AVENues Issue #12
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Carolyn Lamb
Mar 1, 2008, 11:10:04 AM3/1/08
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AVENues Issue #12 - Saturday, March 1, 2008 (text version posted to the AVENues Google group / RSS March 1, 2008)
The full PDF version of this newsletter can be found here: http://www.asexuality.org/avenues/2008_01_05.pdf
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Asexual: A person who does not experience sexual attraction. Unlike celibacy, which is a choice, asexuality is a sexual orientation.
AVEN: The Asexual Visibility and Education Network, an online community and resource archive striving to create open and honest discussion about asexuality among asexual and sexual people alike.
AVENues: A bimonthly publication available online, created by members of the AVEN community in order to showcase our thoughts and promote discussion by and about asexuals.
For more information, visit http://www.asexuality.org.
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Contents:
1. News from January and February
2. Letterbox
3. "Untitled"
4. "Flight Over the Garden"
5. From the Forum
6. "Life Without"
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News from January and February
The AVEN forums have switched to using Invision software, and we are still getting used to the new way of posting – but the community of AVEN is still as thriving as ever. We have elected a new board administrator (The Evil Cashew) and a new beta-reader for AVENues, and have published a new Beginner's Guide for our Wiki.
The official AVEN pamphlets are finally finished! Anyone can download and print the pamphlets from our website, and we are looking for more professional ways of distributing them to other organizations.
The official AVEN Survey is also finally online. We are soliciting everyone's feedback – sexuals and asexuals alike – regarding questions about asexuality, our demographics, and the way AVEN is run.
Xaida, a German AVENite, will be attending the European Federation of Sexology conference in April to speak about asexuality. AVENites throughout Europe will also be gathering at Europride in Stockholm this year.
Worldwide publications are still interested in asexuality; new publications within the past two months include articles from the National Post, Brock University Press, and Elle Canada. Still in the works (with organizers looking for feedback from AVENites) include a student film in Manchester, a new zine, a screenplay, an article for a journalism class in Syracuse, an awareness-based documentary in the UK, and a thesis in discourse analysis.
Meanwhile, the popular asexual dating site www.platonicpartners.co.uk has expanded to the international level. In addition to people from the UK, those in the USA, Canada, and Europe are also now welcome. And we are pleased to announce the launch of www.apositive.org, a new site for theoretical discussion amongst asexuals and their allies.
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Letterbox
Got something to say related to the content of AVENues? Does something published here make you nod in agreement, pound your desk in disagreement, or scratch your head in sheer confusion? Talk to us by sending an email to newsl...@asexuality.org!
Here is a sampling of some of the letters we received this issue.
Asexual Heroes
I just wanted to respond to something that SAM B.I. mentioned in her article on why the freedom of asexuality is like a superpower (AVENues, Confessions of a Purple Superhero, Issue 11, 2008). She mentioned that asexuality will never "be instrumental in saving the world from destruction" but I disagree. I've watched a lot of movies about saving the world from destruction, and the heroes invariably get caught up in some romantic subplot. If these fantasy stories were realistic (which would make them not-fantasy, I know, but try to stay with me), the romantic entanglements should distract the heroes from their world-saving, and ultimately cause the destruction! So I'd love to have an asexual hero- they could focus more intently on saving me, planets, dimensions, or the universe!
-Marina
You don't want to spawn either? Holy cow, you people exist?!
Upon finding my way to AVEN earlier today, and consequently, this newsletter, I had the growing feeling that perhaps I was not the "default" heterosexual identity that I always assumed I was. I thought that asexuality was something you had to be professionally diagnosed to have or something and that it was pretty unlikely that I was asexual, though I've had moments where I wished I was and didn't know it. It would give me an excuse to not have kids. It would give me an excuse to continue my "single and loving it" mentality. The fact I've never been on a date in my life at age 19 gives me a sort of sense of achievement. And then I read the FAQs at AVEN and realized that I fit the asexual description a lot better than I thought. And as I explored the website I kept finding little "signs" that all told me, yes, this is the place for me.
So I'd just like to send a big THANK YOU to all the people at AVEN for being such a great source of information and assurance, in more ways than you know.
- Heather
Reader Feedback: The Best Thing About Being Asexual
The question about the best thing about being asexual was asked in a past AVENue issue, but no one answered it, so I will. The following entry was something I wrote for Issue 7:
Looks and appearance don't matter to me. Though it's a bit cliché, it's true that the inside counts. I also like a person who is respectful and doesn't slam me for my values of atheism or being a straight asexual girl. A bonus for that person would be if they were a cat person like me, but no two people have the exact same interests. I would like that person (provided that they were nice) regardless of not having everything in common with me.
Since this entry was from a while ago, it made me think more about myself. I read somewhere on the asexuality site about how orientation can change and it isn't concrete for everyone. (This was very new to me.) After reading that, I felt that my orientation changed when I was in high school. Back when I was in middle school, I was very boy crazy and was sad when they didn't like me back or when I watched other people date. When I entered high school, romance became less important to me, even when other people around me dated. And now as a college student approaching her 20s, I feel that romance is very overrated. I will now get to the point of my letter.
The best thing about being asexual is not having to be co-dependent. I feel that romance is based a lot on co-dependence. Second, I won't be a part of ownership. Possessiveness is another factor of romance, and I don't like the feeling of owning someone or someone owning me. I'm alright by myself and partnership isn't needed for me to be happy. But, don't assume that I'm a romance basher. It's okay if you're into that kind of thing, but personally, I think it's too forced on people and overrated.
