“Oh, little Johnny heard about condoms, anal sex and HIV testing from Mrs. Rahner? And why certain sexual practices are riskier than others? She also told Janey how to find her own clitoris? And that masturbation is normal? Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. See, she’s a volunteer and I guess she’s just not used to our rules.”
For all my openness and experience talking about this stuff, I have my parenting fails. My biggest one to date was two years ago when Daughter came to me questioning whether she was ace.
See, coming out as gay/bi was pretty easily done. She was in 9th grade. We were on our way somewhere and she mentioned that one of the gay pride groups in the city was throwing a gay prom.
“Angel wants to take me.” She said, appearing a little nervous.
“Do you want some dress pants?” I asked.
“Yeah, I guess.” and then to be clear, “Angel’s getting a dress. She likes dresses. She’s my date.”
“You guys need someone to drive?”
“Yeah. That’d be good.”
I had one of those super excited Mom moments. The minute I got home I emailed all her aunts to tell them that My Little Girl was going on her FIRST DATE.
Oh, and BTW, she had come out as gay.
First dates are HUGE for parents. They, no kidding, make moms cry. They are the same kind of milestone as the first step or first word. One of the worst things about coming out is often even semi supportive parents don’t react like this. We all know these stories, so I won’t belabor them.
However, maybe 12 months later, Daughter comes into kitchen talking about AVEN and asexuality. She is questioning whether she might be an ace.
Somehow that weirded me out--I only figured out why later.
I started in on the Things You Don’t Say to an Ace, right away,
“Oh, you’re young. You can’t decided something like that right now.”
“Oh, you just haven’t met the right person.”
“Oh well, I never had any interest until I was in 11th grade, don’t worry about it.”
I didn’t ask things that were none of my business, but it did cross my mind to have her hormones checked. And, oh God, was she going to have the same issues I had?
Then I started in on the parental blame game:
Had I done something wrong? There was, so far as I knew, no history of sexual abuse but was there something I didn’t know about? Maybe it was because I was so non affectionate and withholding. Perhaps she didn’t produce enough oxtytocin? I had a lot of issues with depression when she was little, perhaps that was why. Maybe I was too smothering or too indulgent or too...
Fortunately, a passing Good Parenting Fairy came by and whacked me with a clue stick. I shut my mouth on all the non helpful things I could say.
“So...uh...can you send me that link?” I asked.
Somehow, synchronicity was at play here. One of my sisters (sister by preference, not blood) is an ace and had just started coming out to people. So, she started talking to me about it. Whether Daughter asked Auntie to help Mom get a clue, I’ll never know.
As my sister started talking about it, all those “OMG, there’s something really wrong with me.” (and therefore something really wrong with Daughter) thoughts came to the fore. Fortunately, I have had years of therapy. Enough so I have a better chance of spotting when the problem is with my own thinking vs. the problem being outside of me. When my sister started talking about the realization she wasn’t broken, I found myself biting my tongue. That felt so strange to hear. Not broken. My sister isn’t broken. Of course she isn't. She's smart and funny and beautiful--but something’s not right if you NEVER want sex, right? Right?
I remembered all those discussion with my therapists, doctors, midwife etcetcetc. How much I felt that I was broken and I had to be fixed. And the things people call people who don't want sex. The deep knowledge that, were something to happen to Husband, I would not seek another sexual partner. Rather, I would move in with my female soul mate and we would be old ladies together. Whenever I’ve said that aloud, people smile and make remarks about it being nice that I’m so in love, but they don’t believe me. My sisters believe me. My soul mates take it as a given.
Exploring AVEN I saw so much of myself there. But I’m married. I have two kids. Sex with Husband is pleasant and fun. Husband is very attractive (small voice in my head points out that no one else in the world is). So I talk to sister more. Everything she says as an ace rings true. I start tentatively talking about my own inclinations.
One winter morning, not too long ago, I was taking Daughter somewhere and she starts talking about Demisexuality and Grey-A. I ask for a definition. She explains, using the Wikipedia:
A demisexual is a person who does not experience sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection with someone.I replied, unthinkingly, “Oh, but isn’t that...just...normal?” and then, BANG, another passing Good Fairy belts me in the head with a clue-by-four. Just like that, the world came into focus.
Holy shit.
Of course plenty of people feel sexual attraction without some emotional connection. I know this. However, “Love at first sight” is an oxymoron in my world. Ninety percent of romance stories have no meaning to me. Infatuation? What’s that? And, who fantasizes about people other than their partner? Oh yeah, lots of people. In an epiphanic flash, a million conversations run through my head. All the people who I was shocked to discover were attracted to me. All the people who complained that I was aloof, stuck up, a tease. Daughter just stares at me, having no idea that my head and my world have, if not exploded, at least moved on their axes. All the judgy things I have ever thought about anyone as they complain about feeling like they need sex rise up to haunt me. All those uncharitable thoughts become crystal clear. I am self aware enough to know that, for me, judgy is often a signal of envy.
I feel broken. Feeling judgy makes me feel less broken. I am ashamed to say that I have done my share of internal slut shaming. See, I simply don’t understand why anyone would have an affair. One night stands? Can’t even conceive of it. A lot of times, I have to know someone for a couple years before I’ll even let them hug me. But being demi isn’t a virtuous choice. It's not a choice at all. It’s just me. I can’t change it, although I used to try. I used to be so jealous of those people who could make that connection--not because I wanted what they had, but because I wanted to be not broken.
It was like the day my therapist told me when I was 19, "You know some people are bisexual. That's a real option."
Like last year when I found needed bifocals.
The world hasn't changed, just the way I see it.
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