Or people of a certain sexual orientation (eg. bisexual, homosexual, heterosexual?)

Woman A: I've never dated another asexual person, but I don't have a preference for orientation.

Woman B: As long we both understand what each other wants from a date or relationship, I'm comfortable going out with people of any orientation or gender. It's usually a little harder to explain things to heterosexual guys, especially if they are cisgender, so I'm a little more wary about dating them compared to others, though.

If you have dated a sexual person, did you feel any pressure to have sex? How did you deal with it?

Woman A: I have a fiancé and we've been together for three years. Before I started identifying as asexual it was difficult to explain that my lack of interest in sex was not a disinterest in him, so we have had sex because of that. We still do, just not very often. Two or three times a month at most, and sometimes not at all. We have talked about sex not being a part of our relationship in the future, and he's a little more open to the idea.

Woman B: I definitely felt pressure to pursue a more physical relationship when I was dating my boyfriend, but it wasn't really anything he did himself. It was more a cultural thing. On paper, we were perfect for each other and we got along fantastically, but after every date, I'd ask myself, "Why don't I feel different about him? It's supposed to be different now, right? Aren't I supposed to want to do more?" He's the one I made out with, hoping for some kind of romantic epiphany, but all that did was make me feel broken and miserable. I simply couldn't reciprocate his feelings, romantically or physically. It felt like I'd failed, at what I didn't even really know, and that's still the only time I was ashamed of my sexuality. He was great about it all, though, and our breakup a few weeks later was very amicable.

What are the biggest misconceptions about asexual people, in your opinion?

Woman A: I think one of the biggest misconceptions is that because our orientation is a minority, we don't know ourselves well enough to identify this way. Another is that it's a childish thing; that we're not adults until we feel sexual attraction like everyone else.

Woman B: I've heard a lot that asexual people are cold, or boring, or just missing out in life. It's absurd and can even hurt sometimes. I'm a warm person! I love a lot — just not in all the ways other people do. There are many types of relationships you can form with people, so if someone thinks a person is boring because they aren't interested in a few of them, that seems narrow-minded. The same with comments about "missing out." There's so much to do in the world — and again, so many types of relationships — and I've never felt I was missing anything except for some kind of mass secret to sexual attraction.

I remember an episode of House where the "good doctor" showed an asexual couple was really just a sick man who needed to be treated/cured, and a woman who was lying about her sexuality to avoid conflict. Stuff like this actually really does hurt. Something being rare or uncommon doesn't make it any less real, and because it is real, it affects real people. You can't cure your sexual orientation.

Is there anything that confuses you about sexual people? (If so, what?)

Woman A: Until recently I didn't really understand the concept of a "turn on." I thought it meant something you would like in someone else. And even now it's really just a theory to me.

Woman B: Nothing really comes to mind, although I don't get why allosexual people [a term asexual people use to describe those who experience sexual attraction] feel so entitled to ask invasive, inappropriate questions even if they barely know you. I think most MOGII people get some kind of questioning, but even they will grill you or ask for "proof" you're really asexual. It's weird.

If a person is wondering if they might be asexual, what advice would you have for them?

Woman A: My advice is to do as much research as needed to help you feel sure of it. No one else is inside your head, so no one else can decide your orientation. And don't worry if one day you might feel sexual attraction. It doesn't invalidate your asexuality if your orientation changes.

Woman B: Try it on for size. You can always find another label that fits you better — whether short- or long-term. Sexuality is a tangle for everyone, and you're not alone.

Is there anything else you'd like Cosmo readers to know about asexuality?

Woman A: People who identify as asexual can want a relationship or only desire platonic friendships. Both are perfectly OK. Neither should be used a measurement of what makes a true asexual.

Woman B: It's a real orientation, not something to be cured or overcome. It isn't something to be pitied or interrogated, and it has its own set of challenges you might not understand. Be respectful, same as you would with anyone else. Do a little reading, don't make assumptions about people based on their sexuality, and just know we have probably already heard every amoeba joke you can think of.

Follow Rachel on Twitter.


From Cosmopolitan.com. Visit Amazon Beauty Ceneter here

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