ace

Anonymous asked: Do you mind if I quote the "what I imagine when people say they don't swing that way" post in a paper I'm writing? Are you the author of it, who should I credit it to?

Oh wow, I haven’t updated this blog in forever, but yes, you can absolutely quote that. I suppose you would just cite the blog. I hope your paper goes well!

knightinshatteredarmor:

Hey, hello!

I’m looking to write an asexual-oriented zine.

Currently, I am hoping to find some people who would like to contribute.

Anything you can contribute would be great: a simple sentence, paragraph, or even an article. Pictures are great, too! I’d love to hear about your experiences, whether or not you’ve ‘come out’ and things of that sort. And yes, if you ask to remain anonymous, I will keep your submission anonymous.

Even if we have never talked, I could really appreciate your support and/or submissions.

Please inbox me with any questions/comments/input/et cetera.

I’m looking to work on this for the next month or so (or through whenever it’s finished, ideally).

Any signal boosts (reblogs) would be highly appreciated!

(Source: iamcookiedough)

besweptawaybythis:

People wonder why asexuals bother to get together, but Amanda and I have been happily married for nine months now and we’re both still virgins. Some people even think asexuality doesn’t exist. It’s so underrepresented, I can understand why people are skeptical. I was too, even though I was perfectly used to thinking of myself in this way. For years I just thought I was the only person in the world who felt like this.

My parents are agricultural scientists, so I’ve lived overseas since around the age of 10. I was in India until I was 16, then Zimbabwe for two years, and then Kuwait. I studied in China and New York, before settling in London. Even at 10, I had a sense that I didn’t want to get married and have children. I know a lot of kids say things like that, but I didn’t change my mind about it later on. I wasn’t interested in relationships or finding a girlfriend, and was very sure I didn’t have an interest in boys either.

Gradually my school friends spent more and more time talking about girls and pursuing relationships, but I could never grasp what they were expecting to get out of it. There were family parties in India where all the kids would gather outside in the garden.

I was 13 and had a best friend, Kasim, who was a year younger than me. He had a crush on an Australian girl called Jessica - everyone seemed to think she was the prettiest. We had lots of whispered discussions about what he could say to her, and even though I thought it was a ridiculous game, I wanted to fit in, so I pretended I had a crush too - on a French girl called Sylvie. She was a safe bet because she was so unlikely to reciprocate. I knew she wasn’t at all interested in me. I’d just discuss her with the boys.

There were times as I got older when girls did seem interested in me, but I always deliberately ignored their signals. I wanted to avoid getting into a situation I’d feel uncomfortable with, so I never even kissed a girl. The first girl I kissed became my wife.

When I was 13, my father gave me a book on sex education. I felt as if I was reading about a foreign culture; I just couldn’t see why anyone would go to so much trouble just to have sex. I tried looking at pornography on the internet. I wasn’t disgusted or appalled - it was just boring, like looking at wallpaper.

Masturbation was another topic of conversation in those days, and I did masturbate. It wasn’t a sexual urge for me, I didn’t fantasise, it was just something my body decided to do. People say about asexuals: “But if they masturbate doesn’t that make them sexual?” It’s hard to explain, but if you’re asexual you don’t necessarily feel an explicit connection between masturbation and sexual orientation. It’s just part of having a human body - a physical, biological process.

After we moved to Zimbabwe I went back to visit my old friend Kasim. The last time we’d seen each other we’d been into computer games, drinking Coke and going for pizza. Two years on, it was a shock to see how much Kasim had changed. Sex was his major preoccupation. He had a girlfriend and was on the brink of going all the way with her. One afternoon we were with some of Kasim’s friends, and he began goading two of the girls into kissing each other in front of a camera. The whole atmosphere was really charged, and I felt out of my depth. I’d fallen behind. Kasim had been my friend a long time, but he’d entered this different world without me.

