Disclaimer: I am well aware that not everyone who writes fan fiction is a woman. And I also know that there are many non-binary genders whose perspective may not be appropriately covered here. But the discussion that was started began as a discussion between hetero men and women. I recognize that a lot of women I know personally who write fan fiction are gender fluid and/or something other than hetero, and that a non-hetero male perspective would probably be significantly different. I don't want to leave anyone out, so if you've got something to say from another perspective, please do.
In the aftermath of the whole Fandom vs Journalists fuckup which I'm happy to say it sounds like the fangirls won, mildrednbobbin asked a very interesting question, which was this:
Do women wear romance goggles?
As it turns out, I have a lot of feelings on this subject, probably because of that whole idea of "just" friends is something that I have put a lot of thought into. So much, as it turns out, that it's taken me a couple weeks to get my thoughts in order. Because the thing is, being as I am, there is no such thing as "just friends." For me, friendship is it. It's as far as I go, and the deepest combinations of feelings I am capable of. It's different every time. It's deep and meaningful, and sometimes difficult and fraught with affection and admiration, and deep, true feelings, that I sometimes feel pressured to keep half-hidden, because of knowing that so many others feel like friendship is just what you have aside from those other feelings. So throwing that Just in front of friendship is like slapping a barrier on my relationships, saying, "we go this far, but no further." Which is ridiculous, of course, because where romantic relationships tend to exist within pretty well-established structures and patterns, and sexual desire is, from what I can gather, largely autonomous, a thing that happens without you having any input other than (in the best scenarios) to say yes, I will pursue this feeling, or no, I will not, friendship is, as I said, varied and complex in it's in and outs and preferences and cherishable moments. So when looking at why women tend to see romance even when men insist there isn't one, I first want to examine the point I made on the actual post; that women are taught from an early age that there will one day be someone for them who will fulfill every possible need, whereas men are encouraged to look for a fullfilling life outside the home.
Today's tactics for keeping women separated from men seems to exist in a kind of divide-and-conquer method. Think of how many heroines we get who are proudly "not like other girls." Think of the constant messages that women are catty, that women competing with other women is somehow much less clean and honorable than it is when men do it, that women are insecure and jealous of each other. Think of the media's sudden interest in the brutality of "girl-on-girl" violence and bullying, of the excuses that "she just fell in with a bad crowd." and "she's not really like that." and all the many, many stories in which the romantic lead is, "not like any girl I've ever met." Add it all together and you'd almost get the impression that we're discouraging girls and women away from other girls and women, wouldn't you? The fact is, we teach women when they are still girls, that if you want to run with the boys, you're going to have to set yourself apart from the rest of "them." We live in a culture where friends are that thing that girls have before they start dating. Because other girls will try to steal your boyfriend, or because other girls will call you a slut, or because a guy may love you, but hate your friends... Meanwhile, men and boys are encouraged to never take the "opposite sex" too seriously, lest they be subject to endless ribbing from friends. Media narratives hugely reinforce these stereotypes; romantic comedies with female protagonists tend to be all about getting the guy, about getting him to notice you, getting him to fall in love with you, getting him to drag you out of whatever misery fate has dropped you in. When friends do feature (which is rare enough) It's usually a story of how one lifelong friend (because there is only ever one) has to get over her jealousy at being replaced, and be happy for her friend to be leaving her. Conversely, taking a comedy about men and relationships, (which is almost never called a romantic comedy) The love story is generally not about falling in love, but about how his friends help him get the girl, or about how difficult it is for him to maintain his boy-time with his friends. A lot of the time, in men's stories, the love story has already happened. He's either married, or else comfortably single. In media and other storytelling forms, men are encouraged to have strong multifacted bonds with other men, and keep their relationships with women as self-contained as possible. Women are encouraged to pursue strong bonds with maybe one or two women if they can get it, but also understand that it is inherent in their nature that their most fulfilling relationship will be the romantic one, and with the knowledge that no woman can ever truly trust another. I remember when I was 19, a friend of mine who identified as bi, introduced me to her new boyfriend. As soon as he had me alone, he asked me, "So, when did you two stop fooling around?" I was pretty shocked.
