Here’s Amanda Marcotte responding to an article by David Wong on misogyny, wherein he claims that men are just so much more sexual than women, that women can’t possibly understand, and so men tend to think women are conspiring to give them boners in inappropriate settings:

Do you see what I’m getting at? Go look outside. See those cars driving by? Every car being driven by a man was designed and built and bought and sold with you in mind. The only reason why small, fuel-efficient or electric cars don’t dominate the roads is because we want to look cool in our cars, to impress you.Go look at a city skyline. All those skyscrapers? We built those to impress you, too. All those sports you see on TV? All of those guys learned to play purely because in school, playing sports gets you laid. All the music you hear on the radio? All of those guys learned to sing and play guitar because as a teenager, they figured out that absolutely nothing gets women out of their pants faster. It’s the same reason all of the actors got into acting.

All those wars we fight? Sure, at the upper levels, in the halls of political power, they have some complicated reasons for wanting some piece of land or access to some resource. But on the ground? Well, let me ask you this — historically, when an army takes over a city, what happens to the women there?

It’s all about you. All of it. All of civilization.

I don’t realize if Wong gets this, but he basically just argued that since women are just so asexual, we’re also basically unartistic, unambitious, and even though he decried treating women like decorative objects, I don’t really see how we fit into this. We don’t have any desire to impress men and get sex, so we’re never going to build and invent, right?

Amanda is right to call Wong out on his assumption that women just can’t feel as deeply sexual as men can. But whether Amanda meant to do so or not, she also plays into a common trope about asexuals that we’re all passionless, uncreative, and somehow lacking that “spark” of life that sexual people have. To her credit, she at least says “What about the gay artists?” a little later on. I haven’t read the comments, so perhaps she challenges this anti-asexual trope somewhere in there, but I wouldn’t make the assumption that she did. In any case, it’s a big oversight.

Now, Wong’s argument is familiar to me. I encountered a version of it several years ago:

9/7/2007  9:13:09 PM  M: it’s considered unnatural, because for many people, sexuality is the central driving force behind our decisions, endeavors, and pursuits as human beings
9/7/2007  9:13:17 PM  M: and for someone to step and say they dont have that
9/7/2007  9:13:31 PM  M: a “normal” person can’t comprehend that
9/7/2007  9:14:08 PM  M: and a truly asexual person, will never be able to truly understand what it means to be sexual
9/7/2007  9:14:28 PM  M: that person will never know what it’s like to have a mind that is sexually driven,
9/7/2007  9:14:47 PM  M: and by no means is it a simple, oh i like women/men and i act on it once in a while
9/7/2007  9:14:54 PM  M: it’s an all-encompasing process
9/7/2007  9:15:01 PM  M: that drives every single thought
9/7/2007  9:15:31 PM  M: to a sexual, an asexual claiming their asexuality sounds like claiming you can have fire without fuel

It’s one thing to feel like your own sexuality is the central driving force behind all of your own behavior. But there are a hell of a lot of people out there who don’t feel that way, even among *sexual people. Ask my partner, for one. Moreover, there are a lot of male *sexual people who don’t feel that way, too. Are they not “normal” because their feelings aren’t the same as yours?

Failing to recognize that other people feel differently from you, failing to recognize that other people can be motivated by things other than the things that motivate you, is an egocentric fallacy. Failing to recognize that creativity and passion can come from avenues other than sexuality is a huge chasm in your ability to understand others.

You want an example of a fantastically creative person who isn’t driven by sexuality? Look at Emilie Autumn. Hell, look at me. I haven’t got much published yet besides this blog, but I am furiously working on it. I have to create, you guys. I have to write. I am passionate about making the world a better place, and to that end I will strive to annihilate misunderstandings and create human connection through my writing, even to the detriment of other areas of my life. How dare anyone call me passionless.

I think a big part of the reason why people think that asexual people are passionless is that they’re unable to conceive of passion in a non-romantic context, and also to a large extent, unable to fully separate love from sex. They’re different processes. I would suggest that love, being a neurochemical brain state similar to OCD, is as much if not more likely to be the motivation behind great works of art. For a lot of people, it’s probably motivated by both, but which is the stronger of the two? I argue that for many people it’s actually love, but it gets subsumed under the heading of sexuality without recognition that while the two often go together, they really are separate processes.

But you know what? Even if the definition of “passion” is strictly confined to sex, I’ve still got it. Don’t make the assumption that asexual people are cold fish in bed. We’re not limp robots, as long as we want to be doing it and have enough experience to know what to do. And if we are? Then there’s something wrong, and you better find out what it is and try to fix it.

Wong’s theory is a bad one, and while Amanda’s response didn’t quite cover all of the reasons why, she is absolutely right to say this:

I have a counter-theory. I don’t believe that men build civilization to impress lazy women who keep saying no to sex, because we don’t understand what it’s really like to want it. I believe men built most things because women were shut out of political power, job opportunities, and education for most of history, and instead forced into servitude towards men in the home. I believe my theory has a lot of evidence for it, in the form of all of history. Plus, this theory doesn’t do much to explain all the gay men who have been creators throughout history, of which there have been many. You know, it’s not like Michelangelo was rumored to be doing the Sistine Chapel to catch a lady’s eye. His theory doesn’t really explain how it is that women, once given the opportunity to be creators, take it.

Lisa from Radical Trans Feminist: The Ethical Prude: Imagining an Authentic Sex-Negative Feminism. (If you have trouble reading because of the text colors at the link, like I do, Lisa was also kind enough to provide a link where you can easily change the text to a readable view. I had never heard of this website before, so this is a great find for me! Thanks, Lisa!) This is a really great article that shows how there isn’t actually a huge difference between sex-positive and sex-negative feminists. It’s more a matter of what kinds of things you emphasize than anything else. It’s long, but well worth a read if you have the time. I’ve been prude-shamed quite a bit myself, and if I were more on the repulsed end of the spectrum, I might consider trying to reclaim the label Prude for myself, too.

Framboise just posted about sex positivity and anti-asexual views within it. Quote:

“The other most prominent argument tends to dance with the No true Scotsmen fallacy. Simply, many argue that when asexuals experience various forms of oppression from sex positive feminists (including concern-trolling about how to “fix” their sexuality, accusations of being judgmental, or erasure) they are encountering people who are doing sex positivity wrong.  However, these experiences are common.  Far more common than asexuals receiving any sort of affirmation in sex positive spaces.  If the majority of people claiming sex positivism are doing it wrong what does that mean? Whose responsibility is it to fix?”

This is definitely a huge problem, and I think there are a lot of sex positive people out there who really aren’t doing enough to make sex-positive spaces safe for asexuals and people with low interest in sex. It’s perfectly understandable why asexual people would feel alienated from an environment where it’s generally assumed that people want sex. But I also think it’s important to point out that the majority of people, sex positive or not, are not sufficiently educated about asexuality to respond to it appropriately. There are some sex positive people who DO reach out to asexuals and truly try to embrace sexual diversity in all its forms, but they’re in the minority because people who accept asexuality are in the minority. It’s easy for someone who is uninformed to think that asexuality is somehow related to shame about sex, because they’ve probably never had that assumption challenged. Those people who do accept asexuality and consider themselves allies need to bring the issue up, and educate others about it.

I don’t think the No True Scotsman fallacy is applicable in this case, because we’re dealing with ideals and not facts like where someone was born. It would be applicable, if someone was arguing that because sex positive people value consent and sexual diversity, they never push sex or sexiness onto people who don’t want it. That’s a factual contradiction. But that’s not the argument. The argument is simply that they aren’t living up to their own ideals.

Here’s an analogy: the United States of America was formed with the idea of liberty and equality, but still allowed slavery and didn’t give women the right to vote. We still have problems with racism and sexism, even today. Despite the founders’ commitment to the ideals of liberty and equality, mainstream views at the time limited their egalitarianism to such an extent that what they enacted wasn’t true egalitarianism. I think we’re seeing a similar effect here: the mainstream view that asexuality is pathological is limiting even people who believe in the importance of embracing sexual diversity and the value of consent.

Does that mean that these people don’t genuinely see consent and diversity as ideals, and therefore aren’t allowed to call themselves sex positive? No. Does that mean that these sex positive people who don’t accept asexuality as legitimate aren’t truly, fully living up to their own ideals? Yes. They’re not taking the values of consent and diversity to their logical conclusion. Whose responsibility is it to fix that? It’s everyone’s. Even if you’ve talked about it before, if you haven’t talked about how sexual diversity includes people who don’t want to have sex at all lately? Do it again. Any time you mention sexual diversity, try to make it clear that it’s okay to not want sex, too. You may feel like that should go without saying, but it really doesn’t, and not mentioning it contributes to asexual erasure.

Emily Nagoski posted about anti-sex-positive feminism in response to this post by Meghan Murphy, which in turn quotes this post by Holly Pervocracy, and this post by Charlie Glickman. All of those posts are well worth reading. In particular, I want to quote Glickman:

The very notion that a sex act can be good or bad in and of itself is simply the current iteration of sex-negativity because it locates the value of sex in the activity rather than in the experiences of the individuals who do it.That’s like saying that sandwiches are good or bad without reference to the personal tastes of the people who eat them. It’s much more productive to ask how a given individual feels about what they do and make room for a diversity of responses, instead of judging the acts themselves.

This is why I think that it’s a misunderstanding to think that sex positivity is about saying that sex itself is good. It’s more that sex, in general, has the potential to be good. IF it’s done in a consensual way, but more than that, a way which values the satisfaction and emotional well-being of all participants. Consent is just the bare minimum requirement, but we need to aim higher than that.

One other thing I want to point out: I keep seeing sex-negative/anti-sex-positive feminists claim that sex positive people can’t handle critiques of sexism in porn and other mainstream parts of culture that enforce sexism. That’s not true. Yes, a lot of us will have defensive reactions to critiques of porn. However, the problem is not critiquing sexism in porn, but that the way in which the critique is framed either generalizes that all porn is bad, or that the sex acts themselves are bad, without recognizing that it’s possible to do those things in an ethical, consensual way that values the satisfaction and emotional well-being of all participants.

I dug up an old article by Greta Christina on this distinction, and how critiques of sexism in porn often miss it and end up engaging in kink-shaming. While we’re talking about her, I’ll also link another piece she wrote about sex work. She’s written many more excellent articles on sex positivity, and they’re all worth reading, but I’m not going to dig up every single one of them to link here.

I think ultimately, the main difference I’m seeing between sex-positive feminists and sex-negative feminists still comes down to how they feel about porn and sex work. The sex-negative folk seem to think that porn and sex work are both inherently abusive, while the sex-positive people (myself included) think that, even though there IS a lot of abuse in sex work and the porn industry, and we acknowledge it, we also think there’s a way to combat it without banning porn or sex work. I think prostitution should be legalized and regulated, for example, rather than criminalized and driven underground, where abuse can be much more easily perpetuated.

If I’m wrong about the way that sex-negative feminists view porn and sex work, though, feel free to correct me. A lot of the posts I read from sex-negative feminists only tangentially mentioned porn and sex work without making their views about it explicit, so I’m still thinking of the ones who did mention it that I read so long ago that I now can’t even remember where I read them anymore.

Sex is not inherently positive. It CAN be positive. It CAN be a fantastic, mutually enjoyable experience. It can even be something that inspires feelings of transcendence in people. But it isn’t always. A lot of sex is painful, coerced, deeply terrifying and traumatic. And sometimes sex that feels good at the time can bring all kinds of awful consequences.

The point of sex positivity is acknowledging that sex isn’t inherently negative. It’s not saying that ALL sex is positive. It’s saying that it doesn’t have to be that way. Here’s how Carol Queen, one of the leaders of the movement*, defines it:

It’s the cultural philosophy that understands sexuality as a potentially positive force in one’s life, and it can, of course, be contrasted with sex-negativity, which sees sex as problematic, disruptive, dangerous. Sex-positivity allows for and in fact celebrates sexual diversity, differing desires and relationships structures, and individual choices based on consent.

Emphasis in original. This quote is from wikipedia, as access to the original interview is restricted.

There are cultural forces out there that are strongly anti-sex. To people who buy into them, sex is seen as inherently bad, dirty, and shameful. It is only acceptable within a very narrow set of circumstances. That set of circumstances is seen as being narrower or wider according to different people, but it’s all relatively narrow. Primarily, the people who see it this way are religious. It makes sense, right? They want to make you feel guilty for sex you will still be having anyway**, so that then you’ll feel the need to keep coming back to confess your sins to them.

