I've been thinking about the action of "coming out" in general in relation to the fact that I have a lot of problems with social interaction. I've come out to a few people, and I've had people come out to me, and it never ceases to feel slightly awkward. So I have some questions for anybody who has come out or is considering doing so and feels like answering.
-If you've come out to people, how have they reacted? Did they react in a way you'd like them to react?
-If you haven't come out to someone, how would you like them to react?
-Is there an ideal way for people to react to coming out? Should allies react differently than people who share the identity as the out-comer? (>_< Word choice go boom.)
-Are the answers to the above questions different for coming out as different things? (e.g. would you like people to react differently to coming out as ace, trans, gay, etc?)
Showing posts with label coming out. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coming out. Show all posts
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
Another Dear Friends: Trans 101
All right, I wasn't expecting to do this, but I'm taking a detour into the deeply personal again in order to explain some things about myself that I think people should know. It's pretty basic trans 101 mixed in with personal issues. Mostly this is aimed at my real-life friends, who I really owe a better explanation to.
So, some of you guys know this. Some of you probably know hints of it. Basically, I'm transgender; more specifically, genderqueer. I'm not a girl, I'm not a guy, I'm something else entirely, regardless of the physical sex I was assigned at birth. Biologically and genetically I have an assigned sex, the thing that determines my bits and pieces, but the gender that I identify as, the gender in my brain and the part of me that makes me myself, is a different one than my assigned sex. That is what being transgender means, though it can include other people as well; the opposite of transgender is cisgender: when your gender and your sex match up.
It's kind of been hell for me to come to terms with. My actual gender, in the nitty-gritty, is what's sometimes called "neutrois," which I can't pronounce, meaning neutral or null-gendered. I also have what you might call "moods," where I feel more male or more female. It's all very difficult to explain, which is why I just use the word "genderqueer." There are some political associations with that word, which I don't exactly like because I'm not trying to be "rebellious" or "challenging" by my gender, it's just who I am. I have nothing against those who are trying to challenge the gender binary, but I do not personally consider that to be a primary characteristic of my gender.
The more important thing than the tiny details, however, is how this affects my life. For you guys, my friends, what I ask is that you try your hardest to remember that I'm genderqueer and trans. I'm still me, just a little more open and less confused (maybe). Try as hard as you can to remember to call me Kai. I wish that there were common use gender-neutral pronouns, but since I don't really think I like ze/sie/ey or any others at this point, for safety I'd prefer to keep the "she/her" pronouns, and "they" in writing. But please don't refer to me as a girl or a woman or anything like that, because I'm not.
Being trans has a pretty huge effect on people's lives. Bathrooms, for instance, are something that I hate to think about. At this point, my physical presentation doesn't warrant any concerns, but having to use sex-segregated bathrooms is miserable, and I spend a significant amount of time planning to avoid them. Having to fill out applications that only offer male/female as choices for sex or gender, and listening to everybody everywhere conflating the two. Feeling like my mind and my body belong to two completely different people. Hearing people talk about the "opposite" sex and the differences between men and women and wondering where I fit into all of that.
This is a lot of stuff to deal with. It's probably pretty crazy if you don't know much about transgender issues. So I'm gonna link some stuff, and I'd like you to read at least the first link. If you have questions, feel free to ask me. There's no way I'd be able to get everything jammed into one post here. Some stuff to get you started...
Transwhat? - A really, really useful overview on trans stuff and what you can do to be an ally.
T-Vox Trans 101 - A wiki with gender info and basic question.
Debunkingcis - A livejournal community dedicated to working through cisgendered privilege.
Genderfork - A blog with pretty pictures and examples of other genderqueer and trans individuals.
So, some of you guys know this. Some of you probably know hints of it. Basically, I'm transgender; more specifically, genderqueer. I'm not a girl, I'm not a guy, I'm something else entirely, regardless of the physical sex I was assigned at birth. Biologically and genetically I have an assigned sex, the thing that determines my bits and pieces, but the gender that I identify as, the gender in my brain and the part of me that makes me myself, is a different one than my assigned sex. That is what being transgender means, though it can include other people as well; the opposite of transgender is cisgender: when your gender and your sex match up.