- schiar88
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Untitled
by A.C. HINDERLEITER
There are only two buses you can catch at the corner of Oak and Green. Bus 64 runs every ten minutes and goes downtown toward the train station. Bus 36 runs every 20 minutes and goes to the mall. On a cool Sunday morning in October, half a dozen people were standing at the bus stop. A high school aged girl complained to the boy she was with about being cold because she only had a light jacket on and it was so windy, and he put his arm around her under the pretense of keeping her warm. A little boy told his father that he was bored, asking when the bus would come. The father answered that the bus was supposed to arrive in about five minutes, but that the buses don't arrive exactly on time and that's why they have to arrive a little early and need to be patient. An elderly woman was resting on her cane, waiting quietly. A man in his mid twenties who had recently started teaching math at a small college was trying to fix his hair with his hands—he had been telling himself for the past two months that he needed a haircut but kept putting it off. There wasn't much point in trying to fix it except to move it out of his eyes after every gust of the autumn wind—it had become something of an uncontrollable mess of curls that did pretty much whatever it wanted.
I do exist. I'm convinced that I do, at least mostly convinced. I guess some worldviews say that everything is one and our sense of distinction is just an illusion. And I hear that the Buddhists have a doctrine of "no self" because we are always changing and no matter how far down you look you'll never find a soul or static anything to give continuity. That aside, I'm at least pretty convinced. It's supposed to be as self-evident a thing as there is, even without any "cogito, ergo sum" action. It's so annoying when people tell me that I don't. Not that anyone has ever told me this to my face. I mean, that'd be really weird.
Random guy: Hey! You don't exist!
I mean, like, how would you even respond to that?
Me: What the hell?
or maybe
Me: Are you like a solipsist or something?
I guess I could always use
Me: I know you are but what am I?
and leave him to work out the ontological implications of the grade school comeback. But it doesn't matter. No one has been that blunt about it. Usually they just don't believe me, or they think I'm lying or just don't get at all what I'm trying to say. I don't fit into their ideas of what people are supposed to be like. They don't have any categories to fit me into. I don't have any categories to fit me into. I just have to accept it because it's my experience—or lack of experience—every day of my life.
I remember one time in high school I was on the bus—the kind that generates never ending jokes about how we ride the short bus—and I was with some other students on the way to a chess match. Trying to pass the time, one of the guys—not a lot of girls were on the chess team—decided to ask us a question: "Who do you think is hot?" I suppose it's a common enough question among high school boys. One guy went first, and he told us about this one girl—strange I still remember her name is Melissa—who was really hot. Evidently she had big jugs. Then they teased him about how he liked her, but he insisted he didn't like her; he just thought she was hot. Next it was my turn. Who did I think was hot? Easy enough: no one. I thought no one was hot. I was shocked when they didn't believe me—I'd been telling the truth. But looking back, I guess it should have been obvious. I mean, which is more likely? That some teenage boy was afraid to answer because he'd get teased about it, or that he didn't think anyone at all was hot. Obviously the former because everyone thinks someone is hot. Except that I…
The bus arrived and he had to fumble around in his pockets to find the one he had put his bus pass in after he took it out of his wallet so he wouldn't have to search for it when the bus came. Then he had to join the line to try to get on as early as possible, but try not to be so rude as to hurry in front of the elderly woman, so he ended up only in front of the middle aged man and his son.
Ultimately it didn't matter. It was a Sunday morning and a third of the seats were empty. The rest were occupied by people probably going shopping, or to meet their family or their friends or to their jobs. Some, like the math teacher, were going to church. A few people were talking to their friends. Some, especially the younger ones, were listing to their mp3 players. A couple were talking on their cell-phones. One college-aged girl was talking to her boyfriend in a really cute voice about how she missed him so much and couldn't wait to see him that evening. A man was talking to his wife about the groceries she needed to buy and spoke into the phone much louder than necessary. The math teacher wished that he'd talk quietly, and imagined that half the people on the bus thought the same thing but that they, like himself, were too afraid to be the one to ask him to do so. Most of the people were just staring blankly at the floor or the seats in front of them or out the window at the apartment buildings and supermarkets and electronics stores and everything else that made up the urban landscape.
Riding on the bus is boring. I could stare out the window and look at the same buildings I see every time I take this bus. I wish I could read a book, but then I'd get carsick. The other people on the bus look bored too, but maybe I'm just projecting my feelings onto them. Who are they? What are they like? Why are they taking the bus? I don't know any of them.
Really, I don't know many people around here. I just moved here about a year ago and didn't know anyone then. I finished my Master's and wanted a job at a small university somewhere, but with only an MA and no teaching experience except as a teaching assistant, jobs were scarce and I had to take what I could get. So here I am in this strange city where I hardly know anyone. Most of the other teachers in my department are at least a decade older than me. Often two or three. I mean, they're nice and all, but it's hard to become close.
The other people on the bus, so many of them are just sitting there, waiting. I sometimes wonder if they feel bored like me, or lonely. Here we are, physically so close to each other, and yet so far—that's a cliché thought if I've ever had one.
But I can't explain it. Sometimes when I feel really disconnected from others, I have this feeling that without relationships I don't exist. Not like romantic relationships—I mean, I want that kind of relationship—but more like being connected to other people, that I matter to them, that what I do positively affects them, that I can get to know them and them me. And when that's not there—or at least when I don't see it—at the times in my life when I feel most isolated, I start to tell myself I don't exist. I don't understand that at all. Because, like, if I don't exist, who's telling this to whom?
So who are these people that I'm so close and yet so far from? Sometimes I'd like to watch them, but I know I have to be careful. If I look at someone too long, they'll think I'm staring at them—especially the girls. Because we all know that when a guy is staring at a girl, he's thinking about… What is it that they're thinking about anyway?
I remember this one time in grad school, I was playing badminton with some friends. There were five of us—four guys and a girl named Susan—so we had to take turns not playing. One time when it was my turn to sit out, there was this college-aged girl in the basketball court next to us practicing some kind of baton-twirling routine. I don't know what it was for, but I generally find things like that pretty boring. But there wasn't anything else to do, so I decided to watch her—I wanted to try to make myself interested. I mean, some people must be interested in it, so why can't I be too? I didn't have a lot of success.
Then that evening Susan commented on how I, like the rest of the guys with us, had obviously been interested in the baton-twirling girl. I wanted to deny it—it wasn't true—but how could I? Like, why else would a guy be gazing intently at her? To try to force himself to be interested in her baton-twirling? Obviously not, because nobody's like that.
