Let's Talk About My Asexual Experience

Honestly, I consider myself to be pretty lucky when it comes to my experience with asexuality. I found out what it was at a young age, which meant I was already familiar with it when I decided I was ready to come out to people. That’s not to say it was particularly easy, though.

I first heard of asexuality at some time in middle school from some accounts on Instagram. Yes, Instagram. I was not a Tumblr kid, which is probably good based on the ace discourse I saw leak over to other platforms (which is a topic for another time). Anyway, Instagram was really how I learned a lot about the LGBTQ+ community. But I am grateful that I saw other ace people. Not everyone is able to learn about asexuality that early, and it did help me a lot in the long run.

I remember one conversation I had with my mom after I discovered the demisexual label. I said it was weird how that was a label because "isn't that just what everyone experiences?" Now, please understand that I know this is an incredibly ignorant viewpoint, and demisexuality is completely valid. But honestly, I just didn’t believe sexual attraction was a thing, so I was assuming nobody felt it unless they already had an emotional connection to someone. Spoiler alert: no, that’s not normal.

I still didn't claim asexuality for many more years. Go figure.

Between discovering what asexuality was and actually coming out earlier this year, it was always kind of at the back of my mind. But it was weird. I think I just wanted to be “normal,” and I didn’t think asexuality was. Especially since I’m romantically attracted to men, I figured I would just fly under the radar for my life and it would be fine.

This feeling was not helped by the fact that I was in a relationship in high school. I don’t think I have the words to describe the weird feeling of being ace without knowing it while also being in a relationship. Something always felt off to me. It had nothing to do with my boyfriend, he was wonderful. I never told him I was ace (I wasn’t even really admitting it to myself, much less other people), and I always felt like I was hiding something. I felt guilty for keeping something from him. Something that I believed to be a problem.

I think that I was afraid of my asexuality. It was not something I wanted anyone to know. Once I realized I was ace, I had decided that I didn’t need to come out to anyone. This would just be something between me and maybe the person I was dating. "Maybe" being the key word there. I really didn’t want to make my asexuality a bigger problem than it was already.

Fast forward a few years and, as we all know, coronavirus hit and the world shut down. And I suddenly had a lot more free time to spend online. I saw a lot more aces online sharing their experiences and being confident in themselves. Their asexuality wasn’t a problem in their lives, it was a part of themselves that they could take pride in.

I decided that I wanted to be proud too. I consumed more ace content and got more comfortable with it. I started talking about asexuality more, and eventually I told my closest friends that I was ace. At some point I decided that I didn’t want to hide at all. I wanted to be open and loud about my asexuality because I wanted to do my part to create a society where other baby aces wouldn’t have to feel broken.

My pride in my asexuality is not permanent. Every time I think about posting publicly about asexuality, a voice in the back of my head wonders about the possibility that I’m not actually ace, and therefore shouldn’t speak about it. But I know that’s not true. Accepting yourself as you are is always going to be a process. But for right now, I’m happy with who I am — including my asexuality.

From yours truly,

Kendall