This blog will be used for confessions, advice, awareness, information, and rants, and will consist of personal posts as well as reblogs.
I used the term aesthetically attractive around one of my friends because I didn’t want say ‘hot’.
She understood what I meant, but didn’t really respond. Until I made a joke because the tension was kind of awkward and palpable, to which she nervously laughed.
does aesthetic attraction sound so weird?
I used to use it instead of hot too, but after a short while, my friends started getting annoyed with me because they already knew I was ace, and to them it felt like I was pushing my asexuality into the conversation every time a person’s appearance came up, as if I had to remind them every time that I am asexual. If you think about it, gay men don’t have to say a woman is aesthetically attractive, and we still understand they are gay. Same thing with lesbian women. So the same should apply to us aces. If anyone questions you, they’re just being idiots.
I think if you find a person aesthetically attractive but you don’t want to call them hot or sexy, I suggest using respectful/more formal sounding adjectives, like pretty, beautiful, handsome, gorgeous, or cute.
Wow, okay I actually got some responses on that last post I made :) Thanks to all who replied, and if others have more to add, please by all means, go right ahead!
So, the question was “Do you think it’s possible for an asexual person to look at another person’s body (not necessarily genitalia) and feel aroused by their appearance, but still have no desire to be physical with them, nor imagine being physical with them? Would you consider such an experience to be sexual attraction, or maybe a sort of aesthetic ‘fetish’?”
A few people responded saying that feeling aroused is just a physical, biological response, and that arousal is not the same as sexual attraction.
So I hope this was informative to others cruising the tag who are confused about whether they are feeling sexual attraction or not because of this (I know I was).
Here’s something I’d like to open for fellow aces and others to discuss, since I myself am a bit confused about the idea:
Do you think it’s possible for an asexual person to look at another person’s body (not necessarily genitalia) and feel aroused by their appearance, but still have no desire to be physical with them, nor imagine being physical with them? Would you consider such an experience to be sexual attraction, or maybe a sort of aesthetic “fetish”?
I’m very curious.
The idea that love cannot work without sex is the biggest pile of crap I’ve ever heard. My boyfriend and I have been dating for 3 months, and I’ve been living with him for a month now, even sleeping in the same bed as him. Neither of us have attempted, or even hinted at (and I’m pretty sure not even thought about) doing anything beyond kissing and cuddling. Not even once.
I have never been more in love in my entire life, and each day he shows that he loves me more and more.
Posting this here because I just want to get it out there.
See, there is some truth to this I’m sure, because in every group of anything there is always someone or several someones who are just trying to be different. But, this is not the case for others like me.
Let me tell you a story. I’m a very committed person when it comes to relationships, and the 3 that I’ve had so far have all been long term. The first two were 3 years long each. The third is the one I’m currently in. So obviously, I have no trouble loving other people and being committed to them. However, the concept I was never able to grasp in my first two relationships was sexual attraction.
I never looked at my partners and felt the need or desire to touch them beyond cuddling with them. When they started to make their gestures for something more “fun,” I would get apprehensive, and sometimes irritable. They wanted me to act “sexy,” but that concept went way over my head. They would ask me what my sexual fantasies were, and I’d realize that I never had one before. When I was in middle school taking sex ed class, I wondered how people knew to act on an instinct that wasn’t there, because for me, there was no instinct to have a man’s penis in me, and I knew I had no interest in a woman’s anatomy. I thought everyone was like me, because I thought I was like everyone else.
My partners kept pressuring me for sex before marriage, but I gave them the excuse that I was saving myself to avoid having to do it. I eventually did give in, and it wasn’t anything to get excited about. It was pretty boring, and whenever they would ask if I wanted to do it again my stomach would drop. I found both of these guys attractive, visually. They had nice features about them that I would enjoy staring at. But never did it cross my mind to touch them in an intimate way beyond kissing or cuddling. And I never wanted to when the subject was brought up.
