#aawbeingace

Being Ace sometimes means that I am frustrated with the world around me. Before I had a label for this identity I was angry that the rest of humanity was so very lacking in self control. I hated the idea that humans allowed themselves to fall prey to their lusts. I hated having it thrown at me by the popular culture. Sexual attraction seemed like a giant hoax to me. It was so overblown, so ridiculous to think that anyone could be so overtaken with need that they would cheat on a spouse, have sex when they might be caught, or even sleep with someone they hated. This couldn’t be real life, I thought. But I have known people that fit this allosexual stereotyping. And now I can admit that it was always easy for me to look down my nose at people that made these ‘choices’ because the choice is so much easier when you don’t feel that want to begin with. It’s easy to be true to a lover, if your eye never wanders.

What I had been mistaking for lust in myself, was not sexual attraction at all but a myriad of other feelings coalescing into something I decided must be want. Must be ‘lust’, a ‘crush’, ‘love’. I always knew I was different, but I always assumed it had more to do with my higher-than-average intelligence (I’m not putting this in here to brag, I’m simply stating what is fact) than with anything in me being ‘broken’. Earlier this week, I wrote my coming out story, so I’m not going to go into those feelings too much more here. This is more about how I feel now, being Ace.

That anger and frustration has characterized me, most of my life. Somedays, even knowing why it all bothers me so much, it gets to me. I learned through years of struggle and self-hatred that when you get angry, you lose. It’s taken me years to learn to control that fury, and now I try and take a deep breath and get through it, when I can. Last night I went to a concert, for example, and a (for all intents and and purposes) heterosexual couple spent most of the evening standing on the landing, making out and generally being a nuisance. I cannot for the life of me understand why you would pay for seats to see a concert and then not only not use them, but barely even watch the concert for favor of making out with someone you can probably make out with some other time.

My queer platonic partner (Grey-A) was more than a bit uncomfortable with the display, and after a good chunk of time, I got up and asked them to move. Luckily for me, they did, and it didn’t become the fight I was fearing from drunken revelers. I am aware that this discomfort, this annoyance, is not specific to Asexual people. Most people, I’m willing to bet, would be uncomfortable with PDA, especially if it were in the way of something they DID want to see. My point here is that my lack of understanding in regards to this couple extends to how I view the rest of the world. I had an equally uncomfortable time watching Grimm the other night and seeing a couple have a passionate (and semi-violent) makeout session in one of the characters’ living room. Again, this is not true for all Aces, but it is for me. The way I experience (read DON’T experience) sexual attraction has led to a disconnect in me when it comes to an understanding of these things. I have never been comfortable with a lack of understanding in any area of my life, and that discomfort makes this feeling all the more vicious.

Now, if you have never felt this way, imagine it for a moment, please. Now imagine being uncomfortable with something that is considered fairly commonplace (in varying degrees) and then having to explain that discomfort... When more likely than not 99/100 people will be confused by your discomfort. If you want to explain it by talking about your asexuality, you are then likely in for an entire sexualities lesson just to get the person you’re trying to talk with to understand your vocabulary. So in effect I am a non-sexual person in a society where ‘Sex Sells’. And I do not even consider myself to be terribly sex-repulsed, though I do waver between sex-indifferent and repulsed, despite being politically sex positive. I know. I want less sex in media, and I want us to be less shaming about sex as a culture, especially in regards to female sexuality? I’m a contradiction that way. I’d love to explain it to anyone who wants to talk about this further.

My point is that society is confusing and uncomfortable a lot of the time for a touch-averse, aromantic asexual not-quite-cis female (who has cis privilege regardless of how I feel about my gender and I own that and I think it is important to acknowledge that). All of that aside, I am so happy to have my label. I am so happy to finally know that there are WORDS for what I’m feeling, and I can stack those words and unpack those words and own those words and love them or hate them on any given day, but they are there and they are MINE. Mine to keep and mine to share.

Compared to a lot of people, my life has been easy. Compared to a lot of others, it has been very hard. I’m not here to compete in the Oppression Olympics or to cry about a world that is never going to fit just right for me. I am here because somehow I lived my life well enough that I made it this far. I am here because I hope to help others make it this far, farther, if I can. I am here because I am Ace and Proud and FABULOUS. Even if maybe sometimes I get a little frustrated, with the world and with myself.

