The emotional labor of educating about asexuality
I haven’t been on Tumblr in months, but I wanted to log back in and share some conversations I’ve had this past week that illustrate my experience of being a Christian, sex-averse asexual.
Specifically, I’m considering how much of my personal [a]sexuality I need to share with people in the church in order to prove that sex aversion/asexuality is real and establish my credibility to advocate for the re-affirmation and celebration of celibacy as a New Testament-supported, legitimate calling for Christians of ALL sexual orientations.
Content: sexuality, masturbation, Christianity, oppression of women, invalidation and too many other related things to list all of them.
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Here’s the thing: I WANT to educate people. I want to be understood. But sharing information about my personal [a]sexuality with people I barely know is emotionally draining. I don’t know how I might have to defend my experience, my reality, my story in the moments immediately following my words: “I don’t experience sexual attraction. I am repulsed by the thought of engaging in sexual contact with anyone.”
All four of these conversations were with other Christians. They all took place over Facebook. They all were people I only had contact with via Facebook; I did not know any of them outside social media. I am relating them in the order in which they took place.
Episode 1: The friendly but too-invasive man
He private messaged me after reading some of my comments on a public page about Christian sexual morality. He seemed pleasant, and he appreciated the views I had expressed. He asked me my views on the morality of certain sexual acts, including masturbation. I explained that the Bible never explicitly prohibits masturbation; however, Jesus forbids lusting. Since most people cannot mentally separate masturbation from lust, however, masturbation is wrong insofar as it promotes continued lust in that person’s heart.
He seemed to agree with me in theory, and then asked me if I thought it was possible for anyone to masturbate without lusting.
And this is where I had a decision to make. I could have just said, “Yes,” and left it at that. But looking back, he almost certainly would have pressed the question. In the moment, I saw an opportunity to educate another Christian about asexuality and sex aversion, so I decided to risk being vulnerable.
So I brought my experience into the conversation to support my argument. No, I don’t experience lust. Yes, I do masturbate. No, it doesn’t bring me any joy or meaningful emotion. Yes, it feels “good” in the same way scratching an itch or or relieving oneself feels good. No, I don’t think about anything sexual during the activity.
His intrigue was communicated in question after question, soliciting my above explanations. I wanted to educate him, but I started sensing that he was more interested in the novelty of the juicy details of my life rather than trying to learn about a very small, marginalized group of people. Perhaps he was just being positive and friendly, but his manner seemed too eager, and I became uncomfortable. I tried two or three times to change the subject, but he didn’t get the hint. Finally, I firmly explained that the conversation was becoming too personal and I no longer wanted to discuss this. Thankfully, he stopped, and we ended the conversation.
This would not have been all THAT remarkable IF it weren’t for what happened the next day.
He messaged me, “How are you?” I didn’t really know what to say to that, so I didn’t reply. (Side note: People, that is seriously one of the worst ways to start a conversation via text! Get to the point if you want to discuss something particular.) A few hours later, he said, “Why are you ignoring me?”
That’s when I lost my patience. I told him I had no obligation to carry on a conversation with a stranger, and that not only was he making me uncomfortable, but that he was bothering me. To his credit, he apologized and didn’t message me again.
Episode 2: The Christian “single women’s group”
A few months ago, I signed up to take an online course for single women that discussed how to love and make the most of life while single, from a Christian perspective. While I already loved my single life, I was hoping to connect with other Christian single women who were wanting to do just that (because I’m always looking for Christian singleness positivity. Part of the course involved joining a Facebook group with other participants, which would last beyond the time frame of the course.
For a while it was good, but after the course time frame and material ended, the hottest topic became dating. I was OK with posts about non-committed, platonic, socializing, confidence-building dating. But then girls started posting about new committed romantic relationships that were starting or about to start. And so many people were congratulating them.
