Asexuality is a type of sexual orientation, used to describe those who ‘experience little-to-no sexual attraction towards anyone, regardless of gender.’ Unfortunately, it’s often perceived as a symptom of something negative, whether it’s a physical or mental disorder, a bad experience, or a bad attitude towards sexuality in general. It’s still assumed that asexuality is akin to sex-negativity and that asexual people must have anti-sex attitudes. It’s a misconception that often leads to asexuality being excluded from sex-positive spaces and conversations about sexuality to a counterproductive degree.
As an activist, I often appear at Pride events – proudly waving the asexual flag – and whenever I did, I was met with similar criticisms. I’ve been told that asexuality is incompatible with Pride because it’s a space where sexuality is celebrated and liberation is celebrated. When I questioned a journalist who wrote an article criticising the inclusion of asexuality in Pride, she told me that asexuals would want to ‘stop gay people from kissing.’
It’s assumed that people must experience sexual attraction in a particular way, otherwise they are ‘unliberated’ people – stifled, constrained and disturbed by sexuality itself. Examples of this misconception even manifest in the way asexuality is depicted in documentaries.
A long-running gag in our non-fiction portrays – both in the UK and abroad – is to take an asexual person to a sex shop in a bid to get an uncomfortable reaction from them. The producers assume that asexual people must be either clueless or uneasy around anything of a sexual nature. Maybe they read the incorrect definition of asexual – the one that says asexual people are those with ‘no sexual feelings or associations,’ and took the ‘associations’ part seriously. The asexual person’s general awkwardness in an artificial situation is interpreted as the fear and confusion the audience are goaded to hope for, reinforcing the idea that Aces and sexuality just don’t mix.
But there are many asexuals who would disagree, like Meliza, 30, from the US. “I have an obsession with sex shops. I enjoy going to them and purchasing things for self-pleasuring. I also love purchasing sexy underwear and clothes. Even just seeing all the different things out there is really cool. I don’t think just because I’m asexual I shouldn’t be allowed to love myself and my body.”
There are also Aces like Mailie, who have been made to feel ‘too sexual’ for asexual spaces. “Asexuality doesn’t mean no libido or no need for sexual release. While some asexuals don’t have sexual feelings, some do,” Mailie explains. It’s a common misconception that asexuality literally means having no sexuality at all, but you can have sexuality without it being directed towards anyone else. Emmeril from Costa Rica still finds masturbation enjoyable: “It helps me to regulate my stress and anxiety, and the physical stimulation just feels awesome,” they explain, and that isn’t a rare sentiment.
“You don’t feel sexual attraction so you are ostracized from sex-positive spaces even though you still have sexual experience,” says Mailie from the US. “On one side while the other says: ‘You aren’t one of us because you have a libido or engage in sexual activities.’ It’s just painful to lose that community on both sides where you should be welcome. If we speak more about asexuality in sex favorable and sex positive spaces it paves the way to bridge that gap, to make that feeling of isolation lesser.”
Martin, 45 from Denmark, echoed that sentiment. “In my experience, spaces for asexuals only tend to become ‘echo chambers’ for sex-averse or sex-repulsed aces, so to talk about sex-positivity and including sex-positive aces is important, as they may not have anywhere else to talk about it.”
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While, of course, there are some asexuals who might be adverse to any kind of sexual material, and there are asexuals who do not have sex and would not participate in anything sexual with someone else, that isn’t a universal Ace experience. In fact, neither of these things are that uncommon in the Ace community. Some Aces find sexual material to be both educational, entertaining or something that aids in self-pleasure, just as some can find enjoyment in sexual acts with others, despite not experiencing sexual attraction.
“I enjoy sensuality/erotica in queer media. Sometimes I jokingly say my sexuality is ‘I blush when I see boys kiss’ but I’m not exactly sure why I enjoy it. It lives in the very undefinable area of my sexuality and I think there is a comfort in the distance between reality with my real body and experiencing something through fictional characters. I don’t feel the need to define it,” one anonymous respondent tells me – something I’ve heard many times within the Ace community, particularly among those who identify as ‘aegosexual.’
“I enjoy both erotic and sexual imagery, whether in photography, film or in writing. For me it’s about appreciating the body, what it can do and how it connects with other people. I find the body endlessly fascinating and beautiful, and appreciate its aesthetics in various forms,” says Martin. While Meliza also referenced enjoying erotic films, others learned more towards less visual media.
“As a young adult without the immediate draw to sexuality, I spent time attempting to engage in media that centered itself around this foreign notion,” says Jay from Australia. “I wanted to understand the world’s greatest fixation and I believe this gave me a broader understanding of sex than most non-asexual people my age. As with anything, be it research or practical based, you just need to appreciate your boundaries and know how close you can straddle your comfort zone. Beyond that I am an avid reader, and while I prefer smut to be built into a fascinating world and story, it is a sliding scale and I have read smut for smut’s sake on rare occasions.”
Natasha from Indonesia describes smut as being her favourite literature genre, and she highlights that it isn’t uncommon for Aces not just to consume the media, but to create it: “I greatly appreciate how sexuality and sex is portrayed in literature and media. It fills me with great joy that there are people who seek and enjoy intimacy in a way that I do not seek or enjoy. In fact, many of the fan artists and fanfic writers who write smut are asexual or somewhere in the asexuality spectrum. Asexuals bring a fresh and unique perspective on how sexuality is portrayed in the media.”
Asexuality brings a fresh perspective to sex-positives spaces, decentering the hyper-focus on your sexuality needing to be dependent on attraction to others, and showing that sexual liberation can take many forms – including more independent ones. There are lessons to be had for asexuals and non-asexual alike.
When I asked one of my anonymous respondents what they wanted to learn and explore as an Ace person, they said: “I want to learn more about different kinks that align with my sexual goals. As a way of connecting with other people, sex is a very neutral act for me. Instead I enjoy it only as a way of connecting with myself. Kink has allowed me to achieve that.”
Natasha spoke of how exploring their sexuality as an asexual person has been beneficial. “I became more appreciative of my body and became more grounded. Those erotic and sensual activities do not dim my asexuality, instead they complement each other because of the lack of end goal (i.e. having sex). The woman I am now is the woman that my child self would never though she could achieve, I am incredibly proud of that.”
Yasmin Benoit
Yasmin Benoit is a British model, multi-award-winning asexual activist, writer, speaker, consultant and researcher. Described as the "unlikely face of asexuality" by Cosmopolitan Magazine, she quickly became a leading voice for the community after publicly coming out in 2017. She started the #ThisIsWhatAsexualLooksLike movement for diverse asexual visibility and representation and co-founded International Asexuality Day (April 6). Yasmin was the first asexual grand marshal at NYC Pride 2023, and the first asexual person to lead Pride in London in 2024. Partnering with Stonewall, she released a groundbreaking report into asexual discrimination, and has since received a visiting fellowship position with King's College London's Policy Institute.
