#acecommunity

[qwear]

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[stitchyace1997]

Neurodivergent asexuals, sound off in the comments, if you’re 23-30, I want to make more friends in the asexual community.

I’m a musician/singer, and a gamer. My main game is Fortnite, but I also love the LEGO video games, and Mario Kart.

[lgbtsupport]

So I’m an ace girl, who’s trying to figure out if I’m bi too. I think I had crushes on a few girls when I was younger, and maybe also later on (but since I assumed love=sexual attraction, I assumed it wasn’t romantic). Imagining myself marrying a girl feels a bit strange but not bad. But I’m worried I’m somehow faking it? Or confusing attractions. Like I should have known I was romantically attracted to those girls? And these last years I’ve only been attracted to guys (maybe one girl recently).

Hi,

I can understand how it’s confusing but don’t worry!

You’re not faking it just because you don’t have frequent attraction to females. Being bi isn’t being equally attracted to both genders, you can have a preference for males or females, it doesn’t matter you’re still bi.

Even if you’ve only had a crush on one girl recently and 100 crushes on guys you’re still 100% valid as identifying as biromantic.

- Lola

[acesaround]

Is it crazy to want to meet someone like me?

I’ve never met another asexual (well at least I don’t think I have). For just once, I want someone to be able to talk to that just understands what it’s like to live in such a sexualised world with patriarchal standards. To have someone who will get uncomfortable with me when my friends start talking about sex and how hot that boy is and what not. Just someone who understands. Is that really so crazy?

[lgbtsupport]

howdy! so i don’t really know my sexuality, but i think girls are aesthetically pleasing, i want a relationship at some point, but probably no sex. what would that be called? you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to! thank you so much!!

Hi,

So what you’re describing is pretty much a homoromantic asexual! Which is actually really common.

You can find more information on the AVEN website it’s a forum for asexual people of all types and all ages!

Hope this helped.

- Lola

[lgbtsupport]

I'm 14 and think I'm ace. Some of my friends who I've shared my thoughts with think I'm too young to say, but I don't know. I've never been interested in anyone that way (I'm a lesbian, but I think I'm homoromantic because I don't like girls in THAT way). I guess I'm just asking if it's too young to tell?

Hi,

I don’t think you’re too young to know you’re ace at all. We all know our sexualities at different ages some find out earlier or later than others.

Come from an asexual I figure it out when I was 12 and to some people that may sound extremely young but my thoughts from then have never changed.

But even so if you identify as asexual now and decide one day that the label doesn’t fit you anymore then that’s also totally fine! It’s your identity and nobody else’s.

You’re as ace as you feel.

- Lola

[morkekaos74]

I’m on Tumblr to create, share thoughts, and connect with others in a respectful way. This is a safe space for expression, interests, and genuine conversation. I’m asexual, so I don’t engage in hookup culture or sexual comments, and I’m not open to that kind of interaction. My boundaries are clear and I expect them to be respected. I also know how to use the block button when they aren’t.

[newyorkcityaces]

NYC Isn’t As Ace As You Think: Being Asexual in a City That Won’t Stop Selling Sex

There is a strange assumption people make about New York City, a kind of cultural shorthand that says that if a place is diverse enough, loud enough, expressive enough, then it must automatically be inclusive of everything. It is the city of everything, right, the place where every identity has a corner, every subculture has a home, and every kind of person can exist without question. And to a certain extent, that idea holds up. You can walk through different neighborhoods and feel the shifts in culture, language, expression, and identity almost block by block. It is one of the reasons people romanticize New York, why they hold it up as this pinnacle of modern openness. But there is a gap between visibility and understanding, and if you are asexual, that gap becomes impossible to ignore.

Because here is the thing that does not get talked about enough. A city can be progressive, queer-friendly, and culturally expansive, and still center sexuality in a way that makes asexual people feel like outsiders. Not violently excluded, not necessarily discriminated against in obvious ways, but constantly reminded that the default experience, the expected experience, the celebrated experience, is one rooted in sexual attraction and desire. It is in the media, the conversations, the dating culture, the nightlife, the advertising, and the general rhythm of how people interact. It is just there, everywhere, all the time, like background noise that you cannot turn off.

And sometimes it is not even background noise. Sometimes it is loud, direct, unavoidable. A perfect example of that, at least from my own experience, is the way the Museum of Sex gets advertised across the city. Now, to be clear, the existence of that museum is not the issue. Cities have adult-oriented attractions. People are interested in sex, and there is nothing inherently wrong with spaces dedicated to exploring that topic. If someone wants to go, learn, experience, whatever, that is their choice. That is not what this is about.

What this is about is the saturation. The sheer, unavoidable presence of it in public space. You get on a bus, and there it is. Not tucked away, not subtle, not something you have to look for. It is right there on the front of the bus, the first thing you see as it pulls up. Not one bus, not a few buses, but what feels like all of them, over and over again, like the city itself is insisting that this is something you need to think about whether you want to or not. And that is where the problem starts to take shape.

Because for people who are not constantly thinking about sex, who do not center their lives around it, who may actively not want to engage with it at all, that kind of constant exposure becomes exhausting. It is not just an ad. It is a reminder. It is a push. It is the world saying, again and again, this matters, this is normal, this is what people are into, this is what you should be aware of. And if you are not part of that, if you do not connect to it, then you are the one who feels out of sync.

There is also this strange hesitation people have when talking about discomfort with sexual content. The moment you say anything, there is this fear that you are going to sound prudish, or judgmental, or like you are trying to police other people’s interests. And that is not what this is. This is not about shutting anything down. It is not about saying the museum should not exist or that people should not enjoy what they enjoy. It is about questioning why it has to be so aggressively present in shared public spaces where people do not have a choice in whether they engage with it.

And yes, I will say something I usually avoid saying, because it gets dismissed so easily, but it applies here. Think about the children, sure, but also think about anyone who just does not want that in their face all the time. Think about people who are younger, who have not even had those conversations yet. Think about people who are uncomfortable with sexual content for personal, cultural, or identity-based reasons. Think about asexual people who are constantly navigating a world that assumes sexual interest as a baseline. Public space is supposed to be shared space, and there is something off about one very specific kind of content dominating it so heavily.

What makes this even more frustrating is that in a city like New York, there is so much room for nuance, for balance, for different kinds of representation. This is a place that prides itself on making space for different voices, different identities, different ways of being. And yet, when it comes to asexuality, there is this quiet absence. Not hostility, not outright rejection, but a lack of consideration. A lack of awareness that not everyone experiences the world through the same lens of attraction and desire.

Being ace in New York is not about being unable to exist. You can exist here. You can find your people, your spaces, your routines. But it often feels like you are existing in a city that was not built with you in mind, a city that constantly reinforces a version of normal that you do not share. And it is not just about one museum or one advertisement. That is just the most visible, most immediate example. It is about the cumulative effect of a culture that never really pauses to consider that someone might not be interested in sex at all, and that this is not something that needs to be fixed, questioned, or overridden.

At the end of the day, this is not a call to remove things, to censor, or to shut down businesses. It is a call for awareness, for balance, for a little bit of consideration in how public space is used and who it is meant to serve. Because diversity is not just about adding more of everything. It is about recognizing difference in a meaningful way, including the differences that are quieter, less visible, and less talked about.

And if New York really wants to live up to its reputation as a city for everyone, then that has to include people who are not interested in sex, who do not want to have it constantly marketed to them, and who deserve to move through the city without feeling like their existence is an afterthought.