What it is like to be the Plus in LGBT+.
My initial idea was to discuss what it was like to exist in the Plus Sign of this community. But looking at my first drafts, something stood out to me - the tone of indignation that I had developed. I didn't like it. It didn’t reflect how I feel about my identity in the wider community. Because sure, sometimes being asexual does feel like sitting in a high window, watching as the world goes by and not being on the invite list. We’re here, we’re queer, and we’re watching - but we’re not seen. It’s easy to overlook a sexuality and place it into a maths symbol when, by its very definition, it isn’t ‘sexy’.
“ It’s easy to overlook a sexuality and place it into a maths symbol when, by its very definition, it isn’t ‘sexy'.”
Society does not seem to enjoy a character or a story unless there is a love triangle fuelled by passion, a riveting sex scene - because these are ‘exciting’ storylines. And even in the stories where these are intentionally subverted, like The Hunger Games for example, our society will still follow in the example given by The Capitol, Panem and focus on the story of ‘two star-crossed lovers’. Rather than focusing on the story of a teenage girl who does not experience sexual and romantic attraction as the norm and whose main focus of love is her younger sister Prim. So yes, I could write an article lamenting my identity’s position in the community, the arguments and debates surrounding it, but you know what? I don’t really want to. I could give any number of mildly depressing personal anecdotes about coming out. I could bemoan the general lack of knowledge people have about the ace-spectrum. And I could petition for a new acronym to be used which incorporates my A identity. But this world is already so full of sadness and negativity that I’m just not sure this little article of mine wants to add to all that. Not yet at least.
Honestly, I love being asexual. For so long I had a deep emptiness every time someone spoke about crushes or the idea of starting a family. Sure, I imagined having kids when I was younger, but there was never anyone else in the picture; just me and them. I didn’t want anyone else in that little picture of adulthood. I didn’t tell anyone about that for a long time. It was my picture of my future. My sense of difference only became more pronounced as I grew up and moved to a co-ed school. Suddenly the abstract concept of ‘Boys’ was not quite so abstract anymore. It took me five very...interesting years before I went to University and thought, quite frankly, f*** it. The first people I met on the Saturday of my freshers were also the first strangers I ever came out as asexual to and I haven’t looked back. Another year of self-discovery and here I am writing an article about being asexual for a Queer blog!
At eighteen, I was confronted by a school friend who told me they knew I was ace. I was terrified. I hadn’t told them and yet they had known for the better part of two years. The two years that I was struggling to figure myself out. The knowledge around my own identity suddenly felt out of my control. In that moment of confrontation, I felt powerless - regardless of the fact that the friend was reassuring me. The choice was no longer mine. But this encounter actually turned out to be one of my most identity affirming ones. I realised that I did still have power. To openly acknowledge my sexuality and the place I hold in the LGBT+ community. Because after that initial fear, I finally knew that I was comfortable with telling people. And that it was a solidified part of my identity. And then the next day I went to London Pride with my sister and wore the colours of my flag on my lips and everything slotted a bit more into place.
" I realised that I did still have power...I am proud to show the world and wear my flag on my lips."
When I look at our crazy world and think ‘I don’t want all of the crazy’, just the bits that interest me, I am reminded how happy being asexual makes me because it is an undeniable part of my identity. I can have a family, but I don’t have to. I can continue to bumble along and chuckle at the movies centred around heartache and love interests. Not because I am better, but because I am different. And being different is not always a bad thing. And yes, it may mean that there are parts of this world that I don’t fully get, and things people do that I question: ‘but...why?’, and I am ok with that. I don’t need to know or understand every little detail of humanity. As long as they are happy and I am happy we can bumble together laughing at the world.
" We can bumble together laughing at the world."
So yes, I love being asexual. It is an integral part of my identity and I am proud to show the world and wear my flag on my lips. And my sexuality exists regardless of where it is placed in an acronym. Whatever form that happens to take, whether it is the classic LGBT, or plus the +, it is still just as much my acronym as anyone else’s because it represents this community that I am a part of. To me, the strength in this community lies not in whether every letter of sexualities is explicitly stated, but rather that we continue to be the inclusive, brave and beautiful thing that we so often are. When I look at the acronym and at my little maths symbol I am not focused on where my sexuality exists or whether everyone considers it valid. I know it exists and the people who matter in my life know too. And, we can all move through this world together - going against the grain of our heteronormative society and supporting each other’s validity. And that’s what’s important to me.
Article Written by Harriet Steele
(She/Her)
Resource Link
AVEN - https://www.asexuality.org/ - The Asexual Visibility and Education Network: ‘the worlds largest online asexual community [and]... an archive of resources on asexuality’.