(A pre-warning: this is probably going to be a very long and personal post. Those who are not my real-life friends may want to just sit this one out. To Lissa: if you know how to cut this behind a "read more" link, I'd love to know.)
Dear friends,
Welcome to my blog, guys. A few of you expressed interest in seeing it, and a few of you already know about it, so I thought I'd give an explanation. And what better place than my blog itself? I hope I'm not being too cowardly by doing this online rather than telling you face to face. I can sure say that I feel bad about doing this way.
So here are the facts. I am asexual. Asexual people are a varied lot, but what it basically comes down to is this: asexuals are people who do not feel sexually attracted to other people. Some of them may feel romantically attracted to other people, and some of them may not feel romantic attraction at all. At this point, I'm not sure which of those two categories I fall into, but as I've never felt a desire to have a romantic relationship with anyone, I categorize myself as aromantic.
I don't feel attracted to anyone, guys or girls. I can appreciate people's appearance on an aesthetic level, but it's not something that usually jumps out at me. That's why I've always felt alienated by my sister's rating system. But I never feel like I'd like to have a romantic or sexual relationship with the people I think look good. (Hooboy, does it feel awkward in here to you?)
Obviously, we are not exactly what most might call "normal teenagers," and you may be thinking, "Well, I don't feel like I want to have a relationship with someone either," or "It's normal not to want sex at our age." (Or you may not be. I don't want to presume your thoughts, I'm just trying to explain my perspective.) But do you remember back in middle school, when we actually discussed "crushes?" Here's the thing: I've never actually had a crush on someone. Some of you may remember a certain boy by the initials of TB. But you also may remember that I had a "crush" on him for three years. I made it up because everyone else had someone they liked.
Please don't think that I don't trust you. I made it up because in elementary school I'd been made fun of for saying I didn't like-like anyone, and I didn't know that you guys would be so awesome and understanding when I told you. But you all had crushes, too, and so I kept saying it to keep seeming normal.
I hadn't figured all of this out yet, on that fateful day when Nikki declared her straightness. Luckily Eddie saved me from having to answer, but I spent a lot of time trying to figure it out. At first I thought I was bi, because I couldn't understand why a person's sex would matter for having a relationship, and that instead their personality would be more important. I vaguely remembered a website I'd read once called the Asexuality Visibility and Education Network, or AVEN, and started thinking that I was "in effect asexual," because I had no idea how to figure out my sexuality when I'd never been attracted to anyone. It didn't really affect my life, so I just didn't think about it.
But as you may have noticed, in the past year I've become incredibly more focused on queer rights and issues, and now I want to join the GSA. It's hard to do this without being fully aware of my own (a)sexuality. While having a conversation with someone about my disappointment about the complete lack of happy characters who are not in a relationship, my identity kind of solidified suddenly. I'm still not entirely sure why, but I have to say that feeling like I'm part of a community where there are other people like myself is a really wonderful sensation.
One of the results of this was that I became more immediately aware of being "in the closet." This feeling, for those who don't know, really rather sucks when you want to be out. I've spent way too much time trying to figure out how to tell you guys, and it makes me feel miserable. Honestly, I have no fear that you'll be hateful or anything, I'm just a chicken. It's really very difficult, because most people have never heard of asexuality. And plus, I'm more comfortable writing than speaking. But you already knew that.
I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to tell my parents this. As George Washington didn't say, "I cannot tell a lie," and I'm not sure how the whole GSA conversation is going to go. But I wanted you all to know, preferably before school started, because it feels terrible to keep you in the dark, and because I want to be able to talk about it. So that's the crux of it. I'm ace (asexual), and I don't want be silent about it, because it's part of who I am.
