“Asexual” is not an umbrella term.
“Aromantic” is not an umbrella term.
“Ace” is not an umbrella term.
“Aro” is not an umbrella term.
A demisexual is not an asexual. A gray-asexual is not an asexual.
A demiromantic is not an aromantic. A gray-romantic is not an aromantic.
“Ace” is short for “asexual,” not for demisexual or gray-asexual.
“Aro” is short for “aromantic,” not for demiromantic or gray-romantic.
I’ve been thinking about this post every day since it originally went up, and I want to do bunch of things here.
Most importantly, signal-boosting. You should all read the whole thing. It may not be an easy read for you if you are (like me) demi or grey-a, but it is vital that you do so. There is a lot of white-hot anger here, but please don’t let that make you disregard it; know that that anger is coming from a place of hurt, and a place of marginalization, and recognize it and own it as something you may have contributed to. You may disagree with some of the rhetoric used, but please do not focus on the details here, because the point being made is far too important to waste time splitting hairs.
This post is important to me, because although I have definitely had instincts telling me that it would be somehow appropriative of an experience I do not really have to describe myself as ace or asexual, I also know that I have not always been vigilant about listening to that voice inside me.
This post reminds me that while I am demisexual, and that is a real thing, and it is a thing that it is important to talk about, and it even makes me a part of the asexual community in some ways, none of this makes me asexual.
This post reminds me that my primary relationship toward asexuality and asexuals and aromantics should be one of allyship, not that of a peer. I do not know what it is to be asexual or aromantic, and I never will. And my demisexuality does make me privileged relative to asexuals; society is better set up to accommodate my experience of sexuality and my ways of organizing my life and relationships, and being understood is easier for me than it is for asexual people.
This post reminds me that it is important to keep asexual and aromantic narratives in the centre, to boost asexual and aromantic voices as much as possible both within and outside of asexual communities. Demis and grey-as often outnumber aces and aros, and our voices threaten to silence those most marginalized among us, and we need to pay attention to that tendency and do our best to stop it.
This is also complicated for me, because most of what I write about comes from a place rooted in lived experience, but what I can do, and need to make more explicit effort to do, is always, always take the time to step back and acknowledge the ways in which my experience is not an asexual experience, even while it may contribute to a larger examination of sexuality that includes asexual experiences.
This post has deservedly humbled me, and I am writing this to commit to remembering this feeling, and moving forward with it in my heart. I hope that some of you will hear its call as well.