When I was in elementary school, I knew that gay people existed. Many people had told me it was wrong, but I knew they existed, I knew it was an option.

When I was in middle school, I knew that bisexual people existed. Many people had told me it was wrong, but I knew they existed, I knew it was an option.

Eighth grade rolled around and my friends started talking about how hot male celebrities were and I got this fuzzy feeling of confusion: I wasn’t attracted to them like I was supposed to be.

So there I was, thirteen years old at a lunchroom table, assuming the only orientations that existed were gay, straight, and bisexual. I wasn’t attracted to guys. I assumed I had to be gay.

And gay became an integral part of my personality. I created a tumblr, followed gay blogs, shipped girls together, I did everything I thought a gay girl was supposed to do.

Only, as the years passed, I felt less and less at home, because every time I saw a post about how hot a female celebrity was I got this fuzzy feeling of confusion: I wasn’t attracted to them like I was supposed to be.

But I ignored it. I was fifteen years old, laying in bed, scrolling through posts I didn’t fully identify with. The only options were gay, straight, and bisexual. And I wasn’t attracted to guys.

In sophomore year of high school, I came out as gay.

Over winter break, I spent a lot of time on the internet, feeling broken and confused. I was gay but I wasn’t attracted to girls. I scrolled through the lgbt tag, looking for an answer, and came upon a list of identities.

I found asexual and demisexual in it. Gay had been a huge part of my identity for two years. I grabbed demisexual and ran with it, because maybe, if I found the right person and got close enough, something would click.

It never did. As the school year flew by, I thought about asexuality more and more, and in early spring, I settled with it. It made me feel a little broken, but hey, I was still homoromantic, so I couldn’t be all that broken, could I?

By the summer between sophomore and junior year, I no longer felt broken. I still had a safe space in the queer community and I was loud and proud about who I was.

That same summer, I met a bisexual girl and an aroace girl, roommates at a summer program. My asexuality and homoromanticism became something I talked about often, an even bigger part of who I was.

Junior year of high school, a girl asked me on a date and I said yes. After all, I liked spending time with her and I wanted to be closer to her, that’s what romantic feelings were, or so I thought.

A month into the relationship I realized my feelings couldn’t be romantic. I liked cuddling with her and I liked talking to her, but I never wanted to kiss her. I never wanted to hold her hand.

I looked back, and I realized every single ‘crush’ I had was exactly like this. I wanted to cuddle and I wanted to be closer. I never wanted romance. I just wanted a stronger freindship.

It was terrifying. I felt so utterly broken and confused because if I wasn’t gay, who the hell was I? I remembered aromanticism and I talked to my aroace friend, and for the first time I truly identified with what was being said.

Despite this, I continued to feel broken. I found some aromantic blogs, and I sent anons, and I read the faqs, and day by day, I accepted myself more

But there was still something missing. The fandoms I had become a part of, the girls I still shipped, that hadn’t changed. What changed was the fact that suddenly I wasn’t welcome there.

Because my junior year is this year, and as I was finally feeling comfortable with myself, the discourse began. I am told that I’m basically straight, that I have no place in the community I have called my home for three years.

Maybe if that’s all it was, I would be able to brush it off as hate and reassure myself I was queer, that I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

But the thing is, I’m also being told that I’ve never experienced oppression, that I never felt like an outcast because of who I was.

And you’re partially correct, I have never felt like an outcast because of who I am. But every day I have felt like an outcast because of who I’m not.

Since I was old enough to talk I’ve been told I will have crushes. Since I was in middle school, I’ve been told by my parents it’s okay who I have crushes on, that if I like a girl it’s okay too.

But I’ve never been told it’s okay not to have a crush. In fact, during truth or dare, every time I said I didn’t have a crush people told me I was lying, and I learned to make them up.

Since I was in middle school, I’ve been told it’s perfectly normal to be sexually attracted to girls or guys or even both. All are normal.

But I’ve never been told it’s normal not to be sexually attracted to anybody. And so when I was lectured by adults on how I need to be careful when having sex, even if I’m really attracted to the person, I smiled and nodded, not bothering to correct them.

Since I joined tumblr, I’ve been flooded with posts about how it’s okay to love who you love. No matter who you’re attracted to you’re a valid individual. I never had to look to find these posts.

But I’ve never just stumbled across a post telling me it’s okay to not have crushes and it’s okay not to be attracted to anybody. I had to search those out by following ace and aro specific blogs.

So now I’d like to present to you the definition of oppression:



oppression

[uh-presh-uh n]

noun

1. the exercise of authority or power in a burdensome, cruel, or unjust manner.

2. an act or instance of oppressing or subjecting to cruel or unjust impositions or restraints.

3. the state of being oppressed.

4. the feeling of being heavily burdened, mentally or physically, by troubles, adverse conditions, anxiety, etc.

And I dare you to tell me that I’ve never experienced oppression.