By the time I went to university, I was happy to let people wonder about my sexuality. I wasn’t pretending to talk about girls any more. Some people assumed I was gay, but my best friend Simon was the first person to confront me directly. We were studying in Hangzhou, in China, just south of Shanghai. It’s a very beautiful city, on a lake with mountains, and we were walking through the streets when Simon asked me outright. First he made a joke about whether “I liked girls … or boys?” I laughed but he persisted and said “So what are you?” I just said, “I’m not straight and I’m not gay, and that’s it, full stop.” Back then I didn’t know what term to use.

The following summer I was surfing the internet when I read a post from a girl who wasn’t attracted to anyone. Someone had suggested she should be aware of “asexuality”, and gave the address of a website:asexuality.org. When I went to the site and read the material, I was quite dismissive at first, because you just don’t hear about other asexuals. Since Freud and Kinsey, and even to an extent the sexual revolution of the 60s, we tend to believe anyone without a sexual orientation must be repressed or delusional. Asexuality is therefore an impossibility. Kinsey labelled us “X”, a statistical throwaway category for anyone damaged to the point where they can’t express any sexuality.

Gradually, though, through visiting the site, I came to realise that these were just ordinary people; people who were writing things I’d thought myself, but had never heard anyone else express. It was such a relief. Finally I had a label - a way to explain myself that could settle all the awkwardness and questioning.

I told my close friends straightaway. Only one female friend didn’t really believe me. I think she thought I was secretly in love with her.

Back at college I decided to get it over with in one day by wearing a T-shirt saying: “Asexuality is not just for amoebas”. I was nervous, but I’d already told a dozen or so people, and was used to answering the same questions over and over. No one has ever reacted really badly to me - I’ve been lucky.

I told my mother shortly after finding the asexual website, and she said: “Well as long as you understand the possibility that one of these days you’ll meet someone and want to settle down with them.” I wasn’t so sure. I’d already resigned myself to a solitary existence. I’d convinced myself I could form strong friendships and was independent enough to fare OK. Luckily my mother always ends up being right about everything.

When my studies took me to New York, I got more involved with the asexual community there. I posted messages on their website and there were regular meet-ups in a little pink tea shop in the East Village - I guess you could call it the asexual equivalent of a gay bar.

One day I got an email from Amanda. She was asexual, living close by, and offered to show me around the neighbourhood. In case she was cruising for an asexual boyfriend, I responded with a warning that I was “vehemently anti-romantic”. But we met up anyway, for tea and ice-skating, and we took to meeting a lot.

I loved Amanda’s attitude to life and enjoyed hanging out with her. And she was pretty. At first I tried to treat it like any other friendship. Then I found myself travelling four miles downtown to deliver sandwiches when she told me she was hungry. Two months in, we were at a gig and it seemed like a good idea to hold her hand. I felt cautious about it but just wanted to. I wondered if I could. Then I found I couldn’t let go.

That evening ended with us agreeing that our friendship was an important thing. We wanted to commit for life. In the asexual community we don’t form relationships lightly. If you don’t want to spend the rest of your life with a person, there’s no reason to make such a special commitment.

When we announced our engagement, our families were happy for us, and our friends in the asexual community were particularly pleased. On our wedding night, my mother-in-law insisted on booking us into a honeymoon suite, so we invited all our friends to an after party. We played Scrabble late into the night and everyone stayed over and slept on the hotel-room floor.

People always ask how our marriage is different from just being friends, but I think a lot of relationships are about that - being friends. We have built on our friendship, rather than scrapping it and moving on somewhere else. The obvious way we differ is that we don’t have sex, though we do kiss and cuddle. We like to joke that the longer we’re married the less unusual this is. By the time we’ve been married five years we’ll be just like everyone else.

Do I feel as if I’m missing out on something? Not really. We’ve decided that if either of us wants to try sex out in the future then we will see what we can do. We would both be willing to compromise because we’re in a relationship and that’s what you do.

