Asexuality and phobias
May. 28th, 2011 10:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mystiri_1 posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
asexualityI was taking part in a discussion on facebook's asexual. group page where somebody asked why a man she talked to reacted in such an angry, hostile way to her saying that she was asexual. She didn't understand what he found so threatening about her asexuality. There's also a lot of online wank at the moment regarding whether aces qualify as queer or not. But here's my take on why people may find our sexuality - or lack of it - threatening.
Society pushes sex at you from every angle, and for men, the idea that sexual perfomance is the basis of masculinity. It's very similar, in its way, to traditional homophobia: men who are afraid that the positive feelings they have towards other men somehow threatens their heterosexual orientation even if those feelings aren't sexual in nature, and the lingering idea that homosexual men are somehow emasculated by their sexual practices.
'Real' men are supposed to have sex, and lots of it. It's all a load of bullshit, of course, but stereotypes usually are. Asexuals aren't sexually attracted to them - therefore they are somehow failing, regardless of the fact that it has nothing to do with them personally. Or possibly somebody has had sex with them in the past and failed to enjoy it - again, a threat to their own sexual identity and masculine confidence. Perhaps they don't feel a burning desire to go out and have sex all the time (the way 'real' men should), and it has them worrying that they are suffering from some kind of sexual dysfunction, and you just have to watch one ad for male erectile dysfunction to know how utterly disastrous this is. (Nothing like making you feel bad to get you to buy something.)
For women, it's the idea that our value lies in our attractiveness to the other sex. It doesn't matter how much we 'know' that this is shallow, objectifying and degrading behaviour: we want to be sexually attractive, because society judges us on those merits in the absence of its ability to see others - like intelligence, caring, personality - at a glance.
Feminism has both helped and hindered. We are supposed to be sexually active and enjoying it, these days; it is our right as liberated women. But asexuals don't want this, and some of the old stereotypes creep through - 'frigid', 'spinster', that sort of thing. 'Left on the shelf' is one of my favourites, because it is wonderfully descriptive of the negative connotations of not being in a relationship - nobody wants you. We don't necessarily want to be alone, but if sex is the basis for most modern relationships, then we don't have anything to offer. The idea of other reasons for a relationship - companionship, affection, support - all seem to pale in the absence of sex, because that is what modern society tells us we should want.
Ironically, a lot of this still holds true for non-heterosexual communities. The LGBT community has been fighting for a long time to be recognised, to have the same rights as everybody else. Some of them object to the fact that asexuals have 'passing privilege': we can have hetero-romantic relationships, and therefore are 'straight' - but we're not. We're not sexually attracted to the opposite gender; we're not sexually attracted to the same gender. They can still find us threatening to their own sexual identities just as much as the hetero-normative majority can. And because we're outside their norm, too.
A hetero-romantic asexual has some of the rights that they want - legally recognised marriage, for example - but may or may not choose to exercise them. A hetero-romantic or aromantic asexual will not have to deal with the persecution that comes with being in a relationship with somebody of the same gender. A homo-romantic or bi-romantic asexual still doesn't necessarily want to have sex with someone of the same gender - a state which may impact their own feelings of sexual attractiveness. At the same time, some may feel that it calls into question the long campaign for them to be allowed to have sex with somebody of their own gender without fear of religious, legal or societal persecution.
In the end, it's not that different from any other minority-based phobia or prejudice: it's because we're different. And in being different, we make others worry about how they are different, or what we might take away from them because of our differences.
Society pushes sex at you from every angle, and for men, the idea that sexual perfomance is the basis of masculinity. It's very similar, in its way, to traditional homophobia: men who are afraid that the positive feelings they have towards other men somehow threatens their heterosexual orientation even if those feelings aren't sexual in nature, and the lingering idea that homosexual men are somehow emasculated by their sexual practices.
'Real' men are supposed to have sex, and lots of it. It's all a load of bullshit, of course, but stereotypes usually are. Asexuals aren't sexually attracted to them - therefore they are somehow failing, regardless of the fact that it has nothing to do with them personally. Or possibly somebody has had sex with them in the past and failed to enjoy it - again, a threat to their own sexual identity and masculine confidence. Perhaps they don't feel a burning desire to go out and have sex all the time (the way 'real' men should), and it has them worrying that they are suffering from some kind of sexual dysfunction, and you just have to watch one ad for male erectile dysfunction to know how utterly disastrous this is. (Nothing like making you feel bad to get you to buy something.)
For women, it's the idea that our value lies in our attractiveness to the other sex. It doesn't matter how much we 'know' that this is shallow, objectifying and degrading behaviour: we want to be sexually attractive, because society judges us on those merits in the absence of its ability to see others - like intelligence, caring, personality - at a glance.
Feminism has both helped and hindered. We are supposed to be sexually active and enjoying it, these days; it is our right as liberated women. But asexuals don't want this, and some of the old stereotypes creep through - 'frigid', 'spinster', that sort of thing. 'Left on the shelf' is one of my favourites, because it is wonderfully descriptive of the negative connotations of not being in a relationship - nobody wants you. We don't necessarily want to be alone, but if sex is the basis for most modern relationships, then we don't have anything to offer. The idea of other reasons for a relationship - companionship, affection, support - all seem to pale in the absence of sex, because that is what modern society tells us we should want.
Ironically, a lot of this still holds true for non-heterosexual communities. The LGBT community has been fighting for a long time to be recognised, to have the same rights as everybody else. Some of them object to the fact that asexuals have 'passing privilege': we can have hetero-romantic relationships, and therefore are 'straight' - but we're not. We're not sexually attracted to the opposite gender; we're not sexually attracted to the same gender. They can still find us threatening to their own sexual identities just as much as the hetero-normative majority can. And because we're outside their norm, too.
A hetero-romantic asexual has some of the rights that they want - legally recognised marriage, for example - but may or may not choose to exercise them. A hetero-romantic or aromantic asexual will not have to deal with the persecution that comes with being in a relationship with somebody of the same gender. A homo-romantic or bi-romantic asexual still doesn't necessarily want to have sex with someone of the same gender - a state which may impact their own feelings of sexual attractiveness. At the same time, some may feel that it calls into question the long campaign for them to be allowed to have sex with somebody of their own gender without fear of religious, legal or societal persecution.
In the end, it's not that different from any other minority-based phobia or prejudice: it's because we're different. And in being different, we make others worry about how they are different, or what we might take away from them because of our differences.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-28 04:22 pm (UTC)I don't think the definition has changed, just been refined. Like I said, I think asexuals have some overlap with the queer community, but I'm not sure we fit there either. They were the ones that adopted the term queer, so who are we to dictate what that means? I personally feel that using it to define Ace's is a bit problematic BECAUSE our oppression is rather different from theirs. I can see how they might feel that we might be appropriating their oppression to be heard.
I do hope someday the GLBT community and Aces can work together on topics where there's overlap, but as it stands we're just on rather different levels, I think. We both have different issues that need to be addressed differently.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-28 04:29 pm (UTC)Previous definition: Queer = everyone not hetero-normative.
"Refined" = only those who can't 'pass' for straight. And yes, I have been seeing Bi/Trans folks getting excluded from the Queer definition.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-28 05:07 pm (UTC)Personally this is the first time I've heard of that phenomenon. I'm not sure how I feel about it. :/
no subject
Date: 2011-05-28 05:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-28 06:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-28 06:51 pm (UTC)