And in case you need the reminder tonight, YOU are fabulous too. Even if you think you’re broken right now. You aren’t. I know, because I’m not broken. Even if you don’t fit the societal norm. You don’t have too. I know, because I don’t, and I’m still happier than I have ever been, now that I know where I DO fit, and have the support net to catch me. You are valid and you are perfect as you are. If you look at yourself and don’t like what you see, look at why that is. If it’s because society is telling you that you are wrong and broken, you AREN’T. If it’s because you’ve screwed up... Well, fix it. Be the best you that you can be. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s so worth it. If you can, be the person you needed when you were at your lowest.

To me, that’s the most important thing about my identity as Ace. If I can help one person who is struggling like I struggled, it’s enough. it’s more than enough.

What does being ace mean to you? How does it relate to other areas of your life?

Being ace is misidentifying yourself for most of your life because all you heard of was strait and gay Being ace is feeling like you are an outside because you can’t feel what people say is “love“ Being ace is feeling like you have to get married one day or have sex or romance to love someone. Being ace is dealing with “jokes“ that I should be “fixed“ or that I’m a late bloomer.

But being ace is also finally knowing who you are Being ace is learning that you aren’t broken Being ace is learning that you can love in more than one way Being ace is learning to accept yourself and finally finding others who accept you for who you are.

To me, being ace most of my life was feeling wrong, I felt like I was somehow bad because I didn’t feel the same way as a lot, and I just felt horrible in general. I’d go to school and I’d hear about everyone getting into relationships or having sex, and I’d usually just be indifferent to the whole thing or sometimes repulsed. I’d visit family to always have my aunts and uncles telling me that “You’re such a pretty girl, you must be getting all the boys. Why aren’t you dating anyone?“ I’d go home, and my brothers and mom would constantly poke at me and try to convince me I had a crush on someone. I’d visit a friend or go shopping, and my mom or they would try to set me up with someone, every single time. I felt like there was something wrong with me for not wanting a relationship, for not wanting to be intimate with people in that manner. I felt broken, confused, and hurt

But recently, it’s changed because I finally figured out that I was ace. I didn’t know before so I felt cornered, but now, I just feel like I’ve been found. I’m able to help my friends figure out what they are. I’m able to actually give a reason for why I act how I do. I actually understand myself, which is something I have always had a hard time doing. Being ace is just being me. And it’s not the same as everyone else, but it’s who I am.

Being ace is growing up not wanting to talk about sex because it makes you feel uncomfortable and gross. It’s wondering why everyone else had this switch turn on in them that was off only a short time ago. It’s feeling that you just don’t want to be part of that life, and assuming everyone else is right that you’ll grow up one day and understand.

Being ace is having your friends censor what they say around you because it makes you so freaking uncomfortable to talk about that kind of stuff. It’s feeling happy that your friends are nice enough to do their best to not cause you discomfort, but kinda wishing you could be like them.

Being ace is, two years later at the age of fifteen, simply being acclimatized to all the sex jokes and conversations, but still feeling a pang of discomfort every single time it happens.

Being ace is having a friend say to you “But you’ll want to have sex someday, won’t you?” and replying yes because you don’t have a better answer.

Being ace is discovering the word “asexual” and having it resonate so deeply within your soul that you have a feeling of ‘this is me’.

Being ace is then proceeding to panic at the thought of the word “asexual” because who ever heard of someone like that?

Being ace is remembering a time when you were uncomfortable calling yourself straight because ‘straight’ meant ‘heterosexual’ and ‘heterosexual’ meant ‘sexual’ and that’s not what you wanted. It’s being relieved at the discovery of romantic attraction, because there was no disputing the fact that you liked guys in a romantic way. It’s realizing that the separation of romantic and sexual attraction has been one of the most important things to you in discovering that you were ace, because once they weren’t bundled into the same definition, you finally felt free to describe yourself as asexual.

Being ace is finally being happy with yourself and who you are. It’s figuring out that it’s okay to be uncomfortable with the thought of having sex, and it’s okay to not want it. It’s knowing that you’re still ace on the days where you actually find jokes about sex and things similar to it funny. It’s being okay with not having a clear line between things that make you uncomfortable and things that don’t. It’s having a super fun time playing Cards Against Humanity with your friends, and having fun watching them laugh at the cards that you may never fully understand.