So why didn't I want her to think I'm like everyone else? I guess because it's not true. But then why do I want people to think I am like everyone else? One time in college, I went across the hall to some friends' room to see what they were up to, and a couple of guys were watching some music video on TV. I don't remember what kind of music it was, but there was definitely plenty of booty shaking and lots of cleavage. No one was naked, so it wasn't that kind of video, but still, it was obviously supposed to be erotic. I guess I was looking for someone and he wasn't there, so I asked one of the guys watching TV if he knew where the guy was. He didn't, so I decided to leave. It must have been obvious I wasn't interested in the music video because one of the guys was really surprised by this.
"Don't you like boobs?"
Because the answer is "no" I really didn't want to respond to his question, given the strong expectation of "Of course I like boobs." So I tried to avoid answering—I hate lying. He followed up with another question:
"Are you gay? 'Cause if you are, I don't wanna be around you anymore."
It's nice to know how accepting some people can be… But I could answer quite truthfully that I'm not gay, and his faith in my interest in big boobs and tight butts was restored. I didn't feel like trying to tell him about false dichotomies and explaining how I really felt. It's not really lying if I let someone continue with false assumptions when I don't think I'd really get anywhere in changing them, is it?
But are these my only options? That I think that chicks are hot or that dudes are hot? Or maybe both? What about neither? Why are these the only options society gives me? I remember when I tried to talk about this with the pastor of the first church I went to after moving here. When he found out that I wasn't all that interested in women, he assumed that I was gay. Lack of interest in girls meant that my sexuality was "ambiguous" (does that mean bi?) No matter how much I insisted I wasn't gay, it just meant I was gay and in denial about it. "It's okay if you're gay [as long as you don't act on it]." "Go on some dates with some nice girls and experiment some [as long as you don't do anything sexual.]" There were a lot of things we didn't see eye to eye on. Like when I tried to talk about doubts I had about my faith. "The most important thing is having faith, so maybe you should focus more on feeling God, and not read things that will challenge your faith for a while." But the things I was reading were by people who had faith and dealt seriously with questions to which I found his really confident answers less and less convincing. I left that church just as I'd just been starting to get to know people and make some friends. A lot of the people were really nice and all, but I felt so depressed after the services. I just didn't even believe a lot of what he said in his sermons anymore which made me feel as though I'd lost my faith. But I hadn't. I still believed, just not the way he did, so I wanted to find a different church. I like the one I'm attending now so much more. The message that God is acting to heal our lives—to heal the whole creation—but I don't have to have all the answers and be totally certain about every doctrine, and that's okay. I'm learning to live with and be comfortable with uncertainty. Uncertainty is—
What am I? I want to know! I've never heard of anyone else who's like me. I don't even know what "like me" is. Even discussions of sexual diversity by "experts" in human sexuality textbooks aren't any better than my old pastor. They explain about homosexuality and bisexuality and transsexuality, and all sorts of non-heterosexuality. But still, everyone is straight, gay or bi. Everyone is sexually aroused by visual stimuli (except maybe blind people). Everyone. There is no discussion of exceptions. So pretty much, the expert opinion is that I don't exist. Thanks a lot. That'll do wonders for my self-esteem. Bastards.
So pretty much everyone agrees—from Ph.D.s in psychology to ignorant college students to traditionalist pastors: if I'm not straight, then either I'm gay or I'm bi. But I know I'm definitely not gay or bi. I've had crushes on girls sometimes—not too often—but I've never felt that towards a guy. In high school, there was this one girl, Rachel, whom I had a crush on for a couple of years. Of course, I never actually did anything about it. I don't think she even knew that I liked her. But when I'd think about her, there was this warm sort of feeling inside. I often wanted to spend time with her and to get to know her better. One of the main things I would think about is how I'd really like to get to open up to her and let her see inside of me—let her know all about the things that I want some-one to know about me that I'd only want to tell someone I was really close to—someone I really trusted. But there wasn't anything sexual about the desire. Really, I don't have any particular desire to have sex. I'm kind of curious, but that's about it: curiosity. At church they always told us to restrain our desires, which are apparently supposed to be incredibly strong, and save sex for marriage. For a while, I thought I was just doing a really good job—without any effort even—but I guess I always knew this was a lot easier for me than they indicated it should be.
So I know I'm not gay, but am I straight? Maybe a little, sort of. So should I say I'm sort of straight? But people would think that meant bi. I could just give up all pretensions of heterosexuality and tell people I'm straight as a sine wave (would they even get that?) It's the kind of joke that makes my college algebra students groan—not that that ever stops me from telling them.
If I tried to tell people how utterly bizarre I think the whole idea of "hotness" is—I mean people just look at someone and think…I don't even know what they think. It's completely outside my experience. It's just weird, but if I try to tell people how weird it is, they'll think that I'm the weirdo, not the rest of the human population…
The stop in front of train station is one of the main hubs of the city's bus system. In addition to shoppers and people who took the train, many passengers got off there to transfer to other busses. About two thirds of the people on the bus exited, including the math teacher, although the route did continue for several more stops.
Getting off the bus with the rest of the people pushing through to get out the doors, the math teacher glanced at his cell phone.
10:30—the time when the service started. Given the five minute walk from the bus stop to the church, there was no way to get there on time, but the math teacher did not like to be late, and tried to walk quickly.
I don't even know if God exists. I believe, sometimes just barely, but I know that I need God. And if God does exist—oh, I hope so—then this relationship means I am not totally disconnected. Even if I am always changing and no matter how deep we look we never find a 'true self,' if I exist in the mind of God… I am, because I am known.
The math teacher arrived just as the last refrain of the first hymn was being sung—one familiar enough to him. O love of God, how rich and pure. How measureless and strong…
The people sit down, and the priest begins to speak:
Priest: Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
People: And blessed be God's kingdom, now and forever, Amen.
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Flight Over the Garden
by ELECTROPANDA
As I migrated through the blushing clouds
with steady span, a mere shadow on land,
presented with haphazard motley crowds
of vegetation; I could understand
the earth's convulsion rippling through its plants,
that cut through her like broken mattress springs.
