The Comment Section: So What? Who Cares!

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One of the most common types of negative comments were the “So What?  Who Cares!” brand of remark.  These comments are so prevalent that I’ve already written a post about why I care in response.  The essence of these comments is that asexuality isn’t anything remarkable, that there’s no point talking about it or trying to raise visibility, because “no one cares that you don’t have sex”.

Now, they’re typically not directly hostile, but they are belittling and dismissive.  What they say is that asexuality isn’t important enough to talk about, that we should all just shut up and hide in the closet our whole lives.  There’s often the implication that asexuality itself doesn’t even need to be a “thing”.

Comments such as these are usually intentionally dismissive.  They’re not innocent, supportive, “I don’t care if you’re asexual.  Whatever you are is fine by me!” comments.  Instead, they’re a direct claim that asexuality is a nothing, it’s unworthy of discussion, and talking about it is a pointless waste of time.  People who make the “Who Cares?” comments do actually care.  They have an opinion about asexuality, and they don’t like it.  If someone truly didn’t care, and didn’t see the point, they wouldn’t say anything at all.  They wouldn’t have even bothered clicking to read the article.

“Who Cares?” also tends to come with a strong dose of misrepresentation.  They’ll frequently equate asexuality to celibacy, and say that no one cares if you don’t have sex.

 

Specific Subclasses:

Don’t shove it down our throats! [#]

Examples:

  • Stop trying to force your agenda on US.
  • Don’t throw it in people’s face and no one will care.

Why these Comments are a problem:

First, it’s a strawman attack.  Instead of having an objection to some actual facet of asexuality, they are objecting to something completely made up.  There’s no forced “Two Minutes of Ace” where everyone has to stand around and watch asexual propaganda.  There aren’t any roving bands of asexual hooligans shouting gestures of platonic affection at complete strangers.  We don’t hang out on the subway handing out leaflets and berating anyone who doesn’t take one.  We’re simply not throwing asexuality in anyone’s face or forcing anything on anyone.

Second, it’s attempt to silence us by making us look excessive and unreasonable.  Just talking about how you feel isn’t some kind of assault.  Just opening up about how you navigate the world when you don’t experience sexual attraction isn’t an unreasonable intrusion into someone’s life.  Having an article written about your orientation isn’t a crime.  All we’re doing is saying, “I would like to be recognized and understood for who I am, and I’m not the only one who feels this way”.  That is not throwing something in someone’s face.

What they mean is “You’re different and I don’t like it, and I don’t like you talking about it”.  The exact same comments have been used for decades to attack gay people and religious minorities and feminists and pretty much everyone else.

How to respond:

  • Given that this is a troll-only comment, it’s probably best to avoid responding.  They’re not going to come around, and it’s such a tired and overused comment in GSRM spaces (and elsewhere) that no one is actually going to take it seriously.

Why does anyone need to label themselves?  Why can’t we all just be “human”? [#]

Examples:

  • Another label for the collectivists to place onto the scales of social justice?
  • oh for gods sake, enough with the labels. good grief
  • I don’t really see any problems with any of this but the need to define and put names on things seems kind of compulsive.

Why these comments are a problem:

Words are important.  They’re how we describe concepts.  They’re how we communicate.  I can say that I’m tall, and you understand something about me instantly.  You take that word away, and I have to fumble around for something of equivalent meaning.  “I’m greater than average height”?  Well, what’s “average height”?  And how much greater?  Not to mention that four letters has become four words.

On top of that, many identity terms are personal.  When someone says that they’re Jewish or Australian, that word is part of who they are.  It’s often deeply ingrained in how they relate to the world.  It’s a complex package of meaning in a deceptively simple container.

“Asexual” is a word that I need.  It’s a word that many others need.  For years, I had no idea what I was, what was wrong with me.  And then, one day, I found a word.  A word that described me.  A word where I belonged.  A word that meant I wasn’t broken.  If you take that away, I am lost and broken again.  Without that word, I am invisible.

To be clear, these comments aren’t people saying, “I wish we didn’t have to have labels.  I wish we could all just be ourselves.”  These are people saying “You do not need that word.  You can’t have it.”  They are attempting to dismiss and delegitimize us.

How to respond:

  • Let the person know how important it is to have a word that describes how you feel.
  • Explain that although they may not see the need for the word themselves, you, personally, need that word.
  • Explain that words are important for communication of abstract concepts.  (This response is often best delivered in full-on snark mode.)

Just don’t talk about it and it will solve all your problems! [#]

Examples:

  • Don’t tell anyone how seldom you have sex and no one will know. Boom. Instant equal standing with your fellow straight people, or gay people, or bi people who have lots of sex.
  • But why talk about it if you’re asexual? And open yourself up to discrimination?
  • Keep it to yourself and it will be a non-factor in your relationships.
  • If you keep who you are to yourself and avoid the wrong people or the wrong expressions of who you are. You shouldn’t have a problem with you are or with other people.
  • If you don’t want to have sex, don’t have sex.  If you don’t go around announcing you are broken, people are much less likely to try and fix you.
  • There’s no excuse for sexual assault for any reason, but as my Mom used to council “Why invite trouble”?
  • I’m curious – how would anyone even know unless an asexual broadcasts it?  They would look like anyone else who is “just not interested” so what provokes the corrective rape?

Why these comments are a problem:

In some sense, these comments boil down to “shut up and go away”.  The people who say this sort of thing aren’t that far away from the “Don’t shove it down our throats!” people mentioned above.  Someone in this camp often will pretend to be more interested in your welfare, but generally, they’re far more interested in keeping you quiet.

In another, far more disturbing sense, these comments are victim blaming.  Whatever bad things happened to you as a result of being asexual, well, you brought them on yourself because you told someone you’re asexual.  Discriminated against?  Well, you shouldn’t have talked about it.  Someone try to “fix” you?  Well, you shouldn’t have announced it.  Were you raped?  Well, what did you think would happen when you went and broadcasted that you’re asexual?

It is not your fault.  You did nothing wrong.  If someone did something to you after you told them you were asexual, they are the ones to blame, they are the ones who did something wrong.  You should not have to hide who you are out of fear of how anyone else will react, and you are not responsible for how they react.

These sorts of comments also incorrectly assume that it’s possible to avoid any kind of issue related to your asexuality, if you just shut up and stay in the closet.  That’s simply not the case.  Problems can crop up whether or not you mention asexuality.  People who make this claim seem to believe that no one ever talks about sex under any circumstances outside of a bedroom.  They completely ignore the potential for awkwardness, exclusion, or even hostility that may arise if someone does not adequately take part in a sexualized discussion.

How to respond:

  • Call out the victim blaming.
  • Talk about problems you’ve encountered because you remained silent about asexuality or withdrew from a conversation about sex because you were asexual.
  • Explain why you need to talk about asexuality and all the benefits you’ve gotten from talking about it.

Why do you need a community about not having sex? [#]

Examples:

  • this asexual stuff annoys me. how can you be a “community” of people who DONT do something. its a bit ridiculous. i dont do indoor wall climbing. im looking to join a club of non indoor wall climbers. its silly
  • If someone chooses not to have sex, that is their prerogative, but are they really a “group”? 
  • I don’t get why this is a thing. Some people aren’t interested in the weather, either.

Why these comments are a problem:

People who question the need for an asexual community invariably try to reduce asexuality to “Not Having Sex”, so they’re flat out wrong to begin with.  Keep in mind that these people cannot be classified as uninformed about asexuality.  In order to click to post a comment, they had to scroll past an article on the subject.  An article that almost certainly stated how asexuality is different than “Not Having Sex”.

From there, they try to minimize or erase any issues that we might face as being absurd, often making a remark like “I don’t knit sweaters, should I start a group for people who don’t knit sweaters?” (Or something equally silly.)  This is an attempt to make us look petty and unreasonable for wanting to talk about ourselves and the issues we face with other people facing similar issues.  They often try to say that not having sex or not being interested in sex isn’t a big deal, that it won’t impact how you live your life or interact with others.  They completely miss how pervasive sex and sexuality are in everyday life, and therefore completely miss how living outside that bubble can affect virtually everything, from trying to find love to watching TV, from interacting with friends and coworkers to going to the doctor.

And underlying all of it is the bizarre misconception that it is fundamentally impossible for people to find a community with others based on something they don’t do.  Apparently, they’ve never heard of vegans, atheists, or people who are straight edge.

How to respond:

  • Remind the commenter that asexuality is not equivalent to “Not Having Sex”.  Directly quote from the article if possible.
  • Talk about why you need a community.  Talk about how it’s helpful to discuss how you feel with others who feel the same way.  Talk about how alienating it is to feel broken and alone because of the way you experience sex and sexuality differently from other people.

Aren’t there more important things to talk about? [#]

Examples:

  • Why do people have to “join” or “celebrate” any type of sexuality?  Just live your lives….aren’t there more important issues to be concerned with?
  • May I offer two solutions, if indeed the asexuals find themselves “harrassed” by us?  Mount Athos is one, and a Carmelite convent, another.  Let us work, in the meantime, on far more important rights.
  • Maybe if people stopped trying to shove it down other people’s throats with parades, rallies, blogs, bumper stickers, etc., we could all focus on more important things than who wants to have sex with whom. Or, in this case who doesn’t want to have sex with whom.

Why these comments are a problem:

People who say things like this are trying to make themselves the one true arbiter of what is worthy of discussion.  If you’re going to be allowed to talk about anything, you have to run it past them first.  If there’s something More Important™ to talk about, you don’t get to bring up what you want to talk about.  And because asexuality isn’t important to them, we have to shut up and go home.  This is simply another silencing tactic, designed to shut us down.

In many cases, these commenters will point to something More Important™ that needs to be discussed.  They make it seem like there’s a limited number of words that can be used, and that if you’re not talking about something More Important™, then you’re wasting those words.  They also make it seem like only one thing can be discussed at one time, and that everyone in the world must only discuss that one thing until it is resolved.  These claims are, of course, ridiculous.

By talking about asexuality, you are not making an implicit claim that it is the Most Important™ thing in the world.  You’re not restricting yourself and others to only ever talk about asexuality to the exclusion of anything else ever again.  You are simply saying that it is worth talking about, because it is worth talking about.

How to respond:

  • Talk about why talking about asexuality is important to you.
  • Remind them that the number of words is not finite.  Talking about one issue does not prevent another issue from being discussed or being considered important.
  • Remind them that just because something is not important to one person, that does not mean cannot possibly be important to anybody else.
  • Avoid comparisons or claims that say that asexuality is More Important™ than something else.

TMI!! This is too personal to talk about.  Can’t you keep it to yourselves? [#]

Examples:

  • I admit I did not read this whole article.  But just from the headline alone, I can see this is TMI.
  • Gay, straight or non-sexual, KEEP IT TO YOUSELF!  I don’t want to see it on the 5:00 O’Clock news.
  • Why does anyone have to share so much about their “personal” stuff?  Keep it to yourself and go about your business….no one needs to know.
  • What ever happened to modesty, humility and self respect?  Why do some people have such a need to air their sexuality, or lack thereof, especially if it’s outside of what’s considered “normal” by a majority of humans? 
  • Why should anyone other than the one you meet who is like minded even know that you are asexual? That’s personal business.

Why these comments are a problem:

These are just another variant of the “Don’t Shove It Down Out Throats” comments.  In this case, however, they add another layer of shame, with their faux “Oh my stars!  How dare you use those words around my pure ears?  I was almost overcome by the vapors!” protests.  They carry the implication that your identity is not fit to be seen in public.  Like many of the other comments in the “Who Cares” group, this is simply an attempt to keep us quiet.  If they were actually offended or thought that it was too much information, they would not have clicked on the article, and certainly wouldn’t have hung around for the comment section.

How to respond:

  • Ignore the claims of “TMI!”.  Those people are generally beyond hope.
  • Tell them that it is up to you to decide what is “too personal” to share with others.
  • Talk about how important asexual visibility and being open about who you are is to you and others.

Why define yourself by your sex life? [#]

Examples:

  • Why has what people do or don’t do in their sex lives become the main identifier of their personality in public?
  •  it’s weird for people to define themselves by their sexuality
  • Your sexual preference does not define who you are as a human being and shouldn’t be the focal point of your existence and primary source of your happiness.

Why these comments are a problem:

Because we don’t define ourselves by our sex lives.

How to respond:

  • Inform the commenter that you don’t define yourself by your sex life.
  • Talk about how asexuality is a part of who you are, but it is not who you are.
  • Condescendingly and snarkily, explain that in an article where asexuality is a focus, you’re obviously going to focus on asexuality, because talking about volcanic arcs related to subduction zones would be irrelevant.  Explain that’s how articles work.  Then start talking, at length, about volcanic arcs related to subduction zones.

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The Comment Section: I Know More About You Than You Do!

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Asexuality is an amazing topic.  People who have never heard of it instantly become experts and will start spreading their infinite wisdom on the subject.  Never mind that they refuse to listen to what actual asexuals have to say.  They don’t have to listen to us!  They know more about who we are than we do!

They know the true definition of asexuality, even though we, the people who define asexuality, do not.

They know the exact criteria for being asexual, even though their criteria may be absurd at times.

They know about all the things going on in our minds, even the things we don’t remember or that never actually happened to us.

Their information, based on conjecture and assumptions, is accurate and infallible, while our information, based on reality and our own lives and experiences, can be dismissed outright.

 

Specific Subclasses:

I Wrote The Dictionary! [#]

Examples:

  • If you’re asexual, it doesn’t mean you don’t experience sexual attraction. If you’re asexual, it means you have sex with yourself. It’s in science. Something about bacteria.
  • What you describe is aromantic autosexuality rather than asexuality.
  • Isn’t demisexual just another way of saying “this is what a healthy, sexually intimate relationship should be like”?
  • Pure asexuality means no sexual contact at all—-any sexual contact defeats the meaning of asexuality.
  • Secondly, the etymology of the word asexual has always referred to a species that does not require sex for reproduction. Putting all this together, what i see here is a poorly chosen way to describe a persons lack of sexual desires.
  • That’s ridiculous. Another word for it is a eunich who have been around since biblical times.
  • Why is “unattracted” NOT a more accurate word for the situation being discussed than “asexual”?
  • This guy probably doesn’t know that from the 19th century up until the 1960’s the word “asexual” was a cover for people not wanting to acknowledge that Tchaikovsky, for example, was homosexual.
  • Asexual, as I have come to know the term refers to someone who enjoys having sex with any gender but has not emotional attachment to them.
  • Here is my big problem with using the word asexual inclusively to encompass many who are not actually non-sexual.
  • Asexual sounds more like Anhedonia
  • Most of them aren’t actually asexual, but instead autosexual.

Why these comments are a problem:

People who make comments like these are convinced that asexuality is all wrong because it doesn’t match the definition in their dictionary.  Often, it’s an imaginary dictionary that exists only in their minds, but they will occasionally go to a physical dictionary to “prove” their point.

In the imaginary dictionary case, they try to invalidate asexuality by offering another word that they feel describes things better than “asexual”.  You’ll see words like “non-sexual”, “autosexual”, or “solo-sexual” thrown around frequently, with the occasional “analloerotic” or “anhedonia” thrown in for good measure.  Sometimes, they’ll add additional restrictions and qualifications to the meaning of asexual. “Asexual means no arousal, too.”  “Asexual means no masturbation, too.”

In the physical dictionary case, they try to invalidate asexuality by showing that our definition isn’t present.  “Look, it’s all about bacteria!”  “Look, it means no sex organs!”  They’ll claim that the word is already taken and that we have to find a new word to use, because apparently words can only have one meaning. (Like “gay” and “straight”, which have only had one meaning ever.)  They don’t understand that language adapts and evolves and grows all the time, and that it’s just a snapshot of common understanding at a point in time, and not a rulebook for the only words that can ever be used.

In either case, the true problem is that they refuse to listen to what asexual people are telling them asexuality is.  Their outsider “expertise” is far more important than our actual experience.

(Plus, my dictionary, an actual physical ten pound block of processed wood pulp from 1999, has a definition for “asexual” that mentions sexual desire.  Not quite the current definition, but close enough for horseshoes.)

How to respond:

  • Explain what the commonly accepted definition of asexuality is and is not.
  • Point out that dictionaries describe language and will change as the language does.  If you know of a dictionary that mentions the sexual orientation definition of asexuality, mention it.
  • “Does your dictionary have ‘homonym’ or ‘polysemous’?”
  • Give examples of common words with multiple meanings.

You CAN’T Be Asexual If You’ve Ever… [#]

Examples:

  • An asexual who has sex is not asexual.  FYI.
  • If you are cleaning the pipes then you are not asexual.
  • Masturbation is absolutely sexual. A virgin has a sexual orientation, don’t they? Human beings aren’t asexual, single-celled organisms are.
  • If you have had a crush, and have blushed…. The sexual emotion and desire is within you…. You are not asexual.
  • if you can experience sexual arousal then you are also experiencing sexual ATTRACTION.
  • The point I am trying to get across, though, is that many masturbators have vivid sexual fantasies that fuel their activities and it not really appropriate to call such folk ‘asexual’.

Why these comments are a problem:

People who are not asexual do not get to define the qualifications for what being asexual means.  Comments like this serve to invalidate us through misrepresentation.  They act like they’ve caught us in a lie, that we’re just pretending to be asexual, even though we’ve done something that clearly means we can’t be (by their limited definition).  These comments generally involve confusion (often intentional confusion) about the difference between sexual activity and sexual orientation.  In many cases, people making these comments mistakenly believe that asexual means “completely devoid of sexual functioning”, and think that the presence of any kind of sexual response means that someone cannot be asexual.  “That’s SEXUAL, so you can’t be ASEXUAL!” is a common refrain.  It’s also total hogwash.

It’s frankly baffling how anyone can claim that arousal is proof that someone isn’t asexual.  For many people, asexual or not, genital arousal just happens sometimes, like in the case of “morning wood”.  Sometimes it’s an unintentional response to physical stimulation, like getting wet from wearing tight clothes or driving on a bumpy road.  And even when it is intentional, arousal isn’t necessarily a sign of sexual attraction.  The right kind of physical stimulation can be all that it takes.  Arousal is a physical response that requires no mental involvement.  Now, certainly, for many people, arousal is the result of “thinking sexy thoughts”, but that’s not the only way to get there.

