The Gift of Asexuality

Thinking of myself on the asexual spectrum, and the gift of that being: I’ve made some dumbass mistakes relationally. Absolutely and to be certain. Completely dishonoring to my Self, and to the persons I was with. (Another conversation. Another time.) And. There are a lot of mistakes that I’ve not made that I’ve watched friends have the misfortune of falling into.

I think this is, one, because of their being driven by hormones that I don’t experience to the same extent. (I still can’t comprehend how someone being attractive and potentially/hopefully/maybe good in bed negates the fact that they’re an asshole and therefore already a terrible partner, but okay? “They might change!” Probably not, sis, but keep hope alive.)

And two, because I think friends not on the asexual spectrum were much more susceptible to society saying, “You have to do this!” and “You’re supposed to be like that.” I had my time periods where I was like, “What’s wrong with me? Why am I not attracted to more people?” And friends asking, “Why do you overthink things, and not just fall in and let them happen?” etc., etc.

Even when I tried to go along, though, I also just knew that that’s not who I am and how I am. I don’t function like that. I thought it was stupid when other folks were doing it so often and so cavalierly, and pretending like they didn’t notice it was almost never going well. (It’s probably fair to say something like 90% of non-marriage romantic relationships fail, as in they don’t end up in a length of commitment that the folks in it were at all hoping for.) So I didn’t force it as much. I’m pretty sure my tagline became, “I don’t have time for this.”

Exactly how much time and energy was I supposed to commit to hoping that a random relationship happens to work out, when there is so much other life that I could be living which will? Until my discovery two and a half years ago that I’m on the asexual spectrum, and things beginning to snap into sense, I chalked this all up to everyone being stupid. Again—the mind and perspective of this person who exists (then, unwittingly) on the asexual spectrum.

I don’t talk much about being asexual because in the realm of LGBTQIA+ness at this present historical moment, it’s blip to me. L&G are trying to maintain or regain rights to jobs, homes, and eternally committing to their boos and baes in the eyes of the state (…yet blocked by religion), and transgender women of color are being murdered on the regular for no reason a’tall. We are talking literal life and death for our front half in the land of the free, the home of the brave.

And, I write this as much as possible from my experiences, which are the only stories I have the right to tell. So I do need to explore this from the vein of being asexual.

I have yet to horribly encounter how my identity is as big an issue today in the US as it would have been at points in recent history, though that realization could simply be yet coming. It’s only June. I have several older and phenomenal as hell female cousins in my family who aren’t married, so I grew up with the idea that, while I would like to be married someday, if I didn’t get married, no shame. At least not from my family.

But that brings to mind the reality that, until what—30/40 years ago?—women-identified persons especially in our society were supposed to get married. Pretty much had to. I mean, women were (and in some spaces and places still are) shamed for not being heterosexually married by a certain age. I may be one of the few single females at my church in the South(ish), and I’ve definitely had encounters where women behave as if I’m trying to steal their husbands because I said, “Hi,” and I don’t have on a wedding ring. I’ve also had a couple of encounters where the husband behaved as if the bowels of hell were going to open beneath us and swallow us whole because we were chatting…in the busy hallway…without their partner immediately present. Oooookay.

But back to the 30/40 years ago. Can we talk about the economic distress you suffered if you were not able to be in one of the few positions as a woman where you could earn a living or already had access to money to take care of yourself? We’re acknowledging, but for the sake of time not even venturing into the whole toxic bullshit about being a “God-fearing Christian,” and the “duty of a good Christian woman” to get married to a good Christian man and raise up good Christian children. (I am, however, reaffirming that my family is truly a blessing in this way, because my daddy is a pastor, and so was my grandpa. They just told us we’re gifted and we could be whatever we wanted to be—as good Christians.)

In general, we should recognize that a lot of women ended up in marriages they may not have chosen had society not pushed. (Oh! Hello, entirety of human history!) So this puts me in a comparison mind frame when I think of being a woman today, and the difficulty in connecting with a partner when I have so much self-awareness and freedom to recognize and choose mine. And as a beloved human I adore says necessarily often, “I have questions.”

It makes me wonder how many of these women are on the asexual spectrum and didn’t know, since we as a society didn’t/still don’t know much about asexuality? Got married when they may not have wanted to (especially if they are asexual/aromantic), and had kids they may not have wanted because women were strongly compelled to? What life may they have been called to otherwise? What does this mean for the quality of the life God gave them, when people determined for them how they were going to live it?

What did that do with their relationships with their partners, when it can be difficult for romantic partners to understand what it means that we who are asexual are who we are, because both church and society have kept us from knowing who we are? How many horribly difficult relationships and even divorces may this have led to between two human beings who might otherwise have shared a deeply loving and supportive friendship? How many of those potential friendships instead became a marriage made into a broken relationship?

