My Queerness and Me

It was unexpected and lovely.

I admit, my heart stuttered a little at the queer moniker. This isn't because I'm not queer - Asexuality is part of the queer alphabet - but because I've never really used queer to describe myself. I've never really included myself in the queer community.

There are a plethora of reasons for this. The first is that it all seems centred on sexual attraction, and the absence of this kind of attraction didn't feel like it fits in. Or, rather, I don't feel like I fit in and I perhaps project that on the lack of sexual attraction. Because, if growing up was anything to go by, it certainly isn't normal.

I've been on the outside looking in my whole life, it feels like. Community isn't really something I'm used to, or feel a part of. With some exceptions, of course. My kung fu school (Wutan Canada) was the first place in my life to offer genuine community. I still train with them, and they form the largest part of my social life. I consider several of them to be family. This was the first place that saw I was an awkward little weirdo, and basically shrugged and welcomed me in all the same.

Can*Con, too, was a place where I felt like I was welcomed, despite being a scared, inexperienced twit. I've made some brilliant friends because if this convention. They've remained really welcoming, and will always have a special place in my heart for this convention and everyone involved.

And still, even in these two communities who have welcomed me in without condition, I have kind of always felt on the outside.

I realise that these are probably unhealed childhood wounds (not probably, actually. I got far enough in therapy before it got to expensive to know).

I have never gone to a queer event (where I wasn't working). I realise that asexuality is absolutely a valid sexuality, and, from personal experience, there are stigmas and repercussions to 'coming out' as an Ace. Everything from shunning by friends and family, to corrective rape. I remember when I came out, I expected those who were supposed to know me and love me best to have it click the same way it did for me when I realised that asexuality was a thing and I was not broken after all.  Instead of the  'Oooooh! That makes total sense!' I was expecting, I was met with a weird amount of anger and push back. I was hurt. Still am if I think about it too long.

​Not everyone, mind, but enough.

And still, I don't feel like I belong. Not least of all because I am not also aromantic. In fact, I'm rather boringly heteroromantic. I think. Look, I've not been in a real relationship, so... I'm not going to pretend I know for sure, but in the moments where I do imagine myself in a romantic relationship with someone, they're always masculine. So, I don't feel like I'm queer enough to be queer, despite being on the asexual spectrum.

It's a nonsensical, paradoxical way to feel, I know. Clearly, I am queer. Asexuality is in and of itself queer. It's been part of the queer alphabet from nearly the beginning (though is often excluded, which is a whole other rant).

Anyway, I guess this is my occasionally repeating musings on my experience with queerness, and my own issues that relate to the feeling of unbelonging.

So, the fact is, I am queer.

I need to work on my own weird reaction on hearing it said (or written) out loud.

Anyway, Evan is a wonderful human being and you should all go follow him. Also, read his books.

Happy Pride, especially for those of us who still feel a little on the outside looking in.

Slán go foill!