A mass vibrating with unceasing pants,
dark and shining, was spread beneath my wings.
They locked in many shapes, or rose alone
to gasp towards the sun, like some estranged,
excited lovers on a telephone;
with yearning, they were growing more deranged.
Whilst viewing this boudoir from well-lit sky;
I blessed it, but was glad that I could fly.
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From the Forum
A selection of posts from the discussion boards on the AVEN web site
Before too long, I imagine, seeing enough cases like these in clinical practice will force a change in the language of psy-chology. Instead of trying to diagnose someone with a "dis-order" of sexuality, a therapist meeting with someone whose sex drive is unusual (high, low, or non-existent) will help them figure out how best to adjust so they can live a healthy life. For some people, this will involve medication or thera-py aimed at increasing or decreasing their sex drive – not because they have a "disorder" while all us happy asexuals are just "different", but because they feel their quality of life would be improved if they wanted it more, or less.
That's my vision of a psychological utopia, anyway.
- Lirelyn, Thursday January 10th, "Distress caused by mismatched sexual desire" in For Sexual Partners, Friends, and Allies
I admit that it doesn't quite fit, in my mind, that someone with a sex drive can be asexual. This is something I'll probably never understand, not knowing what having a sex drive is like, so my own understanding of asexuality just doesn't factor that in. But that's only my own understanding.
I think ghosts's post highlights how important it is to come to term with differences between people of any community. We shouldn't be coming here to find a refuge from "the other side" - you have to get used to the idea that no-one is exactly the same as you. I'd even say that creating an identity that encompasses diversity amongst asexuals helps everyone here, in the long run, to find their place amongst sexuals, too.
- Penumbra, Saturday January 12th, "On defining myself and living in both worlds" in Asexual Musings and Rantings
Why [do I stay in a marriage with an asexual woman]? Let me count the ways...
1) I never tire of her company. My wife is interesting, intelligent, witty, determined, supportive, practical, generous, trustworthy and talented.
2) She's drop dead gorgeous. Even after 18 years she can melt me with her smile. And when we cuddle, we fit together perfectly.
3) We have personalities that complement each other perfectly. My wife is an endless source of good ideas. I have a knack for turning her ideas into reality. We're a great team like that.
4) She laughs at my jokes, praises my cooking, and puts up with my (very few!) faults.
5) When we got married and promised to spend our entire lives together, we both meant it. When we have problems, and we don't have many, the top priority for both of us is solving them, not deciding whether to cut and run.
And that's just some of them....
As far as sex goes, there are times when we both frustrate each other, so that sort of cancels out. And there are times when we don't, as well.
It's not a case of "putting up with" her - despite our occasional sexual incompatibility problems I feel incredibly lucky to have her in my life.
- Olivier, Saturday February 2nd, "why do you put up with your asexual partner?" in For Sexual Partners, Friends & Allies
AVEN posts belong to their respective authors and do not necessarily express the official views of the Asexual Visibility and Education Network.
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Life Without
By PILAR
It's the wind that wakes her up – a particularly violent gust against her window, loud like thunder. Today is her day off, she remembers as she opens her eyes into the semi-darkness of the tempest. The stereo next to her bed says it's 10.46 ; she closes her eyes again. One sleep-in a week never killed anybody.
But the sounds of the weather outside – the wind roaring, the rain tapping against the window pane – are both lulling her and keeping her in a pleasant state of half-awakeness. She stretches into her double bed, first her arms and then her legs, her back arching, unknotting her stomach and unfolding her lungs as she takes a deep breath – along with all the space ; but the space is hers already, hers alone, a childish satisfaction she keeps on patting and stroking mentally like a pet-thought, loyal and loving.
The sheets are lukewarm and soft against her, her pyjama pants and oversized t-shirt – got for free at some librarian convention ten years ago – their usual comfortable selves, and she smiles against her pillow as another gust of wind all but shakes the walls around her. It is absolutely delicious.
She had planned on going out and seeing a movie today, she recalls. On her own in the winter cold, wrapped in her warm coat and her own thoughts. Maybe that quirky-looking Will Ferrell flick, she doesn't remember the title right now. But the weather may discourage her in the end, and she'll stay in then, drinking something warm and jasmine-scented and watching one of the DVDs she borrowed from her friend instead, nestled under a blanket like an old lady. That would be a nice continuation of this morning, at least.
Suddenly the wind becomes stronger than ever and pushes a thick curtain of rain right against her window ; the noise makes her sit up in her bed this time, blinking into the darkness cast by those heavy grey clouds, so low she could almost imagine herself touching them. …yes. Alright ; it is decided then ; she's not leaving her place this afternoon. Today belongs to her and the nature outside is definitely too hostile. With a sigh and a twinge of regret at the loss of her bed's beloved warmth, she gets up. Time for her first cup of tea.
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Here's the deal:
AVENues is not written by high-faluting AVEN officials in a secret office somewhere. AVENues is written by you – by real live asexuals, demi-sexuals, not-sure-yet-sexuals, and their allies. That means that keeping things moving in here is up to you.
In every issue, we're going to need a ton of writing, and we're making it easy now by giving you a list of exactly what we want. Here is a list of what AVENues is made of:
News: If you were at (or know of) an event that had something to do with asexuality, we'd like to hear about it!
Opinion and theory: about asexuality. 300-1500 words is the best length.
Media: Have you spotted something asexual in a movie, book, song, or TV show? How are we being represented?
Poems and short stories with asexual themes.
The best of the AVEN forums: If you're hanging out online and see a post that deserves publishing or a hardworking asexy warrior who deserves recognition, tell us about it!
Reader responses: It only takes a few seconds to send us your take on the latest Food For Thought question, and if you have anything else to say to us, we love getting letters!
Art and photography: We normally use photos from AVEN meetups, but anything visual with an asexual or AVEN theme is well worth including.
Fun: Comics, puzzles, recipes – give AVENues' inner child something to do!
Send it all to newsl...@asexuality.org, and remember, we'll write back to you within three business days.
The full PDF version of this newsletter can be found here: http://www.asexuality.org/avenues/2008_01_05.pdf
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Asexual: A person who does not experience sexual attraction. Unlike celibacy, which is a choice, asexuality is a sexual orientation.
AVEN: The Asexual Visibility and Education Network, an online community and resource archive striving to create open and honest discussion about asexuality among asexual and sexual people alike.
AVENues: A bimonthly publication available online, created by members of the AVEN community in order to showcase our thoughts and promote discussion by and about asexuals.
For more information, visit http://www.asexuality.org.
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Contents:
1. News from January and February
2. Letterbox
3. "Untitled"
4. "Flight Over the Garden"
5. From the Forum
6. "Life Without"
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News from January and February
The AVEN forums have switched to using Invision software, and we are still getting used to the new way of posting – but the community of AVEN is still as thriving as ever. We have elected a new board administrator (The Evil Cashew) and a new beta-reader for AVENues, and have published a new Beginner's Guide for our Wiki.
The official AVEN pamphlets are finally finished! Anyone can download and print the pamphlets from our website, and we are looking for more professional ways of distributing them to other organizations.
The official AVEN Survey is also finally online. We are soliciting everyone's feedback – sexuals and asexuals alike – regarding questions about asexuality, our demographics, and the way AVEN is run.
Xaida, a German AVENite, will be attending the European Federation of Sexology conference in April to speak about asexuality. AVENites throughout Europe will also be gathering at Europride in Stockholm this year.
Worldwide publications are still interested in asexuality; new publications within the past two months include articles from the National Post, Brock University Press, and Elle Canada. Still in the works (with organizers looking for feedback from AVENites) include a student film in Manchester, a new zine, a screenplay, an article for a journalism class in Syracuse, an awareness-based documentary in the UK, and a thesis in discourse analysis.
Meanwhile, the popular asexual dating site www.platonicpartners.co.uk has expanded to the international level. In addition to people from the UK, those in the USA, Canada, and Europe are also now welcome. And we are pleased to announce the launch of www.apositive.org, a new site for theoretical discussion amongst asexuals and their allies.
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Letterbox
Got something to say related to the content of AVENues? Does something published here make you nod in agreement, pound your desk in disagreement, or scratch your head in sheer confusion? Talk to us by sending an email to newsl...@asexuality.org!
Here is a sampling of some of the letters we received this issue.
Asexual Heroes
I just wanted to respond to something that SAM B.I. mentioned in her article on why the freedom of asexuality is like a superpower (AVENues, Confessions of a Purple Superhero, Issue 11, 2008). She mentioned that asexuality will never "be instrumental in saving the world from destruction" but I disagree. I've watched a lot of movies about saving the world from destruction, and the heroes invariably get caught up in some romantic subplot. If these fantasy stories were realistic (which would make them not-fantasy, I know, but try to stay with me), the romantic entanglements should distract the heroes from their world-saving, and ultimately cause the destruction! So I'd love to have an asexual hero- they could focus more intently on saving me, planets, dimensions, or the universe!
-Marina
You don't want to spawn either? Holy cow, you people exist?!
Upon finding my way to AVEN earlier today, and consequently, this newsletter, I had the growing feeling that perhaps I was not the "default" heterosexual identity that I always assumed I was. I thought that asexuality was something you had to be professionally diagnosed to have or something and that it was pretty unlikely that I was asexual, though I've had moments where I wished I was and didn't know it. It would give me an excuse to not have kids. It would give me an excuse to continue my "single and loving it" mentality. The fact I've never been on a date in my life at age 19 gives me a sort of sense of achievement. And then I read the FAQs at AVEN and realized that I fit the asexual description a lot better than I thought. And as I explored the website I kept finding little "signs" that all told me, yes, this is the place for me.
So I'd just like to send a big THANK YOU to all the people at AVEN for being such a great source of information and assurance, in more ways than you know.
- Heather
Reader Feedback: The Best Thing About Being Asexual
The question about the best thing about being asexual was asked in a past AVENue issue, but no one answered it, so I will. The following entry was something I wrote for Issue 7:
Looks and appearance don't matter to me. Though it's a bit cliché, it's true that the inside counts. I also like a person who is respectful and doesn't slam me for my values of atheism or being a straight asexual girl. A bonus for that person would be if they were a cat person like me, but no two people have the exact same interests. I would like that person (provided that they were nice) regardless of not having everything in common with me.
Since this entry was from a while ago, it made me think more about myself. I read somewhere on the asexuality site about how orientation can change and it isn't concrete for everyone. (This was very new to me.) After reading that, I felt that my orientation changed when I was in high school. Back when I was in middle school, I was very boy crazy and was sad when they didn't like me back or when I watched other people date. When I entered high school, romance became less important to me, even when other people around me dated. And now as a college student approaching her 20s, I feel that romance is very overrated. I will now get to the point of my letter.
The best thing about being asexual is not having to be co-dependent. I feel that romance is based a lot on co-dependence. Second, I won't be a part of ownership. Possessiveness is another factor of romance, and I don't like the feeling of owning someone or someone owning me. I'm alright by myself and partnership isn't needed for me to be happy. But, don't assume that I'm a romance basher. It's okay if you're into that kind of thing, but personally, I think it's too forced on people and overrated.
- schiar88
--
Untitled
by A.C. HINDERLEITER
There are only two buses you can catch at the corner of Oak and Green. Bus 64 runs every ten minutes and goes downtown toward the train station. Bus 36 runs every 20 minutes and goes to the mall. On a cool Sunday morning in October, half a dozen people were standing at the bus stop. A high school aged girl complained to the boy she was with about being cold because she only had a light jacket on and it was so windy, and he put his arm around her under the pretense of keeping her warm. A little boy told his father that he was bored, asking when the bus would come. The father answered that the bus was supposed to arrive in about five minutes, but that the buses don't arrive exactly on time and that's why they have to arrive a little early and need to be patient. An elderly woman was resting on her cane, waiting quietly. A man in his mid twenties who had recently started teaching math at a small college was trying to fix his hair with his hands—he had been telling himself for the past two months that he needed a haircut but kept putting it off. There wasn't much point in trying to fix it except to move it out of his eyes after every gust of the autumn wind—it had become something of an uncontrollable mess of curls that did pretty much whatever it wanted.
