That ring worn throughout the community

And my black, gray, white, and purple pendant

These things are not just jewelry

But symbols of the societal norms we've bent.

 

“Just a late bloomer” was a misplaced bet

As it turns out I'm not even a flower

And it’s not that I’m just not ready yet

That was heteronormativity wielding its power.

 

We've refused to deny our asexuality

(Some of us, our aromanticism too)

Declared that the A no longer stands for Ally

We need everyone to hear our point of view.

 

I myself am learning not to minimize

When harm is called out, to resist the urge to justify

Language like “just friends” may be normalized

“Platonic bonds are lesser” isn’t true, yet is often implied.

 

If some asexual folk desire

To kiss, cuddle, and go out on dates

The other aces’ situations aren't dire.

Please don't think of any of us as doomed to sad fates.

 

Plagued by thoughts of “not enough”

Many aces push past their own comfort level.

If we don't “go further” into sexual stuff,

We fear unceasing rejection, a lonesome hell.

 

We were taught virgins and prudes should be ashamed.

It's not fair, not just, not easy to overcome.

So when we do figure out all that needs to be reframed

Many of us feel pride that we can march to our own drum.

 

“I'm just asexual” says the character on TV

As she casually dismisses marching in parades

But I've seen aces on the sidelines with joy bursting free

As they see us carrying posters with ace puns displayed.

 

Too much of sexuality has been hidden in euphemisms

While being treated as private and personal

Leading me to my current brand of vocal activism

Where sharing my experiences is quite purposeful.

 

Validation is healing and oh so necessary

And for too long it wasn’t even conceivable.

Now that is changing — the progress is extraordinary

We refuse to let asexuality remain quite so invisible.