I got seriously greased the other day at work. Maybe I asked for it, I do work in *gulp* executive retail. It’s a pretty cosy job, and because I try to actually do my job, I also have to be nice to people. The ball-crushing, corporate dyke type is one of my favourites. But just because I’m such a trooper, I also include all the sex tourists who come into my shop, the most recent of whom tried to coerce me into a tangy Malaysian blow job in the changing room. Is there really something about my job that suggests that just because I work in an environment where one has full reign to try their wait-til-Fair–Go-hears-about-this-poorservice attitude on me, they can also treat me as consumable in any other regard? Well after a few lolcanoes and reflective discussions on the subject, I think not.
I felt sullied. Needlessly melodramatic as usual. But still, sullied. I could have used this badly crafted segue to ease me into a number of topics. The pink dollar. Sex tourism. South East Asians with an eye for corporate fashion… Nah, today’s romp will be on asexuality. Asexuality is the lost art of, essentially, having no sexuality. Asexuality, despite this seemingly simple pretext, is very poorly understood, and just like all queer issues, won’t be understood until it is acknowledged and made visible to the public. Unfortunately for the cause, asexuality isn’t often featured in a lot of queer rhetoric, mostly, I figure, because it isn’t taken seriously or isn’t as steamy as gay queer issues, like Bebo.
Asexuality is effectively invisible and I’m happy to be proven wrong on any of the following bold statements. There’s no marketing towards asexuals, no songs written for them specifically, and no bars. Because there’s so much sex present in the media and advertising, sex (especially hetero) becomes so entrenched in what we associate with music, partying and buying clothes and cars and drinks, that anything contrary or non-sexual is relegated to the not-sexually-active heap. In this process, asexuality is seen as a negative and encumbered existence, with no room for stereotypically youthful things like passion and sex. I think it must be very difficult to try and fit in as a young asexual, and probably rather confusing.
Young people who are not sexually active are often criticised for being so, and a big negative emphasis is put on virginity. In the eyes of others, the line between not wanting any and not being able to get any is so blurry it ostensibly doesn’t exist. In respect of someone who may in fact be unknowingly asexual, or just someone who does not feel ready to have sex, it would be a sex-positive thing to promote psychologically safe sex. I know a lot of young people, gay people particularly, who, in the face of various existential dilemmas, have somewhat turned off their sexual feelings in what they might call, and I myself have called, an asexual phase. So sure, lots of us have these feelings, but it’s unfair to call asexuality a phase, as it detracts from the experiences of people who are asexual all their lives. So what if the 40-year-old virgin was a 40-year-old asexual? You don’t always have to have a taste to know you don’t like it.
Personally, I could talk or not talk about sex for hours and still find sex to not talk about. If this interests you, there’s Asexuality Aotearoa, Gerald the asexual receptionist from Shortland Street, and of course UniQ! Yay! Aroha nui.