I do exist. I'm convinced that I do, at least mostly convinced. I guess some worldviews say that everything is one and our sense of distinction is just an illusion. And I hear that the Buddhists have a doctrine of "no self" because we are always changing and no matter how far down you look you'll never find a soul or static anything to give continuity. That aside, I'm at least pretty convinced. It's supposed to be as self-evident a thing as there is, even without any "cogito, ergo sum" action. It's so annoying when people tell me that I don't. Not that anyone has ever told me this to my face. I mean, that'd be really weird.
Random guy: Hey! You don't exist!
I mean, like, how would you even respond to that?
Me: What the hell?
or maybe
Me: Are you like a solipsist or something?
I guess I could always use
Me: I know you are but what am I?
and leave him to work out the ontological implications of the grade school comeback. But it doesn't matter. No one has been that blunt about it. Usually they just don't believe me, or they think I'm lying or just don't get at all what I'm trying to say. I don't fit into their ideas of what people are supposed to be like. They don't have any categories to fit me into. I don't have any categories to fit me into. I just have to accept it because it's my experience—or lack of experience—every day of my life.
I remember one time in high school I was on the bus—the kind that generates never ending jokes about how we ride the short bus—and I was with some other students on the way to a chess match. Trying to pass the time, one of the guys—not a lot of girls were on the chess team—decided to ask us a question: "Who do you think is hot?" I suppose it's a common enough question among high school boys. One guy went first, and he told us about this one girl—strange I still remember her name is Melissa—who was really hot. Evidently she had big jugs. Then they teased him about how he liked her, but he insisted he didn't like her; he just thought she was hot. Next it was my turn. Who did I think was hot? Easy enough: no one. I thought no one was hot. I was shocked when they didn't believe me—I'd been telling the truth. But looking back, I guess it should have been obvious. I mean, which is more likely? That some teenage boy was afraid to answer because he'd get teased about it, or that he didn't think anyone at all was hot. Obviously the former because everyone thinks someone is hot. Except that I…
The bus arrived and he had to fumble around in his pockets to find the one he had put his bus pass in after he took it out of his wallet so he wouldn't have to search for it when the bus came. Then he had to join the line to try to get on as early as possible, but try not to be so rude as to hurry in front of the elderly woman, so he ended up only in front of the middle aged man and his son.
Ultimately it didn't matter. It was a Sunday morning and a third of the seats were empty. The rest were occupied by people probably going shopping, or to meet their family or their friends or to their jobs. Some, like the math teacher, were going to church. A few people were talking to their friends. Some, especially the younger ones, were listing to their mp3 players. A couple were talking on their cell-phones. One college-aged girl was talking to her boyfriend in a really cute voice about how she missed him so much and couldn't wait to see him that evening. A man was talking to his wife about the groceries she needed to buy and spoke into the phone much louder than necessary. The math teacher wished that he'd talk quietly, and imagined that half the people on the bus thought the same thing but that they, like himself, were too afraid to be the one to ask him to do so. Most of the people were just staring blankly at the floor or the seats in front of them or out the window at the apartment buildings and supermarkets and electronics stores and everything else that made up the urban landscape.
Riding on the bus is boring. I could stare out the window and look at the same buildings I see every time I take this bus. I wish I could read a book, but then I'd get carsick. The other people on the bus look bored too, but maybe I'm just projecting my feelings onto them. Who are they? What are they like? Why are they taking the bus? I don't know any of them.
Really, I don't know many people around here. I just moved here about a year ago and didn't know anyone then. I finished my Master's and wanted a job at a small university somewhere, but with only an MA and no teaching experience except as a teaching assistant, jobs were scarce and I had to take what I could get. So here I am in this strange city where I hardly know anyone. Most of the other teachers in my department are at least a decade older than me. Often two or three. I mean, they're nice and all, but it's hard to become close.
The other people on the bus, so many of them are just sitting there, waiting. I sometimes wonder if they feel bored like me, or lonely. Here we are, physically so close to each other, and yet so far—that's a cliché thought if I've ever had one.
But I can't explain it. Sometimes when I feel really disconnected from others, I have this feeling that without relationships I don't exist. Not like romantic relationships—I mean, I want that kind of relationship—but more like being connected to other people, that I matter to them, that what I do positively affects them, that I can get to know them and them me. And when that's not there—or at least when I don't see it—at the times in my life when I feel most isolated, I start to tell myself I don't exist. I don't understand that at all. Because, like, if I don't exist, who's telling this to whom?
So who are these people that I'm so close and yet so far from? Sometimes I'd like to watch them, but I know I have to be careful. If I look at someone too long, they'll think I'm staring at them—especially the girls. Because we all know that when a guy is staring at a girl, he's thinking about… What is it that they're thinking about anyway?
I remember this one time in grad school, I was playing badminton with some friends. There were five of us—four guys and a girl named Susan—so we had to take turns not playing. One time when it was my turn to sit out, there was this college-aged girl in the basketball court next to us practicing some kind of baton-twirling routine. I don't know what it was for, but I generally find things like that pretty boring. But there wasn't anything else to do, so I decided to watch her—I wanted to try to make myself interested. I mean, some people must be interested in it, so why can't I be too? I didn't have a lot of success.
Then that evening Susan commented on how I, like the rest of the guys with us, had obviously been interested in the baton-twirling girl. I wanted to deny it—it wasn't true—but how could I? Like, why else would a guy be gazing intently at her? To try to force himself to be interested in her baton-twirling? Obviously not, because nobody's like that.