When it comes to the future and to children, we’re big advocates of adoption. We’re not so fussed about passing on our own genes. Right now we’re quite happy with what we’ve got. After moving around so much, I can say now that wherever Amanda is - that’s home.

· Paul Cox was interviewed by Bridget O’Donnell. Some names have been changed.

(Source: Guardian)

Well, I’d start off by saying that not one but you can decide how you identify. And also, I’m certainly not an expert on the subject- I’m just some girl who likes to talk about her sexuality (or lack thereof).

I identify as aromantic because I’ve never felt the need for a “relationship.” I have family members who are always there for me and a small handful of friends who I trust deeply. To me, the romanticized ideal of “love” or finding “the one” never connected; I’ve never wanted or desired “true love.”

I would describe a romantic relationship (without the sexual aspect) as the desire to have someone always there for you, in a way that even friends can’t be, to have that sense of security in a person who understands you and will always be there to fall back on. I think that’s what you might be desiring and I think wanting that might classify you as panromantic, but I honestly can’t be sure. If you desire a relationship like that, beyond what plantonic friendships can provide, they you probably aren’t aromantic. And there is nothing wrong with that.

I would just say to do whatever you feel is best for you. Don’t worry too much about putting a name on yourself. At the end of the day, a label is just a label, and having or not having a word for your feelings won’t change them or lessen their validity.

http://pianycist.tumblr.com

(I hope it’s alright with you that I turned this into a quote. I can remove it if you like.)

(via mindyshabibti-deactivated201111)

alexthefab:

No buts.

blueboxesaresexy:

aceadmiral:

writingfromfactorx:

You know what? I don’t think I even have a safe space to be asexual in, not any more. I love, so hard how these people keep talking about how we are destroying their safe spaces by fucking existing and maybe using a word to describe ourselves that they don’t want to share, and yet they come into one of our desperately few places for us—one of the tiny, limited, Internet-only spaces we have—and feel the need to vent their vitriol here over and over again, well past the point that anyone in our community believes they are arguing in good faith. 

One of the big things that was playing a role in destroying that relationship I mentioned earlier this week* was that I apparently can’t talk about asexuality to non-asexuals anymore without getting suspicious and waiting to be hurt. And that is, given the work I do in the asexual community, given the amount of time I have spent discussing asexuality here and in other spaces, given the fact that I have two partners and I am currently trying to figure out how to move across an ocean to be closer to both of them—given that, there is so much that is important to me that I can’t talk about. I can’t talk about my own sexual orientation to people who don’t share it, because I am so fucking used to those people coming in and trying to hurt me, and I can’t calmly discuss my orientation without getting touchy and looking for where the hurt is going to come from this time. I am so used, you see, to anyone who isn’t asexual saying the most fucked-up things about us when they speak about us at all that I have stopped even pretending to trust people that don’t share those experiences. 

I expect people to tell me I am frigid or cold if I talk about my sexuality. I expect them to say that all asexuals need is a good raping to cure them of this asexual business, or that we’re all repressed. I expect people to say to me that people with my orientation are ~*~special snowflakes~*~ for… not fitting into straight, gay, or bi, or perhaps we’re ~*~special snowflakes~*~ for talking about it and not remaining closeted and desperately trying to pretend enough. 

I expect people to tell me that I will die alone, that I need to get my hormones checked, that my sexuality is caused by my disability. I expect people to tell me that before I can really identify as asexual, I should get a physical work-up just in case it’s really a disease. I expect people to ask me whether I was raped, whether I am broken mentally or physically, what my genitalia look like. I expect people to tell me that I am somehow internalizing my homophobia or repressing my essential gayness, which is really fucking amusing given that one of my partners is female and one identifies as somewhere between female and neutrois. 

And most of all, I expect people to tell me that I am inhuman, because I am told that every fucking day, told that I am inhuman both explicitly and implicitly, told that I cannot be a real, healthy, functioning adult if I do not experience sexual or romantic attractions. 

