We live in an overly sexualized world, and that always caused problems for me. People would mention how so-and-so was hot, and I wouldn't know how to respond. People would be in relationships or develop crushes, something I never understood. I turned an interest in a person of a different gender (usually because they were intelligent and we had similar interests) into a "crush" just to try and be normal. I felt ... broken, somehow, because I couldn't fit what seemed to be the required mold of the American teenager.

Then, one day a few years ago, as I was on the Internet, I came across the term "asexual." And that was when it clicked for me. I wasn't broken or wrong in some way, like I felt I was -- I just was asexual.

AVEN (the Asexuality Visibility and Education Network) says the following about asexuality and asexuals: "An asexual is someone who does not experience sexual attraction. Unlike celibacy, which people choose, asexuality is an intrinsic part of who we are. Asexuality does not make our lives any worse or any better, we just face a different set of challenges than most sexual people. There is considerable diversity among the asexual community; each asexual person experiences things like relationships, attraction and arousal somewhat differently. Asexuality is just beginning to be the subject of scientific research."

Roughly 1 percent of the American population is asexual, a slightly smaller number than those who are gay or bisexual. However, the number may be higher than previously thought, as it is rare for people to come out as asexual -- it doesn't matter in the same way as being gay or bi does. That's not to say that it doesn't matter, because it does, but a lot of aces (the slang term for asexuals, the same as using "gay" for "homosexual") don't feel the need to come out, because sex is a private thing, and people don't necessarily need to know that someone has no sexual attraction, although, as asexuality is gaining recognition, this is starting to change.

While we are still working on gaining recognition outside of our own community, we have a way to recognize other aces -- the so-called ace ring. This is a black ring, typically plain, although it can also be decorative, worn usually on the right middle finger. The ace ring is a symbol rarely, if ever, recognized outside the community, but it isn't meant so much to demonstrate being ace to those who aren't ace as it is to demonstrate it to each other.

For aces, their romantic orientation (which works the same as sexual orientations, just with romantic attraction, falling in love, as opposed to sexual attraction) is more often what they can have trouble figuring out, and I know that I did. For instance, I knew that I was ace as soon as I heard the term and knew what it meant, but it took me a lot longer, and a year in a relationship, to figure out my romantic orientation. I knew that I wasn't heteroromantic, but I didn't know any more than that. I thought that perhaps I was demiromantic, which is when you only fall in love with someone when you have a pre-existing emotional attachment with them, but, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that love outside of a platonic or familial sense was entirely foreign to me, despite having a boyfriend at the time. That was when I realized that, in addition to be being asexual, I was also aromantic (a lack of romantic attraction and more or less the romantic equivalent of asexuality; often shortened to aro).

Aros can still form meaningful relationships that can code as romantic, usually called queerplatonic relationships (QPRs). I'm fortunate enough to be in a QPR with one of my best friends, and certain things that we do come across as romantic, such as liberal use of the term "I love you" and calling each other "love."

As with all other members of the LGBT+ spectrum, aces are subject to labels and untrue assumptions. For instance, the most common responses I get to telling someone that I'm asexual is "what does that mean?" or "you just haven't found the right person yet." As another example, one within the professional world, up until very recently, the DSM classified asexuality as a mental disorder. Acephobia is found both inside and outside of the LGBT+ community. It can be an unfortunate fight for aces to be accepted within the community, since we're often told that "we aren't queer enough" to belong. Heteroromantic aces are often called straight, and many of us are told that we are trying to hard to be oppressed or something similar. Acephobia isn't always as commonly addressed as homophobia or biphobia or any other phobias found in the LGBT+ community, largely because fewer aces actually come out (although there is a list of eight things you should never say to an asexual). Take me, for instance. I am technically out, as I do not consider my asexuality a secret and will discuss it if asked, but it is not the same as my cousin coming out as a lesbian -- the difference largely lies in events such as my cousin bringing her girlfriend to family functions. I'm not saying that it's a problem; rather, it is harder to hide or deny sexual orientations (or romantic orientations, to be fair to non-hetero or -aro aces) that could include a relationship with the member of the same sex.

There are, of course, the jokes about asexuality and the comparisons to other sexualities. They're not meant to be offensive, and myself, along with many other aces, find them very humorous. My favorite is this one:

Others I like are the comparisons between sexualities (I am aware that these do not include all sexual orientations; I did not come up with them, just saw them online):

Heterosexual: door opens one way

Homosexual: door opens the other way

Bisexual: door opens both ways

Pansexual: door is a revolving door

Asexual: door is a wall

and

Heterosexual: All the hot people are gay!

Homosexual: All the hot people are straight!

Bisexual: All the hot people are taken!

Pansexual: Everyone is hot -- what do I do?

Asexual: Shut up; I'm trying to rule the world here.

That's not to say that all aces want to rule the world or are criminal masterminds or something, as tends to be a common trope in media. Rather, it's more a reference to the amount of time and energy most people seem to spend thinking about sex and related topics, and I once saw a post wondering where all that time, energy and brainpower went in aces. The logical conclusion is, of course, that we are plotting how to take over the world, which leads to that unfortunate media trope of aces being the bad guys, which simply isn't true. We're just as human as everyone else.

Finally, a big thing that people don't realize about asexuals is that they do experience aesthetic attraction or aesthetic recognition. This is the ability of aces to realize that someone is good-looking (not "hot;" that is a sexual term), and also the reason that I knew that I wasn't heteroromantic (from an aesthetic standpoint, I find females much more attractive; I am more likely to say a girl is gorgeous than even comment on how a male looks).

Just like other members of the LGBT+ community, aces aren't really all that different from everyone else. Our lack of sexual attraction really isn't that big a deal, as it has no effect on anyone and often isn't even noticed (although this has led to a covering up of the asexual community, as no one really knows that they're even there).

Occasionally, asexuals are represented in the media, which is great in terms of visibility. Still, there are several stereotypes about asexual people which lead others to make unfounded assumptions. For more information about asexuality posts at The Asexual Agenda are great resources. Also, to learn which myths and misconceptions to need to be avoided click here.