“Thinking sexy thoughts” or fantasizing is also not proof that someone is not asexual.  It’s possible to have sexual thoughts about a fetish that doesn’t involve people.  It’s possible to have sexual thoughts about an activity that doesn’t involve people.  Many asexuals who fantasize describe largely anonymous situations, where there are nameless someones just playing a role.  Sometimes, the fantasies are about other people having sex, and the fantasizer is just an observer.  None of those cases require sexual attraction.  Even in the case where someone has a fantasy that involves someone they know, it may not involve sexual attraction.

I find it strange when someone claims that masturbating means someone isn’t asexual.  If I’m not asexual because I masturbate, then what am I?  I’m not attracted to women.  I’m not attracted to men.  So I’m not straight, I’m not gay, and I’m not bisexual or anything else.  What am I, then?  How is a few minutes of touching with the intent to invoke a physical response supposed to mean that I’m straight or gay or whatever?  Some people will claim that masturbation requires fantasy and fantasy requires attraction (already debunked, see above), and that nothing will happen otherwise.  This is absolutely not the case.  While utilizing sexual attraction is helpful for some people, it is not required in order to masturbate or to experience orgasm.  Many people, including many non-asexuals, discover that touching themselves in a certain way feels good, long before they have any clue what sex is.

Even having sex itself does not require sexual attraction.  There are many reasons people can have sex other than attraction.  They want to know what it’s like, they’re doing it for their partner, they’re doing it because it feels good for them, or they want to conceive are just a few.  No one would claim that a prostitute was attracted to all of their clients.  No one would claim that a closeted gay man who had children with his wife would have to have been secretly straight in order for that to happen.  So why is it so hard to believe that an asexual can have sex without attraction?

How to respond:

  • Give straightforward counter examples that refute what they’re saying.  If they claim that arousal requires attraction, ask them about “morning wood”.  If they claim that sex requires attraction, ask them about gay men who are fathers.
  • Correct their limited definition of the word asexual.

Asexuality is a barrier or defense mechanism! [#]

Examples:

  • Maybe even a coping or defense mechanism to deal with erotophobia. 
  • I’m not buying asexuality. I feel it’s a mental illness of some kind or at the very least like some sort of defense mechanism to justify or rationalize not growing up, not getting sex, being bad at sex, or after having a really bad experience with sex or relationships.
  • poor things frigid and what a life in a personal prison must be triggered by deep fear
  • I’m skeptical such an orientation exists.  I think it’s a lot more likely that there are other things that are stopping a person from wanting to have sex than not having any drive at all.  Fears, hang-ups, consequences, etc.

Why these comments are a problem:

Armchair psychology is pretty much never a good idea.  What these people are saying is that asexuality is purely a mental block, that all we have to do is overcome our fears or disable the defense mechanism, and presto, we’ll join the ranks of the sexful masses, like normal people!  It’s saying that we’re broken, that we just need to go and get ourselves fixed.

While it’s true that some asexuals are, in fact, afraid of sex, not all aces are.  On top of that, plenty of non-asexual people are afraid of sex.  A fear of sex just makes you a person that’s afraid of sex, it doesn’t make you asexual.

They never even bother to ask if we’re afraid of sex, they just throw it out there as unquestionable fact.  And if you try to deny that you’re afraid of sex, well then, you’re so far repressed that you’re not even conscious of the fear!  Ten more years of the therapy couch for you!

How to respond:

  • Explain that asexuality is a lack of sexual attraction, not a fear of sex.
  • If you are asexual and are afraid of sex, explain how the concepts are different.
  • If you are asexual and are not afraid of sex, explain how you’re not afraid of sex.
  • Out armchair psychologist them and give them references to papers and reports by REAL psychologists and therapists and researchers who accept asexuality as a real orientation unrelated to mental barriers or emotional defense mechanisms.

It’s not an orientation.  It’s a lack of one! [#]

Examples:

  • What’s silly and pointless is trying to assert that a lack of orientation is an orientation.
  • If you are not attracted to any gender, you have no orientation.
  • That’s like saying bald is a hair style.
  • It’s like saying that atheism is a system of belief.

Why these comments are a problem:

I have two main reactions to these kinds of comments.

First, asexuality is a real sexual orientation.  Actual, real, scientist people, who do actual real sciency things for their job all day support this.  So, it doesn’t really matter what some random nobody on the Internet thinks.

Second, their objections are fairly illogical.  They seek to invalidate asexuality for whatever reason, so they try to claim that it’s not a sexual orientation.  They never say “I believe in asexuality as a concept, but don’t call it an orientation.”  No, they dismiss the entire idea of asexuality as a fraud.  So, how exactly is their logic supposed to work here?  “I don’t like that you’re claiming that asexuality is a sexual orientation, so I’m going to deny that it is one and pretend that makes you disappear.”  I don’t think that’s quite how reality works.

Sexual orientation is the description of the gender or genders that someone finds sexually attractive.  Think of it as a series of check boxes:  Male, Female, etc.  Your gender, combined with the gender check boxes that you tick off, describe what your sexual orientation is.  If you check off the “Male” gender box for yourself, and then check off the “Male” and “Female” boxes for the “Attracted to” column, your sexual orientation would be described as “Bisexual”.  Now, if you don’t tick any of the boxes in the “attracted to” column, that doesn’t somehow make the boxes disappear.  They’re still there, and it is important and useful data that you did not check off any of them.  That important and useful data of having not checked any boxes means that your sexual orientation would be described as “Asexual”.

How to respond:

  • Show the person actual sciency stuff that calls asexuality an orientation.
  • One phrase that I’ve seen a number of times is “Asexuality is the ‘orientation of no’, not ‘no orientation’.”
  • Another explanation is that sexual orientation is the answer to the question “Who are you attracted to?”, and that “No one” is a valid answer to that question.

They just haven’t figured out what they like yet. [#]

Examples:

  • I do not believe there are asexuals.They just haven’t really “found” themselves yet sexually
  • Don’t believe it. I think there needs to be something either psychologically wrong with the individual or they haven’t come to terms with their sexuality.

Why these comments are a problem:

These comments are a problem because they completely ignore what we’re saying.

Us:  “I’m not into men.  I’m not into women.  I’m asexual.”

Them:  “You’ll figure it out someday.”

Us: “I have figured it out.  None of the above.”

Them: “You’ll decide eventually.  No rush.”

How long are we supposed to keep trying to figure it out before we’re allowed to say that we actually have figured it out?  When will they be satisfied?  20?  30?  40?  When?  Wait too long, and it’ll shift from “You haven’t figured it out yet, keep trying” to “Well, you’re up in years and so it’s only natural that you’re not interested anymore.”

By the time someone is willing to say “I’m asexual”, they’ve already done a lot of personal exploration.  There have been many hours spent wondering why they’re different from everyone else.  There have been many hours spent saying “Am I sure?”.  There have often even been many hours spent testing themselves.  After all that, it’s safe to say that they’ve “Figured it out”.

How to respond:

  • Explain that you have “found” yourself sexually or that you know what you like or whatever.  Explain that you are asexual and know that you are asexual the same way that they know they’re straight or gay or whatever.

[Return to Overview]

The Comment Section: You’re Not One Of Us!

[Return to Overview]

Whenever asexuality is mentioned, there is a small, but vocal, contingent of territorial people who do not want us around.  “You’re not one of us!  You don’t belong here!”, they shout to the sky.  “There aren’t enough letters in our acronym for us to let you in.”  They guard their narrow plot of land fiercely, as if allowing anyone else near them will lead to overcrowding and cause a structural collapse that will throw them and everyone else into a boiling pit of lava that waits below.

Except…  There’s no lava.  There’s no shortage of land.  The territory of acceptance and understanding are limitless.

Some of these comments are born out of a misplaced fear of appropriation, but more often, they’re wholly irrational GET OFF MY LAWN proclamations.

Specific Subclasses:

There are already too many letters in LGBTQ! [#]

Examples:

  • I’m only half-hearted about this but I can’t even keep the acronym straight most of the time as it is.
  • I am starting to think this is ridiculous. LGBT will turn into LGBTQAI etc. there are too many people wanting their own special little niche.
  • Lord, because we need more abbreviations under our banner. LGBTQIA is ridiculous, lol. We aren’t a halfway home for wayward sexualities.
  • I don’t understand this at all. Nor do I understand what it has to do with the homosexual community, the gay men and women. The LGBTQIAafjklsgjlkjasd acronym is getting incredibly long.

Why these comments are a problem:

Lemme get this straight here.  You’re objecting to us having visibility and acceptance because we make the acronym too long?

Really now?

There are too many letters, and that’s why you want to turn your back on us?  Seriously?

If that’s really your only problem with us, we’ll pay to add the “A” to your signs.  Hang on, I’ll go start taking up a collection.

BRB.

How to respond:

  • Point out how patently ridiculous this argument is.
  • Point out that we’ll bring a much needed vowel to the LGBTQBBQ.
  • Mention one of the generic, inclusive acronyms, like “GSRM” that can be used instead.

You can be in a community, just not mine. [#]

Examples:

  • Asexual people have their own community. They have the asexual community. Just because a sexuality is abnormal, doesn’t mean it fits as LGBT.
  • We have simply said that we have enough causes on our plate right now, and don’t think that we should adopt anymore groups under our banner. That doesn’t mean they can’t start their own community, their own coalition, etc.
  • I will gladly be an ally of the ACE Community but do not believe we all need to be lumped together.

Why these comments are a problem:

What these comments are saying is “Yeah, yeah, whatever, you have your problems.  Now why don’t you go over there and talk about them so I don’t have to hear you.”  It’s essentially the same thing intolerant straight people say to them.

These people generally want to reject all asexuals.  They don’t even care that there are homoromantic asexuals and transgender asexuals and others who share so much with them.  In some cases, these people will welcome cisgender straight allies over asexuals.

Yes, there has been a lot of work put in by a lot of people to build organizations and support structures and visibility.  And yes, we’re arriving late to the party and weren’t always around to help set them up.  But it runs counter to the goals of the community to pull up the drawbridge and say “Sorry, you’re not like us, you don’t belong here.”  We’re here now, and we’ll pull our weight if we’re given the opportunity.

Fortunately, this attitude is rare.  The vast majority of people who are a part of the LGBTQ* community recognize the similarities between their own journey and the path taken by asexuals.  There are shared struggles, shared triumphs.

How to respond:

  • Point out the hypocrisy in their comments.
  • Mention high profile LGBTQ* organizations that recognize and support asexuals.
  • Talk about parallels between your experience as an asexual and the “typical LGBT” experience.  If you are homoromantic, biromantic, or panromantic, or if you are trans, talk about how that part of your identity interacts with asexuality, and why both are important to you.

You’re diluting the cause!  Straights can call themselves “queer” if asexuals do! [#]

Examples:

  • Every variation of gender and sexual expression (or I guess in this case, unexpression) doesn’t need to fall under our banner (shall we add an F for fetishists while we are at it?). It just dilutes things.
  • Okay, so everyone can join our queer community, except absolutely-100%-straight people? Literally EVERYONE can join our community EXCEPT straight people? Seriously….
  • And can I identify as queer even though I’m basically a straight cis-gendered sexual person?
  • I’m all for inclusion but where and when do we stop. We risk being so diluted that we can no longer have a cohesive movement.
  • Well, taking this to the next logical step, shall we include straight people in the LGBTQ community?

Why these comments are a problem:

People who use these lines don’t make any attempt to understand us.  They simply see us, all of us, as straight people who just don’t have sex.  From that perspective, it’s ridiculous to devote any attention our way.  We’re just in the way, trying to steal time from someone who deserves it.  We’re impostors, trying to claim our piece of the spotlight.

Problem is, that’s entirely wrong.  People undoubtedly made the same slippery slope arguments every other time a group looked for inclusion. “Bisexuals?  They just can’t make up their mind.  They’re straight half the time, so it would be like including straight people!  Transgender people?  That’s not even a sexual orientation!  What does that have to do with us?”  Each time, the exclusionary naysayers were proven wrong and the community got stronger through its newfound diversity.

The claim that asexuality will “dilute” anything is ridiculous.  That implies that there’s a concentrated, central organization, with a single focus, and that when we come along and knock on the door, we’ll mess that up.  There’s no such thing.  People and groups that belong to “The Cause” are wide ranging and diverse.  Some fight for equal marriage, some promote Lesbian poetry, some campaign for ENDA, some want rainbows painted in crosswalks, some just want to be left alone, some go on talk shows and discuss pronouns, and some sell t-shirts.