OK. No. That’s not what I want to see on my Facebook feed. I want SINGLENESS POSITIVITY, not end-your-single-life positivity. So I said something. Because there are zillions of relationship-centric groups online and off for Christian women to be part of. It couldn’t POSSIBLY be too much to ask that we have ONE romance-feee space for us, right?
Apparently that was too much to ask. I was accused of being hateful and mean. For defending the radical idea that posts about being NOT single shouldn’t be in a group for SINGLE women, I’m hateful and mean. Amazing. Except it shouldn’t be amazing. I’m ace and sex-averse, and they aren’t. I keep hoping to find camaraderie with single straight women, and I keep getting let down AGAIN and AGAIN. Because I’m not one of them.
I left the group after the creator sent me a long message telling me the group was for singleness positivity AND relationship positivity. How utterly nonsensical. I didn’t care so much about that particular Facebook group, but I was shaken by being let down. Again. I was shaken by the understanding that I’ll probably never find the community I’m looking for among straight women. I can delude myself into thinking it will work out, but it can only last so long. I just felt so terribly alone.
So I reached out to one more person...
Episode 3: The consecrated virgin
I have a Facebook friend who is Catholic and has taken the vocation of consecrated virginity. I’m not the best person to explain the nuances of what that is, because the idea is relatively new to me. Basically, she is set apart for the Lord, and she is foregoing sexual activity for life. This practice is recognized by the Catholic church, and it has ancient roots (famous martyrs from the early church such as Cecilia and Lucia/Lucy pledged their virginity to God’s service) with New Testament precedent (see 1 Corinthians 7).
I’m not Catholic, but as a sex-averse asexual, this practice deeply appeals to me. And after the debacle with the women’s group, I just really wanted to talk to someone I could KINDA-SORTA relate to, even if not totally.
Guess what? This was actually a positive conversation! Yay! I want to it include it here because ... Despite what I said a few paragraphs ago, I still want to believe there’s hope somewhere.
I told her I didn’t experience sexual attraction and was disgusted by the idea. She said she experiences attraction to men, but she knows consecrated virginity is what she is made for, and she doesn’t want to change that. So... Maybe not exactly how I feel, but the pretty darn closest I can find on Facebook right now!
One thing she told me that discouraged me somewhat, though, was that her vocation is not looked on favorably even by many Catholics. Officially, they may celebrate it, but not all individual Catholic people are supportive.
... As I was about to find out for myself...
Episode 4: The frighteningly patriarchal guy
He private messaged me after we were exchanging comments on theology and church issues on one of my posts. I had accepted his friend request; we had one mutual friend in common, and we seemed to enjoy discussing church-related topics.
He looked back through some of my older posts, and then he messaged me asking about a specific post of mine that was a very veiled reference to my asexuality.
I took a deep breath and told him I did not experience sexual attraction and was repulsed by the idea of sexual contact. Because he was Catholic, I thought he would be at least somewhat supportive.
To my dismay, he said women were created to bring happiness to men and if I just “did my duty” I would find some happiness as well. Furthermore, he said Christianity is about submitting to a will other than our own, even if we don’t like it. Furthermore, he said things would be so much easier if my dad just arranged a marriage for me, and that I could probably make some man really happy.
You guys. Somehow, I was able to find and walk the line of sticking to my beliefs while patiently educating him without alienating him. Did I mention this conversation took place between midnight and 3 a.m. this morning? After everything else that happened this week?
Conclusion:
I’m facing the fact that if I want to help make asexuality understood in the church, as well as work for the re-affirmation and celebration of celibacy as a New Testament-supported vocation for Christians of ALL sexual orientations — I have to put myself on the line, open myself for gawking and critique and invalidation and threats and misunderstanding and twisted half-truths and...
And I need to think hard about how much I really want to be that emotionally drained.
For now I “mourn in lonely exile here.” But mysteriously, my high priest, Jesus, is not unable to sympathize with my weaknesses (Hebrews 4:15).