It's kind of been hell for me to come to terms with. My actual gender, in the nitty-gritty, is what's sometimes called "neutrois," which I can't pronounce, meaning neutral or null-gendered. I also have what you might call "moods," where I feel more male or more female. It's all very difficult to explain, which is why I just use the word "genderqueer." There are some political associations with that word, which I don't exactly like because I'm not trying to be "rebellious" or "challenging" by my gender, it's just who I am. I have nothing against those who are trying to challenge the gender binary, but I do not personally consider that to be a primary characteristic of my gender.
The more important thing than the tiny details, however, is how this affects my life. For you guys, my friends, what I ask is that you try your hardest to remember that I'm genderqueer and trans. I'm still me, just a little more open and less confused (maybe). Try as hard as you can to remember to call me Kai. I wish that there were common use gender-neutral pronouns, but since I don't really think I like ze/sie/ey or any others at this point, for safety I'd prefer to keep the "she/her" pronouns, and "they" in writing. But please don't refer to me as a girl or a woman or anything like that, because I'm not.
Being trans has a pretty huge effect on people's lives. Bathrooms, for instance, are something that I hate to think about. At this point, my physical presentation doesn't warrant any concerns, but having to use sex-segregated bathrooms is miserable, and I spend a significant amount of time planning to avoid them. Having to fill out applications that only offer male/female as choices for sex or gender, and listening to everybody everywhere conflating the two. Feeling like my mind and my body belong to two completely different people. Hearing people talk about the "opposite" sex and the differences between men and women and wondering where I fit into all of that.
This is a lot of stuff to deal with. It's probably pretty crazy if you don't know much about transgender issues. So I'm gonna link some stuff, and I'd like you to read at least the first link. If you have questions, feel free to ask me. There's no way I'd be able to get everything jammed into one post here. Some stuff to get you started...
Transwhat? - A really, really useful overview on trans stuff and what you can do to be an ally.
T-Vox Trans 101 - A wiki with gender info and basic question.
Debunkingcis - A livejournal community dedicated to working through cisgendered privilege.
Genderfork - A blog with pretty pictures and examples of other genderqueer and trans individuals.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Out.
Today I came out to my mom. On the whole, the situation is going moderately well. There is a lot of crap going on in my life. More details tomorrow, after I've slept a bit.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Figuring Myself Out, Part 2: Questioning
Okay, having gotten the "era" terminology out of the way, I'm going to examine the role questioning played in the changes between them and how it's perceived in society at large vs. among other queer people vs. among asexuals. Hopefully. To be honest, I'm not always sure what I'm going to get when I blog. It's new to me. (And I feel really pretentious referring to these "eras." I hope I don't come across as a self-absorbed snoot, it's just easier to explain everything like that.)
Starting with my personal experience, I was definitely not questioning my sexuality until the OMGWTFBBQ stage, and I'm not sure you could exactly call what I did questioning. It was more of a freak-out-and-reaffirm-my-heterosexuality-and-then-stop-thinking-about-it sort of thing. Most of my actual questioning came during the Bisexual and Schrodinger eras, which is the time period in which I seriously considered using the monicker "Questioning." The main thing that catapulted me into the Bisexual stage, I think, was starting to actually question my sexuality truthfully. I can pinpoint the exact date, more or less, that I moved into the Schrodinger stage, but I'm not sure exactly what caused it. I strongly suspect that it may have had something to do with my friend Eddie outing herself as bisexual, though.
For about a year before I began calling myself asexual, I had no word to describe my sexual orientation. I became very conscious of this during the conversation in which Eddie came out, which was prompted by another friend declaring herself straight and then asking us to declare ourselves. I am still thanking Eddie for taking the reigns, because while she was freaking out about telling us she was bi, I was freaking out for another reason: having no label. At which point I buckled down and said, "I need to figure out what to call myself."
Also around this time, I told someone (Eddie) about my internal struggle for the first time. Rereading what I said, it was pretty clear that although I knew the word asexual, I still felt not that I was ace but that I just didn't know my orientation yet. But I had a serious problem with saying I was "questioning." While earlier I refused to say I was questioning my sexuality more or less because of internalized homophobia, I now had different issues. I felt that questioning, as often included in the Alphabet Soup Queer Acronym, refers mostly to what I called "straight people questioning possible gayness." I'm sure it's meant to and should encompass more than that, but I didn't feel comfortable applying that to myself when I was really questioning whether or not I was sexual at all.