Sex positivity is a response to that. It’s a philosophy that says that, hey, there’s nothing wrong with having sex before marriage, or sex with someone of the same sex, or a million other kinds of sex, as long as that’s what you both want. Consent is key. And so is the idea that everyone is different, and it’s totally okay for different people to want different things.

If you don’t want to have sex, then don’t have sex, because having sex that you don’t want is bad for you. That is what a sex-positive person should be saying.

"Yeah, I'm totally ace-positive ... You're aromantic, ew that's unnatural." From here.

So those nominally sex-positive people who say that everyone should want sex, because sex is good? They’re doing sex positivity wrong, because they’re forgetting about both consent, and the tenet of individual preference.

I see these people as a breed of Disingenuous Liberal, essentially. These are people who have thought about sex positivity just enough to start labeling themselves as such, but not enough to have actually thought through their positions and arrived at a reasonable, logically consistent conclusion. These are people who are still having knee-jerk reactions against religious conservatives saying that sex is inherently negative, and as such, their reactions lack nuance. They are basically saying, “NUH UH, SEX IS GREAT!” without considering how it isn’t always the best thing for everyone. They have challenged whatever sex-negative attitudes they previously held enough to start identifying as sex-positive, but not enough to actually stop telling other people how they should feel about sex.

These are the people who tend to assume that asexuality is the same as being anti-sex. These are the people who are likely to equate asexuality with a “purer than thou” religious attitude towards sex, and attack it on that basis. They are still fighting their own battle with sex-negative conditioning, so they assume we are saying that we’re somehow “better than” them, for not feeling sexual attraction.

These are the people who are most likely to say we’re “just repressed” and push concern-trolling ideas like how we should go get our hormones checked.

But, as Natalie Reed said yesterday, people who see themselves as liberated and enlightened can easily fall into the trap of thinking that they are much more so than they actually are, and stop actually examining their words and actions, because of course they are so enlightened that nothing they say can actually still be enforcing sex-negativity. They have fallen for the Dunning-Kruger effect, and they genuinely think they know our feelings about sex better than we do.

But sex positivity is about cultivating positive sexual experiences, and reducing harmful ones. Pushing asexual people to have sex that they don’t want is pushing them to have harmful, deeply negative sexual experiences. Telling us that we’re “just repressed” is an aggressive attempt to frame any conversation about asexuality through a lens in which we don’t actually exist. It’s an attempt to marginalize us based on our different sexual preferences. It is not an act that is in any way sex positive.

Then there are other disingenuous liberals, like this recent commenter, who insist that they think that asexuality exists, but that our definition of asexuality is wrong, because it’s “too broad.” This is still an attempt to marginalize. It’s still a direct attack on someone’s identity, despite her attempt to cloak it in the abstractions of semantics. When you’re the signified, discussing how the signifier is wrong to include you is still pretty personal. And, unsurprisingly, she replied once and then after that didn’t bother to come back to see what else I said. This isn’t someone who is actually interested in interrogating her own biases. This is someone who is only interested in telling me how I’m wrong.

Like I said to her, it doesn’t matter whether you see a need for someone to identify as asexual or not. What matters is that THEY see that need. And asexuality is not only entirely compatible with sex positivity, but sometimes understanding yourself as asexual is what it takes to be able to have positive sexual experiences.

Before I realized I was asexual, I was celibate, and completely closed off to the idea of having sex until such time as I started spontaneously wanting to have sex (which has still never come even though I’m in my mid-twenties, because I’m not a “late bloomer”). Realizing that I’m just not attracted to people in that way has allowed me to think about whether or not I wanted to have sex anyway, and under what circumstances. When I had a partner who didn’t accept me as asexual, the sex was bad. Like, the stuff of nightmares bad. But when I met C, she actually listened to me and tried to understand what my experience was like. She didn’t pressure me. At times I still felt like our relationship was moving too fast, but we always negotiated what was and wasn’t okay sexually, and we’ve been able to have some very positive, mutually enjoyable sex.

Sex isn’t for everyone, though. Some people just don’t want it. And that’s okay.

Sex positivity is all about recognizing that different people have different preferences, and that’s okay. It’s about recognizing that sex isn’t always bad, but not all sex is good sex, either. Sex has to be entirely consensual, or it won’t be any good, and people also need to understand and have access to ways to prevent negative consequences of sex like STIs and pregnancy. Sex positivity is about recognizing that when those criteria are met, sex has the potential to be very positive. Living a sex-positive life means finding ways to have a positive relationship with sexuality in your personal life, even if that means saying, “Hey, it can be great for other people, but it’s not for me.”

——–

* Several years ago, DJ interviewed Carol Queen about asexuality and the sex positive movement. There are two installments, and it’s well worth a listen.

** Researchers have found that religious people have sex at the same rates as non-religious people. Abstinence-only sex education is ineffective. There are plenty of studies about this, but one particularly interesting one compares the sex lives of secular people with those of religious people.

I’ve been watching House for years now. When I first started watching, it was sometime between the end of season two and the beginning of season three, and I burned through the first two seasons very quickly and then showed it to my best friend and then-roommate, K, who eagerly awaited season 3 with me. We would stop all our other activities and watch it together when it came on. Sometimes other people would come over to watch it with us, and we’d have little “House parties” but more often, we’d just shut the door and get quite annoyed when other people would disturb us in the middle of the show. As the seasons have worn on the show has held my interest, but it’s been waning more and more. I no longer eagerly await each episode and watch it as soon as I am able. Now weeks or months will pass before I think about getting caught up again. But I’m still watching, even though I am losing confidence in the writers.

Last week, I happened to check the AVEN home page as I (too infrequently) do, and saw that an upcoming episode of House would feature an asexual couple. I watched the preview clip with a mix of hope and deep, cynical dread. I wasn’t surprised at all to see House opposing the existence of asexuality. I was glad that Wilson said it was a “valid sexual orientation,” although the preview (terrible as usual) proved to be misleading, because he was quoting a magazine article when he said that. The show’s formula includes House being nearly always right—could the writers really take the risk of showing House being wrong about this? (Spoilers below the cut.)

No, of course not. I didn’t think so.

For those of you who didn’t watch it, here’s the short version: the husband isn’t asexual because he has a brain tumor; the wife isn’t asexual either, she’s just been lying to her husband this whole time because she knew that being with him “meant making certain sacrifices.” She went on to explain that “a girl has needs, you know.” As an aside, I find it some ironic humor in that line, as I was told in a fiction workshop this past fall that the line “Everyone has needs” is very unrealistic. Apparently the writers of House find it just as realistic as I did. But that’s besides the point.

The episode’s writer, Katherine Lingenfelter, has been answering questions about the episode. Here are some of the things she has said to asexuals who have expressed their disappointment:

I am trying to communicate with several of the people of the asexual community who were displeased, so forgive me if I repeat myself. I did a lot of research on asexuality for the episode. My original intent was to introduce it and legitimize it, because I was struck by the response most of you experience, which is similar to the prejudice the homosexual community has received. People hear you’re asexual and they immediately think, “What’s wrong with you, how do I fix you?” I wanted to write against that. Unfortunately, we are a medical mystery show. Time & again, my notes came back that House needed to solve a mystery and not be wrong. So in THIS CASE, with THESE patients, it was a tumor near the pituitary. But I hoped I could (now it seems unsuccessfully) introduce asexuality to the general public and get them asking questions. All they need to do is one google search and they can see for themselves it’s a real community of great people. Originally, part of my dialog included thoughts about whether as a species we’ve grown past sex. Any time we tackle a subject, we risk the possibility of not doing it justice. I apologize that you feel I did you a disservice. It was not my intent. Asexuality is a new topic for me and definitely one I find fascinating. It is a subject I would like to continue to explore here or ..on future shows I write for. I think it speaks to where humans are now and where we are going. I will do my best in the future to do it justice. Thank you for feedback and please share any and all thoughts.

I appreciate your frustration. I can only say to you that through my research (Which included long visits to http://asexuality.org), I have my eyes opened to your community & if I did you a disservice here, I will try again in the future because I think your community is one that is growing and says a lot about what it is to be human today (tho historically there have been aces a plenty). Again, I’m sorry to do your community I disservice. I wanted to get a dialog going w/the public about asexuality but there are many masters to please in TV. I am open to any and all comments, suggestions, critiques. (This does remind me a a frustration for a writer for the CW who vented that they could never cast African American characters as criminals because the network was too afraid of offending them. Not a direct corollary, but perhaps speaks to the day when ppl respect asexuality as an orientation enough that we can do a story with the medical condition and it won’t discredit it all). Thank you for letting me explain myself/ramble.

These quotes were taken from this thread on AVEN, in case anyone is interested in reading more. Full disclosure: I haven’t read the whole thread, just the last couple of pages.

If what Lingenfelter says is true, and I have no reason to doubt that it is, it’s a pretty good demonstration of the reason why I think writing about asexuality in fiction is extremely difficult to do at this stage, if not downright untenable in some situations. Her original intention was good, laudable even, although a couple of quotes indicated to me that she may still have had some misunderstandings about asexuality herself—more on that later. Where it sounds like she went wrong—and I don’t really blame her for this too much, given her situation—is not sticking up for her idea enough in the editing process, not vehemently defending asexuality as a legitimate orientation enough to convince the other writers that it would be a better story, a more honest story, if House turned out to be completely in the wrong.

And no doubt it would have been a better story if House had been wrong. I can’t even begin to describe how much more compelling the story would have been if House had been wrong about this, even putting aside my own feelings about my already terribly misunderstood sexual orientation being portrayed in such a negative light. I don’t want to watch a show where the main character is always right. I want to see him struggle and FAIL sometimes. To the writers’ credit—and this is why I have continued watching—sometimes he does fail. Sometimes he does get things wrong. But it’s not nearly often enough.

My biggest problem with House is that it’s too formulaic, and while on special occasions the writers do write episodes where House fails, most of the time they’re not willing to take the risk of breaking their formula. Often, the formula works well enough. But come on, guys, it’s season eight. By now I am so sick and tired of House being right all the freaking time that my interest in the show—despite the fantastic acting, despite my continued love for these characters—is seriously flagging. And especially in cases where House would be very likely to get things wrong, like this one—I think it would, in fact, have been completely out of character for him to view asexuality as legitimate—he SHOULD. From one writer to another: if you ever find yourself saying that your main character “must be right” then you need to stop, take a step back. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. You’re character is coming dangerously close to becoming a Dreaded Mary Sue. You can write a character who is obsessed with being right, like House, but you don’t want to write a character who Must Be Right. If you won’t even at least consider the possibility that your character could be wrong, why write it at all?

And look, since there were two “asexual” characters, House could have even been just partially right and it still would have been a vastly more compelling story, although I would have preferred if he was just flat-out wrong about both of them. If the rest of the writing team just absolutely HAD to have House be right about something, why couldn’t he have been right about only one of them?

Here’s the thing: while I understand that writing workshops are tough sometimes, and especially in a group writing situation where you’re not in charge you can be easily overruled, intent still isn’t magic. And this episode is not just offensive, it actually does tremendous damage to the asexual community. (Protip: “Sorry if I offended you” and similar phrases are classic not-pologies that show that you do not actually understand what was wrong with what you did, and you should never say something like that.) It reinforces negative stereotypes and prejudices the audience—many of whom surely have never heard of asexuality before and put undue trust in medical drama shows even though they are fictional—to think that asexuality has been “debunked” by House. While it’s all sounds well and good to say that “all they have to do is google it” to find the community, this 1) overestimates the number of people who will actually be inclined to do so and 2) overestimates how likely they will be to a) find the actual asexual community instead of finding communities of people who hate us (like certain communities I won’t link to on Tumblr) and b) agree that it’s a “great” community despite their prejudice. I’ve mentioned this before, but it bears mentioning again that people are very likely to pay attention to things that confirm their existing attitudes and ignore things that don’t, so if they think that people only “claim to be asexual” and really must have something wrong with them, they’re much more likely to seek out things confirming that opinion than things contradicting it. And probably the majority of viewers will not seek out any kind of verification at all, and will just take House’s opinion at face value.

This post? This is damage control. I sincerely hope the writers of the show will read this and take it to heart, but even if they don’t, I hope at least some people who see the show and decide to google asexuality will see it and understand what’s wrong with the cowardly “debunking”—which would certainly not stand if this were homosexuality we’re talking about.