The addition of “Queer” to “LGBTQ” was even meant as a catch-all bucket to avoid these sorts of pointless fights.  It’s a way of saying “And the rest of you all who don’t fit into one of the other buckets, you’re welcome, too”.  It was an inclusive outreach.  You can’t use it to exclude people.

How to respond:

  • Explain that asexuality is not heterosexuality.
  • Explain your experiences as an asexual and how they might contribute to “the cause”, instead of “dilute” it.
  • Sarcastically say “Woo-hoo!  Slippery slope!  Where’s my toboggan?”

The LGBT movement is all about sex, so asexuals don’t belong. [#]

Examples:

  • I just don’t think that asexual have anything in common with LGBT people…by definition , they don’t like sex..and whether you like it or not, gay culture is about sex
  • Asexuals belong in their own, separate category…. because the LGBT movement is all about sexual desire and emotions.
  • I really don’t think that asexual are part of the lgbt community, I don’t think they want to be part of the community, they’re clearly not interested in sex nor sexually related activities

Why these comments are a problem:

And here I thought the LGBT movement was all about things like equality, acceptance, understanding diversity, and helping people be who they are and not who someone else thinks they should be.  Guess I was wrong.

By saying that it’s all about sex, they’re setting up a wall that might even keep out gays and lesbians who just aren’t all that into sex. Does someone stop being gay if they just haven’t done it in a while?

I think my favorite part about these comments, particularly the examples above, is how they frequently reference the “LGBT Community” as they claim that it’s all about sex or sexual desire, completely overlooking the fact that the “T” part is not about sex or sexual desire at all, and therefore completely undermines their entire point.

How to respond:

  • Point out that the LGBT community is not “all about sex”.
  • Talk about how acceptance and tolerance, etc., are important goals that are shared between asexuals and the LGBT community.

[Return to Overview]

Ace Pride Canadian Provinces

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Ace flag themed state maps for the 10 provinces and 3 territories of Canada.    

Ace Pride States

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Ace flag themed state maps for all 50 United States, plus Puerto Rico and the District of Columbia.      

Asexual Intercourse

The following post is an auto-biographical stream-of-consciousness account of what was going through my mind the first time I had sex.  I did not know I was asexual at the time, I did not discover asexuality until years later.  It’s clear to me now that most of what I felt was because I’m asexual.

I’ve never read an account like this.  We rarely talk about it, and when we do, we hardly go into this level of detail.  It’s too personal, too private, too embarrassing, too conflicting, too confusing.  And so we stay silent.  And in that silence, we’re alone.

I’m presenting this for multiple reasons.  First, I believe that sharing stories can help us find what we have in common, and let us know that we’re not alone.  The only story we hear is that consensual sex is wonderful and amazing, when it’s not always wonderful and amazing for everyone, even in the best of circumstances.   Second, there seems to be a common narrative out there that having sex will cure asexuality, somehow.  That’s often not the case and I wanted to give an example that people can use as a counterpoint.  And finally, I wanted to provide an example that can be used to potentially help non-asexual people understand what it’s like for an asexual person to have sex.  In particular, some people can’t understand how sex is possible without attraction, or think that there can be no pleasure without attraction.

The story below is my experience .  It is not meant to be representative of how every asexual person experiences sex.  Everyone is different.  Everyone’s story is different.

The following contains descriptions of sexual activity and may not be suitable for all audiences.


I’m lying in bed.  Waiting.  Shivering.

It’s not cold.  I’m not afraid.  I’m not even nervous, really.  I’m just shivering.  I guess it’s the unknown.  This is supposed to be a big deal, right?

She’s in the bathroom, getting ready.  This was her idea.  Do girls actually want sex?  I guess so.

Should I be naked?  I think I should be naked for this.  But what if she wants to undress me as foreplay?  Would that make me seem too eager?  Because I’m not eager.  I mean, I’m not reluctant.  I guess I’m just curious.  I think I’ll keep my clothes on.

Now I’ve gotten hard.  I guess that’s a good sign.

Do I want to do this?  She said I could back out at any time.  That was the agreement.  She’s not forcing me.  Of course I want to do this.  But why don’t I WANT to?  Like really really WANT to?  Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of uncontrollable urge right about now?  Some kind of irresistible force taking control?  I feel…  I don’t know what I feel.  I don’t need to do this.  No, I don’t WANT to do this.  I’m willing to do this.  Willingness isn’t wantingness.

Okay, am I ready?  We bought condoms and lube earlier today, so +1 for responsibility there.  I’m still hard, so that’s another point.  I read up on what I’m supposed to do.  Is that normal?  Do people generally read up on what to do, or do they just know?  I mean, I already knew WHAT to do, tab A slot B, all that stuff.  I mean the rest of it.  Do people prepare a mental gameplan for this, or do they just go for it and figure it out on the way?  Not like fantasize about it.  I tried that, I couldn’t.  I mean like actually come up with stage directions for what I’m going to do and backup plans in case things go wrong.

What if it just doesn’t work?  She’s mentioned that she’s worried about being too small, too dry.  She said it hurt the other times with the other person.  I don’t want to hurt her.  How would I know if I’m hurting her?  The lube should help.  How deep is too deep?  How do I know how deep I am?  What if I’m too big?  She said I might be.  Or was that some sort of ego-boosting ploy?  Was that supposed to turn me on or something?  I don’t know.  I don’t care.  Should I care?  Do other people actually care about their size, or is that all just an act?

Is it all just an act?  It feels like an act.  At least it feels like I’m acting.  Is she acting?  Why would she be acting?  Why would she push so hard for this, if this isn’t something she really wanted?  Because she thinks I WANT it-want it?  It should have been clear that I didn’t.

So why am I doing this, anyway?  If I don’t WANT it.  Um, because she offered, I guess?  Because she wants it?  But that’s not all.  I do want to know what it’s all about.  It’s supposed to be amazing, why wouldn’t I?  It’s supposed to feel good.  Really really good.  Better than my hand, better than her hand.  It’s supposed to be a big deal.  It’s supposed to-… I’M supposed to.  I’m doing this because I’m supposed to.  I’m supposed to WANT it.  Maybe if I do it, I will.  Maybe there’s a slipped gear in my head and doing this will jostle it back into place and I’ll start WANTING it.  Like I’m supposed to.

