Originally posted on We Got So Far To Go:
One of the recurring discussions that pops up on my social media feeds and blog rolls is one that people have strong opinions about: hitting or spanking kids to punish them. One of the most common exchanges/memes I see in regards to spanking goes like this:
“I got hit and I turned out fine.”
“Do you think it’s ok to hit kids? Then you’re not fine.”
I have problems with both elements of this exchange. While I agree that thinking it’s ok to hit children means you probably aren’t a paragon of ethics, I don’t think the response really gets to the heart of the matter, which is this: hitting someone is a Bad Thing. It hurts them. You do not need to show any additional harm beyond the actual hitting. You don’t need to show that it causes psychological damage later in life. Hitting another person all on its…
View original 449 more words
This is vitally important for anyone giving asexual advice to understand. Coyote put it into words beautifully.
Originally posted on The Ace Theist:
CN: relationship problems, body-image issues, social pressure, sex as a site of conflict, and related issues (ex. sexual abuse comes up for about a paragraph). All the sex talk here will be non-graphic, but this post is about interpersonal conflict between partners where one doesn’t want a sexual relationship and the other one does, so brace yourselves for that if you keep reading. Whenever I see this discussion happen, people seem very eager to consider that the partner who wants a sexual relationship might be well-meaning and non-abusive and genuinely hurt by their partner’s disinterest, so for sake of argument, that’s the narrow hypothetical I’m going to be focusing on for now…
…because even if we want to focus on their side of the story, the reassurance I see always seems to fall short of what I suspect is at the heart of the issue.
If you agree that sex…
View original 1,140 more words
This is a collection of links that each contribute important points on the subject of prescriptivism in asexual communities. This list is meant to be illustrative, rather than exhaustive, of reasons to abandon the enforcement of “lack of sexual attraction” as the most important definition of asexuality, to embrace a utility model of asexual identity, and to reject the enforcement of asexual definitions altogether.
James writes about why enforcing “lack of sexual attraction” as the only definition of asexual is detrimental to asexual community-building and leads to continually policing the boundaries of who “counts” as asexual. (Contains NSFW discussion of sexual activity.)
swankivy, in a conversation about the harm in emphasis on “asexuality is not sex repulsion” in vis-ed, describes other useful definitions for “asexual” in addition to the sexual-attraction definition.
Tecmag writes that having multiple definitions of asexuality is not a problem unless a person imposes a definition on others, or otherwise uses a definition as a litmus test to determine if someone else is asexual.
Siggy writes that the lack of sexual attraction definition, and the insistence on it being so specific, fails in encompassing many people who could benefit from being part of asexual communities.
Queenie writes in this comment on Coyote’s post about pitfalls in asexual vis-ed that have bad consequences for sex-averse aces, about the push to restrict definition of asexual to “lack of sexual attraction” exclusively, which has the result of asexuals who use other definitions for themselves (such as “lack of sexual desire”) not being taken seriously by the broader asexual community.
In response to an anonymous person asking “What’s the actual definition of asexuality,” Queenie describes several definitions–lack of sexual attraction, lack of sexual desire, and definitions used by non-Anglophone communities–and emphasizes that any of those paths to an asexual identity are valid, and that there is no one, singular, “actual” definition that supercedes all the others.
epochryphal lists several reasons a person who does not fit the “lack of sexual attraction” definition might choose to describe their sexual orientation as asexual. Co further writes that the community should not shunt asexual people of those definitions into gray or demi identity, because identity labels are about describing yourself in ways that make sense to you alone, not about cramming yourself in a box.
Siggy writes about how people with similar experiences will sometimes use different words, and why it is important for this to be affirmed in the asexual community.
Things That Make You Acey writes about the long and violent history of White people stripping people of color of agency over their identities. Saying variations of “even if you don’t use the word, you’re still asexual” to anyone reinforces this oppressive dynamic. The move to streamline asexual identity is a symptom of problems in society that are much bigger than asexual identity politics. Dismantling identity label prescriptivism requires dismantling of broader oppressive forces in society.