I won’t get into too much detail about each point, but here’s a list of reasons why this portrayal was awful:

1. Does it even medically make sense? Asexuality is usually lifelong, and we know that this guy has been identifying as asexual for more than ten years, at the very least. He has either been asexual since puberty, or he once experienced sexual attraction and then lost it due to the pituitary tumor. If he has had this since puberty, even if it is slow-growing, shouldn’t there be some other symptom besides a lack of libido? I’m not a doctor, so this is a genuine question, and if anyone wants to inform me, please do. But it seems dubious to me.
2. Asexuality is a lack of sexual ATTRACTION, it is NOT a lack of sexual interest or sex drive. I feel like a broken record saying this yet again, but it needs to be said. This distinction is not made clear in the episode. Quite likely the writer did not understand it herself. Some asexuals DO want to have sex for various reasons, and yes, some of us even ENJOY it (gasp!). You can have a sex drive and still not feel any kind of sexual attraction, so the treatment might not even make this guy sexual anyway, as was implied.
3. Since some asexuals want and enjoy sex, why the deceit? You made this character lie to her husband for over a decade about her sexual orientation. That is a VERY LONG TIME to be lying about such a serious issue, and it paints us in a VERY BAD LIGHT. This is probably the very worst thing about the episode. Real asexuals? Real asexuals tend to be extremely hesitant to come out to people, especially to doctors, because of the way that people endlessly harass us about what they think “must be” wrong with us. It’s trivializing to show a character who so glibly “comes out” to a doctor and then, equally easily, admits to her husband that she’s been lying to him about her sexual orientation for over a decade. Worst of all? If someone can’t find a convenient excuse for why our asexuality must not be real, if someone can’t find anything wrong with us to explain it away, you’ve just given them an out. You’ve given them a reason to continue to be suspicious about our orientation. If they can’t say there’s something wrong with us, they’ll just say we’re LYING. Or delusional. Not that there wouldn’t be people who would say that anyway, but you seriously don’t need to reinforce it. Making reference to how Everybody Lies is a cheap shot in this circumstance, and it is SO NOT WORTH IT.
4. Asexuality is not anti-sexuality, and asexual elitism is BAD. Upon learning that he has a tumor, Asexual Guy insists that he doesn’t want the treatment and that he’s “not one of them.” This implies that asexuals see themselves as somehow being “above” sexuals. Even more troubling, the writer notes that, “Originally, part of my dialog included thoughts about whether as a species we’ve grown past sex.” Seriously? Only a small minority of asexuals think anything like that, and these are soundly trounced by the rest of us when something like that comes up. We don’t think we’re better than sexual people, even if some religions treat celibacy as somehow more “transcendent” and godly and so sexual people sometimes just automatically assume that we do. Also, evolution is not teleological—in layman’s terms, that means that there is no “end goal,” there is no destiny or sentience of any kind involved—so it is wrong to assume that asexuality is the “next stage” as the idea of us “growing past sex as a species” implies. It is equally wrong to assume that asexuals will die out, not least because of the whole “it’s about attraction, not behavior” thing.
5. Asexuality is not a world view. Nor is it a lifestyle, although I’ve covered that already in numbers 2 and 3. Asexuals are diverse and have many, many different world views. Some of us even have world views that tell us that asexuality doesn’t exist, that we’re wrong and broken. Pretty much the ONLY thing that all of us have in common is that we lack sexual attraction.

And just in case the damage that this episode has done isn’t real to you yet, let me share a personal anecdote. Once upon a time, I met this guy, who I refer to as M. He is extremely similar to House, so I introduced him to the show. I liked him far too much considering what an asshole he is. He has all of House’s terrible flaws, including his extreme arrogance and need to be right all the time. He is irrational in all the same ways that House is, including the skewed view of evolution that House demonstrated in this episode (“asexuals are either sick, lying, or dead,” given House’s world view, implies that House thinks this is true because asexuals “would have died out,” as M said), while priding himself in his cold, rational, cynical view of the world. He had the same misunderstanding about asexuality that House apparently does (asexuals would have died out because asexuals apparently just don’t want sex), the same propensity to make cruel jokes about it (he often alluded to me being inhuman, just like House’s “pool of algae” comment), and the same eagerness to seek a way to find what’s wrong and “fix” it. He unethically ignored my wishes on more than one occasion, just like House routinely does to his patients. He was unwilling to listen to me about what asexuality actually is, jumping to the conclusion that my attempt to correct his misunderstandings was a “rationalization,” and he loved to get into “point-scoring” debates where his goal was not to actually have a discussion, but just to win and prove himself right. He was also “fascinated” with me in both a sexual way and in the way that House gets fascinated with puzzling cases, including the case of the asexual couple.

While M prides himself as a skeptic, he is not (or was not, perhaps, but I suspect that’s being much too hopeful) actually open to hearing evidence that contradicts his prejudices. Whether he realized he was doing it or not (and I wouldn’t put it past him to be that manipulative, he is certainly smart enough), he led a gaslighting campaign against me on the basis of his belief that my asexuality isn’t real, and that I’m just delusional “like a five-year-old cross-eyed child trying to drive.” He was exceptionally nasty about it towards the end, when instead of listening to me about the problems I was expressing with his behavior, he insisted that I was wrong and that I somehow had a “disability” (I don’t; I have completely normal sexual function, as my current partner and this study will attest). This has done considerable, long-lasting damage to me psychologically.

M is the kind of person who will find this portrayal of asexuality on House validating. He is the kind of person who will be bolstered by it and will likely become more antagonistic and abusive towards any asexual he meets. I doubt he would bother to google the response to this episode, although if he did I suppose he would probably be looking for me. I’m very glad I’ve cut off contact with him. The thing is, though, there are people out there who are even worse than M. I fear that this episode of House will embolden those people, and multiply not just the number of frightened but well-meaning people who are now certain that their friends or family members must have something horrible and scary wrong with them, but also the amount of abuse and harassment that the less fortunate asexuals face from less savory types.

So while I think that Lingenfelter got House’s (and Wilson’s, for that matter) character exactly right, the presentation of “facts” in this episode was extremely dangerous and damaging. It’s naive to say “Oh, it’s only these particular characters who are like that.” At best, really. It’s a lazy cop-out, and one that trivializes these characters’ issues at that. When the only representation of asexuality on popular TV is this one, if you actually intend to be an ally, you have a responsibility to research your subject better than that (by the way, I don’t think that AVEN is a particularly good place to research asexuality beyond very, very basic stuff), and portray it accurately. This episode had the potential to explore House’s willful pathologization of certain groups of people in a really fascinating way, while also exposing the truth, but that opportunity was instead squandered on more stigmatization.

I’m not going to say that House has Jumped The Shark (I don’t know if there was ever any such dramatic moment where the show obviously started going downhill), and I’m probably not going to stop watching entirely, although I’m sure for many viewers this episode will mark the moment where they write the show off forever. But I hold the writers to a higher standard than this, and they have fallen way, WAY short of the mark. I can’t say I’m surprised, sadly. Being a writer myself, I can understand why it happened, and I’m glad that at least Lingenfelter is listening to feedback and apologizing, even if her apology comes off as rather… well, clueless. But again, intent isn’t magic.

EDIT: There is a petition to get the exec producer’s attention here, please sign it!

If anyone wants further reading, please check out Sciatrix’s House link roundup post here.

Also, while I wasn’t thinking about the Carnival of Aces when I wrote this, it dovetails nicely with this month’s topic of media representation so I think it totally counts. I will post what I originally planned to write for the carnival later on. If you’ve written a post about this, I’d encourage you to submit the link for inclusion in the carnival.

I’ve been a fan of Tim Gunn for several years, ever since I discovered Project Runway. A lot of that is that he does have an asexy vibe, but it’s also because I find him, more and more, to be the lone voice of sanity on the show. His critiques of the designers’ work are incredibly astute, although he doesn’t know what the judges are going to say, especially since lately they’ve been smoking crack (Really? Gretchen?). Another reason I identify with Tim is that he clearly reads a lot, and has a very large vocabulary. You see, I’m the type of person who relatively frequently uses words that others around me don’t know as well… and I get similar reactions to it. I also just find him overall very kind and generous and joyful, and that is the spirit of this book.

The rules that are quoted on the back cover of the book are almost all related to Project Runway and the one that isn’t is related to the wider fashion world. I realize that is a good marketing strategy, but I think that kind of misrepresents what the book is about as a whole. It’s not all catty gossip about Isaac Mizrahi and Anna Wintour; while he does critique their behavior, it is not in a gossipy or malicious way, but rather a critique that because they live in such an elite world, they have become out of touch with reality, and because of that they behave badly. The book’s themes revolve around being humble and not an elitist, being kind and courteous to others, and finding personal strength and joy even when things are tough.

This last theme seems to be the one that is most often discussed around these parts. He discusses hard issues like his suicide attempt and various conflicts with his family over his sexual orientation. I believe at one point, I think in a v-log, he said he shares that information in order to let anyone who is in a similar place know that it does get better. Now, I’ve had some concerns with the It Gets Better project because so many of the messages are centered around very mainstream norms that don’t take asexuality, aromanticism, or celibacy into account—they assume that everyone wants a romantic partner, a marriage, a family, etc. But Tim Gunn’s message is overall very asexual-friendly:

Could I get psychiatric help and resume some kind of sex life at some point? Probably. But it’s a little late for that. And frankly, I am happy being celibate. That doesn’t mean I haven’t had thoughts. I am a human being. But I love my life and don’t feel any need to change it.

Getting used to being alone was hard, but now that I’ve made a life for myself alone, I really like it. It’s been years since I’ve been interested in anyone. And I really think if you don’t need it, you don’t need it. As hard as it is for a lot of my friends to believe, I really am happy alone. (From page 189.)

It does seem that Tim is somewhat hesitant about claiming the label asexual. Later on, he says:

Sometimes people ask me when I figured out that I was gay. Well, for a very long time, I didn’t know what I was. I knew what I wasn’t: I wasn’t interested in boys, but I really wasn’t interested in girls. A lot of it was denial, but it was also that I didn’t feel unsatisfied. I’ve always loved working and have made that my priority. For many years, I described myself as asexual, and that’s probably still closest to the truth.

I do believe in a spectrum of sexuality. Some people are completely straight and some are completely gay, and plenty of people are somewhere in between. I think it’s crazy how hung up Americans, especially American men, are on this subject. I identify as gay, but there are women to whom I’m attracted. It’s not like I want to go to bed with them—but I can appreciate when someone’s radiating sexiness. (pages 214-215)

Let’s get this out of the way first:  there is one thing that I think is particularly problematic in that first quote, and that is that he appears to equates thoughts of sex (presumably about wanting to have sex, rather than intellectual interest) with being human. Not thinking about or desiring sex does not make a person a robot, an alien, a sociopath, or any other kind of inhuman or defective human creature. He seems to have internalized some negative cultural views about asexuality, and I have a sense that this may be part of where his unwillingness to fully embrace the label as an identity comes from. In general, though, I don’t think he’s really all that negative about it, and from what he’s written here, I’d certainly embrace him as one of us.

I suppose if we wanted to categorize him in our terms, then from what we know, we might say that he is a gay, gray-area asexual person (for those coming in from Google, yes, it is possible to be both gay and asexual at the same time). I would try to avoid doing that though, as I want to be respectful of each person’s right to self-identify and I don’t know how he actually identifies in terms of the sexual/non-sexual spectrum since he doesn’t make it totally clear; he seems to be using the word more as a descriptor than an identity, from what I can tell. I also keep in mind that a few years ago, he said that he isn’t really asexual, but was just in denial, so perhaps his views have fluctuated since then. But even so, I think he can be just as great a role model for asexual people as he can for gay people, even if he does not consider himself totally asexual (not all of us do, either). I can relate to many of the things he talks about: I went through a period of knowing what I wasn’t but not what I was as well, though probably not for such a long time; I’ve had doubts about whether I am really asexual or just in denial; I’ve had my asexuality cause problems in interpersonal relationships, in a different way but certainly also in a way that was crushing; and I can also appreciate attractiveness without wanting to go to bed with the person, though I hesitate to call others “sexy” (and again, for the benefit of those of you who will come in through Google, in the asexual community we call that aesthetic attraction, and it is not the same as sexual attraction so I would try to avoid assuming that’s what Tim Gunn means in the quote above, because he doesn’t specify).

Tim Gunn is certainly an inspiring figure who shows that it’s totally possible to be completely happy without sex or romance. Examples like that, especially in popular culture, don’t tend to turn up too often. It also contradicts the stereotype that all men want sex all the time, as well as the stereotype that gay culture and all homosexual people are hypersexual and promiscuous. Many people seem to like him quite a bit, too, so I’m positive that will spread awareness and hopefully acceptance of asexuality.