If they stayed together, how much may they have fought and struggled to do so, not knowing or understanding that the struggle is not because something or someone was wrong, but because one partner simply romantically connects differently than many people? Which means that, while no one relationship should be approached in generalities, this one truly can’t be?

And how did children experience being raised in these parental households, when observing our parents’ relationships (and/or lack thereof) is so much of our development?

I’m 34, so this means that this is just beyond the entirety of my own life in which as a greater society we’ve begun to realize that women should be able to do whatever the hell we’re called to with our lives, rather than (op)pressing the assumption that the point of our lives is to marry men and raise offspring.

This also means that this would have been my parents’ generation for relationships when this thought process even began to shift, so as well for the generation after theirs, and still mine. Because once we begin realizing something’s not quite right, it takes a while for that reality to break through in a meaningful way. This means our generations after would have been raised with some vestige of this mentality, even as we recognize it’s not healthy and we need to do something different.

The issue for me is that my experiences and understandings of God are not of an abusive sadist, but rather of love—so I certainly can’t and wouldn’t put this mess on God. That tells me that something is wrong in the ways that we as human beings are, at best, perceiving and understanding God when it comes to the obvious reality of our various created identities in sexuality and, at worst, misusing Their name simply to maintain our wants, intentions, and traditions.

Just, wow! How many unhealthy relationship dynamics we set up for one another when we keep telling people, “You have to be like this,” and “You have to live like that!” and that’s not who people are! It’s just not who God created us to be.

Sadly, terrible, destructively, we’re so much more concerned with things looking a certain way than we are the unhealthy, damaging, and even abusive reality that our human forcing creates.

What’s not natural is continually trying to tell other people who they are, as if everyone is a stupid child and can’t recognize own callings and identities. As if the human voice and will is more important than God’s creating hand.

I’m so thankful for my asexuality, and that it’s led me away from engaging so many relationships I would have regretted, and (to the chagrin of partners) kept me focused and aware in relationships instead of always and blindly following my feelings, hormones, and sensations. (I do get in my feelings. But I think I also tend to get out of them more easily, lol.)

I’m also thankful to know that, while God may be the same yesterday, today, and forever, human experience and knowledge is not. I have the privilege of growing up in a time where, difficult though it can be, I get to know who I Am Who Am uniquely called and created me to be—because of all of the people who lived (w)ho(l)ly themselves and lived as freedom before I was even born.

Because Bayard organized us to March when folks were complaining his wrist had a limp. Because Marsha declared “No more!” and laid down the iconic first brick to block out hatred and create boundaries for love and wholeness. Because Audre knew and believed her life and writing are the Lorde’s work. Because Harvey ran with all his pride for mayor of San Francisco.

Because, today: Janelle, Tessa, Lena, Mark, Johanna, Pidgeon, Caster, Patrisse, Opal, Alicia.

Because Shawn, Jonathan, Linda, Lois, Rhonda, Susan, Emmanuel, and Emyli.

Because Amaryah, Carlin, Kelsey, Heather, Lee, Tyler, Damien, Leonard, Luther, Blake, Anna, RJ, Sarah, Lyndsey.

Because me. Because you.

Our human and faith journeys are that we are continually encountering, learning, and understanding not only who God is, but also what that means about who we are because of and in God.

My asexuality has taught me to trust my knowledge of my Self through God in me, rather than human beings who don’t even know me—or who put their love for themselves before their love for us—trying to tell me who and how I am because that’s what suits them.

It’s taught me to look to the cloud of witnesses with similar God-gifted identities rather than those who insist that I can’t be simply because it’s not their personal experience and they don’t understand. I mean, goodness. If things ceased to exist in God’s creation simply because human beings don’t yet (and may never!) know or understand them—poof!—there goes nearly all of creation, much of which we need for our own survival and beloved communion.

It’s taught me to look to the (w)ho(l)ly prophets with similar God-gifted identities rather than those who insist I can’t exist because some human beings now being substituted as God said so long, long ago, before in our humanness we could better see and know (yet still only in part) the possibilities and nuances of calling, identity, and sexuality in a world where God has already created so much diversity and multiplicity of existence.

The gift of my asexuality is the gift of me. Knowing now this part of my Self, allowing anyone to disappear or compel me to deny who I am is a death—it is violence to my Self. Please recall that self-defense is permitted by law of both God and man. This means that, in the event of anyone attempting to destroy who God created and calls me to be, you may catch these theological, biblical, verbal hands—if not the physical ones as well. Yes?

Amen and axé.