There’d better not be any babies out of this.  That would suck.  But that’s why we got the condoms.  We practiced putting one on earlier.  So we should be good there.  And I read all about their effectiveness when used properly.  So hopefully no babies.

But about earlier…  When we practiced putting on the condom.  When we were completely naked around each other for the first time.  When she took me in her hand and put me inside her.  “To see if it fits”, I think she said.  I don’t know what that was about.  I guess that means I’m technically not a virgin anymore already, even if it was just for a few seconds.  Was I supposed to do something?  Was I supposed to react?  Was I supposed to get started?  That wasn’t the plan, the plan was to wait until night, just before bed.  Was that a test?  Did she want me to make a move?  It wasn’t the plan.  Why didn’t I make a move?  That could hardly be considered a subtle sign of interest.  I should have made a move.  Any other guy would have, wouldn’t they?

Of course they would.  No other guy would have waited this long to make a move.  Any other guy would have made a move that first night at her place.  Who cares that her parents were upstairs?  That didn’t stop us from doing other things.  But we couldn’t then, no condoms.  But nothing stopped me from picking up a pack on my way up.  Why didn’t I?  And why didn’t it bother me that we couldn’t?

Even this tonight isn’t my move.  It’s her move.  If she waited for me to make a move, it would never happen.  I’m just along for the ride.

The bathroom light clicks off.  The door opens.  It’s time.

She walks out in her pajamas, hair back, a faint minty scent surrounds her.  She climbs into bed.  She climbs on top of me and starts kissing me.

I don’t understand kissing.  I don’t see the appeal.  A peck on the lips is fine, and there’s that spot on my neck that gets things going, but deep mouth kissing?  That does nothing.  “Deep” being the important word here.  It feels like she’s trying to eat my face.  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my tongue.  It’s somewhat unpleasant.  It hurts my jaw.  She pushes harder, trying to force my mouth open wider.  I feel like a CPR dummy.  People like this?

I pull back and kiss across her cheek and down her neck.  I know I like that feeling.  Does she?

I move my hands up and down her back.  She’s not wearing a bra now.  That’s somewhat disappointing.  I kinda wanted to take it off.  Like that’s an important moment or something.

She moves to unbutton my shirt and I reach for her breasts.  The curve.  The nipple.  I caress them through her pajama top for several moments before reaching underneath it.  Shouldn’t I feel something now?  Shouldn’t I WANT this?  I don’t know what I’m doing.  I hope she likes it, because it’s doing nothing for me.

I roll her onto her back and lift up her shirt slightly.  I kiss my way up her stomach, then put my head under her shirt and begin kissing a breast.  She quickly takes off her top.  That’s the cue to take off mine, too.  I resume kissing one breast while fondling the other.  We’ve done this before.  I remember her instructions of “more pressure” when I get to the nipple.  I push with my tongue.  Is that enough?  Is this too much?  Should the pressure be constant or varied?  Is that even what she meant?

Do other guys like this?  I mean really like this?  They seem to be interested in breasts.  It seems like I should be enjoying this more than I am.  They’re kinda round, kinda squishy.  They’re okay, I guess, but I just don’t see the excitement.

Her hands are around my back.

I move up and begin kissing her on the face and neck.  I press my erection against her vulva, and she gently grinds through our pajamas.

I take my hand off her breast and begin moving southward with it.  I slowly cross her stomach, and run my hand down the outside of her leg.  I cross to the inside of the leg and work my way back up.  I cup my hand around the curve and press as I rub.

Am I supposed to talk dirty to her here?  What does that even mean?  I’d mess it up.  Anything I’d say would be ridiculous.  I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

She reaches into my pants and wraps her fingers around me.  She gently tugs.  Her hand feels numb and foreign.  I’m used to my hand, I’m used to the feedback loop.  She’s squeezing harder than I would.  She’s pressing on places I don’t press.  This feels strange.  It’s okay, but it’s not good.  Definitely not bad, just not good.  Neutral.

I reposition my hand, moving it under the elastic waistband of her pants.  I run it through her hair.  I like that she has hair down there.  I don’t know why.  I find the soft, warm flaps of skin.  I gently part them with my finger, and slide up toward the front, looking for the little nub of skin that I know is there.  We’ve been here before, too.  I’d like to get her off, but she doesn’t help me out.  I press as I trace a circle.  I don’t know if what I’m doing is working.  I’m not even sure I’m in the right place.  I guess she’ll tell me to stop if she wants me to stop.  I press a finger inside, slowly.  Soft.  Smooth.  Wet.  Warm.

She stops what she’s doing to me.  I return to spinning circles for a few moments.

She softly runs her hand across my balls, then moves to take off her pants.  I take off mine in return.

We’re naked again, for the second time that day.  She stops and looks me over.  She focuses on the area that was just uncovered.  There’s a look in her eyes.  Hunger, maybe?  She wants it.  I look her over.  It feels like an in-person anatomy lesson.  All the parts I’ve heard about are there, and I run over them in my mind.  Her breasts, her legs, her pubic hair, the little hint of labia…  But the most fascinating thing is that look in her eyes.  What is that look?  What is she feeling?

What am I supposed to be feeling?  Anticipation?  Sure.  Nervousness?  A little.  Lust?  Desire?  Where are they?  What are they?  Seeing her body is interesting, but it’s interesting in the way looking at a map of a national park is interesting.  I’ve heard about all these places, now I know how they all fit together.  It’s academic, not erotic.

She’s cute.  Her face is cute.  Her breasts are cute.  Her pale skin is cute.  The round tuft of hair is cute.  But not hot.  I don’t know what “hot” is.  She should be hot.  Other people call her hot, and they haven’t seen her like this.  She’s not supposed to be cute.  She’s supposed to be hot.  Cute is something you want to play with and pet.  Hot is something you want to have your way with.  She’s cute.  She doesn’t like that I think she’s cute.  It’s not enough for her.  But it’s all I have.

I don’t belong here.  Something’s just not right.  How long can I keep up this act?  Can she tell?  Maybe everyone feels this way their first time.

I move down and begin kissing her left thigh.  I gradually move my way up, toward the inside.

