So I’ve told my coming-out story about 45 billion times, and it’s not even that exciting of a coming-out: I basically was like “oh, that makes se- I’M ACE” after seeing a post on the Asexuality Blog one fall day in 2014. Since then I’ve made a lot of great friends and learned a lot of new things — about myself, about sexuality as a whole, and about the world — in the process of learning about asexuality.
One thing I’ve never understood, however, is why so many folks on the outside see asexuality and people expressing their aceness as being in some way a “bummer” or unfortunate. Being ace is pretty cool, at least in my experience. Critics of ace activism seem to want to pin us into a tragic corner. They’d like us to mourn the fact that we aren’t sexually attracted. My question is: why mourn something you never had to begin with?
And it goes without saying: asexuality is vast. No two aces are the same. Asexuality isn’t a point on a graph; it’s its own spectrum. And when you add the romantic/aromantic plane to all this, it gets downright buckwild how many combinations you can get!
Of course, what this comes down to is that aces aren’t robots, we’re not plants and we’re not unhappy because of our asexuality. We’re unhappy because of Nazis.