This is a submission to the February 2015 Carnival of Aces, whose topic is Cross-Community Connections.
Asexual activism that emphasizes asexuality as not-illness or as not-caused-by-illness-or-trauma has never sit well with me. Although my own experiences with mental illness and disability are part of the reason why, it actually goes deeper than that.
In asexual spaces where I don’t know anyone else, I am quiet about being autistic and mentally ill. I stay quiet about these aspects of myself in any space because such disclosure, anywhere, often involves at least one person who will not take this disclosure at face value. At least one person who expects me to explain every detail of my autistic traits in order to prove I’m really autistic, or who expects me to explain how I can be mentally ill if I’m in public around other people and apparently enjoying myself. The only asexual spaces where I have not been afraid of that happening are asexual spaces that consist mostly or entirely of aces with developmental disabilities.
It is very common for disabled aces to wonder to ourselves, “Did my disability cause my asexuality?” and to doubt the validity of our asexual identity if there is even a shadow of a possibility that our identities were influenced by disability. There is an underlying assumption in “Asexuality is not caused by illness or trauma” that coming to an asexual identity due to trauma or aspects of a disability is invalid. Further than that, focusing on the “Asexuality is not caused by illness or trauma” reflects a misunderstanding of the possible experiences of trauma and of disabilities.
Being autistic has influenced every aspect of my life, including my asexual identity. Recognizing my touch-hypersensitivity in myself was the first way in which I realized that something was different about me, and it was from the touch-hypersensitivity that I extrapolated that I would not enjoy partnered sexual activity. That extrapolation led me to figure out that I was not actually interested in sex. My earliest usage of the word asexual in reference to myself was in reference to my lack of interest in sex. I doubt that touch-hypersensitivity commonly leads to asexual identity, but I see my touch-hypersensitivity–and therefore, my being autistic–as integral to the discovery of my asexual identity.
Emphasizing “Asexuality is not caused by disability” strips the agency of people with disabilities to express that their disability is actually intimately connected to their asexual identity. Emphasis on “Asexuality is not a reaction to trauma” denies the agency of sexual abuse survivors to say that trauma played a role in their identity development. I am tired of encountering pushback from fellow asexuals when I affirm the agency of trauma survivors and people with disabilities to declare that trauma or disability has influenced their asexual identity.
If your asexual activism does not affirm the agency of people to say that trauma, mental illness or disability influenced their asexuality, your asexual activism is severely failing the people you believe you’re affirming.
This is a very good set of guidelines for doing asexual vis-ed work.
Originally posted on The Ace Theist:
Are you an ace activist, educator, or content-creator? Are you in the process of making (or have you already made) asexuality visibility and education materials? If so, you’re this post’s target audience. Keep reading for a brief overview of common mistakes to avoid in ace vis/ed with regard to the topics of sex and sex-repulsion, with explanations and links to further information on what to keep in mind as you create or edit your project.
View original 809 more words
For the past several months, I’ve been experiencing some kind of burnout with respect to asexuality-related activism. Writing has always been hard for me, but it’s become much more difficult for me in the past several months. I’ve felt very guilty about being unable to contribute to the asexual blogosphere, and I hope that this post will offer a partial explanation.
While I’ve had a lifelong difficulty with translating my thoughts into written or spoken words, it wasn’t until a few days that I was able to express details of this difficulty in words.
My thoughts are partly in words, partly in images/impressions/emotions and partly in concepts. I’m not sure how much of my thinking falls into each category–I just know that I have thoughts in each category. A thing that frequently happens in my translation of thoughts to words, and in the translation of words-I-understand to words-others-understand, is error. Often, it will happen that I’ll use words that don’t convey what I want to express, and I’ll know I’m using the wrong words, but I still can’t figure out the correct words. Several other autistic people online have informed me that they relate to this experience.
Up until I was able to describe this process a few days ago, I had thought of it as a moral failing in myself to be knowingly using the wrong words like that. Now that I know it’s part of my being autistic, I’m working on letting go of the very deeply entrenched feelings that making these communication errors constitutes lying or deliberate deception.
This difficulty in putting my thoughts into words for writing is why writing takes a very long time for me. (With speech, I often settle for the erroneous words or say “I don’t know.”) Due to autism, organizing my thoughts into writing involves many extra steps, even if it’s just writing in my private journal.
For now, my contribution to asexual discourse will be in the form of reading other asexual blogs to stay as current as I can. I am also going to focus on self-care more, so that I won’t get to a point of needing to totally abandon asexual discourse.
Originally posted on The Ace Theist:
Recently, I came across an anonymous message sent to an asexuality blog, inquiring after the reason why individuals’ sexualities are such a big deal, culturally, and where that came from as a social phenomenon, and the moderator didn’t know how to answer. They attributed it to the assumption that everyone is straight (heteronormativity), but then that begs the question, where did heteronormativity come from?
The ignorance of their answer concerns me. The reason why I’m responding here, understand, is not to embarrass anyone, but because I think it’s crucially important for everyone to know — especially for White aces to know — and so I’m making this post to offer what I’ve gathered and perhaps prompt others to do the same.
Why is human sexuality “such a big deal”? The short answer is colonialism. For the long answer, keep reading.
If gender is a cultural construct, and if colonialism forces…
View original 374 more words
Author’s note: I am in the middle of moving to a new house (I won’t be finished until probably halfway through September), and the disorganization of my possessions have made it harder for me to concentrate and be productive. This post is a little disorganized because of that. I plan to expand on the points in this post in the future and when I am in a more organized environment.
About three years ago, I was one of the main popularizers on Tumblr of the word “allosexual” in reference to people who are not asexual-spectrum. During that same time, I was also trying to popularize the concept of allosexual privilege. As of two years ago, I have stopped thinking that allosexual privilege explains the mechanism by which anti-asexual prejudice spreads, and I have written a fair amount about why such a concept doesn’t work. But the phrases “allosexual privilege” and “sexual privilege” keep popping up among asexual people on Tumblr.
To an extent, I can understand that the people currently arguing for allosexual privilege as a valid concept may be doing so because they don’t know how to talk about culturally-ingrained prejudice without a privilege-disprivilege dynamic to explain it. There was a time when I thought that the concept of privilege was the only way to explain the prevalence and spread of anti-asexual attitudes. But we need to move away from the privilege-disprivilege conceptualization of anti-asexual prejudice.
Privilege terminology originated in critical race theory, which established the concept of white privilege. White privilege is a set of unearned advantages that white people receive as a consequence of living in a racist society that values whiteness. Racism—the systematic, culturally ingrained prejudices and oppression against people of color—does not cause harm to white people. The cultural forces that are responsible for anti-asexual prejudice, however, do cause harm to allosexual people.
The major reason that allosexual privilege is not a viable concept is that there are groups of people who are demonized or pathologized for their sexualities regardless of what they are: allosexual trans women, allosexual black women, and allosexual people with disabilities, to name a few groups. Allosexual trans women don’t have it any easier than asexual-spectrum trans women, and they definitely don’t wield allosexual privilege over any asexual-spectrum cis people or cafab¹ trans people. Black, Latina and native women are frequently assumed to be more sexually desiring or more open to sexual advances than white women. Allosexual privilege is not why that happens—racism is. People with disabilities (especially if intellectually disabled and/or LGB*) have been forcibly sterilized for expressing any sexuality, and there is a long and ugly history of not teaching intellectually disabled people about sexuality. Allosexual privilege as a concept fails to account for that there are groups of people who are punished for expressing what would be otherwise socially-sanctioned sexuality.