This is the experience of actual asexual people. We go through life confused, pretty sure we’re either mentally handicapped or have a brain tumor or something. We’re pretty sure there’s something wrong with us. Until one night on the internet, we come across something; a word that sticks out. “Asexuality.” So we google it, read the wikipedia entry, from there go to AVEN. And there, we read the countless stories from people who have shared our experiences, who have thought the same thoughts about mental illness, who have gone and actually gotten their hormones tested and found out there was nothing out of the ordinary wrong with them, who have finally found a community of people who are like us.
Those are asexuals. That is what asexuality is. It’s not trendy or different, it’s just natural. It’s how we’ve grown up and who we’ve become and it was never a choice on anyone’s part. So please, don’t assume we’re starving for attention here. We’re just starving to find ourselves, just like any other person in this world. And most of us have managed to find another piece to our own life puzzles with the word “asexual.”
I’m an ace. What does that mean? Ace stands for “asexual.” This week is Asexual Awareness week. Before you roll your eyes at me like everyone else does, and make some smart-ass comment like “What are you, a plant?”, “You just haven’t found the right person yet.” or “Everyone needs a label now, don’t they?”—hear me out.
I’ve always known I was this way. I didn’t choose it; I just… am that way. I’ve been jokingly telling my friends since junior high that I was asexual because the thought of sex just didn’t interest me. When I was asked seriously, though, I had a tough time answering. I would usually answer “Well, I’m Bi.” Or “I consider myself pansexual.” It wasn’t entirely untrue, I suppose. I do find men and women equally attractive…but I never had the desire to have sex with either gender.
I was constantly told that I should “stop being afraid of sex” and that I just had to “find the right person.” I’m not afraid of sex; I’m just not interested in it. I mean… I have no interest in slap-stick comedy movies but no one has ever accused me of being afraid of those. (As a side note—why the hell are people so threatened by the idea that some people just don’t want to have sex??) I have also been told that no one would ever want to be with me or marry me if I had no sexual experience. When I was in college, a ‘friend’ tried to force himself on me to “teach me how to enjoy sex.”
Many of my very close friends are supportive of it. They poke fun and make jokes, of course… but not in a judgmental or mean way; in the same way that I call my best friend a bitch when we are goofing around. In fact, a few of them have stuck up for me when someone has shown interest in me, and insisted that I just needed to have sex to learn that I would enjoy it. They have stood their ground for me and told them “bro, she’s not gonna change her mind and she’s not gonna have sex with you.” (You guys know who you are. Thank you for that. <3)
It wasn’t until relatively recently that I truly discovered, however, that what I was joking about all this time was actually true. I made two wonderful new friends a few months back, and they have changed my life in ways I can’t even express. They happen to be pornographers (writer and artist of a pornographic web-comic which I happen to love the storyline in) and I confessed to them that I loved their comic despite being disinterested in the sex in it. That was when one of them, in turn, expressed to me that he also had little to no interest in porn because he was asexual.
I was flabbergasted. I had never heard someone else refer to themselves in that way before, and to hear someone I respected so much say it made my heart stop for a moment. He sent me links to asexual awareness websites and forums and I felt this amazing rush of relief. I wasn’t the only one. I wasn’t alone in this anymore suddenly and it felt amazing.
I discovered the term “ace” and this amazing thing called an “ace ring”—a simple black band worn on the middle finger that is a quiet symbol of asexuality. I bought one immediately and wear it with pride. Most people don’t even know what it is—we don’t wear it to let the world know what we are. I like to think of it like the Christian’s ICHTHYS symbol from a time when they were being persecuted. It’s a small sign we aces wear to mark each other—to bring us together, not to separate us from others.
Now, why am I writing this? It was the word “asexual”—the term itself—that made me realize it was okay to be who I am and accept myself. Yes, it’s a “label” and yes people complain that sexuality shouldn’t need labels. I agree with them—it shouldn’t. A friend of mine always says that “sexuality is fluid. It doesn’t need labels.” I totally agree with that statement. And yet, in our society today where people who are different than what has somehow become the “norm” (heterosexuals) are being persecuted and oppressed, it’s the labels that seem to empower those of us who are different.