"What? Did she say that?"
"Well no. She says you two are really close. And obviously, she's bi, so-" When I told him he had it completely the wrong way around, that nothing ever happened between us, and it never would, he seemed completely flummoxed. When, fuming, I told my friend she should dump him, because he was obviously using her for sex, she got angry with me. She responded with,
"Oh, don't be so judgemental. Of course he's going to think that. Guys always do."
Which is kind of a segue into my next point. Women's behaviors are constantly monitored. Women are not asked so much as ordered, to consider the implications and thought processes of other people. It's a lifetime of "If you wear that skirt, guys might think you're asking for it." "You don't want to come off too ________ or people will think ________" "You know, some people could take what you've just said the wrong way. Be careful you don't offend anyone." For men, by contrast, that sort of censoring comes up much less often. So I think another part of why male writers, producers and actors tend to shrug off the ideas presented in say, slash fan fiction, is largely because it really doesn't occur to them. And unlike women, they can then safely assume that it has never occurred to anyone else either. If you'll notice, women authors and actors are typically much less bothered by the idea of fan fiction then men are. (Sadly, there are not enough women producers to test the theory.) I'm not saying men's attitudes and opinions are never challenged but they're more likely to have only ever been challenged by other men. Women interpreting words or performance as different from what an actor or writer intended is more likely to throw them. And of course, when we're talking about a romance between two guys, that throws up a whole lot of, if not blatent homophobia, certainly a general threat to that character's perceived heterosexuality. Women's opinions, thoughts, and stories, are open for interpretation. Men's stories are meant to be exactly what they have made them, and no more. I've made that complaint about Moffat many times, that unlike Doyle, or taking a different tact, the writers of Doctor Who who came before him, he can't seem to be able to keep sexuality ambivalent. He has to have his heroes as heterosexual males, and even when the romance is all off screen, it has to be explicitly stated with no room for interpretation. Because good Lord what would happen if other people had their say!
My third point is one of the major problems I have with slash fiction in general. Particularly heterosexual men have safe spaces to frankly explore their own sexuality. You can throw heterosexual sex on a screen, and people will allow it to be filmed, and people will watch it, and people will understand it. Men's stories are full of men who are less than perfect getting women who are idealized perfection. Women don't have that. If women are seen as wanting that, they are selfish and greedy and shallow, even among other women. If women are seen as being too desirable, she's a slut if she accepts the attention, she's a frigid bitch if she hates the attention. In stories, if women are curious about sex, they are punished, either through trials meant to redeem them, or by becoming cold, unfeeling women who no one could love. So here then, is a safe way for women to explore sexuality and desire: through interpretation of someone else's stories. Which is wonderful except for the underlining sense that, in case anyone should think your own sexuality is leaking through, get rid of the women entirely if you can, and focus on the men. Men being played by actors, and written by writers, and filmed by producers, whose sexuality will always be secured in its own acceptance. So of course, they're going to be dismissive of the need for women to have a platform and give a voice to their own sexuality. The ways they choose to express it shouldn't really be all that shocking. Given that we accept and understand that most mainstream pornography shows lesbian pornography essentially as by men for men. So really, is it so shocking that a portion of gay erotica is written by women, for women? Certainly, the latter is done with a lot more respect and affection, and a hell of a lot less exploitation for the former. Or at least, usually.
Anyway, I want to thank mildredandbobbin for getting my wheels turning on this one, because it's an interesting thought.
Showing posts with label awesome people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label awesome people. Show all posts
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Where Do You Get Your Inspiration?
This weekend, I went to the Kingston Art Fest. I am vaguely aware of it since I have friends in the art community, but I’ve never got to attend it, and my mother was desperate to help me find something to like about the city, and picked up a pamphlet. It was about a week later that I found out my younger cousin would have a tent.
Tonya is four years younger than me, and, clearly, infinitely more talented. She makes these portraits with found art photographs for the sketches, and drier lint for the finished product. While at Art Fest I sat and watched her nervously say hello, unless someone directly asked her about her work. In which case her eyes would light up and she’d launch into long explanations of what she was doing and how she did it. And the whole time, with a spare canvas and basket of lint at her lap.