Being ace is having it be your senior year of high school, and while you want nothing more than to tell your friends about this discovery about your sexuality you had, but being really super scared. It’s giving yourself a deadline to tell someone before graduation, and then not meeting that deadline because of poor time management skills and also being terrified of having this identity be rejected. It’s knowing that, even if the first person you want to tell doesn’t understand asexuality, that she’s going to support you no matter what, because she fully supports the LGBT+ community and has never expressed disgust with the mention of asexuality. It’s being scared that she’ll hate you regardless.

Being ace is finally working up the courage to tell her. It’s sitting her down when it’s just the two of you alone and saying, “I’m asexual.” It’s giving a super long explanation of what it is, how you’ve come to identify with it, what it means to you, and just feeling so relieved to get all these feelings off your chest. It’s her being happy for you, that you found this word for yourself, and just her being proud of you.

Being ace is calling her up months later because you tried to hang out with some new friends you found at college and leaving early because you just couldn’t. It’s being angry because you just can’t enjoy hanging out with people in college because college is just so sex obsessed. It’s trying to play Card’s Against Humanity with your new friends, only to find that it’s not the same fun game you played with your squad back home, but now an anxiety inducing terror of a game that gives you your first experience of “I can’t be here I want to get out of here I want to leave I can’t do this.” It’s her helping you remember why you’re happy to be ace and that it’s okay to not like the concept of sex. It’s her being there for you when you’re hours away in college. It’s her being so supportive of your sexuality and who you are that you honestly could’t have hoped for a better friend.

Being ace is coming home from college to visit, and having a mission to tell another friend. It’s letting her know that you have something important and good to tell her later. It’s her asking, in front of a bunch of other friends, if she can hear the good thing. It’s you making an awkward attempt to steer the conversation far away from that topic, and somehow succeeding. It’s driving her home from a late night out at Denny’s, sitting in your car in the dark, and having her turn to you and say “can I hear your good thing now?” It’s you giving her the same conversation you gave your other friend months before, but this time with a little more confidence. It’s her having the same response, that she fully supports you and she loves you and she’s proud of you!

Being ace is calling her up weeks later because you’re a nervous wreck. It’s having deep anxiety about being asexual that you’ve never had before in the two years of identifying with this term (or for that matter, and deep anxiety that you’ve never had ever). It’s letting out all of your darkest fears about being ace and telling her how mad you are that you’re not normal - why can’t you just be normal? It’s her being the voice of reason that you can’t be for yourself right now.

Being ace is, a day later after she calmed you down and made you happy with yourself again, seeing a post on tumblr that says that asexual heteroromantics are just straight people making up sexualities. It’s feeling your self esteem instantly plummet more than it ever has in your entire life.

Being ace is her letting you know that she and the only other friend you’ve told about being ace are so so so so so proud of you for figuring out who you are, and that they’ve got your back no matter what.

- - -

Being ace has meant some very recent anxiety for me, but it’s also meant finding people who understand and feel the same way I do. It’s meant finding a way for me to be comfortable in a world that always makes me uncomfortable, it’s meant support and love from some of the people who mean the world to me, and it’s meant understanding myself in words that make sense to me.

being ace means decades of misidentifying, because I didn’t know that I had other possibilities than hetero homo and bi. And if I didn’t want to bang girls, surely I was straight??

being ace means stumbling upon a whole community and suddenly realising that I’m not alone with my experiences. It’s as much a curse as it is a blessing, because it comes with realising that there’s no turning back, and that I’m not just picky or a „late bloomer” – this is something I’ll have to deal with for the rest of my life.

being ace means not being straight, but feeling excluded from the LGBTQ+ community. It means seldom seeing the A, the + or even the Q in the acronym and realising that I’m probably not welcome at community events.

being ace means not having to worry about getting laid or reading Cosmo sex tips, but worrying instead about not findig anyone to accept me this way. It’s knowing that I’m just fine by myself and I can be happy without a relationship, but secretly hoping that it’s not going to be like that forever.

being ace means finding identity and having a better understandig of who i am. Everything makes sense in retrospective, and armed with the new knowledge I have a better chance of not making the same mistakes again.

being ace means fighting every day and feeling myself growing stronger because of it. Every positive thought about myself, every coming out and every joke is a victory.

being ace means slowly accepting myself and coming to terms with the fact that not everyone is going to do that. But it’s okay, because those who try to tear me down for who I am don’t deserve my attention and time anyway.

being ace means not giving a fuck anymore about what anyone thinks. And it’s a wonderful, liberating feeling.