“Don’t,” she stops me.  I’m somewhat curious to try, because maybe that will make a difference, somehow.  But I move on at her direction, and kiss her stomach, breasts, face.  Was that a test?  Was I supposed to make a move there, too?  I don’t think so.  She talked about it before.  She said it felt good, but that it seemed tiring for the guy.  So maybe that wasn’t a test.

She rolls me over.  She climbs on top of me and presses her body against me as she kisses me.  Soft.  Warm.  I like the feeling as her nipples brush against mine.  My nipples are sensitive now.  I wish she’d pay more attention to them.  I try to guide her hand there, she doesn’t catch on.

She kisses down my neck, and rests her head on my chest.  I run my hands down her back and grab her ass.  My erection presses against her stomach, slightly wet at the tip.

That’s dangerous now.  Fluids and all.  I read about that.  Although unlikely, there could be sperm in that, especially after what we did earlier.  Better make sure that stays far away, until the condom is on.

She pauses as I reach between her legs to rub her.

She makes a move.  I know where she’s going.  I stop her.  Those two areas don’t touch without protection.

She rolls over to grab the condoms and lube.  We take out a condom and open the wrapper.  She takes the lube and rubs some on herself.

My erection is gone.  That’s a bit of a problem.  I know it’s just a temporary setback.  But still…  Moments away, and this happens.  I know it “happens to everybody”, but does it really?

She moves down and puts her hand around me.  She moves her face between my legs, and there’s a warm wetness of an exhale on my scrotum.  Problem solved.

I put on the condom as directed, and she applies a little bit of lube to the outside.  She wipes off her hand as she puts her head back on the pillow.

I move into position.

This is it.  This is the moment.  So why is it so hollow?  So empty?  Other people dream of this exact second for years.  They scheme and beg for it.  It’s nothing to me.

She’s lying on the bed in front of me.  Her hair falls on the pillow.  A faint smile on her lips.  Her eyes close.  Her breasts flatten and flow to the side.

I should WANT this.  I should NEED this.  I should have an uncontrollable urge to go on.  I shouldn’t be able to stop myself now.  But…  I could walk away right now and not feel any different.  Not feel like I missed out, not feel deprived.  Other guys would kill to be here right now.  But I could just go about my business and think nothing of it.

I part the lips with my fingers and guide myself in.

It’s so warm.  And enveloping.  It squeezes every part of me evenly.  It’s so different than my hand.  Better?  I don’t know.  Different.

Don’t go too far.  How will I know how far too far is?

I slowly push in as far as I think I should go.  Then slowly pull back out.  I don’t want to hurt her.  Go slow at first.  That’s what I read.

Pulling back out…  Wow.  That’s better than pushing in.  That’s definitely not something I can do with my hand.

I repeat a few times to get the hang of the motion.  I’d practiced using pillows and a plastic bag full of baby oil, but it wasn’t like this.

This alone won’t be enough for her.  That’s what I read.  I should make sure that I rub her as I go.  That’s supposed to help.  It’s awkward to twist my hand that direction.  I try to encourage her to do it, but she doesn’t take the hint.  She said tonight was about me, but I don’t want her to be left out.

Am I supposed to kiss her?  I think I’m supposed to kiss her.  But am I supposed to kiss her face or her breasts or what? Kissing her breasts seems like it’d require some uncomfortable contortions.  So I’ll kiss her face.  Hand goes to a breast.

There she goes again with the deep kiss.  How does her jaw open like that?  Should I tell her that it hurts right now?  No, that would be a bad idea.  Keep going.

In, out, in, out, in out…

I like the feeling pulling out almost all the way.  The way it softly wraps around the head and squeezes the tip.  The warmth, the pressure.  Yes, I like that.  And I like the feeling of my nipples pressed against her body.  The way they float across her skin as I move.

How long is this supposed to take?  I always hear stories of the first time ending almost right away.  Is that because they were more excited than I am?  I still have a ways to go.

How fast am I supposed to be going?  It seems like I’m going too slow, but it seems like going faster would just wear me out.

She wraps her legs and arms around me.

In, out, in, out, in, out…

I’m getting closer.

I look at her face in the dim light.  Her eyes are closed, her mouth is slightly open.  She’s lost in the moment.

In, out…  Definitely closer.

Should I be making some kind of noise?  I think I’m supposed to?  You always see that in movies.  But what kind of noise?  Aren’t those sounds natural?  Don’t they just come out in a situation like this?  Or are those sounds just faked?  I never make noise when I’m alone.

I’m on the edge now, and still nothing.  Where is the magical spark that’s supposed to wash over me?  Where’s the flame of passion?  Is this really all it is?

In, out, in, out, in, out.  Slow.  Stop.  Oh.  Right there.

My movement changes.  I feel the pressure building.  I push in.  My body goes rigid as a surge of pleasure paralyzes my body.  The automatic pulsing rhythm is the only part of me that moves.

I pause for a moment, still inside her.  I let my muscles relax, still inside her.  She whispers an “I love you”.  I respond, still inside her.

I slowly pull out, careful to hold the base of the condom as I’d read to do.  I roll onto my side and hold her.

Did that change my life?  Was that the best thing that’s ever happened to me?  Did that light a fire an awaken me sexually?  Was that earthquakes and fireworks and rocketships?  …  No.  None of that.

The warmth.  The softness.  The exquisite embrace on the head.  The brushing of the nipples.  The warm exhale.  The kiss on my neck.  The ending.  Good.  All of that.  But all physical.  All mechanical.  Emotionless.  Nerve endings doing their thing.  Felt good, yes.

I should probably take this thing off.  I have to pee, too.

Not mind-blowing.  Not amazing.  Not earth-shattering.  Not far above any other experience.  Wasn’t even the best orgasm I’ve ever had.  Far above average, but not the best.

My body liked it.  My mind?  What about my mind?  Acting in a play without a script.  Does everyone else have a voice in their head, feeding them the lines?  Or do they just improvise?  Why would they improvise?  Why would they make it up?  Why would they all play along?  Why not just give commands to kiss here, caress there, and get exactly what you want?  Why would there be a play at all if no one has the script?  Other people know the lines.  She knew the lines.  Why don’t I?

I don’t belong there.  I don’t know how to be there.

Is that all it is?  Is that what everyone raves about?  I don’t get it.

Maybe next time will be different.