An Asexual in Limbo: A Series of Thoughts and Feelings

By Kayleigh Thompson

Asexuality has been a key part of my identity since before I knew that it was a label. 

In middle school, I was uncomfortable by the thought of dating. I never wanted any part of the raging hormones, awkward movie theater dates, or the weird horror stories of first kisses and later, first times. Every time I’d tell someone that I wasn’t interested in dating, sex, or the concept of romance for myself, it was always “you’ll change your mind in a few years” or “you only think that now.”  Well, it’s been a few years and I still haven’t changed my mind.

Asexuality was a label I gave myself as a joke after learning the term in science class. I knew that I wasn’t interested in dating humans of any gender and that when I had a crush, it was because I wanted to be someone’s best friend, not their girlfriend. For a long time, I existed with the concept that I was probably just weird, or like any gifted kid was conditioned to believe, destined to be different. 

But suddenly, and probably on Tumblr, I saw asexuality being used as an actual label by other people. Many of my friends were finding their place in the LGBTQ+ community and different sexualities and identities were finally gaining the attention they deserved, probably thanks to the social media boom. All of a sudden there were flags, stickers, and pins all with an asexual pride flag, and a growing assertion that the “A” in LGBTQIA stood for asexual, not ally. It was euphoric, at first. 

It was the feeling of overwhelming joy and satisfaction at having the same experience as others and validated by a growing movement. I went to my first pride in 2015 in a purple outfit and found my very own asexual pride flag at the very first vendor. I put “ace” in my bio. I felt like I had a place within the weird, complex system of society.

But despite this validation that asexuality exists, and that other people identify the same way I do, I never fully felt like I had a right to claim that I was LGBTQ+. While I was made fun of and pressured into being in relationships I wasn’t comfortable in, I never faced the historic levels of discrimination and trauma that many people in the community do. I felt guilty using my “asexual” label that would differentiate me from heteronormativity because I felt like I was cheating. Like I wasn’t really part of the community but was just so desperate for a label that I made myself fit. 

There is a healthy discourse as to whether or not asexuality is actually a sexuality that should count within the LGBTQ+ umbrella. Some feel that asexuality is a needless label that is just another way to micro-categorize society, while others feel that it takes up space. Most Instagram posts I have seen that promote asexual pride have a good amount of comments asking why this whole concept is necessary, or that it is pointless. I have found that while having the “A'' stand for asexuality feels better than having it mean ally, it by no means suggests a full place within the LGBTQ+ community, and allies are still given more space regardless. It creates a sort of limbo that leaves me questioning whether or not I can say I identify as LGBTQ+ or if I should just not answer one way or the other. 

This piece isn’t meant to argue that asexuality should or shouldn’t belong in a specific space, as I don’t feel like it is my right to make that claim. It is merely an observation of my feelings and experiences as someone who grew up questioning why they did not feel the same as their peers. At the end of the day, I still have no inherent desire to have sex or to be in a relationship with someone. I don’t feel attraction to anyone, really, and I’m not comfortable saying I am attracted to one gender or the other. The one and only time I did date required significant relationship building and a foundation of trust, and I still consider it to be a fluke in the system (No offense, dear). 

Ultimately, I decided to share this random assortment of thoughts and feelings because everyone else who I have met who has identified themselves on the asexuality spectrum has felt this same sense of limbo-- not “LGBTQ+” enough to be in the community, but also not comfortable with a “straight” label. I hope that someone who feels this way reads this and knows that they aren’t alone and that labels and social norms can be really confusing and, frankly, exhausting. 

I wish there was a universally accepted source who could just tell me if I could mark myself as LGBTQ+ on surveys or have a claim in the non-heteronormative space, but there isn’t. Instead, it is a plethora of opinions, concepts, and norms that I have to pick and choose. I don’t want to take up somebody’s space and I know that my experience as a non-heteronormative person does not carry the same trauma as other groups in the community. But despite this, I am uncomfortable in a heteronormative space and would never claim that identity represents me. 

I’m not sure what the point of me writing this was, if not to just share my feelings. Maybe another fellow asexual in limbo reads this and feels a sense of community, understanding, or support (solidarity?). Whatever the case, I will continue to exist in this weird in-between, not wanting to overstep but also not wanting to be pushed back into the hetero-norms that never felt right.