So feel free to hang around this blog, ask me any questions, or share any feelings. Check out some of the links on the side of my blog, and the AVEN link above. I'd like it if you could give me some indication that you've read this post, even if you'd rather not comment on its contents. And thanks for being great friends to me, as always. :)
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Poor Lonely Mark Cohen
Last night my friends had a dinner party as a sort of end-of-summer-start-of-school celebration, and I managed to do a lot of avoiding of issues that I should have mentioned. (My friend Aicha* is slowly finding about my asexuality through osmosis or something, as she read a mention of this blog on my personal blog, and then watched me check the ace blogs I follow. I probably should send her a link or explain.) The event of the evening, however, was watching the movie Rent. What struck me about this was a comment someone made during the "La Vie Boheme" scene, saying that she felt bad for Mark, who was all by himself.
I found this interesting mainly because every time I have watched Rent with other people, someone invariably mentions "poor Mark" who doesn't end up paired with anyone. It's really bizarre how it gets mentioned literally every time. Back when I was 13 years old, the first time I saw Rent, a friend said it, and I remember wondering, "Why? Why is it so sad that he isn't paired up?" but I said nothing. This time, I had the courage to question it out loud.
One point brought up was that the film seems to be highlighting Mark's solitude in the slow-motion camera pan near the end of the scene, where he's dancing by himself as his friends are embracing their loved ones. I agree that it's pretty obvious, but I interpret it as showing that Mark is completely happy by himself. It's not as if he's completely alone; at the end he turns and hugs Roger, and there's no hints of "Oh, must wait for Roger to finish hugging his girlfriend." There's no implication of Mark feeling alone.
That was the other main point, that it was hinted that Mark felt lonely or sad about being alone, since Maureen dumped him. I don't see this at all in the movie. Near the beginning, Mark is still getting over being dumped, in some respects, but after "The Tango Maureen" and her protest, all seems to be more or less okay with him. There are no hints in the later portions that Mark is jealous of Joanne, or that he feels lonely.
I'm not trying to argue that Mark is asexual, and I don't think that's what the movie is portraying. I do think that the movie is showing, subtly, that you don't need a lover to have a fulfilled life. I love Rent because of how it shows such a wide spectrum of life in an unconditionally uncritical way, and it had a huge influence on me for that. Because there are fairytale relationships in Rent, and there are gritty realistic relationships, but there's also someone in there that says that you can have a happy ending without the swooning romance.
Every time I watch Rent, I learn something new from it. There are so many threads in it to follow, it's hard to pay attention to everyone's story at once. But I'd love for more attention to be paid to Mark's story in the same uncritical way that the film looks at all the other characters. Poor lonely Mark Cohen isn't so poor and lonely as you might think.
*Aicha is not her real name. Also, I'm not trying to rag on my friends, as I actually had a good discussion with some of them about this later. I just wanted to explore an interesting phenomenon that I had noticed. Also, thanks to Lissa for making my pretty new layout!
I found this interesting mainly because every time I have watched Rent with other people, someone invariably mentions "poor Mark" who doesn't end up paired with anyone. It's really bizarre how it gets mentioned literally every time. Back when I was 13 years old, the first time I saw Rent, a friend said it, and I remember wondering, "Why? Why is it so sad that he isn't paired up?" but I said nothing. This time, I had the courage to question it out loud.
One point brought up was that the film seems to be highlighting Mark's solitude in the slow-motion camera pan near the end of the scene, where he's dancing by himself as his friends are embracing their loved ones. I agree that it's pretty obvious, but I interpret it as showing that Mark is completely happy by himself. It's not as if he's completely alone; at the end he turns and hugs Roger, and there's no hints of "Oh, must wait for Roger to finish hugging his girlfriend." There's no implication of Mark feeling alone.
That was the other main point, that it was hinted that Mark felt lonely or sad about being alone, since Maureen dumped him. I don't see this at all in the movie. Near the beginning, Mark is still getting over being dumped, in some respects, but after "The Tango Maureen" and her protest, all seems to be more or less okay with him. There are no hints in the later portions that Mark is jealous of Joanne, or that he feels lonely.
