Saturday, August 6, 2011

Aaaaaagh!


My summer is almost over and I am fretting a bit.

I started this summer with “homework”: three conversations I was supposed to have. They’re things that really need to be discussed, but I’m scared and I hate conflict, so I’ve been putting them off. My best friend said she would give me a lollipop for each one that I accomplished by the time I get back to school. So far, I’ve gotten one out of the way. Another one was coming out to my parents. And now we’re nearing the end of the summer and I keep coming up with reasons to put it off.

My end-of-the-summer deadline feels artificial. There’s no reason for it, except that if I don’t have a deadline, I won’t do it. I’ll keep putting it off forever. But I feel like I’m rushing it. I’ve only known I’m ace for about six months. It seems like everyone else in the online ace community struggled silently with their asexuality for years before they finally worked up the courage to come out to somebody. Which doesn’t make sense as a reason for me not to come out, because comparing my experiences to the experiences of other people is not a good way to make decisions. But now I’m second-guessing myself, thinking that I’m rushing things, telling myself to wait and not force myself, to not make my asexuality into a Big Deal, as I am apt to do. When I hit upon a new idea that I like, I want to share it with everybody, and I feel like I should wait until the New Idea Energy dies down and being ace is just a thing instead of my latest fixation.

(I don’t mean to suggest that being ace is just a phase; I simply mean that in a few years, I will probably stop combing the internet for ace blogs to read for several hours a day.)

Sometimes I think that I just want to come out to everyone so that they’ll know what a special snowflake I am. In that case, I shouldn’t because I try very hard not to be annoying and attention-seeking. And then I think that maybe I’m using that as an excuse not to talk about it because I’m scared, in which case I should conquer my fears by coming out. And then I think that sexuality should be normal and unremarkable no matter what, and there’s no reason for me to be making a big deal about it at all, and I should just stop thinking about it, except I can’t.

I feel like whatever I decide to do, I’m doing it for the wrong reasons, but I don’t know what the right reasons are, and I’m about to tear my hair out in anxiety. 

Monday, August 1, 2011

Labels

My sister does not like labels. She’s told me this several times. That was her reaction when I told her that I thought the Doctor might be asexual. That was also what she said in another conversation about gender, when I pointed out that there are more than two genders, and gave her some examples of other genders people can identify as besides male or female. She had a particular aversion to my use of the word “genderqueer.” The word “queer” makes her uncomfortable, she told me. It sounds ugly. She’d rather everyone just be who they are and love who they love and not worry about any of it.

Easy for her to say. Her gender and sexuality and many other aspects are assumed just by looking at her. Or rather, they’re assumed correctly. She will never need those labels to, for example, explain to a boy that she loves him but feels uncomfortable kissing him. She will probably never need to justify herself or the right of people like her to exist.

I like the word “queer” as a respectful catch-all term for anyone outside mainstream gender/sexuality who wants to use it*, and I like my labels. Before I knew the word “asexual,” I had no idea that I was different. I knew I wasn’t gay, or bi, so I defaulted to straight and never really questioned it. I didn’t have the words to question it. I didn’t even know that I could question it. And since then, I’ve been clinging to that word like a security blanket as a way to remind myself that I am different but not alone, that there are a few other people like me, that I don’t have to cram myself into a mold that doesn’t fit. That if someone were to ask, I would have the words to describe who I am and make them understand.

I’m a big fan of the theory that labels are tools to be used and then discarded when they no longer work. I’m using the label “asexual” to help me figure out who I am and explain it to other people in a way that doesn’t involve (much) stammering and flailing. I’m scared and confused and lost, and that word is all I have to hold on to. Don’t you dare take it away from me.

I fully respect anyone’s choice not to be labeled, but that’s your choice. You don’t get to decide for everyone else. I won’t force my labels on you, (exceptions for fictional characters, who can be a million different labels all at once. That’s what fandom is for) and you won’t take my labels away, and we can all be happy. How does that sound?

*I personally do not identify as queer because I don’t think that my definition is universally recognized (see the Privilege Denying Asexuals and related arguments), and precision of language is important to me. But if we as a society could decide that cis, gender-conforming, heteroromantic asexuals could be queer, I would definitely use it.