All of these things are things that I have been told, that I have seen every single time sexual people feel the need to comment on my sexuality. I see allies once in a fucking blue moon—findingsherlock just posted a fantastic ally post here, and bittergrapes has made himself vocal, but they are massively outweighed by the constant influx of people who feel the need to tell me and others like me how we have no problems and should shut up at the same time as they feel the need to tell me that I am not fully human.   

I know asexuals who automatically assume that anyone who speaks kindly about us must be asexual themselves, because why else would people talk about us without hatred? I know, myself, that I care all the more about my community because I feel like no one else, ever does; that we must care about each other because the rest of the world hates us with varying level of severity; that we have to band together and support each other, because no one else ever will. 

Is it any wonder that I have stopped trusting people with the information about what my sexual orientation actually means to me? 

*Speaking of that—still fucked up over it, have been fucked up about it for a while now, but. I want to say how freaking awesome everyone who responded to me was when I posted about it, even just the little that there was. It meant a whole lot that people cared enough to say something to me about it. 

This.

That post today seems to have pushed our community in general past the tipping point, and I’m just not sure what to do anymore. All I know is, it can’t continue like this.

Everything about this post.

(via mindyshabibti-deactivated201111)

thecsph:

Simple. Acknowledge that asexuality exists.

But how does one go about that?

• Watch your blanket statements when it comes to sexuality, especially when it comes to comparing lack of sexuality with lack of humanity or suggesting that “everybody” needs sex.

• Make sure it gets represented in academic discussions or surveys of sexuality if you have the power to do so.

• Refrain from assuming that everyone who’s single is trying desperately to be otherwise (as aromantic asexuals don’t want to date), and if an asexual brings up the subject just try to be your brand of accepting. You can approach people in general without assuming they are sexual until proven otherwise.

Click here to read the rest of this great article.

Personally, I identify as an aromantic asexual, so I don’t ascribe to the common held idea of “love.” I still feel love for people- I love my mother and my sister, and a small handful of my closest friends. But romantically, I never see myself falling in love someone.

That aside, the term demisexual describes someone who does not feel sexual attraction until there is a strong emotional connection. It’s something most people misunderstand, but I think what you just proposed is a fantastic description of it.

One of the most common things I run into when people find out that I am asexual is a comment along the lines of:

So, you could technically be straight / gay / bi / attracted to animals

No.

Some people like to think of asexuality as the schrodinger’s cat of orientations. These people would be wrong. You are making the assumption that asexuality is just a transition into whatever my “real” sexuality is. So long as the box is closed, I could be both considered gay or straight or whatever.

Asexuality is not a blank canvas for you to impose whatever orientation you want onto. It is a valid orientation - my orientation - I would very much appreciate it if you would quit trying to morph it into something else to make yourself feel more comfortable around me.

So, the heterosexuals are on the swingset, swinging back and forth like most people do.

And then there are the homosexuals swinging, like, side to side or something.

The bisexuals are sort of alternating between the two, and the pansexuals are just twisting their swing up in a knot and crashing into everyone like “fuck the police i do what i want”

And then the asexuals are just chilling out in the sandbox all alone, like: HEY GUISE, LOOK AT THE CASTLE I MADE GUISE, LOOK GUISE IT HAS A MOTE. GUISE. LOOK.

Steven Moffat (A Study in Pink audio commentary)

(Source: itsacrimescene, via andhopeto)

(Source: hikariakai.deviantart.com, via dahmersfishisnamedalbert)

belgianbollocks:

quidditchisnotjustagame:

sherlockcat:

cakeyeahasexuals:

aereace:

:3

:3 :3

damn our asexual privilege!

damn it all!

This comic always makes me laugh, hahaha

Seems like my old comic has been revived xD

Looks legit.

(via jesuisgarconfemme)