I'm not trying to argue that Mark is asexual, and I don't think that's what the movie is portraying. I do think that the movie is showing, subtly, that you don't need a lover to have a fulfilled life. I love Rent because of how it shows such a wide spectrum of life in an unconditionally uncritical way, and it had a huge influence on me for that. Because there are fairytale relationships in Rent, and there are gritty realistic relationships, but there's also someone in there that says that you can have a happy ending without the swooning romance.
Every time I watch Rent, I learn something new from it. There are so many threads in it to follow, it's hard to pay attention to everyone's story at once. But I'd love for more attention to be paid to Mark's story in the same uncritical way that the film looks at all the other characters. Poor lonely Mark Cohen isn't so poor and lonely as you might think.
*Aicha is not her real name. Also, I'm not trying to rag on my friends, as I actually had a good discussion with some of them about this later. I just wanted to explore an interesting phenomenon that I had noticed. Also, thanks to Lissa for making my pretty new layout!
Monday, August 24, 2009
On Music
I recently got into a bit of an argument with my mom and sister about songs and lyrics, which got me thinking about how being ace affects my music tastes. The answer, it seems, is surprisingly a lot.
My family listens to "Top 40" stations, for the most part, which are filled with Taylor Swift and Hannah Montana and Lady Gaga and other similar people. I started explaining how Taylor Swift's songs seemed very boring, because the lyrics to her songs were very uncreative and repetitive. "Love Story," for instance, references several famous pieces of literature such as Romeo and Juliet and The Scarlet Letter, but it doesn't seem like she really understood what those stories were about.
One of my main points was that I have decreasing tolerance for the generic feel-good no-personality love songs. While I'll still listen to songs if they have a good tune and silly lyrics, I find myself more and more irritated to hear songs about sugarsweet conventional love all the time. Because, really, is that all that's going on in singers' lives that they have to write about?
Interestingly, though I've only recently come to be annoyed by all of the love songs on the radio, I seem to have been subconsciously aware of it. My favorite artists include Regina Spektor, Neutral Milk Hotel, and the Decemberists, plus the rock music my dad raised me on. Most of the songs by these people have non-romantic or non-sexual topics and are instead focused on a type of storytelling through music. Even when listening to singers whose songs are mostly romantic, I tend to like the non-romantic songs the best.
What I learned from this conversation was that I probably shouldn't bring it up again, as my family assumed I was being some kind of music elitist who hates "normal music." I don't hate it for being normal, I dislike it because it doesn't pertain to my life. I'm not actually sure what my romantic orientation is (though I personally think that human emotion is more complex than a simple sexual/romantic/platonic axis), having never been romantically attracted to someone. On the other hand, I have a feeling that's still fairly normal for someone my age. Regardless, I imagine I'm not the only person out there who is sick of hearing the same romantic song themes over and over again. I think this falls into a list of things another asexual girl made up: "Reasons I should have figured out I was asexual much sooner."
My family listens to "Top 40" stations, for the most part, which are filled with Taylor Swift and Hannah Montana and Lady Gaga and other similar people. I started explaining how Taylor Swift's songs seemed very boring, because the lyrics to her songs were very uncreative and repetitive. "Love Story," for instance, references several famous pieces of literature such as Romeo and Juliet and The Scarlet Letter, but it doesn't seem like she really understood what those stories were about.
One of my main points was that I have decreasing tolerance for the generic feel-good no-personality love songs. While I'll still listen to songs if they have a good tune and silly lyrics, I find myself more and more irritated to hear songs about sugarsweet conventional love all the time. Because, really, is that all that's going on in singers' lives that they have to write about?
Interestingly, though I've only recently come to be annoyed by all of the love songs on the radio, I seem to have been subconsciously aware of it. My favorite artists include Regina Spektor, Neutral Milk Hotel, and the Decemberists, plus the rock music my dad raised me on. Most of the songs by these people have non-romantic or non-sexual topics and are instead focused on a type of storytelling through music. Even when listening to singers whose songs are mostly romantic, I tend to like the non-romantic songs the best.