So why didn't I want her to think I'm like everyone else? I guess because it's not true. But then why do I want people to think I am like everyone else? One time in college, I went across the hall to some friends' room to see what they were up to, and a couple of guys were watching some music video on TV. I don't remember what kind of music it was, but there was definitely plenty of booty shaking and lots of cleavage. No one was naked, so it wasn't that kind of video, but still, it was obviously supposed to be erotic. I guess I was looking for someone and he wasn't there, so I asked one of the guys watching TV if he knew where the guy was. He didn't, so I decided to leave. It must have been obvious I wasn't interested in the music video because one of the guys was really surprised by this.
"Don't you like boobs?"
Because the answer is "no" I really didn't want to respond to his question, given the strong expectation of "Of course I like boobs." So I tried to avoid answering—I hate lying. He followed up with another question:
"Are you gay? 'Cause if you are, I don't wanna be around you anymore."
It's nice to know how accepting some people can be… But I could answer quite truthfully that I'm not gay, and his faith in my interest in big boobs and tight butts was restored. I didn't feel like trying to tell him about false dichotomies and explaining how I really felt. It's not really lying if I let someone continue with false assumptions when I don't think I'd really get anywhere in changing them, is it?
But are these my only options? That I think that chicks are hot or that dudes are hot? Or maybe both? What about neither? Why are these the only options society gives me? I remember when I tried to talk about this with the pastor of the first church I went to after moving here. When he found out that I wasn't all that interested in women, he assumed that I was gay. Lack of interest in girls meant that my sexuality was "ambiguous" (does that mean bi?) No matter how much I insisted I wasn't gay, it just meant I was gay and in denial about it. "It's okay if you're gay [as long as you don't act on it]." "Go on some dates with some nice girls and experiment some [as long as you don't do anything sexual.]" There were a lot of things we didn't see eye to eye on. Like when I tried to talk about doubts I had about my faith. "The most important thing is having faith, so maybe you should focus more on feeling God, and not read things that will challenge your faith for a while." But the things I was reading were by people who had faith and dealt seriously with questions to which I found his really confident answers less and less convincing. I left that church just as I'd just been starting to get to know people and make some friends. A lot of the people were really nice and all, but I felt so depressed after the services. I just didn't even believe a lot of what he said in his sermons anymore which made me feel as though I'd lost my faith. But I hadn't. I still believed, just not the way he did, so I wanted to find a different church. I like the one I'm attending now so much more. The message that God is acting to heal our lives—to heal the whole creation—but I don't have to have all the answers and be totally certain about every doctrine, and that's okay. I'm learning to live with and be comfortable with uncertainty. Uncertainty is—
What am I? I want to know! I've never heard of anyone else who's like me. I don't even know what "like me" is. Even discussions of sexual diversity by "experts" in human sexuality textbooks aren't any better than my old pastor. They explain about homosexuality and bisexuality and transsexuality, and all sorts of non-heterosexuality. But still, everyone is straight, gay or bi. Everyone is sexually aroused by visual stimuli (except maybe blind people). Everyone. There is no discussion of exceptions. So pretty much, the expert opinion is that I don't exist. Thanks a lot. That'll do wonders for my self-esteem. Bastards.
So pretty much everyone agrees—from Ph.D.s in psychology to ignorant college students to traditionalist pastors: if I'm not straight, then either I'm gay or I'm bi. But I know I'm definitely not gay or bi. I've had crushes on girls sometimes—not too often—but I've never felt that towards a guy. In high school, there was this one girl, Rachel, whom I had a crush on for a couple of years. Of course, I never actually did anything about it. I don't think she even knew that I liked her. But when I'd think about her, there was this warm sort of feeling inside. I often wanted to spend time with her and to get to know her better. One of the main things I would think about is how I'd really like to get to open up to her and let her see inside of me—let her know all about the things that I want some-one to know about me that I'd only want to tell someone I was really close to—someone I really trusted. But there wasn't anything sexual about the desire. Really, I don't have any particular desire to have sex. I'm kind of curious, but that's about it: curiosity. At church they always told us to restrain our desires, which are apparently supposed to be incredibly strong, and save sex for marriage. For a while, I thought I was just doing a really good job—without any effort even—but I guess I always knew this was a lot easier for me than they indicated it should be.
So I know I'm not gay, but am I straight? Maybe a little, sort of. So should I say I'm sort of straight? But people would think that meant bi. I could just give up all pretensions of heterosexuality and tell people I'm straight as a sine wave (would they even get that?) It's the kind of joke that makes my college algebra students groan—not that that ever stops me from telling them.
If I tried to tell people how utterly bizarre I think the whole idea of "hotness" is—I mean people just look at someone and think…I don't even know what they think. It's completely outside my experience. It's just weird, but if I try to tell people how weird it is, they'll think that I'm the weirdo, not the rest of the human population…
The stop in front of train station is one of the main hubs of the city's bus system. In addition to shoppers and people who took the train, many passengers got off there to transfer to other busses. About two thirds of the people on the bus exited, including the math teacher, although the route did continue for several more stops.
Getting off the bus with the rest of the people pushing through to get out the doors, the math teacher glanced at his cell phone.
10:30—the time when the service started. Given the five minute walk from the bus stop to the church, there was no way to get there on time, but the math teacher did not like to be late, and tried to walk quickly.
I don't even know if God exists. I believe, sometimes just barely, but I know that I need God. And if God does exist—oh, I hope so—then this relationship means I am not totally disconnected. Even if I am always changing and no matter how deep we look we never find a 'true self,' if I exist in the mind of God… I am, because I am known.
The math teacher arrived just as the last refrain of the first hymn was being sung—one familiar enough to him. O love of God, how rich and pure. How measureless and strong…
The people sit down, and the priest begins to speak:
Priest: Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
People: And blessed be God's kingdom, now and forever, Amen.
--
Flight Over the Garden
by ELECTROPANDA
As I migrated through the blushing clouds
with steady span, a mere shadow on land,
presented with haphazard motley crowds
of vegetation; I could understand
the earth's convulsion rippling through its plants,
that cut through her like broken mattress springs.
A mass vibrating with unceasing pants,
dark and shining, was spread beneath my wings.
They locked in many shapes, or rose alone
to gasp towards the sun, like some estranged,
excited lovers on a telephone;
with yearning, they were growing more deranged.
Whilst viewing this boudoir from well-lit sky;
I blessed it, but was glad that I could fly.
--
From the Forum
A selection of posts from the discussion boards on the AVEN web site
Before too long, I imagine, seeing enough cases like these in clinical practice will force a change in the language of psy-chology. Instead of trying to diagnose someone with a "dis-order" of sexuality, a therapist meeting with someone whose sex drive is unusual (high, low, or non-existent) will help them figure out how best to adjust so they can live a healthy life. For some people, this will involve medication or thera-py aimed at increasing or decreasing their sex drive – not because they have a "disorder" while all us happy asexuals are just "different", but because they feel their quality of life would be improved if they wanted it more, or less.
That's my vision of a psychological utopia, anyway.
- Lirelyn, Thursday January 10th, "Distress caused by mismatched sexual desire" in For Sexual Partners, Friends, and Allies
I admit that it doesn't quite fit, in my mind, that someone with a sex drive can be asexual. This is something I'll probably never understand, not knowing what having a sex drive is like, so my own understanding of asexuality just doesn't factor that in. But that's only my own understanding.
I think ghosts's post highlights how important it is to come to term with differences between people of any community. We shouldn't be coming here to find a refuge from "the other side" - you have to get used to the idea that no-one is exactly the same as you. I'd even say that creating an identity that encompasses diversity amongst asexuals helps everyone here, in the long run, to find their place amongst sexuals, too.
- Penumbra, Saturday January 12th, "On defining myself and living in both worlds" in Asexual Musings and Rantings
Why [do I stay in a marriage with an asexual woman]? Let me count the ways...
1) I never tire of her company. My wife is interesting, intelligent, witty, determined, supportive, practical, generous, trustworthy and talented.
2) She's drop dead gorgeous. Even after 18 years she can melt me with her smile. And when we cuddle, we fit together perfectly.
3) We have personalities that complement each other perfectly. My wife is an endless source of good ideas. I have a knack for turning her ideas into reality. We're a great team like that.
4) She laughs at my jokes, praises my cooking, and puts up with my (very few!) faults.
5) When we got married and promised to spend our entire lives together, we both meant it. When we have problems, and we don't have many, the top priority for both of us is solving them, not deciding whether to cut and run.
And that's just some of them....
As far as sex goes, there are times when we both frustrate each other, so that sort of cancels out. And there are times when we don't, as well.
It's not a case of "putting up with" her - despite our occasional sexual incompatibility problems I feel incredibly lucky to have her in my life.
- Olivier, Saturday February 2nd, "why do you put up with your asexual partner?" in For Sexual Partners, Friends & Allies
AVEN posts belong to their respective authors and do not necessarily express the official views of the Asexual Visibility and Education Network.
--
Life Without
By PILAR
It's the wind that wakes her up – a particularly violent gust against her window, loud like thunder. Today is her day off, she remembers as she opens her eyes into the semi-darkness of the tempest. The stereo next to her bed says it's 10.46 ; she closes her eyes again. One sleep-in a week never killed anybody.
But the sounds of the weather outside – the wind roaring, the rain tapping against the window pane – are both lulling her and keeping her in a pleasant state of half-awakeness. She stretches into her double bed, first her arms and then her legs, her back arching, unknotting her stomach and unfolding her lungs as she takes a deep breath – along with all the space ; but the space is hers already, hers alone, a childish satisfaction she keeps on patting and stroking mentally like a pet-thought, loyal and loving.
The sheets are lukewarm and soft against her, her pyjama pants and oversized t-shirt – got for free at some librarian convention ten years ago – their usual comfortable selves, and she smiles against her pillow as another gust of wind all but shakes the walls around her. It is absolutely delicious.
She had planned on going out and seeing a movie today, she recalls. On her own in the winter cold, wrapped in her warm coat and her own thoughts. Maybe that quirky-looking Will Ferrell flick, she doesn't remember the title right now. But the weather may discourage her in the end, and she'll stay in then, drinking something warm and jasmine-scented and watching one of the DVDs she borrowed from her friend instead, nestled under a blanket like an old lady. That would be a nice continuation of this morning, at least.
Suddenly the wind becomes stronger than ever and pushes a thick curtain of rain right against her window ; the noise makes her sit up in her bed this time, blinking into the darkness cast by those heavy grey clouds, so low she could almost imagine herself touching them. …yes. Alright ; it is decided then ; she's not leaving her place this afternoon. Today belongs to her and the nature outside is definitely too hostile. With a sigh and a twinge of regret at the loss of her bed's beloved warmth, she gets up. Time for her first cup of tea.
--
Here's the deal:
AVENues is not written by high-faluting AVEN officials in a secret office somewhere. AVENues is written by you – by real live asexuals, demi-sexuals, not-sure-yet-sexuals, and their allies. That means that keeping things moving in here is up to you.
In every issue, we're going to need a ton of writing, and we're making it easy now by giving you a list of exactly what we want. Here is a list of what AVENues is made of:
News: If you were at (or know of) an event that had something to do with asexuality, we'd like to hear about it!
Opinion and theory: about asexuality. 300-1500 words is the best length.
Media: Have you spotted something asexual in a movie, book, song, or TV show? How are we being represented?
Poems and short stories with asexual themes.
The best of the AVEN forums: If you're hanging out online and see a post that deserves publishing or a hardworking asexy warrior who deserves recognition, tell us about it!
Reader responses: It only takes a few seconds to send us your take on the latest Food For Thought question, and if you have anything else to say to us, we love getting letters!
Art and photography: We normally use photos from AVEN meetups, but anything visual with an asexual or AVEN theme is well worth including.
Fun: Comics, puzzles, recipes – give AVENues' inner child something to do!
Send it all to newsl...@asexuality.org, and remember, we'll write back to you within three business days.
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