Thursday, June 13, 2019

The Flightless Bird Pride Parade (A Metaphor)

I recently had the experience of hand feeding an emu. I've tried feeding an ostrich before and gotten my skin pinched (no fault of the ostrich), but surprisingly the emu was much more precise in its ability to remove dried out popcorn kernels from my bare palm.

I'd like to pretend that I'm bringing this anecdote up because of a certain empathy I imagine I have for flightless birds; knowing that you have wings and a tail in all the right places but for whatever reason you just can't do the one thing birds are historically known for. Yeah, I could probably make a decent argument for opening the blog this way, but the truth is very different. See, whenever I share my blog posts on Facebook, a snippet of the first paragraph always appears with the link. And frankly, I'm happy to let the whole world think that I'm blogging about emu feeding. Obviously I'm not.

I'm blogging about asexuality. I haven't wanted to. Ever. For me it's a subject that ranges from painful at its worst to irrelevant at its best, so I've never had any motivation to bring it up. But here with June being LGBT-ETC. Pride Month, maybe I feel compelled to address the elephant missing from the room. What exactly is asexual pride supposed to be?

Let's start with something a little more fundamental. How do you define asexuality apart from a lacking of something? Google will know. asexual: (adj) without sexual feelings or associations. Well that helped a hell of a lot. It doesn't seem like 'or associations' really adds anything helpful except making it sound more scholastic than 'without sexual feelings 'n stuff'. It's kind of hard to take pride in an adjective that technically applies to lower life forms like Protozoa and inanimate objects like snow shovels.

I don't know if you've ever picked up on this from films or magazines or rooms with more than one person in it but sex is valuable. In fact, a majority of social situations seem to equate attractiveness and/or prowess with value. What does that mean for an asexual? Do you grow up wondering whether or not you have any value?

So when it comes to a concept like asexual pride, what exactly is there to take pride in? I'm proud of things I've done, like written comedy, danced in a music video, acted in a silent film. I even have a twisted sense of pride about some things I've chosen not to do, like to never read a Harry Potter book. But asexuality isn't any kind of accomplishment or choice on my part. It just...I don't know...is.

And to piggyback off of other things I don't really know, I don't really know what the value of blogging about this is. It's certainly not making ME feel any better revisiting memories of things I'd just as soon erase from my history. I'm only writing about it at all because I have a kind and understanding wife; my biggest cheerleader who believes in me a lot more than I ever have. She wants me to be proud of who I am, and I'd never want to fall short of being the guy she sees when she looks at me. And who knows? Maybe my child self could have processed his asexuality better with a little guidance from the present me. And if that's the case, then maybe there's a chance some other me-like soul out there could stumble across this post and take something worthwhile from it. So here it goes.

1. You already suspect that something is missing. Somehow you just feel like you're different, even if you can't process for yourself what that feeling is, much less explain it to anyone else. And you're right to feel this way. You are different. I'm happy to tell you that it's not a bad thing (it isn't) but I don't expect you to believe me. Because it's going to feel like a bad thing. You're going to feel like you don't belong. Like something is happening around you that you just can't connect with. It's going to hurt.

2. Adolescence is going to make it worse, because it's a freaking roller coaster for your hormones; and not a fun roller coaster, but one of the old wooden ones that's at least a decade overdue for refurbishment. There is nothing that can be done about this. Adolescence is a test of endurance. It's not going to be who you are forever.

3. There's a big difference between being asexual and aromantic. The fact that you're one and not the other is going to be a huge internal conflict for you. You're going to crave intimacy, but you're not going to have the desire to express it through sex. You have three options. You can do what I usually did, retreat from the intimacy you want. That's going to be lonely, and you're going to risk convincing yourself that nobody wants you, but it let's you at least feel some control. You can also do what I occasionally did, embrace the moments where you can experience the intimacy you desire by faking the desire that you're not interested. These are going to be mistakes. Probably mistakes you're better off making than not (remember, adolescence is when you're bound to screw it up), but be ready for a broken heart and some damage to other people you leave behind. And you can do the thing I only did once, be honest about it. It's a complete relinquishing of control and you'll never feel more frightened by the vulnerability. That's terrifying, but it's real. And isn't that what you ultimately want?

4. Asexuality affects how you feel and how you view yourself, but it has much less to do with how the world feels or views you than you'd expect. For example, it doesn't serve as a shield to being sexually assaulted, even at the age of twenty-nine. Don't be surprised if it takes you a few months to realize that's what happened to you.

5. Never underestimate the value of being trustworthy. It's possible that your asexuality is going to allow females to view you as approachable, even if it's not for romantic purposes. I don't know if it's a simple cause and effect or if it's just a factor. But know this, when one of your female college friends reveals to you that she's been raped, and she's telling you that while she's alone with you in her own dorm room, that is a big fucking deal to her. Never forget that you were the guy she was willing to open up to.

6. And this last thing is the most important. There's a very real possibility you might wind up alone. Asexuality may aggravate that fear but at the end of the day it's not the cause; everyone has the potential to wind up alone. The pain of isolation is heavy, and it's natural to want to blame it on something. Asexuality is a convenient scapegoat, but don't. You didn't choose this and it's unrealistic to judge the quality of your life against the hand you haven't been dealt. Stick to the one you have. And that hand has an advantage that you may not be aware of until it's no longer relevant. Do you know what's worse than being alone? Being with the wrong person. And do you know why people wind up with the wrong person? Well, any number of reasons, but at the top of the list is because they've made a dramatic decision using the wrong organ. You won't have to worry about that.

If you are blessed enough to find that right fit, you'll know. For the first time in your life you'll feel truly like you. The pain doesn't just go away, but at long last you'll allow it to surface. You'll cry, and your special one will be in front of you with open arms and a genuine smile of encouragement and acceptance. You're loved. I hope that happens for you. It did for me, and I know I'll get to hold on to her forever.

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