Questioning is not a comfortable thing, and it's not something easily understood by those who have never experienced it. Because my early discussions about questioning were with someone who had gone through something similar, I wasn't particularly conscious of it. Discussing it with heterosexual people made me rather keenly aware of how uncomfortable I am showing that I still question parts of my identity. I wonder if this may have to do with the "ideal asexual" idea floating around, as the ideal asexual apparently is very secure in their identity. The fear is, however, at least a partially legitimate feeling, because revealing questioning to the unaware leaves you rather open to queries. Not that queries are a bad thing. But it can be tiring to have to counter the "right person" argument while you're still trying to figure out everything for yourself.
If it makes a person insecure to express questioning among mostly enlightened friends, society is outright terrifying. Outside of queer circles, uncertain identity isn't something that is expressed. Ever. Which is sad, because I think it's more common than people realize. Among asexuals, questioning seems to be universally expected. Observe the number of "Am I asexual" posts at AVEN. In the LGBT community, there is an accepted space for questioning, and like for aces there is an expectation that most queer people were questioning at some point. In sexualnormative, heteronormative, cisnormative society at large, it's assumed that you know exactly what your identity is, and if you don't, you should keep quiet about it. If we ever manage to change that, I think it would vastly improve many people's lives.
Starting with my personal experience, I was definitely not questioning my sexuality until the OMGWTFBBQ stage, and I'm not sure you could exactly call what I did questioning. It was more of a freak-out-and-reaffirm-my-heterosexuality-and-then-stop-thinking-about-it sort of thing. Most of my actual questioning came during the Bisexual and Schrodinger eras, which is the time period in which I seriously considered using the monicker "Questioning." The main thing that catapulted me into the Bisexual stage, I think, was starting to actually question my sexuality truthfully. I can pinpoint the exact date, more or less, that I moved into the Schrodinger stage, but I'm not sure exactly what caused it. I strongly suspect that it may have had something to do with my friend Eddie outing herself as bisexual, though.
For about a year before I began calling myself asexual, I had no word to describe my sexual orientation. I became very conscious of this during the conversation in which Eddie came out, which was prompted by another friend declaring herself straight and then asking us to declare ourselves. I am still thanking Eddie for taking the reigns, because while she was freaking out about telling us she was bi, I was freaking out for another reason: having no label. At which point I buckled down and said, "I need to figure out what to call myself."
Also around this time, I told someone (Eddie) about my internal struggle for the first time. Rereading what I said, it was pretty clear that although I knew the word asexual, I still felt not that I was ace but that I just didn't know my orientation yet. But I had a serious problem with saying I was "questioning." While earlier I refused to say I was questioning my sexuality more or less because of internalized homophobia, I now had different issues. I felt that questioning, as often included in the Alphabet Soup Queer Acronym, refers mostly to what I called "straight people questioning possible gayness." I'm sure it's meant to and should encompass more than that, but I didn't feel comfortable applying that to myself when I was really questioning whether or not I was sexual at all.
Questioning is not a comfortable thing, and it's not something easily understood by those who have never experienced it. Because my early discussions about questioning were with someone who had gone through something similar, I wasn't particularly conscious of it. Discussing it with heterosexual people made me rather keenly aware of how uncomfortable I am showing that I still question parts of my identity. I wonder if this may have to do with the "ideal asexual" idea floating around, as the ideal asexual apparently is very secure in their identity. The fear is, however, at least a partially legitimate feeling, because revealing questioning to the unaware leaves you rather open to queries. Not that queries are a bad thing. But it can be tiring to have to counter the "right person" argument while you're still trying to figure out everything for yourself.
If it makes a person insecure to express questioning among mostly enlightened friends, society is outright terrifying. Outside of queer circles, uncertain identity isn't something that is expressed. Ever. Which is sad, because I think it's more common than people realize. Among asexuals, questioning seems to be universally expected. Observe the number of "Am I asexual" posts at AVEN. In the LGBT community, there is an accepted space for questioning, and like for aces there is an expectation that most queer people were questioning at some point. In sexualnormative, heteronormative, cisnormative society at large, it's assumed that you know exactly what your identity is, and if you don't, you should keep quiet about it. If we ever manage to change that, I think it would vastly improve many people's lives.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
To My Friends
(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. :)
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. :)
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.
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