A Voyage Into Unknown Identities

Until recently, I'd been of the firm opinion that identities limit rather than liberate. The rest of the world spend their time trying desperately to stuff everything they see into their pre-conceived compartments; I did not want to help them stuff me into one.

Now, I'm not overly disdainful of compartmentalising as a whole. I'm a bit of a fan of evolutionary biology, and as such I understand exactly why we have this predisposition. We need the boxes to understand the world in which we operate. Dangerous predators, poisonous plants, distinguishing friend from foe - all had to be very well developed over the 2.6 million years or so since humanoid beings have been roaming the surface of the planet - in order for us to continue to be roaming today.

BUT - I also think we need to be cognizant of this penchant for stuffing things into convenient boxes. It is the reason we've been fighting racism and all the other 'isms' that still plague us today. 'Us versus them' has its evolutionary roots in reason; but as well developed, thinking entities it is more than time for us to start modulating this sort of behaviour.

Thus I always felt stifled by the strict boxes society has constructed when it comes to gender and sexuality. I probably realised the sexuality thing first, as I have (thankfully, considering our history) grown up in an era where homosexuality and other things queer are at the forefront of modern discourse. As a teenager, it seemed that there were two options - you were either straight, or you were queer (in the all-encompassing sense). The question mark always hung in bold over my head for others to peruse. I never lost much sleep over it, but it was certainly a factor in the development of my character in those formative years.

In terms of realising I was an Ace, I didn't have one of those epic lightbulb moments some people have. Until semi-recently, I never really thought too much about it. I knew I was a bit outside the norm. I remember deciding when I was a teenager, quite melodramatically I can now see, that I was destined to be "forever on the fringe of all things", in the world but not of it, that sort of thing. I had just never really thought this was wrapped up in sexuality, or lack thereof. Looking back, that was probably a factor. While other kids my age were riding the rollercoaster of raging hormones and new experiences, I was not. I kept to myself, without being too cripplingly introverted, and devoured literature and knowledge.

I think I could certainly see the difference. I have kept a journal relatively systematically since I was 16. I was flicking back through this (with a wry, indulgent smile on my face at some of my naive though usually well-written sentiments) the other night, when the word "asexual" jumped out at me. I read the entry. It was a thought-journey into why I was experiencing things differently to my peers. I had used the word as an adjective: "I just seem to see things through an almost asexual lens - while other people I know have an entirely different set of glasses." Pretty astute for a 16 year old, I thought smugly to myself. It was 11 years ago - and if you think there's not much out there on asexuality now, there was much less back then!

Then it seems the word sort of receded into the background until a couple of years ago. I guess as a young adult, you sort of have this idea that you're simply waiting for yourself to grow up. You're biding time, almost, until one day you'll suddenly be whole and complete and wise. Obviously, a part of gaining that wisdom is realising (sometimes slowly, sometimes with a jolt) that you're not in a waiting room, or if you are, the thing you're waiting for isn't showing up. It seems to me now that it's about being present in the present, so to speak. Point is, when I was younger, I assumed that I wasn't a sexual person because that was all coming later, once I'd "grown up".

I did a bit of soul-searching (by which of course I mean Google-searching) and came to the rather easy conclusion that I am, in fact, asexual.

That there, I realised, is a label! And instead of limiting or restricting me as I believed a label would, it has had an almost uplifting effect. As tough and independent and solitary as I have developed my character to be, I was affected by the idea that seemed to come out of suddenly being a part of a community:

"So Matilda's strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone."