“Being single also allows me the space to feel free and find solace in solitude. My friends know me well enough to know that I am introverted. They allow me the space to back away and introspect when I need to. They also call in to just see how I’m doing and reach out to me. I am always appreciative of them for doing so. Our relationship may not be one that society calls “significant,” but to me, it’s as significant as any other relationship. It gives me all the emotional fulfillment I need.”
“Being aro-ace and single is more about joy than it is about sadness, at least in my case.”
From a young age, amatonormativity is inundated to us collectively from society. From movies featuring characters trying to save a princess, to music videos about being head over heels in love with one another, to depictions of a winged enfant terrible shooting people with love arrows, society preaches the notion that romance is an inevitability that everyone feels and that you’re not a mature human if you don’t wish to date or marry.
Once a person starts nearing puberty, people are expected to begin having crushes and start having their first dating relationship.
Growing up in school, kids would ask one another who they had a crush on. As the questions started, I would make up crushes to try and fit in with everyone else. I didn’t ever have feelings for the person, but I just said I did in order to fit in with everyone else.
While I never really carried out my crushes in any capacity (as I’ve never been on a date and have never wished to date), I’ve faced – and still face – intense pressure from others to do so.
Growing up in a religious home in the Bible Belt, my family constantly prods and pokes about why I haven’t yet married and why I’m not in a relationship. They constantly make derisive, judgmental statements like “You’re not getting any younger!” and “I would love to have grandchildren someday!”
Often, articles about being asexual are written in a way that makes being asexual sound like a lonely existence—unable to find dates, unable to find love. However, those articles leave out that many asexual people like me are also aromantic, in that we don’t experience romantic attraction. Articles that only focus on being single and alone as an asexual still reinforce the idea that everyone must be in a relationship of some kind and that is not all that asexuality is about.
Being aro-ace and single is more about joy than it is about sadness, at least in my case.
Being uninvolved in any romantic relationships gives me the freedom to enjoy time with my friends, pursue my passions, and go after my dreams. The relationships with my friends give me all the fulfillment I need in order to be happy. Even as many of them are in relationships themselves, I never feel left out as a third wheel. They include me as a central part of their lives, as I do the same for them.
Being single also allows me the space to feel free and find solace in solitude. My friends know me well enough to know that I am introverted. They allow me the space to back away and introspect when I need to. They also call in to just see how I’m doing and reach out to me. I am always appreciative of them for doing so. Our relationship may not be one that society calls “significant,” but to me, it’s as significant as any other relationship. It gives me all the emotional fulfillment I need.
It’s so bizarre how society disparages friendship to such a degree. There have been boundless iterations of strong friendships in literature, mythology, and other media, from Damon and Pythias, to Steel Magnolias, to Thelma and Louise. There are countless instances of everyone finding fulfillment and merriment with friends and pals, inside and outside professional contexts.
There isn’t a need for amatonormativity constantly pressuring everyone into relationships.
If we let relationships form organically and affirm all relationships – regardless of their name – as significant, people would generally be happier.
There isn’t a pot for every lid, and that’s okay. You are complete without a partner, and you don’t have to have one if you don’t wish to.
That should be the message every February 14.
‘The oppression of ace people is tied up in the oppression of fill in the blank: Queer people, Black people, Indigenous people, poor people. Liberation of ace people is tied to the liberation of all of these people too. And that is my viewpoint… we all gotta get free.’
‘To close with the powerful words of a participant, Maureen, who identified as a Black panromantic asexual cisgender woman:
The oppression of ace people is tied up in the oppression of fill in the blank: Queer people, Black people, Indigenous people, poor people. Liberation of ace people is tied to the liberation of all of these people too. And that is my viewpoint… we all gotta get free.’
‘For many asexual people of color, their existence is invalidated through mythizing asexuality and accusing ace people as illegitimate attention-seekers. As a result, one final way allonormative rhetorics operate as a mechanism of invalidation is by framing the development of sexual attraction as inevitable (Zivony & Reggev, 2023), and thus allosexuality as fateful.’
Personal notes: So it turns out the result of asexual exclusionism was just making it even harder for asexual POC to exist on top of the rampant racism. In other news, water is wet.
‘Similarly, Minu (she/her) who identified as a Black American aromantic asexual cisgender woman, came across invalidating messages online that “asexual people [are] up to shenanigans and… just want to be special.” In this way, asexuality is framed as a
histrionic attempt for a non-special (e.g., normal) person to be special. Thus, ace people of color – like all queer people of color under whiteness – are framed as abnormal and invalid, even before the identity is rejected as bona fide. Minu continued to explain the impact these rhetorics have on wellness, and in particular, regarding social support. “You have to decide if [aceness] is something you want to share because then it’s gonna come with a lot of questions… and potentially a lot of judgment from people who are either ignorant or just not nice people?” Minu’s experiences with asexuality as histrionics rhetorics place her asexuality as something in constant contention with allonormative legitimacy. Minu’s and Cheri’s allonormative encounters must also be intersectionally understood with her race and gender as Black women, who already face invalidation of their gendered and racialized experiences, especially in white spaces (Hill Collins, 2015).’
CHAPTER 2 A TYPOLOGY OF ALLONORMATIVE RHETORICS, Category 1: Invalidation, Subcategory B: Asexuality as histrionics from A Communication Approach to Asexual People of Color’s Experiences with Allonormativity by Benjamin Brandley
‘Maggie (she/her), who identified as an Afro-Indigenous biromantic asexual cisgender woman, that she has personally come across “people not believing” her and others when disclosing asexuality. She continued, “not believing [us] specifically because you’re a person of color” because “there’s not as many spaces for us to talk about it or be seen. So when you do speak up, people will be like, ‘Oh, really? …I find that hard to believe.’” Maggie feels that the overrepresentation of white asexuals aids in the propelling of asexuality as myth for aces of color because when white folks “come out, it’s like, well, that’s great for you…. But it’s kinda unexpected for us [people of color], but not unexpected for people like white people.” She clarified that she has experienced this discourse in queer and non-queer circles, across racial lines that “there’s still this shock factor even for us,” highlighting how allonormativity works to impossibilize asexuality among people of color. This subcategory explores the marginalization of asexuality, particularly among people of color, as a myth perpetuated by rhetorics of allonormativity that dismiss asexuality as an impossible and abnormal phenomenon, impacting individuals like Dee, Gina, Vena, and Maggie, who share experiences of disbelief and invalidation from both familial and societal perspectives.’
‘Black asexuality is a threat to white imaginations of what that illogic wants the world to be. And with a name like Problem Child, if I’m not a problem to my enemies I must be doing something wrong, no?’
- Problem Child (@/problemchild_nyc) in To Be Young, Ace and Black from Real Life Newsletter (2024)
‘From the “Mandingo” myth, the hypersexual “fast girls” vs acceptable “weird guys”, and the normalization of violence toward queer Black youth behind closed doors, the dogma of white sexuality functions greatly on removing autonomy from Black sexuality. So as a Black ace queer, I’m living my ancestors wildest dreams: I demand the final say on my body and my sex. And the word is “No, thank you!”.’
- Problem Child (@/problemchild_nyc) in To Be Young, Ace and Black from Real Life Newsletter (2024)