What I learned from this conversation was that I probably shouldn't bring it up again, as my family assumed I was being some kind of music elitist who hates "normal music." I don't hate it for being normal, I dislike it because it doesn't pertain to my life. I'm not actually sure what my romantic orientation is (though I personally think that human emotion is more complex than a simple sexual/romantic/platonic axis), having never been romantically attracted to someone. On the other hand, I have a feeling that's still fairly normal for someone my age. Regardless, I imagine I'm not the only person out there who is sick of hearing the same romantic song themes over and over again. I think this falls into a list of things another asexual girl made up: "Reasons I should have figured out I was asexual much sooner."
Monday, August 17, 2009
How (Not) to Come Out
I'll probably make a post about how I figured out that I'm ace, but first I want to get this down before so much time has passed that I can't remember it clearly. (Not to mention the fact that the story of how I figured out my sexuality is weirdly vague and scientific at the same time.)
I've come out to two people now, both of whom are close friends. The first person I came out to was when I still only kind of had a grasp on my sexuality, and I felt comfortable doing this largely because I already knew she was bisexual. I came out via gmail conversation, and I can't recall if I used the word asexual or not. Mainly I just told her, "I don't really know what I am. I don't like anybody, so how am I supposed to figure it out!" After that I slowly started identifying as asexual more and more, and I didn't really have to explain it to her again, I just acted "out" and was honest and she seemed to understand. (And really, when a teenage girl has to ask, "Wait, when you see a cute girl you really feel butterflies in your stomach? It's not just a phrase?" that's proof enough of asexuality.)
Coming out to the second person was much, much more awkward. Whereas my friend from above (let's call her K) often had conversations with me about asexuality, my other friend M has pretty much a "don't talk about it" policy. It's not that she's not accepting, she'd just rather not think about it. Anyway, I was hanging out with her and some other people and I kept chickening out about telling them. So when we starting sitting around my computer, I decided to minimize the screens, which had the labels "Asexual Explorations" and "Apositive," in some stupid, stupid hope that she'd get it or something. Honestly at this point I'm not sure what I was thinking.
She finally pointed it out, saying "Asexual? What's that? Are you trying to learn to pop off your finger and grow another one?" teasingly. At which point I was sitting there quietly going, "Stupidstupidstupidstupid." And then she finally got that I wasn't sure what to do and backtracked and was all, "Hey, I'm sorry, if you don't want to talk about it," and I tried to explain that I just hadn't prepared for how to explain, and conversation went on, eventually less awkward. Much later, I managed to bring it up again (by apologizing for making it awkward) and explained asexuality and the fact that I'm ace, etc. She sort of reacted like, "Okay. I mean, it doesn't really make a difference."
And she's right, in a way, because my friends aren't really the type of people who are into the dating scene or anything like that. I'm glad she didn't reject it, but I don't feel like she totally gets it. (Sidenote: this is exactly what K said to me when she came out as bi, that she felt M and some others didn't really fully grasp that she "also likes girls and may one day have a girlfriend.")
What I take away from this experience is that it is not a good idea to come out if you're not positive that you can explain what asexuality is and how it relates to you. I have this renewed sense of wanting to be out to my friends, and I rushed into it and did it thoughtlessly. I also learned that I can't think of a not-extremely-awkward way to explain asexuality to teenagers who are not particularly sexual or romantically active. Once you're twenty, people expect that you're sexual. At sixteen, there's much less of a way for other people to understand it. If anyone has help for how to explain it, I'd love to hear.
I've come out to two people now, both of whom are close friends. The first person I came out to was when I still only kind of had a grasp on my sexuality, and I felt comfortable doing this largely because I already knew she was bisexual. I came out via gmail conversation, and I can't recall if I used the word asexual or not. Mainly I just told her, "I don't really know what I am. I don't like anybody, so how am I supposed to figure it out!" After that I slowly started identifying as asexual more and more, and I didn't really have to explain it to her again, I just acted "out" and was honest and she seemed to understand. (And really, when a teenage girl has to ask, "Wait, when you see a cute girl you really feel butterflies in your stomach? It's not just a phrase?" that's proof enough of asexuality.)
