My Truth, My Pride as a Demisexual
I discovered I belong on the asexual spectrum at 30, and that I was non-binary at 32. During the period you’re supposed to be in search of your identity - my teens and early adulthood - I couldn't pinpoint why I felt apart from others, even if I did what was expected of me as a young woman. I was a good student, had fun with friends, went to parties, had a “proper” long-term relationship with a man, and even had a child - all of what women are “supposed” to do in life, right? But still, something was missing.
Realizing that I was demisexual was like finally knowing why I always felt like I didn’t quite fit into any social situation all of my life until now. Being older and realizing that you are, actually, not “straight,” makes you look back and analyze years and years of situations and decisions that seemed “normal” at first, but not quite so.
For me, it was quitting my scout group, which I loved, when I was 12 years old because as the kids got older a romance element became introduced that I didn’t want to take part in. It was seeing my friends getting boyfriends and gossiping about boys, and me being not quite interested, but not seeing it as weird, because it was my honest feeling.
The pressure was there though. My wish every New Year since I was 17 to 21 was to have sex. To get what the hype was about. To not to be perceived as a child, inexperienced, or immature any longer.
Even so, I didn’t do anything too concrete to get my wish. I did go out to clubs for dancing and a bit of flirting. But at that moment when another person comes close with the intent of touching and kissing, that was my limit. I couldn't bear that a complete stranger would try to touch me with a romantic or sensual intent. And kissing? No way.
Why would I let a person I don’t know, and therefore don’t trust, touch me in an intimate way?
And knowing that this was my truth, that no matter what anyone else - friends, family, mass media - said I should do as a young person, kept me sane and living true to myself. Many years later I learned how to name this truth.
I am demisexual. For me, my sexual attraction appears after I connect emotionally with another person and I trust they won’t mock me, my body, or my queerness. And this is where my pride as a demisexual comes from, in recognizing this aspect of myself as true and intrinsically mine - an essential part of me, that I recognize and cherish.
Even if I can't come out yet to my family, even if in my country being asexual is not even a blip on the social radar, I was never wrong about what I was feeling, never broken, never incomplete.