Now I’m going to switch topics, because that’s not all that’s in this book. Much of it is focused on etiquette, though not so much rigid and meaningless rules that encourage fake happiness. Rather, it’s about rules that make sense and are appropriate for the situation. For example, he makes the point that he wears jeans to the grocery store, because that’s appropriate. He also says that it’s fine to be more casual in a happy situation, but when there’s bad news—funerals, break-ups, etc.—it’s better to be more formal, to show that you’re taking the situation seriously and understand that it’s a big deal. I consider that sensible advice.

Throughout the book, there are funny examples of people behaving badly, and the humor keeps it a fairly light read. He emphasizes humility and keeping things in perspective, and cites hilarious examples of times when people have failed in that task. One that made me laugh aloud was when he spoke of how Martha Stewart once said, “Life has few disappointments greater than that of a room-temperature nut.” Then he went on to describe his inspiring visit to Walter Reed, and the level of determination and positive attitude the people there displayed even after having lost their limbs. And following that:

Can’t you see Martha Stewart standing there in the middle of Walter Reed? She’d kill me for saying this, but I like to imagine the pre-Camp Cupcake Martha surveying the scene and then saying, “This is nothing compared to the disappointment of a room-temperature nut.” (page 211)

A few more things I think are important to note about this book: Tim Gunn does not exempt himself from these examples of bad behavior, which shows an example that he is not putting himself up on a pedestal of perfection from which he looks down to judge others. He also talks about the very real dangers of being so nice to others that you end up leaving yourself open to abusive situations. In effect, it seems like he is saying something like, “Be nice to others, take the high road and don’t burn your bridges, but at the same time, be real. Don’t pretend to be excessively happy when you aren’t, and get out of any situation that’s abusive.”

Overall, although there are some points I disagree with, I found it an insightful, sensible, and amusing book. Of course, you may not enjoy it as much if you have no interest in fashion, or find it particularly frustrating, as many of the examples are from the fashion world. However, you may, as I do, find him a breath of fresh air in an industry that is often sizist, elitist, classist, full of people who feel entitled, etc.

I give it a 4.5 out of 5.

Bupropion is one of few antidepressants that does not cause sexual dysfunction. According to a survey of psychiatrists, it is the drug of choice for the treatment of SSRI-induced sexual dysfunction, although this is not an FDA-approved indication. Thirty-six percent of psychiatrists preferred switching patients with SSRI-induced sexual dysfunction to bupropion, and 43% favored the augmentation of the current medication with bupropion. There are studies demonstrating the efficacy of both approaches; improvement of the desire and orgasm components of sexual function were the most often noted. For the augmentation approach, the addition of at least 200 mg/day of bupropion to the SSRI regimen may be necessary to achieve an improvement since the addition of 150 mg/day of bupropion did not produce a statistically significant difference from placebo.

Several studies have indicated that bupropion also relieves sexual dysfunction in people who do not have depression. In a mixed-gender double-blind study, 63% of subjects on a 12-week course of bupropion rated their condition as improved or much improved, versus 3% of subjects on placebo. Two studies, one of which was placebo-controlled, demonstrated the efficacy of bupropion for women with hypoactive sexual desire, resulting in significant improvement of arousal, orgasm and overall satisfaction. Bupropion also showed promise as a treatment for sexual dysfunction caused by chemotherapy for breast cancer and for orgasmic dysfunction. As with the treatment of SSRI-induced sexual disorder, a higher dose of bupropion (300 mg) may be necessary: a randomized study employing a lower dose (150 mg) failed to find a significant difference between bupropion, sexual therapy or combined treatment. Bupropion does not adversely affect any measures of sexual functioning in healthy men.

So basically, I am currently on a drug that is used to treat HSDD at the recommended dose for such a treatment. I doubt that it will have any effect on me, since according to this, the main effects are on arousal, orgasm, and overall enjoyment—none of which are things I have any problems with. (Why then, I wonder, is it prescribed for a desire disorder which may be renamed to Sexual Interest/Aversion disorder? The problem that this drug treats doesn’t seem to be with desire for or interest in having sex. It seems to be mainly with physiological function. Maybe someone can enlighten me?) But I’m open to seeing what the effects are, and whether they do indeed increase my general motivation to have sex or level of sexual attraction. So far, zilch. But it’s only been a week, and it takes time for this drug to take effect. I’ll report back on how it’s affecting me later.

I hypothesize that it won’t change my asexuality at all, because contrary to popular opinion, asexuality and HSDD are not the same thing. But I’m entertaining the possibility that it actually might. We’ll see.

What I did not realize at the time was that the New View Campaign, the force behind this petition, has had a history of alienating women with sexual dysfunctions. As I was shocked to discover, some of us in the asexual community (as well as the feminist community) also have tendencies not only to alienate, but to outright marginalize women with sexual dysfunctions in our attempts to advance our own goals (not that we all share the same goals; we’re too diverse for anything remotely resembling an “agenda” but the point still stands). This was never my intention, and I want this blog to be a safe space for women with sexual dysfunction as well, and so I asked K of the Feminists with FSD blog to make a guest post here to highlight these issues. Due to my unexpected hiatus, this post was long delayed. It was originally written shortly after the Flibanserin fiasco, and has subsequently been edited by K.

Some ground rules for comments: this should be obvious by now, but I will tolerate absolutely no disparaging, insulting, or ablist comments. I would also like this not to get derailed by arguments about Flibanserin itself—that’s old news and we don’t need to rehash it here. (If you really want to talk about it, I guess you could dig up the dead threads on some forum, but I wouldn’t recommend that either, honestly.) What I’d like to see addressed here is how our communities can become aware of and accepting of one another, so that we can work together without any nastiness coming from either side. Whether deliberate or otherwise. So please, by all means, check your privilege before posting a comment.

(By the way, I’d also like to mention that if you are a person who is both asexual and also has a sexual dysfunction, I’d like to hear from you, too!  Please contact me at grasexuality [at] gmail.com if you would be interested in making a guest post.)

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I am a feminist blogger living with female sexual dysfunction, specifically the pain category of FSD. I have vulvodynia, specifically vulvar vestibulitis, (though at the current moment it is fairly well managed,) and some residual pelvic floor dysfunction/vaginismus. I have been blogging about feminism and sexual dysfunction for two years, in part motivated by frustration with mainstream depictions of sexual dysfunction (or the complete lack thereof.) I approach these topics from the perspective of a white, cis het woman. I am not a doctor or therapist in any way shape or form, so most of what I know comes from personal experience (mine and that of others) & what I’ve read. While I feel I have made good faith efforts to do my homework, what I say should still be taken with a grain of salt, and I do not claim to speak for anyone save myself. Today I am here to try to answer some questions about sexual dysfunction that were raised on a+, regarding sexual dysfunction and flibanserin.

Because you know, you just KNOW, that if this gets approved, people are going to start offering it up to female asexuals as some kind of magical “cure” for asexuality!

Damage control update:
I don’t have much time to post on the internet tonight, but I’m just going to copy and paste my response to the debate that’s going on since this went up. I’ll link to where it’s happening later, but first… for context, on livejournal, Jianna posted:

I have to disagree. I don’t think this is going to be used to “cure” asexuality in a big way. Many women are distressed about their lack of sexual interest. This drug is for those women who want to increase their sex drive, often because they used to have a bigger one and it’s since dwindled.

I know it’s a touchy subject for the asexual community, but we really are a very small minority. Many people with low sex drives do see it as a problem and would be glad to have it fixed. This drug is for them, not for us who are content with our states.

Emphasis hers. To which I responded:

Yes, except that this drug does nothing to help those people. It’s being offered as a very much false cure. For everyone, not just asexuals. It will help no one except pharmaceutical companies if this drug gets approved.

I got this link from Emily Nagoski’s blog—she is a sex researcher (who is also coincidentally a faculty sponsor for her university’s asexuality group, if that lends her some favor). I haven’t had much time online tonight, so I just wanted to forward the link very quickly, and in my haste I didn’t point out any of the things she did in her original post. Check it out first before deciding to support this because some people are distressed about having a lower sex drive.

Everyone be sure to check out Andrew’s post about this for more info on the research about the drug, which is, as Emily says, certainly no cause for optimism. And for those of us who care about promoting a change in cultural norms around sexuality to create a healthier, happier world for people of ALL sexual orientations, it is good cause for worry, because all it will do is provide a “shortcut” option that doesn’t really do what it promises to do.

UPDATE #2: I said I’d come back and post links to the discussions when I had time, so here I am. The discussion on the asexuality LJ community is going on here. The AVEN thread, which is much more active, is here. There is also a thread on Apositive here. And because this post has made it way to Google’s top search results about Flibanserin and the FDA, I’m going to keep updating it periodically so that new people coming into the discussion with no previous context or possibly even knowledge that asexuality exists (and is a legitimate sexual orientation—check the FAQs on asexuality.org if you’re confused) can read it and come away with something that’s not just complete and total confusion.

There’s another post up at Asexual Explorations about this now. Go check it out.

UPDATE #3: There’s more discussion of this up now in the comments at Asexy Beast. I also think I should clarify my stance as it’s coming across harsher than I intended it to: I would have absolutely no problem with people who are genuinely distressed about having low sexual desire being treated with a pill for it… but based on the evidence I have seen, it seems that this one is not it. I do also have concerns that the marketing campaign for such a pill would attack asexuals, as well as anyone who is in a circumstance where they legitimately do not want sex because of pressure, coercion, and abuse. However, if this was proven to be very clearly effective for what it is being marketed for, I would support its FDA approval and instead attack the marketing campaign. Because it’s not, though, and because I feel that there is SO MUCH RISK involved with getting this wrong, I’m not comfortable supporting this drug until it has been much more clearly proven to work for what they are saying it does.

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Final Update: The drug was not approved. However, this topic has sparked some interesting communication between asexuals and K of the Feminists with FSD blog, and she has agreed to make a guest post here, which I will post shortly. It is my hope that our two communities can reach out to one another to collaborate, and each community will become safer for the other as a result.

In my research on sexual assault, I came across a concept that I recognized.

The first friend I told in person about what happened between me and M (we’ll call her Leila) stopped me, and asked me tentatively, “Have you ever been sexually abused?”

I said no. It had been less than a month since it happened, and I did not recognize any of what he had done as abusive. I was taking full blame for everything. And I was used to being asked that question by people who don’t accept asexuality as an option; coming from Leila, who had been totally accepting of it up until now, the question was confusing.

“Oh… I ask because I was.” She didn’t tell me exactly what happened, and I didn’t press her to explain any more than she wanted to. I gleaned that it was most likely child sexual abuse, done to her by one of her relatives, whom she said she’d forgiven.

Thinking back on it now, her behavior makes a little more sense. Leila always told stories about how crazy she was in high school. How promiscuous. How many drugs she did. How she ended up going to the alternative high school for bad kids, taking remedial classes, because she got in trouble at school so often. “I was such a fuck-up,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t deserve the family I have, they’ve put up with so much shit from me.” She had a bright, perpetually cheery disposition. She was—is still, I’m sure, though I haven’t talked to her in a long while—the kind of person who always chooses to look at the positive in everything. Outgoing, lovable, the life of the party. She was the one who could always be convinced to try the crazy stunts, whether or not there was a game of truth or dare in progress. She was a people-pleaser; she would do or say what the people around her wanted her to, even if it meant she was expressing two contradictory opinions at the same time. She talked about all the sex she had like it was totally awesome, and from what I gathered, she had a friend with benefits. I doubt she was anywhere near as promiscuous in college as she had been in high school, but she often told stories about her wild sexual escapades.

But she told me a secret that night. “To tell you the truth,” she said, “I don’t even like sex.”

I didn’t understand then why she would do it so often if she didn’t even like it, and pretend to everyone else that she did. But I realize now that it is common among survivors of sexual assault to become the party girl, the wild one, the one pretending to enjoy herself as her friends crack endless jokes about the size of her breasts and give pet names to her vagina. Some seek out men who will have violent sex with them as a way of reliving the trauma (as a way of expressing their grief), or punishing themselves. They do it not because they really want it, but because they feel it’s what they deserve. I think it should be distinguished from BDSM, just to keep things clear—it does not follow the standard of “safe, sane, and consensual” so while it might be constructed as kinky and fun, it’s actually a form of self-inflicted violence. (I put that in quotes, btw, because there is some discussion about whether it’s an appropriate motto and an alternative standard has been proposed, but according to either one, it would still not pass muster.)

