The Space of Ace

TRIGGER WARNING: Underage sexual assault

At the age of 22, having been exposed to the spectrum of sexuality and gender, I can now comfortably say: I’m asexual.

I’m asexual, I don’t believe that gender is a real concept, I don’t identify with it at all, and I’m panromantic. Although I’m splattered across the spectrum and am a combination of concepts that seem unusual to people, being asexual is somehow always the most difficult thing for people to understand. This is the first time I’m sharing my complete experience as an asexual person, and I want people to know about it. I want people to understand the unusual and understand who I am.

To say that I have not been aware of sexual intentions ever since I was a child would be a lie. Unfortunately, my experience comes from being the subject of others curiosity. 

The first instance I can remember is when I was 4 years old. I was in lower kindergarten and was participating in a “Barbie performance”. It involved adults selecting the “fairest” looking children, putting them in cute dresses, makeup and having them dance on stage. I know now, it was a disgusting way to choose. I was wearing a backless frock, pretty white shoes for the performance and was made to wear lipstick for the very first time. I remember that I was careful not to have my lips touch because I thought it would ruin the lipstick, so I ended up looking like I was perpetually disgusted at everything (maybe it was a sign from the universe).

I was happy, a little nervous, but still excited to perform. I loved the white shoes, those were the prettiest shoes I’d ever laid my young eyes on. Typing this now, I feel a little sad that I only remembered the shoes now, because my memory was largely scarred by one incident.

Before our performance was due, we were made to sit in our classrooms with our classmates - our teachers were also there. However, curiosity got to the little boys in the class and I felt quite a few sticky fingers touching my bare back. I would look back with a disgruntled face and would ask them to stop, but yet again I would continue to feel those troublesome sticky fingers. As an adult, I don’t really blame those boys - they were little, and children respond to curiosity by touching things. However, I do blame the teachers who did nothing but smile and say “You look pretty, everybody is admiring you!”

I would have appreciated that instead, the little boys had been told not to touch someone without permission. 

The next experience I remember, I was 5 years old in a different school, a different city, and in an upper grade of kindergarten. I had just returned from the washroom and stood at the entrance of the classroom waiting to ask “May I please enter?” While standing there, a classmate stood by me, and in front of the whole class, kissed my neck and said, “I like you, you’re pretty.” I remember cringing and saying “yuck”. I remember being uncomfortable. As an adult, I still don’t blame the young boy - he was curious, had seen things in the media, and only knew one way to express it. I do blame the teacher though, because she said nothing. Nobody said anything. And because of that, I didn’t say anything about it to anyone either. 

That same year, I went to at a party, where I wore a pretty red top. It was one of those tops that could be tied at the front, like a bow. At that party, a boy older than me untied my top.

I remember crying. I think I remember telling my sister who is 6 years older than me, but still a child. I don’t remember if the boy faced any consequences, or if anyone even knew about the incident, but I remember being told to stay away from the boy. This time, I do blame the boy. I don’t have anyone else to blame, and I refuse to blame myself. Sometimes my brain tells me that maybe it’s something I made up - nobody knew about it and there were no consequences. But I ignore that feeling, because I know it’s true. I remember it. I remember where I was standing, what the top looked like. I remember being upset. 

The next time, I was 8 years old, on a train journey back home after visiting my father. He’s an army officer, who was posted in field. I was with my mother, my sister, another aunty, her daughter of my age, and her son who was 13 years old. The auntie’s daughter, son and I sat in a separate booth, covered it with the curtain and played silly games together. The son then suggested we play hide and seek. The daughter and I asked, “But how can we play on the train? It’s so easy to catch someone?” He convinced us that it would be fine and told his sister to count to 100, so him and I could hide. The moment she left the booth to count and he confirmed she was far enough, he lifted my shirt, and said “I’ll show you something, tell me how you feel about it.”

I said, “I don’t know, will it hurt?”

“No, it’s just a peck. Do you like a kiss on the lips, or would you prefer the stomach?”

I was given the illusion of choice. He lifted my shirt all the way up and left his disgusting marks all over me. After a while he covered me up and said that it was a secret and I couldn’t tell anyone or we would both get scolded. Of course I didn’t want to be scolded, so I kept quiet. I kept so quiet that even my brain hid it from me until I was old enough to process what had happened to me in therapy. 

So, I have been exposed to sexual curiosity. I never preferred or liked it. Not only because my consent was never present, but also because I simply experienced no curiosity or willingness towards it. 

Don’t get me wrong, not every asexual person is aversive to sex. Asexuality is a spectrum in itself. Asexual people can be sex positive as well, which means that they don’t experience any attraction sexually, but don’t have any problems with having sex. 

I am asexual, a person who is not attracted to anyone sexually, because that has been my nature since birth. I am sex aversive because of the negative experiences I’ve had with my consent being ignored. Coming to that realization felt traumatic enough - I didn’t know I then had to experience neglect and discrimination from members of LGBTQ+ community, allies, and others alike. The number one prize for the most repeated phrase goes to: “You haven’t found the right person yet.”

Actually, I have, and they’re either fictional, or BTS, but I can promise you that I have no interest in tearing off my clothes, their clothes, or any clothes at all. There are other aspects to an individual besides their capacity to have sex, and guess what, I appreciate that about them! You and I like and notice different things about people, and that’s okay.

You may notice that Person A’s neck is sexy and find that attractive, while I may notice how Person A seems to listen to people when they’re talking and that’s okay. Go get that neck bestie, I simply do not have any interest in that department. 

The next prize goes to “Maybe it’s because you haven’t tried it yet.” You know what else I haven’t tried yet? Live grasshoppers dipped in chocolate as a snack, but I can assure you that that is not something I will like, and I don’t have to try it to know that.

Another great one, “Maybe you’re homosexual? Have you tried to think of that possibility?” Thanks for bringing light to the fact that I might be gay, but believe me when I say that no gender on the gender spectrum or outside of it, makes me want to lay down and exchange sexy juices.

My space as an asexual has always been questioned and introspected, and even ignored.

I personally don’t care anymore what opinions others have about my sexuality, but as someone who was still discovering myself, I for sure could’ve used more validation. 

I think as a general rule, when someone who is questioning their gender or sexual identity comes to you and talks about it with you: try and listen and put yourselves in their shoes. If that is hard, and I can understand it can be, just don’t say anything. Just tell them that there are ample sources on the internet, and if they’re willing to, they can always look them up to discover themselves better. Tell them that you respect their identity, and that you are willing to learn what their identity means. 

This is what people who value each other do. They support each other and try and understand what their existence means in this world. Every person questions the meaning and value of their life, and we all know there’s a whole universe outside of our planet which doesn’t go by our rules. We don’t know the answer to everything, but we can support people who are questioning things and also allow ourselves to question things. There are so many possibilities in the world, so many perspectives; why would you ever want to be stuck with a single one?