Amatonormativity and compulsory sexuality are concepts that I find much more compelling in explaining the sources of anti-asexual prejudice. Amatonormativity, a term coined by feminist philosopher Elizabeth Brake, is “the assumption that a central, exclusive, amorous relationship is normal for humans, in that it is a universally shared goal, and that such a relationship is normative, in the sense that it should be aimed at in preference to other relationship types.” Amatonormativity is something that hurts asexual- and aromantic-spectrum people as well as people who are not asexual- or aromantic-spectrum, because we all have the potential to internalize that we’re supposed to want a certain kind of relationship, or that our existing interpersonal relationships aren’t good enough, even if they are the ones we know we want to be having more than any other kind. Putting forth allosexual privilege as a concept doesn’t lead to an understanding of the nuances of interpersonal relationships, like the concept of amatonormativity does.
Compulsory sexuality, a term coined by Lisa from A Radical Transfeminist, refers to the culturally ingrained idea that “everyone should have, or want to have, frequent sex of a socially-approved kind.” Compulsory sexuality affects every sexual orientation category in particular ways, and it also affects people whom culture categorizes as desexualized or undesirable. Jo from A Life Unexamined offers a further analysis of compulsory sexuality as it affects asexuals. The concept of compulsory sexuality offers a much more viable explanation than allosexual privilege as one source of anti-asexual prejudice.
¹ cafab stands for coercively assigned female at birth, which means a person who was declared a girl at birth (or in early childhood) by parents/doctors
This is for the July 2014 Carnival of Aces, whose topic is sex repulsion.
I have had a complicated history regarding identifying as sex repulsed. For all intents and purposes, sex repulsion describes me very well: I’m completely uninterested in and repulsed by the idea of my having genital contact with another person. I would find it extremely unpleasant. I have hesitated until now, however, to describe myself as sex repulsed.
My previous hesitation came from several sources. I witnessed a lot of elitism among several sex-repulsed asexual people about sex repulsion: according to those elitists, ever having been able to tolerate masturbation made someone not-really-sex-repulsed. I also felt like my repulsion to genital contact wasn’t enough: not that there was not enough repulsion, but that it was not sufficient to have repulsion to genital contact. I felt like I needed to experience repulsion to everything that anyone has ever called “sex” in order to call myself sex repulsed. And that meant I needed to pin down a definition of “sex” that encompassed all of that, and come to the conclusion that I would find all of those activities unpleasant.
It was relatively easy to dismiss the elitists on the surface–very few sex-repulsed people think masturbation is relevant to their sex-repulsed identity–but the need I had for years to define “sex” and “sex repulsed” in exact terms probably came from internalizing that elitism.
It has taken me a long time to come to the point where I don’t think that defining sex in exact terms is necessary in order to call yourself sex-repulsed, and to be okay with claiming a label as an approximation, rather than as an exact thing. It’s completely okay for a label to be an approximation. In the same vein as that you are allowed to call yourself “asexual” even if you can’t exactly define “sexual attraction,” you are allowed to call yourself sex repulsed even if you can’t give an exact definition of “sex.”
Although and I can’t tell you what “sex” exactly is, I’m finally okay with claiming a sex-repulsed identity without feeling a need to qualify it with “mostly” or “sort of.”
A blog by an autistic asexual
Puttin' a little diversity in ya since 2011.
Helping asexual spectrum survivors of sexual violence
A blog by an autistic asexual
The humble quest to read everything lesbian: a lesbian book blog.
the new misogyny, tracked and mocked
The trans agenda 2.0
This WordPress.com site is the bee's knees
Reviews, articles, and more about the portrayal of disabilities in children's fiction
Everything is simple except when not
an intimate exploration of identity and finding life wisdom beyond the gender binary
Take it apart, put it back together
Contemporary literature, electronic & otherwise
"you were not put here on this earth to be laughed at and obscured. and anything counts as yelling." -Meda Kahn, autistic activist
Confusions while learning to fly
Autism, fandoms, parenting, and tea
Re-imagining the world.