Her mother tells me she does this all day. While watching TV. While on the phone. She loves what she does, and it shows. And watching her, it hit me like a kick in the stomach. So do I.
That should not be news. I don’t mean to suggest that I had started to hate what I was doing. I don’t. I hated writing first drafts because they’re frustrating and I got stuck a lot. But that hasn’t been happening lately. I hated editing, because reading over that chapter one more time made me want to throw up. I hated reading about the odds.... Okay. So I was starting to hate it.
That’s scary, learning that. But what’s even scarier, is how now that I don’t hate it anymore, now that something has happened internally to make me not hate it, I don’t know how to take it. Hence my last post. But watching my cousin work, and doing a lot of thinking, I think I have worked that out too.
In my family, you don’t enjoy your job. You just do it. You don’t hate it, or at least, my mother doesn’t hate her job, and my sister had a job she loved and would only consider going back to work for that job. But we were not raised to follow a passion so much as we were raised to do a good job at something. It’s difficult to live under that when you’re really only good at one thing, and even then, it’s a long shot. So for a large chunk of my life, I’ve been taking myself too seriously as a writer. I’ve been trying to make it work, more than I’ve been trying to make it work. I somehow got it in my head that if I wanted to be treated like a writer, I had to treat it like a job. And so I did. And, like any person with two jobs, I hated every second of it. Especially the fact that my hard work never seemed to pay off, and that just made me want to slack off more.
I remember when I was thirteen and fourteen years old, waking up at seven every morning on summer vacation to get those five pages, because I was only allowed an hour a day with the computer, and five pages took me 90 minutes, but I knew my brothers wouldn’t get up before eight thirty. I remember coming home from college and living for weeks off lunches of peanut butter sandwiches or dinners of a mix of rice and Clamato Juice, which my housemates referred to as pink rice. I didn’t do it because I was poor. I did it because it could be cooked and eaten in under an hour, and I needed time to write. It was such a well-known phenomenon, in fact, that two years ago, when working on a particularly good chunk of The Damn Vampires, I called a friend to tell her I was feeling ill, and she responded with, “are you eating food? Because you did say the writing was going good.” Somehow, I had forgotten all that.
Lately, I’ve been writing more like myself. More like the person I am. I set aside a couple hours each day and write until a chapter ends, or until I get to the end of a scene, and then brainstorm a bit, or work on something else until the timer runs out. Then I gripe and groan about the assignments that need doing, and clean the house and take the dogs for their walk and wish I was still writing. I miss it when I’m not doing it. I resent the intake of food. And watching my cousin work this weekend, I realized that is the way it’s supposed to feel, and that is what I have been missing, not just for the last four months, but for the last year or longer, as I tried to make myself into a writer that I really am not. I’m not a workerbee. I am an artist, and that’s what I want to be. I’m not someone who needs to be reminded you can’t only write when inspiration hits. Inspiration hits every two days or so. My job is to stem the tides, and wait out the initial jolt of excitement, and put one foot in front of the other. And I have, miracle of miracles, actually been doing that.
I still feel about eight years behind, because of what happened, and because of everything it has brought me since. But I wrote my first novel at 14, and my first screenplay at 12. Maybe eight years was just enough time for everyone else to catch up?
It’s good to be back.
Tonya Corkey makes found art portraits with dryer lint. Her current collection "See You In The Future" is visible on her website, which unfortunately does not do it justice. But you should check it out anyway.
www.tonyacorkey.com
Tonya is four years younger than me, and, clearly, infinitely more talented. She makes these portraits with found art photographs for the sketches, and drier lint for the finished product. While at Art Fest I sat and watched her nervously say hello, unless someone directly asked her about her work. In which case her eyes would light up and she’d launch into long explanations of what she was doing and how she did it. And the whole time, with a spare canvas and basket of lint at her lap.
Her mother tells me she does this all day. While watching TV. While on the phone. She loves what she does, and it shows. And watching her, it hit me like a kick in the stomach. So do I.
