Why We're Proud

Asexuals have a curious relationship with Pride month. Aces are unquestionably a part of the LGBTQ+ community, if they choose to be (contrary to what some would tell you, the "A" in LGBTQIA stands for "asexual" and other "a-" identities, not "ally"). "If they choose to be" is an important caveat, however; while most of the scholarship on the subject regards asexuality as a sexual orientation, some aces don't see it this way. Rather, they see asexuality as the absence of a sexual orientation, and they don't necessarily relate to the sex-positive LGBTQ+ community or participate in Pride. That is their choice, of course. I myself am rather ambivalent on the subject.

But for this, my first Pride month as an acknowledged asexual, I wanted to investigate whether asexuality is something to be proud of, and why. To do this, I must first establish what it means to take pride in something.

A simple, but functional definition that I subscribe to is that pride comes from defying the odds and overcoming adversity—it is something earned through hard physical or emotional labor. An athlete might take pride in training for a triathlon and winning a trophy, for instance. Ethnic or national pride comes from withstanding persecution or war. And too much pride, of course, is a bad thing, as grey-bearded wise men throughout the ages have warned us.

So, did I "earn" my asexuality? Well, yes and no. Asexuality is simply a fact of who I am, and always have been. In this respect, it's nothing to be particularly proud of, any more than my left-handedness or the color of my hair or eyes. But accepting that I'm asexual was a long, arduous process. For me, coming to terms with my sexual identity required a degree of self-awareness that came only from hard life experiences. It took years of emotional labor to overcome the weight of societal expectations and embrace who I really am, and I'm happier for it today. (This process of self-realization is something we aces have in common with the broader LGBTQ+ community, as I've written elsewhere.)

"Be proud of your self-awareness," wrote one commenter on social media whose views I solicited for this article, "Lots of people are so out of touch with their sexual identity that they are just living the life they think they're supposed to live."

There is a another school of thought, however.

"It isn't merely our sexual identity of which we're proud, but our struggle to come to terms with it."

"You take pride in being yourself, being ace is just a secondary quality," wrote another commenter, "Celebrate yourself first. Pride is about you being you." Another wrote, "For me, it's not a matter of pride in being an ace. It's just having an acceptance of who I am, plain and simple."

I admire, but respectfully disagree with these wholesome sentiments because, by this standard, "straight pride" or "white pride" would be considered valid. There's a reason these forms of "pride" are seen as pernicious; you can't truly be proud of something you haven't earned. As laudable as it sounds to "be proud of who you are," it isn't merely our sexual identity of which we're proud, but our struggle to come to terms with it.

But others disagreed slightly with my formulation. "You don't have to actually be proud of being ace, not in the same sense of being proud of an accomplishment or something," wrote one commenter, "All the talk of pride and stuff is more about refusing to be ashamed of something that's simply a natural part of you."

"I've always felt Pride is more about taking pride knowing who we are and demanding respect for that in spite of the world frowning at us," wrote another, "You don't get to make me hate myself for this, I'm proud of myself and will treat my identity with dignity."

But I think these commenters would agree with me that pride comes from overcoming adversity. We're often told that asexuality "isn't a thing." It's a hormonal deficiency, perhaps. Or we "just haven't met the right person." We're told that a sexless relationship is "unhealthy" or "unnatural," that desire for sex is what makes us human (despite being a trait we share in common with animals.) However well-intentioned these sentiments may—or may not—be, they are forms of invalidation that we encounter frequently. This is the adversity to which I refer.

Even some within the LGBTQ+ community itself will play what's become known as the "Oppression Olympics" game, pointing out that asexuals haven't been subject to the kind of persecution that lesbians, gays, bisexuals, and transgender and other gender non-conforming persons have throughout history. This is certainly true, and no one suggests otherwise. But this doesn't invalidate the struggles that aces do go through, many of which we have in common with the broader LGBTQ+ community. Asexuality is often pathologized, for example, just as homosexuality once was. This isn't a game, and there are no trophies.

Not all aces take particular pride in being asexual, but those who do, and anyone who has struggled with their sexual identity, have a right to be proud (especially when it sometimes feels as if all of society is out to invalidate us.) It isn't merely the fact of being asexual that we're proud of—or gay, or lesbian, or transgender—it's qualities such as self-awareness, emotional intelligence, and perseverance on the journey to self-realization, and I think these are qualities worth celebrating each Pride month.