I’m going to say that I doubt that it’s just survivors of sexual assault who tend to use sex as a form of self-injury, and that I suspect that asexuals may be a group more prone than others to do this. What with all the negativity and disbelief coming from society as a whole, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to think that maybe some asexuals think that there is something deeply broken and wrong about themselves, and in a desperate search to make themselves feel what they think they’re supposed to feel, and a frustrated attempt to punish themselves for not feeling it, they lash out at themselves in this way. I think it’s also something that people have a very hard time recognizing as a form of self-injury, because it’s not technically something that a people physically do to themselves, but rather self-harm by proxy.

Although I have read some posts by asexuals that (in retrospect) make me suspect this might have been going on, I’ve never really seen it recognized within the asexual community as a form of self-injury and discussed in that light, so I thought I should post this, at least to maybe make others aware of the issue. Anyone who has experience with this is welcome to share their thoughts.

Personally, this is one issue that I hope that future studies of asexuality will address.

I posted a clarification here, which recently Britni the Vagina Wig linked to and commented on here. Her post refueled the discussion, and in one of the comments, ignorantarmies said:

For one, this is not so because “marriage is for procreation”. We have long since decoupled sexuality from procreation, thanks to reliable contraceptives. Some Christian groups might promote this, but the reality is different. Relationships involve sex, because one of their functions is to produce spaces where we can have legitimate sex. There are other matters of bonding, belonging, emotional and economic connections, but almost all of those are related to sex in some way. And, I would argue, its good, even necessary to have some kind of institution that does this. Most people want sex and they need some way to satisfy this desire in a socially acceptable way, that is without suffering social sanctions. They do this be having an institution (or several) in place that produces legitimate space for sex. This institution in modern, western society is called the (romantic) relationship. It’s vital for its functioning, that it implies sex (at some point, in some way, details are open to debate).

Yes, social institutions do have coercive force. But this is just a matter of being social beings. Requirements of social spaces like reducing of complexity, producing reliability and stability and encouraging cooperation cannot be had unless we somehow make each other conform to some regular forms of behavior. And to some degree, this is always coercive.
This was a central point in my article on seduction.

The easy answer would be to say that if you don’t want sex, don’t have romantic relationships. If you want other things that romantic relationships produce, find someone who will do that with you without wanting sex. If you do want to participate in a full blown romantic relationship, find a way to communicate with your partner, and find a partner with whom you can communicate your problems on the matter, maybe you will find a solution, maybe you won’t.
Queer people (in the widest sense) have solved the problem of heterosexual monogamous vanilla relationships being unfit for their desires by creating queer interaction spaces where they have set up their own institutions regarding sex. A good solution if there ever was one. I’m not sure if there are enough asexual people for this to be workable, but it makes sense to me at least.

So, I think that attacking that the institution of romantic relationships involves sex is not a good move. Alternative institutions would be better. But any institution requires a semi-stable group of regularly interacting people in order to bring it forth. Then, the requirements of sociality as well as the desires of the individuals can be satisfied.

I posted a response here, and then ignorantarmies posted a reply here. To which I posted the following comment:

I see where you are coming from and I understand that people have different reasons for getting into romantic relationships/marriages. I didn’t mean to imply that people DON’T get into them as a way to have legitimate sex. I also know that people get into romantic relationships without being in love with their partners, in many cases. Usually, I believe this is a temporary thing; either people intend to get into such relationships for sex, or to solve the problem of loneliness. Or, they may see the person as being compatible and give it a try even though they’re not crazy about the person, to see if love grows over time (this I have done myself, with the effect that I did end up falling for the person). Some may just settle.

Of course people have different reasons for getting into romantic relationships: that was actually my point. I probably should have drawn my it out, made the effort to articulate it to a more definite conclusion, instead of leaving it mostly unstated. Sorry for the confusion.

My issue with your original comment was that it seemed far too dismissive of other reasons that people may get into relationships, and seemed to imply support for the idea that upon getting married, a person is automatically assumed to be giving consent to sex with their spouse under every circumstance (i.e. that there is or should be no such thing as marital rape).

People get married for lots and lots of reasons. The fact of it is, not all married couples have sex or ever intend to have sex. Marriage legitimizes a relationship in the eyes of society, and gives a number of legal benefits. That’s why people fight so hard for gay marriage. And that’s why some asexual couples also get married.

I’ve been in a romantic relationship with a fellow asexual before, and it kinda sucks, because the vast majority of people are not willing to acknowledge it as a “real relationship” just because there is no sex involved. My sister was the worst about it; she would belittle me for it constantly, saying that I was too stupid to realize that what my ex and I had was “just friendship.” Few people would just accept it and be happy for me. I almost always had to try to prove that it’s possible first.

Now, you say that marriage “does not work” for asexuals, but are you aware that asexuals DO get married and that it CAN work for them? Getting married would FORCE society to recognize that there really IS a strong bond between two asexuals beyond “just friendship” (although I would contend that friendship is and should be a huge part of a romantic relationship, there is also usually a different kind of feeling to it), at least on some level.

So should asexuals not get married then, just because ONE of marriage’s functions is to provide a space for “legitimate” sex (in the eyes of Christians)? Should asexual couples just avoid that social institution altogether even though it would certainly be beneficial both legally and socially? That seemed to be what your comment was implying. It also seemed to lack awareness of the actual situation that many asexuals are in, with regard to marriage.

My discomfort was never with the idea that some people get into relationships just so they can have legitimate sex, although of course that doesn’t appeal to me. It’s deeper than that. It was because the way you phrased your comment reduced my experience of romance to something that apparently does not count as a “real” romantic relationship. It seemed to imply support for a system that would discount my experiences and enforce my subjugation, should I ever get into a situation where I might be raped by the person I had married. Although this is not likely to happen to me, because I have an unfortunately deep understanding of domestic violence and how to avoid it, as well as a good understanding of my sexual orientation and how to deal with sex in a positive way, there are lots of asexuals out there who did not realize they were asexual until AFTER they had gotten married, because they were waiting until after marriage to deal with sex. They just operated under the assumption that they were heterosexual and would enjoy sex when they had it, but then found out that was not the case. Should they be legally obligated to provide sex for their spouse, in the event that they discover that it is detrimental to their well-being? Should their pain be ignored? Should they be silenced just because one of the functions of marriage is to provide a space for legitimate sex?

I don’t think we should see marriage as primarily a way to provide a space for legitimate sex precisely for that reason. That is one function, sure. But to reduce it to that one single function, when there are plenty of others, is very dangerous, especially if it is used to support laws that discount the possibility of marital rape. I don’t know if that is what you meant to say in your comment or not, but that is what it seemed to imply. I think we ought to acknowledge ALL the reasons why people get married, and make laws based on every possibility, rather than reducing it to one “primary” function. Because all that really does is serve to enforce sexual-normativity, and silence the minority of people who DON’T want to have sexual marriages.

Another thing I want to point out is that what is culturally considered the “primary” reason for marriage changes as culture does, and enforces dominant cultural attitudes. At one time the “main functions” of marriages WERE considered to be procreation and economic union. Now they are not, but those are still functions of marriage, and for some people they are even the PRIMARY function. I know a couple who have been together for years without getting married, but plan to do so when they get pregnant. Lots and lots of people get together just so their kids will be legitimate, and lots and lots of people stay together just for the kids. It’s not accurate to say that the primary function of their marriages is to provide a space for legitimate expression of sexuality.

That is why I do not think your position is justified.

I realized after I posted that comment that I mainly refer to marriages throughout, but the original comment actually said that asexuals should stay out of romantic relationships, not just “don’t get married.” Which is even more offensive, because it does imply that asexual romances don’t count as romances, just like my sister used to explicitly tell me over and over and over again. There’s not really a serious adjective yet to describe what kind of comment this is (“asexophobic” sounds pretty silly), but it is definitely a product of sexual privilege and seeks to enforce sexual-normativity. Asexual romance is being erased from possibility, at least in the minds of the majority. That has got to change.

Asexuals really don’t face much discrimination, if by that you mean outright hostility (although I have heard there has already been a case of a hate crime committed against a woman specifically because she is asexual). But people Other the hell out of us, and refuse to acknowledge our existence even when they have been made aware that such a thing exists. Why should we be barred from having “romantic” relationships (in quotes because I think that what’s really being referred to is just a synonym for sexual relationships) or from having our relationships called romantic and honored as such even though they would fit that description perfectly, just because we aren’t having sex? There’s a word for that, you know: it’s called marginalization.

I don’t want to be too harsh, now. This person probably did not realize why the comment was so offensive, and did not mean for it to be. But it comes from a place of privilege and that should be pointed out. I point it out to the asexual community instead of just leaving it as a comment because of attitudes like Henrik’s which parallel this to some extent (and I think are also indicative of another kind of privilege: that of not being affected by domestic violence). It is certainly an option to create a new kind of alternative relationship space for asexuals to exist in, and I absolutely applaud efforts to do that. (David Jay is doing a great job of exploring these options over at Love From the Asexual Underground, for anyone interested.) But not all asexuals want to do that. Some of us want to get married, and some of us already are married before we know that asexuality actually exists. Creating a new relationship style is fine, but creating a whole new social institution with the same legal and social benefits of marriage would be extremely difficult or (more likely) completely impossible, and would also fail to address the issues of those who are already married and stuck in a painful situation. Therefore, instead of dismissing the possibility of a violent marriage because it is “not relevant” or “does not apply” to most of us who have already connected to the asexual community, I firmly believe we ought to fight to make marriage a friendlier space for our fellow asexuals (and everyone else) to inhabit.

I’m going to finish this post off with a link: via Womanist Musings, here is a call for submissions for an anthology of personal essays dealing with queerness and sexual violence. If you have had any kind of experience with sexual violence and asexuality, I would urge you to submit something for this. I think it is very important that we bring these issues to light!

There have been comments already about the article’s odd non-mention of asexuality and the strange mantra that Lori Brotto tells her patients to repeat (“my body is alive and sexual”) whether they believe it or not. There’s concern about the possibility of pushing people too strongly to be sexual, and I share those concerns.

Somewhat related, I was also amused at the article’s mention of something that (via my close associations with transitioning people and the trans community) is already well-known to me: the placebo effect of taking hormones. You start taking hormones, and suddenly every zit is a sign that it’s working. You get comments like, “My skin feels softer already!” and “I think my hair is growing slower!” from people who started taking hormones only a few days ago. Which is of course nonsense. Those things do happen, sure, but not THAT fast! Of course people are going to think T is giving them zits when they’re not even on it!

Brotto’s mantra seems to me to be working with that same effect. And maybe for some people it can be useful… but for others, it might seem like something that is working for a while, but then end in disappointment when they realize that there is not really all that much of a difference, and their problem is still there. And is it really a good idea to continue to conflate the concept of life with sexuality? Because even if we use the broadest possible definition of “sexual,” there are plenty of living things which are not sexual in any sense of the word. It’s stupid, of course, to say “my body is alive” if the state of aliveness is actually what is being referred to, because that’s bleeding obvious! So of course I think she should change that word. But it’s also possible to be vigorous and effervescent, if that’s what’s meant by “alive,” without being sexual at all. I realize it is aimed at helping patients harness a certain “sexual energy” or whatever, but I still think it’s an ill-conceived and inappropriate metaphor all around. Do we really need any more of a push in the direction of “nonsexual = dead”?

Really, though, I wasn’t all that bothered by or interested in that part of it. I was too distracted by the ideas presented by Basson to pay much attention to Brotto:

A different manifestation of desire — not initial hunger—– appears about two-thirds of the way around Basson’s circle. There, in the diagrams she began publishing in obstetrics and sexuality journals 10 years ago, come the words “responsive/triggered desire.” For Basson, this is necessary to satisfaction. But it comes after arousal starts. So a typical successful experience might proceed something like this: first a decision, rather than a drive, to have sex; next, as Basson puts it, a “willingness to be receptive”; then, say, the sensations of a partner’s touch; next, the awareness of being aroused; then the “responsive desire” along with increasingly intense arousal; and at last the range of physical and emotional payoffs that sex can provide and that offer positive reinforcement leading back to the top of the diagram, to the reasons for setting off on the circle to begin with.

I have sometimes wondered if I might consider myself sexual if I had been presented with a different model of sexuality than the one that society adopts. And under this model, I might be considered so.

