My sister, Bonnie, is adamant that I am not part of the LGBT+ community. She has difficulty understanding sexual identities and preferences that don’t match her own, and she refuses to put me into that controversial group.
As her sister, she wants to love me well. She says she accepts my asexuality, but I know she doesn’t fully understand what it means to be asexual. I can tell she’s still under the impression that it reflects a lack of pleasure rather than a complete absence of necessity. While it is true that I get no pleasure from having sex, that is not what being asexual means. I do not require the act of physical sex to find fulfillment in romantic relationships. I don’t need it. I don’t want it. I don’t think about sex at all. In other words, being asexual forms a barrier between me and the “general” public.
Why do I say this? Because most people include sex as part of a romantic relationship. They need it. They want it. They expect it. Men especially require it. I don’t. In fact, having sex puts me into a somewhat distressed state of mind. I feel guilty about who I am. I feel wrong. Having my body be used in that way makes me feel like an airhead and a prostitute. I have an out-of-body experience void of my true identity and purpose.
I am 100% part of the LGBT+ community, and I am proud to be. I belong to a group that doesn’t align with the norm and has to fight to feel free. Although asexual is only a small sliver of this group of eccentric people, they immediately accept me for my uniqueness, understanding that it’s a struggle for any of us to interact with normal society. They respect my boundaries, not resent me for them. They welcome me with open arms.
I’ve Found My Community
This is the first year that I get to set my sexual identity and sexual boundaries up from the very beginning. January 1st through December 31st, I will be known as part of the LGBT+ community, and I am grateful for it.