Coming out to the second person was much, much more awkward. Whereas my friend from above (let's call her K) often had conversations with me about asexuality, my other friend M has pretty much a "don't talk about it" policy. It's not that she's not accepting, she'd just rather not think about it. Anyway, I was hanging out with her and some other people and I kept chickening out about telling them. So when we starting sitting around my computer, I decided to minimize the screens, which had the labels "Asexual Explorations" and "Apositive," in some stupid, stupid hope that she'd get it or something. Honestly at this point I'm not sure what I was thinking.
She finally pointed it out, saying "Asexual? What's that? Are you trying to learn to pop off your finger and grow another one?" teasingly. At which point I was sitting there quietly going, "Stupidstupidstupidstupid." And then she finally got that I wasn't sure what to do and backtracked and was all, "Hey, I'm sorry, if you don't want to talk about it," and I tried to explain that I just hadn't prepared for how to explain, and conversation went on, eventually less awkward. Much later, I managed to bring it up again (by apologizing for making it awkward) and explained asexuality and the fact that I'm ace, etc. She sort of reacted like, "Okay. I mean, it doesn't really make a difference."
And she's right, in a way, because my friends aren't really the type of people who are into the dating scene or anything like that. I'm glad she didn't reject it, but I don't feel like she totally gets it. (Sidenote: this is exactly what K said to me when she came out as bi, that she felt M and some others didn't really fully grasp that she "also likes girls and may one day have a girlfriend.")
What I take away from this experience is that it is not a good idea to come out if you're not positive that you can explain what asexuality is and how it relates to you. I have this renewed sense of wanting to be out to my friends, and I rushed into it and did it thoughtlessly. I also learned that I can't think of a not-extremely-awkward way to explain asexuality to teenagers who are not particularly sexual or romantically active. Once you're twenty, people expect that you're sexual. At sixteen, there's much less of a way for other people to understand it. If anyone has help for how to explain it, I'd love to hear.
An Introduction
Hello.
Introductions make me feel silly.
This is a blog by me, Kai, asexual, seventeen-years-old, genderqueer, wherein I'd like to explore what it's like being an asexual teenager in America. I love reading the blogs of other aces, and it struck me that all, or nearly all, were written by people in their twenties or older. There was nobody that I could see writing from my perspective. So I decided to take things into my own hands.
I'm going to be a Junior in high school this September, and there are a number of things that may find their way onto this blog over the next school year:
~Coming out to friends and family
~Dealing with Prom
~Joining the fledgling GSA
~Sex education class
~My younger sister's boy obsession
I'm not exactly a "normal" teenager, in many senses of the word, so there'll probably be less gossip and more geekiness. Still, hopefully someone will find this interesting, and if not, it's a good chronicle for myself.
(I'm working on a more creative title.)
(Follow my blog with bloglovin)
Introductions make me feel silly.
This is a blog by me, Kai, asexual, seventeen-years-old, genderqueer, wherein I'd like to explore what it's like being an asexual teenager in America. I love reading the blogs of other aces, and it struck me that all, or nearly all, were written by people in their twenties or older. There was nobody that I could see writing from my perspective. So I decided to take things into my own hands.
I'm going to be a Junior in high school this September, and there are a number of things that may find their way onto this blog over the next school year:
~Coming out to friends and family
~Dealing with Prom
~Joining the fledgling GSA
~Sex education class
~My younger sister's boy obsession
I'm not exactly a "normal" teenager, in many senses of the word, so there'll probably be less gossip and more geekiness. Still, hopefully someone will find this interesting, and if not, it's a good chronicle for myself.
(I'm working on a more creative title.)
(Follow my blog with bloglovin)
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