This describes pretty much exactly the way that I myself navigate sexual activity. It was never about desire to begin with; it has always been a conscious decision to go ahead with it, for me. Of course, it isn’t true that I decide I’m going to have sex before I find myself in the middle of foreplay every time. But it is true that I made the decision to have sex with my partner, and gave her my implicit consent to initiate if she wants to, told her that it is generally okay for her to touch me in ways meant to arouse me, and I’ll stop her if I don’t want her to do it right then. Almost always, I end up aroused and able to enthusiastically consent. Of course, it helps that C is good at reading my signals (which are subtle and probably difficult for most people to read), and that she knows what I will respond to. She doesn’t push beyond my limits, is careful to stop whenever I say it’s getting painful, and also checks in with me whenever my facial expression is so ambivalent that she is not sure how I am doing. Over time, we’ve built up a safety net that allows me to be receptive to her as a general rule. And because that safety net is in place, I’m able to relax and follow my body’s cues to experience this sort of arousal-desire that Basson is talking about.

And so I think she is onto something, here. Society’s model of sexuality really is very attraction-focused, but the truth of it is that attraction often has very little if anything to do with enjoyable sex. Lots of people, probably women more so than men, find it pretty easy to have sex with people they are not attracted to. Of course there are people who say that they can’t imagine having a sexual relationship with someone they don’t find sexually attractive, but a lot of them settle anyway. Sometimes it takes a bottle of alcohol and a sense of desperation to get them to do so, but other times? I know a guy who met a girl a while back that he kept saying he wasn’t attracted to because according to him she is a “hambeast,” and now they’ve been together for six months or so, and live together as well. And I wonder how many married couples there are who don’t find each other sexually attractive anymore, but are still perfectly able to enjoy having sex with one another? Maybe some of them stop having sex for that very reason, but I suspect a lot of them keep on going at it–a little less like bunny rabbits, maybe, but still!

However, as much value as I see in Basson’s approach as described here, I don’t think it covers everything. There’s still the idea of lust–a concept I feel greatly removed from. I don’t really get it. At all. I never find guys hot in a “check the oil” sort of way. Or girls, for that matter. The attraction part of it is just missing for me, and even if it is an overblown cultural ideal more often than it is a reality, I still feel pretty alienated when I’m the only one in the room who doesn’t get it, which happens pretty frequently.

So I call myself asexual. And although my moniker hints at me being in the gray area between sexual and asexual, and I guess since I find sex enjoyable then according to some people I would be considered sexual, I’m really not feeling particularly “gray” lately. I don’t think that having sexual desire pretty much only when it is sparked by physical arousal is very strong evidence of being sexually attracted to people, and that missing attraction is (for me) what asexuality is all about. That’s the only definition that makes sense to me, and during the years that I have identified as asexual, despite my frequent reevaluations and openness to new experiences, my own asexuality has only become increasingly clear to me.

While messing around on the intarwebs tonight, I came across this article about finding a positive sexual metaphor. I’d highly recommend that everyone go take a look! In the first part of the article, the author examines baseball as a metaphor for sex in American culture, and just how insidious this metaphor really is:

Baseball is fundamentally oppositional. Both teams can’t win. One team wins and the other loses. As sex, that’s about one partner “gaining” something, and the other partner “losing” something. In our culture, women tend to lose status when they have sex, and there’s a lot of hubbub about women “losing” their “precious virginity.” Men, on the other hand, gain status and respect from sexual experience. This aspect of the model also serves to reinforce gender stereotypes, which are rarely conducive to safe, empowered and satisfying sexual encounters.

Could this have had anything to do with my own fairly intense fear of rape? I was born into the losing team, after all. And the message that I will lose out if I have sex is everywhere, as is the message that the “opposite team” is out to get me–to force or coerce me into having sex without regard for my own feelings about it. In a lot of cases, that really does happen to people, and when it does, doesn’t the baseball metaphor for sex provide the perfect excuse for the assailant? After all, it’s just how you win the game. No wonder there are so many rape apologists!

In its literal sense, baseball can be a fun game, but unlike its literal counterpart, when we’re talking about sex as baseball, there is almost never a switch-up between which team is batting and which is on the field–there is not supposed to be; you are born as either a batter or an outfielder, and that’s where, at least in theory, you stay.  That takes all the fun out of it, doesn’t it? Because if sex happens, somebody loses, and that loser is determined before the game even starts. It’s a predictable, rigid social role. To win the game says nothing about whether the sex was enjoyable for either party. It’s just about whether or not it happens.

This underlying way of thinking has shaped my experiences with heterosexual men, and that’s not to say that they all thought that way themselves, but that this unhealthy power dynamic exists at all has made me extra wary of dealing with “the opposite team”–to the point that I, for the most part, choose to simply opt out of dealing with them entirely, and instead I generally only play with the queer team. It just removes that whole level of uncertainty, that vague sense of wondering whether this person is playing against me, that sense of always having to be vigilant, just in case. Queer people can’t play the game like everyone else anyway; they aren’t allowed to be included in it in the first place.

The article goes into a lot more detail about that, and also proposes an alternative metaphor for sexuality: eating pizza. It’s definitely a much more ace-positive model, since nobody assumes that everybody must eat pizza; while they may be rare, there are just some people who don’t, and that’s fine.

I do think, however, that the metaphor starts to break down a little here:

Eating pizza with a partner is also not a radically different experience from eating pizza alone. The pizza model deflates the myth that masturbation is a lesser sexual experience than partnered sex. Eating pizza alone encompasses the complete pizza-eating experience, just as masturbation is a complete sexual experience. When we do it it with someone else, the fullness of the experience doesn’t change, we simply add communion with our partner(s) to the experience. What’s different is the companionship, intimacy, variety, and possibly the fun of having someone feed you for a change.

I am not sure whether we should classify masturbation as a purely sexual experience. After all, there are plenty of asexuals who masturbate but do not necessarily consider the experience sexual. To some, it may be. To others… the very reason it might be considered okay is because it seems to be a lesser sexual experience (though even then, many find it bothersome). It really isn’t all that involved, when compared to partnered sex, whereas when eating pizza, aside from the initial negotiation of toppings, the actual act of eating the pizza is not different when doing it alone or with a partner. More is required of the person who is having sex with a partner, as opposed to the person who is masturbating. In many cases, a lot more is required. I just don’t think the difference translates well, when we use this metaphor as a vehicle for expression.

I guess the question is really about whether we consider something to be sexual based on sexual appetite, or whether we consider it to be sexual based on which body parts are involved. It seems that people define things as sexual using both of these determinants in different situations. For example, some people think that kissing is sexual–for them, perhaps, it arouses a sexual appetite. But then, to continue the metaphor, people can still eat something even if they have no appetite. Is it the physical act of sex that defines it? If so, which physical act(s) are we talking about, here? Or is it more about the mental aspect of it, the desire/appetite? In some cases, it’s clear how to define it, but in other cases, like this one, it really isn’t.

I also usually have a problem with food-based metaphors for sex because of the idea that having sex is a need, in the same sense that it is a need for humans to eat. I will admit that there is a need for people to procreate, but it is not an individual need, it is only a collective need. Every individual member of a species does not need to procreate in order for the species to survive. However, every individual must eat in order for the individual to survive. So you really have to be careful not to take a comparison of sexual desire with hunger too far. In this case, though, I think the metaphor of sex as eating pizza works okay, on that level, because it refers only to a specific kind of food, and not to food in general. People who don’t eat pizza can thoroughly enjoy other foods, and that’s not weird at all. Likewise, people who don’t enjoy or engage in sexual activities can get plenty of fulfillment from other activities in life!

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Edit from the future: For further reading, check out this post by figleaf.

Since I started blogging, I have been consistently amused by the search engine terms that people use to find this blog. I thought I would share some of the standouts with you all, so you can share in my amusement.

This past week, someone wanted to know, “are asexuals stupid”? I was a little confused, as I don’t see a correlation between intelligence and not experiencing sexual attraction (if anything, the stereotype suggests the reverse), but you know, whatever. On the other side of the coin, someone else searched for “intellectual asexuals.”

So far, the number one search term of all time is “positive metaphors,” followed by (I suppose predictably?) “sex”–but my question is, how many pages of search results did these people have to wade through to find MY blog? That’s some real dedication, there. Asexuality is only the third most searched-for term that people use to find my blog.

Of course, the sad fact is, I get TONS of variations on a cure or treatment for asexuality, denial, whether or not asexuals exist, and so on. (For those people who will inevitably make it to this post that very same way, I suggest you go to AVEN and read the faqs.) I also get a lot of people searching for stuff about sexual frustration and fear of intimacy, though I don’t think they’ll find what they want here.

Oh, and masturbation. Lots of people searching for masturbation, whether specifically asexual masturbation, or just plain old masturbation. How many times can I say “masturbation” in a single paragraph? Apparently five.

There are some that I’m a little confused about how they led to my blog–I mean I can sort of see it, but it’s a bit of a stretch. One such is “polyamory bullshit.”

My favorites, though, are these two: “vagina of asexy girl” and “vagian asex.” I had another asexy moment there, because it took me several weeks to realize (only after my girlfriend pointed it out) that those were probably typos made by people who were looking for something to jack off to. I hope they didn’t find what they were looking for, because otherwise, that’s a little bit creepy. Incidentally, the fetish post has been by far the most popular.

Overall, one rule holds true: the “racier” the words used in the post, the more likely it is to pique others’ curiosity, even if the post actually has very little to do with whatever they were searching for originally. The general public still sees us as some weird, unbelievable novelty. On the up side, I suppose at least I am helping to raise awareness!

Edited to add: Today’s winner! And oh, it is a gross one: “vagina has grey around it” …I’m not even going to comment on that one.

This weekend, my local QSA had a meet-up, and then we all went out to a popular gay club for a fun night of dancing and drinking (for some). It was supposed to be straight night, but not many straight people showed up. So we had the run of the place, while the few people there who were not from our group mostly just sat around and watched us.

My friends, of course, alcoholics that they are, had me buy them drinks. While I was at the bar with an officer of the group offering an extra set of hands, an older lesbian lady started asking us about our group, where we were from, and whether we were all gay. She pointed at the officer and said, “You’re straight, aren’t you?” He laughed, and said, “How did you know?” (She had probably been watching him dance with his sort-of girlfriend.) Then she pointed at me.

“So what are you?”

“I’m asexual.”

“What!? Are you kidding me!? What’s wrong with you? Do you have a vagina?”

I laughed. It was a reaction I’d come to expect, but it’s not something I can respond to, especially when faced with such a bold, baldfaced, honest reaction. She was quite loud about it, too; I wondered briefly exactly how much more tact she would have shown if she had been sober. There was really no other appropriate response BUT to laugh. She went on about it for a little while longer, and then offered a stuttering apology.

“I’m sorry, that was mean. I’m the last person who should be saying something like that.”

The QSA officer chimed in, “Yeah, we’re all about acceptance here, man.”

Still laughing, I told her it was okay, and then the drinks were ready, so we took them back to the group. I told the other asexual girl (oh yes, there was another one!) what had happened, and we had a good laugh; she wondered if that lady would even remember what asexuality is in the morning. If so, hey, at least one more person knows we exist. If not… oh well.

Anyway, it was really nice to meet a fellow asexual in person, finally. We had a good, long talk about cats, college life, and not having sex. Hopefully later on in the semester, we can co-ordinate an effort to raise visibility from within the QSA. Now that there are at least three of us (there’s another girl around here I’ve been chatting with via email, though she hasn’t been to the QSA), they will probably take us more seriously this year. I’m thinking perhaps I’ll join a panel, and do some tabling on Coming Out Day… However, the group is pretty unorganized, so I’ll probably have to do most of what I want to do by myself. Any suggestions for how to raise awareness, as well as ideas for meet-ups, are quite welcome.

I don’t know about you guys, but if Obama really were asexual, that’d make me more likely to vote for him, not less. After all, if he’s not distracted by scandalous sexual affairs, then theoretically he’d be more likely to actually get some work done.

But still. It got me thinking about non-asexuals using the word “asexual” as an insult—a pretty rare phenomena, but one that may gradually become more common as awareness of asexuality spreads. Obviously, it’s not something we want to happen, but to some extent it’s inevitable. Rather than getting upset about it, we should take advantage at least of the fact that people are now starting to mention asexuality, by listening to what they say and learning what they think it means, and why they think it’s bad.

With this particular example, the closest approximation I can come up with for what this person thinks asexuality is, is some form of emasculation, possibly an intersex condition or the state of being a eunuch, or maybe just impotence in general. Maybe she thought she was coining a term herself, or maybe she’s heard of asexuality before and is just severely misguided about its definition. Either way, asexuality here is conflated with gender. Why?

