Is asexuality just another form of dissent within the LGBT spectrum, or
a territory of its own that needs no shelter? This text explores an intimate
experience shaped by confusion, trial and error, to propose an uncomfortable
answer: perhaps belonging is not a matter of definition, but of personal
usefulness.
An eternal debate with no answer… or perhaps we already know it, but
don’t want to admit it.
In any case, I will try to share my personal view on the matter; a view
that, I must admit, had been delayed for a long time, lying in wait in my mind,
waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.
First of all, I want to make it clear that, regardless of my personal
position, I have nothing for or against anyone in this regard. I believe
everyone is free to label themselves as they wish, as long as the decision
comes from serious reflection and, above all, if those labels improve a
person’s quality of life and make them feel comfortable and happy with
themselves.
First, I believe there are two perspectives to consider when beginning
this reflection—although in reality they are the same: the ACE perspective and
the LGBT perspective.
On the one hand, by “ACE perspective” I refer to the very nature of
asexuality: in itself, by definition, it is the antithesis of allosexuality.
Asexual people, in general, are the “anarchists of sex” in a system that takes
sex for granted, a completely sexualized world built by and for allosexual
people.
Let me clarify that I am not anti-sex. I am asexual, but I have had sex
(whether I liked it or not; though that is another matter). I am also aware
that there are asexual people who do enjoy sex. In general, I think it is
perfectly fine that there are people who enjoy sex. It simply does not interest
me.
As for the “LGBT perspective”: by this I mean that the LGBT community,
in its majority, is composed of allosexual people; that is, they frame their
sexual experience through attraction toward others. Lesbians, gay men,
bisexuals, heterosexuals, etc., all share sexual attraction or desire toward
other people.
From this perspective, someone might be tempted to say: “no, asexual
people are not LGBT, full stop.” Well,
I think the answer is not that simple.
Let me tell you my story.
For a long time (almost my entire youth), I lived completely conditioned
by sociocultural expectations related to sex. I had a standard education
regarding sexuality, very bad influences around me, and also very unhealthy
habits. All of this led me to develop a very mechanical and toxic relationship
with sex.
Regardless of my environment, I always had a nonconformist tendency
toward sex. That is, I was forced to live an allosexual life, but, as expected,
sex never fulfilled me. So I spent my life experimenting, searching for
something that would satisfy me, but… that moment never came. Surprise!
At first, in my teenage ignorance, I thought I was heterosexual. That
was what I had been taught; that was what I believed I was supposed to be.
Later, when I began noticing “strange” things in myself, I decided I was
bisexual. Many years later, I even considered homosexuality directly.
As time went on, my confusion increased. Given my personal tendencies, I
began to think I was non-binary, agender, third gender, gender fluid… I became
obsessed with the subject, until I even considered transsexuality. I
experienced dysphoria and dysmorphia caused by multiple factors, and I almost
started hormone therapy.
However, fortunately, I did not.
After several major crises, I understood that this was not my path. In
my desperate search for something that would explain my identity and my
problems, I was trying to label myself incorrectly.
Years passed until I discovered—or recognized—my asexuality, as I have
mentioned before. Until that moment, I had not been able to consider that not
wanting sex was also a valid and real option.
I think it is important to highlight that self-image can play a role in
recognizing your identity or sexual orientation. Do not think only about
whether you feel sexual attraction or desire or arousal.
Ask yourself this: “How do I see myself?” or “How do I perceive myself?”
Personally, when I look in the mirror or think about myself—about who I
really am—whether in the present or in perspective, I do not see myself as a
sexual person. In fact, I have never seen myself that way, and that is where my
past issues with gender come from: a social construct that necessarily implies
certain sexual roles or behaviors.
I do not like thinking
of myself as a sexual person. It makes me uncomfortable; it makes me feel
exposed or vulnerable, but not in a pleasant way. Sex with another person—even
when I had it—feels too invasive to me. Even before having a partner, the mere
thought of being forced into a sexual relationship in real life caused me
anxiety. Despite everything, I think I can sometimes be sensual, depending on
the situation; but not sexual.
After sharing my experiences, someone might think that I consider myself
queer or LGBT.
Well… I don’t know, but… I don’t really care.
From certain perspectives, I could indeed be considered quite queer.
However, the question is not whether I can be labeled as such or not.
The question is whether I actually need to label myself as queer
or LGBT in order to feel good about myself. And the answer is: no, I don’t need
it.
Do you need it? Why do you need it? What do you need it for? Or is it
that what you really need is to feel that you belong to something?
Some will argue that there are many LGBT people who reject and
discriminate against asexual people, seeing us as “sexless heterosexuals,”
“celibates,” “impostors,” or similar things.
In that sense, they are not entirely wrong: why would we want to be part
of a community that discriminates against us for being different? What is the
need for that?
Do we leave the allosexual community (which discriminates against us)
only to join the LGBT community (also largely allosexual, and also partially
discriminatory toward us) for some specific reason?
Others will argue that LGBT is not only about sexual desire, but about
dissent from heteronormative sexual and gender norms. In that case, asexuality
fits perfectly. However, not all LGBT people share this view.
Let me be clear. I have nothing against the LGBT community, of course,
nor against allosexual people in general, as I said at the beginning. However,
I do not see any need to include the ACE community within LGBT. We can be
allies, but essentially we are different; at least in terms of sexual
attraction or desire. If the LGBT community placed more emphasis on the purely
affective aspect of relationships, rather than the sexual one, my position
might be more favorable.
The question, then, of whether asexual people are LGBT or queer answers
itself: no, asexual people are not LGBT or queer by definition. However, some
asexual people do consider themselves queer, and vice versa.
Many queer labels are aggregates or nuances—sometimes very general,
sometimes overly specific. “Queer” is not a concrete identity (although some
may try to make it one), but “asexual” is, just like “lesbian,” “transsexual,”
or “gay.”
In any case, this is nothing more than a matter of terminology—one among
many that cause so many headaches. Not labeling yourself in a certain way does
not mean you are not that thing, nor that you are inferior to others. This is
an important point: why not simply be who we are, without insisting on
naming everything?
A person’s queerness is not measured by how many labels they carry, but
by what kind of person they are and what they do in their daily life—if
queerness can even be measured, or if it even needs to be. Be careful with
anyone who tries to measure queerness or a person’s worth in this way, or who
forces others to conform to certain behaviors, attitudes, aesthetics, slang,
etc. That is not queer: it is discrimination, segregation, and cheap elitism.
Neoliberalism wearing an LGBT disguise.
Personally, I am asexual and heteroromantic; but I do not consider
myself queer or LGBT as such. This is my choice, because currently these labels
do not give me anything. Others may consider themselves part of the asexual
community and, at the same time, part of the LGBT community, if that is useful
to them. That is fine.
Being ACE and being queer are different things, not mutually exclusive,
but not necessarily connected either—at least in terminological or ideological
terms.
In the end, the decision depends on each person. In sexuality, there are
no correct options: all are valid.
In the end, only this matters:
Do the labels bring you closer to yourself… or do they hide you?
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Signature:
Sangue Shi
Editor-in-Chief of Loto Negro Magazine
www.lotonegrorevista.blogspot.com
Editor-in-Chief of Sangue Shi Ediciones
www.sangueshiediciones.blogspot.com
Sangue Shi
Editor-in-Chief of Loto Negro Magazine
www.lotonegrorevista.blogspot.com
Editor-in-Chief of Sangue Shi Ediciones
www.sangueshiediciones.blogspot.com
Administrator of ACE Post-Sexuality

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