That’s scary, learning that. But what’s even scarier, is how now that I don’t hate it anymore, now that something has happened internally to make me not hate it, I don’t know how to take it. Hence my last post. But watching my cousin work, and doing a lot of thinking, I think I have worked that out too.
In my family, you don’t enjoy your job. You just do it. You don’t hate it, or at least, my mother doesn’t hate her job, and my sister had a job she loved and would only consider going back to work for that job. But we were not raised to follow a passion so much as we were raised to do a good job at something. It’s difficult to live under that when you’re really only good at one thing, and even then, it’s a long shot. So for a large chunk of my life, I’ve been taking myself too seriously as a writer. I’ve been trying to make it work, more than I’ve been trying to make it work. I somehow got it in my head that if I wanted to be treated like a writer, I had to treat it like a job. And so I did. And, like any person with two jobs, I hated every second of it. Especially the fact that my hard work never seemed to pay off, and that just made me want to slack off more.
I remember when I was thirteen and fourteen years old, waking up at seven every morning on summer vacation to get those five pages, because I was only allowed an hour a day with the computer, and five pages took me 90 minutes, but I knew my brothers wouldn’t get up before eight thirty. I remember coming home from college and living for weeks off lunches of peanut butter sandwiches or dinners of a mix of rice and Clamato Juice, which my housemates referred to as pink rice. I didn’t do it because I was poor. I did it because it could be cooked and eaten in under an hour, and I needed time to write. It was such a well-known phenomenon, in fact, that two years ago, when working on a particularly good chunk of The Damn Vampires, I called a friend to tell her I was feeling ill, and she responded with, “are you eating food? Because you did say the writing was going good.” Somehow, I had forgotten all that.
Lately, I’ve been writing more like myself. More like the person I am. I set aside a couple hours each day and write until a chapter ends, or until I get to the end of a scene, and then brainstorm a bit, or work on something else until the timer runs out. Then I gripe and groan about the assignments that need doing, and clean the house and take the dogs for their walk and wish I was still writing. I miss it when I’m not doing it. I resent the intake of food. And watching my cousin work this weekend, I realized that is the way it’s supposed to feel, and that is what I have been missing, not just for the last four months, but for the last year or longer, as I tried to make myself into a writer that I really am not. I’m not a workerbee. I am an artist, and that’s what I want to be. I’m not someone who needs to be reminded you can’t only write when inspiration hits. Inspiration hits every two days or so. My job is to stem the tides, and wait out the initial jolt of excitement, and put one foot in front of the other. And I have, miracle of miracles, actually been doing that.
I still feel about eight years behind, because of what happened, and because of everything it has brought me since. But I wrote my first novel at 14, and my first screenplay at 12. Maybe eight years was just enough time for everyone else to catch up?
It’s good to be back.
Tonya Corkey makes found art portraits with dryer lint. Her current collection "See You In The Future" is visible on her website, which unfortunately does not do it justice. But you should check it out anyway.
www.tonyacorkey.com
Monday, August 6, 2012
Stephen Fry Probably Doesn't Think I'm A Freak (But A Lot Of Other People Do)
Warning 1: This is not technically a rage post. But I got a bit angry, so there's some swears.
Warning 2: I squee a bit over Stephen Fry in this, but then I also said some not nice things about people that I admire quite a bit. I was as kind as I could be, but I don't want to hear any whining about it in comments.
Warning 3: Trigger warning for short, frank discussions of non-physical sexual harassment and some sexual coercion. Again, I kept it short and sweet and with a minimal amount of detail, but if it's the kind of thing that will upset you, please proceed with caution.
Okay, so recently I learned, along with everyone else, that Stephen Fry is in a happy celibate relationship. And then I whooped really loudly and ran around the house going, "ONE OF US! ONE OF US! ONE OF US!"
I wish I was making that up. Seriously.
Truthfully, I have loved and respected Stephen Fry for a long time, and this just brings the Ace Spectrum that much higher up on the "Things that are awesome" list of the universe. And I know a lot of people are like, "He said CELIBATE, not ASEXUAL." And I know for those of us in the community, that is a serious distinction, because it implies that Stephen Fry could change his mind, and we are not going to. But I'm counting it, because, at least according to the article, he's fairly sure he's not going to either. Also, I don't think that distinction matters so much anymore. Like, when I first realized this was a THING, I thought asexuality was a group of people who did not want sex or relationships, because that's what I was. Then there were people who did not want sex but did want relationships, and I felt a bit like the freak, again. Then there were people who did not want sex, but then did actually meet one person they were attracted to, and did that still count? Then there were people who felt attraction, but not at a physical level, and what did that mean? Then there were people who had considered themselves sexuals, but due to some sexual trauma, did not feel sexually interested anymore. And every time, there was this debate about who is a real asexual? And every time, the community came back with arms wide open going; a real asexual is someone like us. Stay as long as you need. Take some cake for the road. So, while Stephen Fry does not identify as an asexual, and I do not know if, when he said, celibate he meant something closer to asexual, what I do know is that he likely does not think I am a freak for what I do (not) do in private. Which makes me feel good, solid, more rooted to the world, and a tiny bit more awesome because, lets be honest, Stephen Fry is awesome. Which is something I appreciate, because, as it turns out, most of the other people I admire do in fact think I'm pretty weird. And, again, for the sake of honesty, can I just say, it's really starting to piss me off.
David Tennant gave an interview where he said "I don't think the Doctor is neccessarily asexual, just a bit, you know, sexually unaware." Hmm, David? The Doctor is a 900 year old supergenius who spends most of his time in the company of women who are obviously in love with him. I think he's fully aware of what sex is, at least as far as any outsider could be.
Stephen Moffatt made a joke about what hard-core Dr. Who fans believe would and would not happen in the French Revolution, which is ostensibly about historical accuracy, but is actually a thinly-veilled comment about the then well-accepted fact that the Doctor is asexual, on an episode of Doctor Who Confidential - For the record, I loved "The Girl In The Fireplace." What I hated was that since that episode the TARDIS has had an invisible, "You must be able to provide THIS much sexual tension to ride this ride" sign on the outside the door.)
Stephen Moffatt again when he admitted that though the Sherlock Holmes stories are pretty clear on the fact that he is not interested, there is no real proof that he is asexual, and he would not write it that way when he didn't want to, because it would be boring. right, because another last-minute love story has never been done before, and will be a complete surprise.
Benedict Cumberbatch gave an interview where he said that it's really cool when his fans send him like, riding crops and stuff, because it means they're huge fans, but when fans approach him and say "Thank you for making asexuality look cool." it's weird, because he doesn't think Sherlock is asexual just... busy. Ben? When someone thanks you for not making them feel like a freak, it is not nice to turn to your friends and go "what a weirdo." while they're in earshot. We may be one percent of the population, but we're a big chunk of Sherlock's fanbase. There are plenty other roles that are not asexual icons, if that would make you more comfortable. Trust me, I know.
Then of course, there was that episode of House. I swear, I loved that show before the whole thing became about who was getting laid by whom. Now I'm just glad it's over.
And what is annoying about all this is that the absolute ignorance, which we have been dealing with all this time, has given way to something darker, meaner, and with teeth. Because we are not being ignored anymore, because we can't be. So instead, we're being mocked. And all the discrimination that people will tell us we don't experience is starting to come out in full force. So before it gets really ugly, while we're still pretending it's coming from a place of misunderstanding, not a place of hatred, I just wanted to ask one thing.
What EXACTLY do sexuals think "real" asexuality is?
I am genuinely curious, and for all the inappropriate questions I have answered about my sexuality, I think I deserve a few answers myself, so please, comment. Because I cannot speak for other asexuals, but I took on this label, when I did, because I didn't have one, and everybody else thought I should. Because when I told people, "I just don't get how this is so important." I was told that one day I would grow up for real, and I would become sexually aware, and then I would understand. When I said, "I've just got better things to do." I was told it's okay to be a lesbian, this is the 21st century. When I said that I was too busy to even think about it, I was told that I really should make it a priority, or else people would think I was weird. Every time I told people there is nothing wrong with me, I'm just not interested, I was told that normal, healthy straight people did not feel that way. My sexuality was the source of family concern, and the gossip of my friends and peers. Inquiries were made, genuine inquiries, on whether I had ever been sexually assaulted, or when I thought I might grow out of this, was it because of the brain damage, or did I at least masturbate? (I really fucking hate that question. Sexuals actually ask that question expecting an honest answer. I meet my friends boyfriends. They try to get me to go on a double date with their friends. My friend says, "no, she doesn't do that." and when we explain what that means and why, without fail, eight times out of ten, "do you at least get off?") When I repeatedly expressed disinterest, or when I go so far as to say the whole process was made too much of, and was faintly disgusting, I was sexually harrassed. And I'm not even talking about the times when people would snicker and go, "Pfft, you just haven't had me yet." I'm talking about the times I'd be having what I thought was a heart-to-heart with a friend, and he would smile sweetly, put a hand on my shoulder, and say, "Why don't we just try something, and you can tell me if you like it?" The times I would be asked, by female friends, to at least give a guy a chance, any other girl would be happy for the attention. (See, Benedict. I sympathise. I don't like it when I'm mistaken for one of you either.) Or one memorable occasion, with a guy who swore he was over his crush on me, he invited me on a trip with himself and his family, and when we were short of beds, they suggested I just get in with him, we're all adults here. Apparently, he'd told them we were seeing each other because it was "just easier to explain."
In short, we have this label because you, sexual people, made it perfectly clear we are not like you. We have this label because in a world so sex-obsessed, we needed a line of defense, because it wasn't so long ago that too busy, not feeling like a sexual being, not interested, don't want to wasn't fucking good enough to call yourself straight (or gay, or, for that matter, a fully functioning adult). So now we have this, and its ours, and you don't get to pretend that it's not just because you've suddenly realized it's not that you really didn't think it was possible, it's that you really don't want to have to think about it. It's like if you're homophobic and your best friend is gay and in order to get comfortable with it, you tell people, "No, it's not like he's gay, it's just that he thinks dudes give the best head." Or when you say to a friend who comes out to you, "Are you sure you're not just bi?" (And how much I hate that bi has become quasi-mainstream, as long as it reinforces the idea that you really can choose to be attracted to whoever. I'm all for fluid sexuality, but this myth that 'everyone is a little bi' is damaging, firstly to actual bisexual people, whose sexuality is often discredited based on that, but also by those people who identify as bi because they are uncertain about an accurate description, or are afraid of how they will be treated. And also, quite frankly, to people like me. Best case scenario is they use that definition, like we sometimes do, to offer some kind of explanation when required, worst is they get to use it to beat their 'open-mindedness' over the heads of other people, whose sexuality is not as fluid. Sorry to burst the bubble, but there is just nothing on the planet that applies to everyone.)
My point is I don't get bogged down in the actual label because it feels like siding with the same people who want to tell me how we're so rare we can't even be measured. And any time there's anyone who says, in any capacity, "This is a real thing." I get really freaking excited. Because the level of denial is getting ridiculous. I don't know what I personally did to deserve the treatment I got, because it certainly wasn't that I was so irresistable everyone wanted to sleep with me. Not only that, despite our best efforts, we as a society can still be astonishingly puritanical. Sex is interesting, because it still holds a note of taboo. So with that in mind, I don't understand why asexuality is such a damn threat. But for every sexual asshole who ever said these words to me, allow me to give them back:
I don't think you really understand what you're saying, and I really hope you grow up soon, for your own sake.
To the rest of us tho:
GUYS! WE GOT STEPHEN FRY!!!!! If that bit about Alan Rickman is true, I think it`s fairly safe to implement that world takeover we`ve all been talking about in secret. Who wants to start?
*cackles evilly*
Warning 2: I squee a bit over Stephen Fry in this, but then I also said some not nice things about people that I admire quite a bit. I was as kind as I could be, but I don't want to hear any whining about it in comments.
Warning 3: Trigger warning for short, frank discussions of non-physical sexual harassment and some sexual coercion. Again, I kept it short and sweet and with a minimal amount of detail, but if it's the kind of thing that will upset you, please proceed with caution.
Okay, so recently I learned, along with everyone else, that Stephen Fry is in a happy celibate relationship. And then I whooped really loudly and ran around the house going, "ONE OF US! ONE OF US! ONE OF US!"
I wish I was making that up. Seriously.
Truthfully, I have loved and respected Stephen Fry for a long time, and this just brings the Ace Spectrum that much higher up on the "Things that are awesome" list of the universe. And I know a lot of people are like, "He said CELIBATE, not ASEXUAL." And I know for those of us in the community, that is a serious distinction, because it implies that Stephen Fry could change his mind, and we are not going to. But I'm counting it, because, at least according to the article, he's fairly sure he's not going to either. Also, I don't think that distinction matters so much anymore. Like, when I first realized this was a THING, I thought asexuality was a group of people who did not want sex or relationships, because that's what I was. Then there were people who did not want sex but did want relationships, and I felt a bit like the freak, again. Then there were people who did not want sex, but then did actually meet one person they were attracted to, and did that still count? Then there were people who felt attraction, but not at a physical level, and what did that mean? Then there were people who had considered themselves sexuals, but due to some sexual trauma, did not feel sexually interested anymore. And every time, there was this debate about who is a real asexual? And every time, the community came back with arms wide open going; a real asexual is someone like us. Stay as long as you need. Take some cake for the road. So, while Stephen Fry does not identify as an asexual, and I do not know if, when he said, celibate he meant something closer to asexual, what I do know is that he likely does not think I am a freak for what I do (not) do in private. Which makes me feel good, solid, more rooted to the world, and a tiny bit more awesome because, lets be honest, Stephen Fry is awesome. Which is something I appreciate, because, as it turns out, most of the other people I admire do in fact think I'm pretty weird. And, again, for the sake of honesty, can I just say, it's really starting to piss me off.
David Tennant gave an interview where he said "I don't think the Doctor is neccessarily asexual, just a bit, you know, sexually unaware." Hmm, David? The Doctor is a 900 year old supergenius who spends most of his time in the company of women who are obviously in love with him. I think he's fully aware of what sex is, at least as far as any outsider could be.
Stephen Moffatt made a joke about what hard-core Dr. Who fans believe would and would not happen in the French Revolution, which is ostensibly about historical accuracy, but is actually a thinly-veilled comment about the then well-accepted fact that the Doctor is asexual, on an episode of Doctor Who Confidential - For the record, I loved "The Girl In The Fireplace." What I hated was that since that episode the TARDIS has had an invisible, "You must be able to provide THIS much sexual tension to ride this ride" sign on the outside the door.)
Stephen Moffatt again when he admitted that though the Sherlock Holmes stories are pretty clear on the fact that he is not interested, there is no real proof that he is asexual, and he would not write it that way when he didn't want to, because it would be boring. right, because another last-minute love story has never been done before, and will be a complete surprise.
Benedict Cumberbatch gave an interview where he said that it's really cool when his fans send him like, riding crops and stuff, because it means they're huge fans, but when fans approach him and say "Thank you for making asexuality look cool." it's weird, because he doesn't think Sherlock is asexual just... busy. Ben? When someone thanks you for not making them feel like a freak, it is not nice to turn to your friends and go "what a weirdo." while they're in earshot. We may be one percent of the population, but we're a big chunk of Sherlock's fanbase. There are plenty other roles that are not asexual icons, if that would make you more comfortable. Trust me, I know.
Then of course, there was that episode of House. I swear, I loved that show before the whole thing became about who was getting laid by whom. Now I'm just glad it's over.
And what is annoying about all this is that the absolute ignorance, which we have been dealing with all this time, has given way to something darker, meaner, and with teeth. Because we are not being ignored anymore, because we can't be. So instead, we're being mocked. And all the discrimination that people will tell us we don't experience is starting to come out in full force. So before it gets really ugly, while we're still pretending it's coming from a place of misunderstanding, not a place of hatred, I just wanted to ask one thing.
What EXACTLY do sexuals think "real" asexuality is?
I am genuinely curious, and for all the inappropriate questions I have answered about my sexuality, I think I deserve a few answers myself, so please, comment. Because I cannot speak for other asexuals, but I took on this label, when I did, because I didn't have one, and everybody else thought I should. Because when I told people, "I just don't get how this is so important." I was told that one day I would grow up for real, and I would become sexually aware, and then I would understand. When I said, "I've just got better things to do." I was told it's okay to be a lesbian, this is the 21st century. When I said that I was too busy to even think about it, I was told that I really should make it a priority, or else people would think I was weird. Every time I told people there is nothing wrong with me, I'm just not interested, I was told that normal, healthy straight people did not feel that way. My sexuality was the source of family concern, and the gossip of my friends and peers. Inquiries were made, genuine inquiries, on whether I had ever been sexually assaulted, or when I thought I might grow out of this, was it because of the brain damage, or did I at least masturbate? (I really fucking hate that question. Sexuals actually ask that question expecting an honest answer. I meet my friends boyfriends. They try to get me to go on a double date with their friends. My friend says, "no, she doesn't do that." and when we explain what that means and why, without fail, eight times out of ten, "do you at least get off?") When I repeatedly expressed disinterest, or when I go so far as to say the whole process was made too much of, and was faintly disgusting, I was sexually harrassed. And I'm not even talking about the times when people would snicker and go, "Pfft, you just haven't had me yet." I'm talking about the times I'd be having what I thought was a heart-to-heart with a friend, and he would smile sweetly, put a hand on my shoulder, and say, "Why don't we just try something, and you can tell me if you like it?" The times I would be asked, by female friends, to at least give a guy a chance, any other girl would be happy for the attention. (See, Benedict. I sympathise. I don't like it when I'm mistaken for one of you either.) Or one memorable occasion, with a guy who swore he was over his crush on me, he invited me on a trip with himself and his family, and when we were short of beds, they suggested I just get in with him, we're all adults here. Apparently, he'd told them we were seeing each other because it was "just easier to explain."
In short, we have this label because you, sexual people, made it perfectly clear we are not like you. We have this label because in a world so sex-obsessed, we needed a line of defense, because it wasn't so long ago that too busy, not feeling like a sexual being, not interested, don't want to wasn't fucking good enough to call yourself straight (or gay, or, for that matter, a fully functioning adult). So now we have this, and its ours, and you don't get to pretend that it's not just because you've suddenly realized it's not that you really didn't think it was possible, it's that you really don't want to have to think about it. It's like if you're homophobic and your best friend is gay and in order to get comfortable with it, you tell people, "No, it's not like he's gay, it's just that he thinks dudes give the best head." Or when you say to a friend who comes out to you, "Are you sure you're not just bi?" (And how much I hate that bi has become quasi-mainstream, as long as it reinforces the idea that you really can choose to be attracted to whoever. I'm all for fluid sexuality, but this myth that 'everyone is a little bi' is damaging, firstly to actual bisexual people, whose sexuality is often discredited based on that, but also by those people who identify as bi because they are uncertain about an accurate description, or are afraid of how they will be treated. And also, quite frankly, to people like me. Best case scenario is they use that definition, like we sometimes do, to offer some kind of explanation when required, worst is they get to use it to beat their 'open-mindedness' over the heads of other people, whose sexuality is not as fluid. Sorry to burst the bubble, but there is just nothing on the planet that applies to everyone.)
My point is I don't get bogged down in the actual label because it feels like siding with the same people who want to tell me how we're so rare we can't even be measured. And any time there's anyone who says, in any capacity, "This is a real thing." I get really freaking excited. Because the level of denial is getting ridiculous. I don't know what I personally did to deserve the treatment I got, because it certainly wasn't that I was so irresistable everyone wanted to sleep with me. Not only that, despite our best efforts, we as a society can still be astonishingly puritanical. Sex is interesting, because it still holds a note of taboo. So with that in mind, I don't understand why asexuality is such a damn threat. But for every sexual asshole who ever said these words to me, allow me to give them back:
I don't think you really understand what you're saying, and I really hope you grow up soon, for your own sake.
To the rest of us tho:
GUYS! WE GOT STEPHEN FRY!!!!! If that bit about Alan Rickman is true, I think it`s fairly safe to implement that world takeover we`ve all been talking about in secret. Who wants to start?
*cackles evilly*
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