Well, apparently for men, gender identity is closely connected with virility. Because if you’re not interested in sex, guys, then you must be a woman. (Right, cause that makes so much sense… and WHY EXACTLY is it an insult to call a man woman-like anyway, hmmm???) There’s something wrong with you, you’re not fulfilling your proper societal role, which I guess is to be horny all the time. (Whereas women are supposed to be… what, exactly? She can’t be implying that women are asexual, can she? Maybe they are supposed to be gossipy and shallow.)

Here we see a very definite sexual-normative prejudice as well as a distinct anti-homosexual bias. She may be too batty to make much of an impact, but that’s basically the kind of attitude we’re up against. Coming from someone more mainstream, it could very well hurt the community.

So I’m trying to think, now, of any other time I’ve heard “asexual” used as an insult. The only thing I can come up with is an episode of House from season four, during the survivor arc, wherein one of the contestants complains about Ridiculously Old Fraud’s favor with House. I remember it because after it aired, M (obnoxiously) pointed out that “they bashed asexuals!” With a little help from the saved convo and ctrl + find, I was able to find the exact quote (the episode, btw, is “Guardian Angels”):

“Why does he get to be Bosley?”
“You want to be Bosley? Bosley’s like the asexual messenger boy.”

But other than that… I can’t think of any other times I’ve heard “asexual” used as a pejorative. Of course I’ve heard people imply that it’s bad, but not specifically use it as an insult. If any of you guys can think of any other times when you’ve heard it used that way, please do comment, because I’d love to get a better idea of why these people think it’s insulting! Plus it’s always amusing to see people try to make an insult out of a label we wear proudly.

There will be people, I’m sure, who will think that the person who wrote that postcard is probably asexual, but I’m not one of them. I mean sure, they could be, but I think it more likely that this person is sexual, and just for whatever reason is more interested in playing Rock Band than having sex under whatever circumstances, simply because it seems to be a much more common scenario among sexuals than they like to admit (and of course, there are many more sexuals out there than asexuals).

I have a friend whose designation in our little social circle is to be the token horndog. She is infamous for her wild sexual behavior (and, well, wild behavior in general) and the group makes a point of prodding her stories about her sexual experiences out of her. She is quite vocal about her sexual desires, fantasies, and experiences, but although she gives the impression that she thinks sex is fun and she wants to have a lot of it, she recently admitted to me privately that she actually has never even once had a positive sexual experience, in all the years since she lost her virginity (and she lost it early). She thinks the reason is because she was never in love with any of the people she’s had sex with, and that one day, with the right person, she’ll be able to have a lot of great sex. But in the meantime she pretends that it’s been a lot more fun for her than it really has been.

She’s not the only person who has admitted something like this to me (I guess it’s safe for people to tell me because I won’t tell them they have a problem for not liking it all the time). I’ve had three other friends (who identify as sexual) confess that they just don’t like sex as much as they think they should, and a few of them have even considered whether they might really be asexual. Sex now, as it’s defined by our culture, has become this great big concept that eats away at reality because of how hyped up it is. I’m sure there are people out there who really do think sex is just the greatest thing in the world, but there are a lot of people who are just going along with it. Maybe they are going along with it in order to combat negative attitudes about sex, but in that case I don’t think they’re really being sex-positive, because how can lying about how great sex is be a positive thing? It’s only going to put more pressure on people to exaggerate their own experiences, and set up false expectations that will eventually lead to disappointment.

Really, I’m shocked by how much pressure there already is on people to have more and better sex. A little while ago I read this rant on Heartless Bitches International, and… wow. Are you kidding me??? There are actually women who are willing to stick a needle in their G-spots to pump it up with collagen??? OUCH. And I thought visits to the gynecologist were bad.

I’m not sure I agree with the feminist slant of that article, though, if only because the pressure to be sexual is equally bad for men. Although there is certainly a double standard in place in that women who (are perceived to) have a lot of sex are seen as sluts, while promiscuity for males is something that builds confidence and social status. I do think that, although “orgasmo grrl” may be the new cultural ideal, the old feminine ideals are not dead yet, and so female asexuals may still find it a little easier to admit to being asexual than their male counterparts.

New Zealand Wins Award For Most Asex-Friendly Country of 2008
Okay, there is no such award, but there should be! Probably the biggest news for the asexual community lately is the first ever explicitly asexual TV character. I’m sure almost all of you have heard about it by now, but for the sake of those few of you who don’t read Ily’s blog, I’ll post it here, too. The character’s name is Gerald Tippet, of New Zealand soap opera Shortland Street. I’ve actually known about this for a while, since one of my Kiwi friends is a long-time fan of the show, but what I didn’t know is that the asexuality storyline is now available to watch on YouTube, courtesy of user sootmouthnz, who gains >9000 Ace Points and levels up.

And… that was the good news. Here’s the bad:

U.S. Court Rules Sexual Relations Counts as “Major Life Activity,” Expands Definition of Disability
The story broke here, and Venus of Willendork brought it to our attention here. I don’t have much to say about it other than what I said in the comments, but really, I just didn’t expect M’s ridiculous conclusion to become reality. It hasn’t gotten that far yet, since this is about not being able to have sex rather than not wanting to have sex, but this gives us reason to be concerned. The definition of sexuality used is broad (read: vague) enough that with this precedent in place, it would be easy enough for some sue-happy entitlement whore to come along and say that their “inability to experience sexual attraction” constitutes a sexual disability (nevermind the inaccuracy, we can’t expect the courts to know about that). If that happens, I think I’ll move to New Zealand!

But although on a larger scale we continue to be ignored and invalidated (here in the U.S. at least), on a smaller scale I’ve met some friendly people lately. Some of you may remember my little experiment with online dating. Well, it hasn’t turned up any real prospects yet, but I’ve met a couple of asex-friendly people and had some interesting conversations. It seems awareness has grown, and OKcupid is a friendlier place than it was when swankivy joined, so hey, we are making progress!

Of course, there are a lot of people out there who would say that asexuality doesn’t really exist, and that it’s just repressed sexuality caused by trauma, or “latent” sexuality caused by a lack of appropriate hormones or whatever pseudo-scientific bullshit theory is being spouted these days without any evidence to support it whatsoever.

But my question is not whether or not asexuality is, or can be caused by either of those things (because of course, sexuality in humans is highly complicated and possibly a little bit like HTML—in that if there is even one component missing, it might not work; so there are probably many different potential causes for asexuality), but whether it matters.

Now, to a sexologist, psychologist, or doctor, of course it matters; because if they can make people believe they can (and should) be “cured,” that’s going to rake in the dough. Many of them will want to hoodwink us into believing that they can help us to have a “normal and fulfilling” sex life, and will gladly contribute to creating insecurity that might lead us to seek them out with those all-too-prevalent messages that there’s something wrong with us. Some of them may really, truly believe that we can be helped by whatever cure they’re offering, and earnestly believe that what they’re doing is ethical; however, this is a little like a Christian making sure to tell you that you’re going to hell. They think they’re doing you a favor, but the science just isn’t there to back it up, and while it may be permissible to claim something like that of a religious nature, I sure wouldn’t want to trust a doctor who hadn’t done any research.

And I’ll admit, I’m a little leery of the idea of “repression” in general, for the sole reason that it can’t be proven or disproven. I mean, if a psychologist thinks you’re repressed, and you say that you’re not, they could easily just say you’re in denial. There’s no way to prove whether you’re repressed, and there’s no way to prove whether or not you’re in denial. Freud’s theories, while interesting, thus hinge on beliefs rather than scientific research. Not that I don’t think it’s possible to be repressed; in fact I do think in some areas of my life, I have experienced repression (for example, for about two weeks I stopped feeling any pain about M, and then I had a dream wherein he was trying quite hard to get my attention, and frustrated that I was ignoring him; subsequently I realized I wasn’t half as over it as I had thought). So certainly, it’s possible, but I think there’s great potential for abuse when starting from an idea that has its basis in belief rather than fact (and there have been plenty of cases of abuse, too; see Penn & Teller’s episodes on hypnosis and alien abduction).

But back to my question: Does it matter what asexuality is caused by?

From a scientific perspective, sure; it’s always good to know how things work. I’d like to see some research done on it. But that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about from a personal perspective, whether it actually would significantly impact the lives of asexuals to know such a thing. My answer? No.

Darling Dexter (book version, of course) is a good example of an asexual whose asexuality is highly debatable, and we would all surely suppose that his asexuality is caused by trauma, though it’s quite possible that he would have been asexual even without that trauma; there’s no way we can know. Still, we are meant to suppose that his asexuality, lack of empathy, and urge to kill were all caused by his traumatic experience. There are plenty of people who would say that he is just sexually repressed, though I would argue that it’s actually more like he was damaged to the point that whatever latent sexuality he may have had as a child, along with his ability to empathize with other people, and so on, were crushed to the point that they couldn’t develop; repression, by contrast, would mean that they had developed, but only under the surface (and while that may be true of TV!Dexter it doesn’t seem to be true of book!Dexter). I see it more, in other words, as the psychological equivalent of a severed limb, than something growing in the murky bottom of a lake. But even if he is repressed, there is no chance that he could ever recover. In the first place, due to his thrilling hobby, there is no way he could ever confide in a mental health professional; and in the second, therapy didn’t work for Brian, so why should we assume it could work for Dexter? He is damaged beyond repair, and so in practical terms, while a general knowledge of how repression works could give him an explanation for his resurfacing memories, he has no other use for it. He is not trying to lead a normal life by any means; he doesn’t want to. He is obviously quite happy with himself the way he is, and sees no reason to try to fix things.

That’s where a lot of us stand, although I highly doubt whether any of us have quite the same problems as Dexter when it comes to being able to confide in a psychologist. Probably for most of us, our asexuality is not a result of trauma at all. But even if it is, should we say that someone who is asexual because of trauma (if we could know that was truly the cause), is not “really” asexual at all? Would that actually make any difference, in practical terms? Would it invalidate that person’s experiences as someone with extremely low levels of sexual attraction/desire? No. Does it mean s/he can be “fixed?” Not necessarily. Or that s/he would even want to be fixed? Most likely not, if that person has indeed come to identify as asexual. Does it mean that if s/he did not suffer from this oh-so-tragic condition (whatever we’re supposed to believe it is), that s/he would surely lead a more fulfilling life? Most definitely not.

For those of you who have wandered in here by googling for treatments or cures for asexuality, I ask you: Why are you looking? Why do you believe that this is a condition that can be cured, and more importantly, why do you believe it should be? Do you really think that your life would be better if you had a “normal” sexuality? Are you really that dissatisfied with yourself? Or is it that your partner is dissatisfied with you for not matching his/her sex drive, and has made you feel inadequate? Otherwise, would you be happy with your life? Aside from being told that you’re abnormal and that there’s something wrong with you that needs fixing, if people accepted you the way you are, would you be happy with your lack of sexuality? Would you even realize anything was “missing” from your life?

Of course, I will add the usual caveat that I am talking about lifelong asexuality, and that if there’s been a sudden loss of sexual desire, there may be a problem. Just so there’s no confusion. But if you are someone who has always been this way, I would suggest that you seriously ask yourself the above questions. If you are a partner of someone you suspect is asexual, or if you are here on your partner’s suggestion/orders, I would recommend that you read this post.

And yes, for my regular readership I realize I’m mainly just preaching to the choir in this post, because I’m well aware of the general consensus: We’re happy the way we are and we don’t want to be fixed. Sexuality just seems like an awful lot of work to me, and I’m quite happy without that frustration in my life! Not that it’s not difficult to negotiate as an asexual in a highly oversexualized world, but I’m glad for the experience because it gives me a different perspective. It allows me to see a lot of the problems with our culture and its attitude towards sex, and work to correct them. Which gives me a positive, meaningful purpose to my life, and that empowers me. If I led a Normal Heterosexual Life, I would have none of that, so I’m glad that I don’t!

I just don’t see how it’s healthy to consider sex a relationship responsibility, for either party. It seems to me that it places unreasonable demands on the partner with a lower libido, and just… all around encourages negativity. Because then that person is going to feel upset or worthless because he can’t satisfy his lover, or resent that she demands so much from him, while she obviously already resents him for not doing anything about her sexual frustration.

And this is going to be one of those stupid questions only an asexual would ask, but honestly: why can’t she just satisfy herself?

Why is it his problem that she has such a high sex drive? Maybe that sounds a little bit cold, but I think that’s only because it’s normal in this society for people to privilege people with high sex drives. Except in very extreme cases, it’s almost never seen as a problem for someone to have a high drive—instead it’s a problem with the partner not matching that drive.

It’s not even about the mismatch itself, it’s about inadequacy. If they came at it from a point of view of, “okay, we have different sex drives, and that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with either one of us, but we’re just a little bit different, so let’s both try to compromise so we can both be reasonably happy,” then fine, that’s one thing. In that case, I suppose it would be okay for them to view sex as a relationship responsibility—but ONLY if the person with a higher sex drive also agrees that she has a responsibility to make sure her requests are reasonable and her partner can fulfill them without undue distress. Otherwise it’s just selfish, although because it’s normalized selfishness it’s often not recognized as such.

But I still think that it shouldn’t really be about responsibility; that sets up a grudging “I have to do this” mentality, when really it should be something you want to do, if not for enjoyment of the act itself then at least as a gift that you want to give to your partner. And the sexual partner should treasure it as such, instead of just always demanding more.

I’m just honestly amazed that this kind of attitude is apparently still so prevalent; I thought it was a historical artifact of a bygone era. I guess I’m just naive.

“Oh, you’re not asexual, you’re just afraid of intimacy.”

I suppose I am, to some extent, afraid if intimacy, if you define “intimacy” as being emotionally open and vulnerable to another person who may not care, which I don’t know that I would, because it seems to me (and I’m no expert on these things, so I’m not entirely sure this is what they’re referring to) that it really involves being afraid even though you’re sure that the person you care about DOES care about you in return.

Under those circumstances, I would have no problem. I’m certainly not afraid of sex; that’s fine, as long as I know my partner will look out for me. I can be emotionally open, too, if I’m sure of my partner.

But if I’m afraid of intimacy, I think asexuality is the cause, rather than the effect. I am only afraid of getting involved with other people because I know I don’t care about the same things they do, and they probably don’t care about and are not prepared to give me the things that I want out of a relationship. I’m willing to compromise, but they may not be. To get into a situation where I’m giving up so much, and getting nothing in return… well, that’s painful, and to be avoided. And that fear is actually legitimate, because it’s perfectly plausible that I’d get myself into such a situation if I don’t exercise caution.

If I were sexual, I would still have to worry about getting into a situation like that, but chances are, since I would have much more incentive to get into sexual relationships, I wouldn’t be so vulnerable in sexual situations. I would feel that I was at least getting something from them, beyond the satisfaction of seeing my partner satisfied, and so it wouldn’t be so much of a drain on me. I wouldn’t have to be so careful, because I wouldn’t have as much reason to be afraid.

I think this idea stems mainly from the idea that asexuality affects sexual relationships in a way that sexuals are not accustomed to, rather than from any difficulty getting along with everyday life. But even so… what the hell?

Why is it that “special treatment” is required in order to deal with asexuality, whereas homosexuality is dealt with without any such treatment? Certainly, there are differences between the way one would treat a gay man as opposed to a straight one. One wouldn’t walk up to a straight guy and try to set him up on a date with another guy, unless one is looking for a punch in the face. Likewise, a tolerant person would never walk up to a non-closeted gay man and try to set him up with a woman. These are just differences based on different people’s personal preferences. Failing to appropriately modify one’s behavior based on the known sexual orientation of the person one is interacting with would essentially be the same as serving meat to a vegan, or strawberries to a person who is known to be allergic to strawberries. Just a little more insulting.

The essential difference here is that when one makes these kinds of changes to one’s behavior in order to deal with different types of people, it is not demeaning to those people. Their basic humanity and maturity is not in question. But when dealing with asexuals, most sexual people either do not make these adjustments to their behavior, or make negative adjustments to their behavior, believing that asexuality is not real, or if it is, it must be a disorder or in this case, a disability. It is not seen as a natural and healthy pattern of sexual attraction (or lack thereof), but rather as a flaw that prevents us from living a fulfilling life.

Because of course, having sex is the only possible way an adult can find fulfillment.

And so, in order to uphold their own ideology, sexuals must find some way to discount asexuals as fully developed human beings. There is no room for us in their picture of the world, just as there is no room for any evidence backing evolutionary theory in a young Earth creationist’s picture of the world. Accepting us would be inconsistent; therefore we must not count as real human beings. We must be underdeveloped, we must be lacking basic emotions, we must be delusional, we must have some kind of disorder or disability. Thus the idea of “special treatment” which, in any other circumstance, would not be considered special treatment but just regular old consideration for people who are different from you–in other words, tolerance.

This is basically the same attitude that people who think asexuality is a phase have–”Oh, we’ll humor her because she’s going through this phase, just let it be and she’ll come out of it by herself.” Just dressed up in a different mindset. “Oh, I’ll have to humor her because she is disabled.” Instead of being treated as an adult human being whose way of thinking just happens to be different, I am being compared to (direct quote!) “a 5 year old, cross-eyed child.” Yeah, thanks.

“Parade your asexual banner around as much as you would like, but in my eyes, you are handicapped; and if you could see yourself with my perspective and understanding of sexuality, I am certain you would understand that conclusion.”

Wow. Never mind the frightening similarity to homophobia–that’s actually an intriguing idea, if only because it’s something I’ve never heard before. It got me thinking. What would happen if, once the ignorant masses finally become aware of asexuality, they all eventually adopted this way of thinking? How would the asexual community react, and what about the disabled community? Is it actually justifiable?

The difference between the perception of asexuality as a disability rather than the more common perception of asexuality as a disorder is an interesting one. If it is a disorder, that implies that it is something temporary, something which can be “cured.” If asexuality is seen as a disorder, then the assumption is made that there is either a physiological or psychological problem “blocking” sexuality. One of the most common ideas is that it is a hormonal imbalance; however, this certainly cannot be the case for all asexuals, because several AVEN members have had their hormone levels checked, and the results were within normal range. Another common idea is that it is the result of trauma, or a lack of positive sexual experiences. The idea is that if asexuals undergo psychotherapy and/or open themselves to positive sexual experiences, they will begin to feel sexual attraction. If it is a disorder, then it is implied that asexuality is not a real orientation, merely a delusion.

If asexuality is a disability, on the other hand, the implication is that it is a real and permanent condition, and that there is no cure. We are “beyond help,” as M so accurately phrased it. There may one day be a cure, just as there may one day be a cure for blindness, but until that day, asexuals must be given “special treatment” by sexual people (though I must say, I do not really understand what that entails–I would have to ask M what he meant by that). They must simply deal with their (apparently tragic) condition, because there is nothing else that can be done about it.

I think the perception of asexuality as a disability is more realistic, because at least it accepts the existence of asexuality as a usually lifelong condition for which there is no treatment. It is more consistent from an evolutionary perspective, since the theory of evolution posits that natural variation among species exists, and since some adaptations are more advantageous than others, those will be the ones that survive. Those who would claim that all humans are inherently inclined to engage in sexual activity attempt to justify this claim with Darwin’s theory as well; however, they fail to see evolution as an ongoing process. They say that any nonsexual members of the species would have already died out, so we must simply be repressing our natural desire for sex (this argument, naturally, lends itself well to a perception of asexuality as a disorder). On the other hand, those who see asexuality as a disability accept that humans are not yet “perfectly evolved,” and therefore it is conceivable that some of us may be born with disadvantageous genetic traits, such as a lack of sexual attraction.

However, there are some problems with this view. First of all, it relies on the assumption that sexuality is genetic, but as of this date, there is no proof that this is the case (personally, I’m inclined to believe it is a result of the interplay of many complex factors which we do not yet understand–making a mental note to post more on that later). Second, if one accepts the idea that asexuals are disabled due to some inherited physiological cause, then shouldn’t one also question whether or not homosexuals are also “disabled” due to a similar physiological cause? After all, they do not desire intercourse with any member of the opposite sex, and therefore they are highly unlikely to procreate, which is our evolutionary “goal” as a species. If one day there is a way to rewire asexuals’ brains to make them sexual, why not look for a way to rewire homosexuals’ brains to make them straight?

It is possible to accept this idea and still be consistent, but it’s a terribly heteronormative way of thinking. This conclusion that asexuality is a disability inherently makes the value judgment that sexuality is normal and good, while asexuality is abnormal and bad. Sexuals (heterosexuals, if one extends this view to include homosexuality) are making the claim that they inherently have an advantage over us. But what advantage?

According to the evolutionary model, again, we would be at a disadvantage when it comes to reproducing. However, in an era of widespread contraceptives, sexuality has been all but divorced from its reproductive function. Any sexual can tell you that the desire to engage in sexual activity for personal pleasure is entirely separate from the desire to procreate (or at least the conscious desire to procreate). For decades, it has been possible to separate procreation from sex, and now it is even possible to separate sex from procreation. Those asexuals who do wish to procreate but are not willing to subject themselves to sex now have the choice to undergo artificial insemination, and may even find a surrogate mother if they do not wish to carry the child themselves. And for those asexuals who don’t mind it, the desire to procreate can be a powerful motivator for sexual activity they would not otherwise be inclined to engage in. Those who believe that asexuality has already died out do not seem to be separating asexuality from celibacy, or recognizing that not all sexual activity is motivated by sexual attraction (or primary sexual desire).

Who can say whether asexuals are really dying out? There is no study showing that asexuals are less likely than sexuals to want to reproduce (and again, there’s no proof that it’s genetic anyway). Perhaps asexuality will, rather than die out, become more common. Perhaps in a hundred million years or so, with the aid of this technology, humans will become a sexless, genderless race, much like the J’naii of Star Trek. It’s a far-fetched idea, but it has as about as much basis in truth as the idea that asexuals will surely all die out (or have already). Who can say with any solid scientific backing that we are really at a disadvantage when it comes to reproduction? Might there even be some advantages to being an asexual parent which are being overlooked? One could argue, with just as much validity, that asexuals are more likely than sexuals to make good parents, because they are less likely to accidentally conceive children they do not really want, and because they would be less subject to the sexual frustration that inevitably comes with being a parent. This is taking an idea and running with it as far as one possibly can, without regard for the reality of the situation. Aren’t sexuals doing just that, without even examining their beliefs? Aren’t they relying on “common knowledge” rather than objectively examining the situation?

And even if we are at an evolutionary disadvantage, who cares? Why should we bring into the discussion something that will surely happen an unfathomably long time after our deaths? We’re here now, even if most people don’t know it. The question is, are we dealing with a disability or are we dealing with a minority sexual orientation?

If we are dealing with a disability, then what exactly is it that we are unable to do? According to M, we are lacking a sense. He compares asexuality to blindness, deafness, and anosmia. But I question whether this is really an accurate comparison. All three of those things are a lack of a physical sense, but sexuality is far more abstract. One could say that we are unable to experience sexual attraction, but the existence of “gray area” asexuals (like myself) proves that this is not necessarily the case (unless of course we are to be discounted as “true” asexuals, but most of us reject that line of thought). Isn’t asexuality, then, more of a predisposition to a very low level of sexual attraction than a lack of ability to feel it entirely? Maybe one could argue that there are people who can still see a little but are considered legally blind, and grasexuals are the equivalent of that. There are probably some asexuals out there who might accept this model. But I still think this whole comparison is rather iffy, due to the fact that we (humans) just don’t have a very sophisticated understanding of sexuality yet.

Dictionary.com’s definition of a disability is this: “a physical or mental handicap, esp. one that prevents a person from living a full, normal life or from holding a gainful job.” To go so far as to call asexuality a disability, then, even if it is not meant in a legal sense, is to say, literally, that we are incapable of living a “full and normal” life.

There’s that word again. Normal. What does it mean to be normal? The word is completely relative to the context in which it is spoken. Back in the Victorian era, I would have been considered normal, because all women were assumed to be asexual. Now that all people, men and women, are assumed to be sexual, I am not considered normal. And even within this one culture, there are quite a lot of conflicting opinions about what is normal. According to the evangelicals, only vanilla heterosexuality is normal. But according to sex-positive people, many more variations are accepted as normal, including kinkiness, homosexuality, and even polyamory. The rationale behind this is, what’s normal for one person is not normal for another. So why can’t asexuals be accepted as just one more variation?

But what’s REALLY disturbing to me is the conflation of normality with fulfillment. Is it not possible to live a life that, while considered to be quite “normal” by the culture in which one lives, is still profoundly unfulfilling? What is one to do, when one recoils from the values of one’s culture so strongly that to adhere to them is to deny one’s own inner nature?

Exactly what asexuals are now doing: forming communities, making ourselves known. We are shouting out to the world that hey, we don’t fit your ideas of what’s “normal” and what’s more, WE LIKE IT THAT WAY.