Does it separate us? Absolutely. Does it need to? No. Too many people use labels to separate themselves from everyone else. That isn’t why I need my label. I need my label so I can let people know “Yes, there are others like me…and no, there isn’t something wrong with me.”
I am an Ace and there is nothing wrong with that. Finally, I belong.
This is an awesome story! This is exactly the reason why I advocate Asexual Awareness and promote the use of certain labels. For this purpose and this purpose only.
Labels can be dangerous because people can latch onto them and forget that they’re more than just that label. They forget who they were before they ever took on the label. It’s important to remember that you are still a person, and you are still YOU, before you are ever any label you use.
Labels are meant to help bring a community together. They are there to help us make sense of ourselves, to help us understand that we are not the only ones that feel a certain way. They exist so that we can comfortable with ourselves, knowing that we are not alone and we are not broken.
Anonymous asked: I feel like I need Asexual Awareness Week, but I feel like a douchebag for feeling that way. I feel like the trans* community or bisexuals or someone else needs it more, but at the same time I feel like this week is a thing that needs to exist. I have a hard time feeling like part of the LQBTQA+ community because so many people don't want us there. Some feel like it's the only place where they are safe and don't want it to be invaded. I dont want to make anyone feel their safe space is invaded.
"Somebody else needs visibility/support more than you do" is completely not a fair statement, though. Basically if we had to identify the One Worst Problem and all agree to solve it completely before we were allowed to tackle the Next Worst Problem, we’d never actually help anyone. Every group that has issues has a right to spread awareness about their experience and try to make things better for themselves. It’s especially nice when people fighting analogous battles can recognize their natural ally status and help each other (as with the LGBT community and asexual people—even the ones who aren’t LGB and/or T).
I don’t actually think “so many of them don’t want us there” at all. I’ve been invited into queer spaces many times and supported by queer people consistently. But it’s certainly valid to check for understanding with a group you’d like to join and make sure you don’t represent oppressive experiences to them. Should you want to be sure you aren’t unwelcome without specifically checking and bringing it up, it’s usually a safe bet to work with groups that accept allies (of any kind).
Asexual people do experience discrimination and prejudice for their orientation, though institutional oppression is rare for us on basis of asexuality. It’s often ignored because of our invisibility or reframed as actually something else, though; I once showed someone the study on how asexual people are more likely to not be hired/get fired and to experience housing discrimination, and the person replied that no, that’s not asexual discrimination; that these things happen to asexual people due to their being cold and unfeeling and unfriendly and robotic and probably just extremely unpleasant to work with/rent to. In other words, they assign a trait to us, and then tell us we deserve it, and THEN deny that it’s a real problem.
Respect is important, especially if some or all of the members of a group are side-eying you as an interloper, and you can’t decide that someone HAS to accept you as belonging so it’s good that you defer to their comfort. But you deserve comfort too, and people like you have legitimate problems. Try not to let people teach you that you don’t deserve support or that your problems are imaginary. If every push for awareness was reinterpreted as a grab for attention that takes it AWAY from someone else, nobody would be able to justify having an awareness week.
In other news, my boyfriend brought up the topic of one day having children uwu It’s awesome how far into the future he’s thinking about us, but this has been a topic I’ve been dreading for a while. Honestly, I’ve been scared of having kids these days. Not because of the sex, but because I’m afraid I personally won’t make a good parent.
But as he asked me the question, it was like that fear melted away. I don’t know how or why but I feel like I can do anything as long as I’m with him. And so we discussed options on how we would go about it. We’re both relieved that neither of us really expect to have sex to get a child. We also both really want a child of our own, so we’re thinking that whenever we finally do decide to start a family, we will likely turn to artificial insemination.