Understanding Asexuality

woman I met did not come out until her twenties because she just didn’t know “what” she was until recently. This makes sense: How can one go through the identity process (including coming out) when there is no obvious group with whom to identify? Recall that labeling oneself (e.g., as “gay”) usually comes before, and is arguably a necessary precursor to, coming out (Cass, 1979; Coleman, 1982; Troiden, 1989). After all, one needs a recognizable group, with a label, with whom to identify and of which to come out as a member. Until very recently, there has been no organized and publicly identifiable asexual group. In contrast, gays and lesbians have had a visible and identifiable presence in the Western world for many years, arguably for at least thirty years or more (e.g., Terry, 1999). Of course, despite this fact, some gays and lesbians also may not know their sexual identities until later in life. However, I expect that young people with emerging same-sex attractions have much better access to information on gay and lesbian identities and cultures than young people without any sexual attractions have on asexual identities and cultures.

There is support for the reasoning that asexual people may come out later (or not at all) because there has not been, until recently, a visible group with whom to identify. Bisexuals have more identity confusion and come out later than gays and lesbians, and it has been argued that this difference occurs because there is a less visible and organized bisexual community relative to the gay and lesbian community (Fox, 1995).

Another unique feature of asexual development that may affect public disclosures and coming out in asexual people, relative to gays and lesbians, was mentioned earlier: lack of sexual behavior does not need legitimizing in the same way as same-sex behavior (e.g., fellatio among men). After all, no one was ever caught not engaging in sex and then put in prison for it. Asexual people, then, may have a reduced need to come out, or at least a reduced need for public displays of their sexual orientation, as there is less of a need to defend their behavior. Indeed, one might argue that the emergence of the gay/lesbian community as a social force occurred, at least partly, to secure this legitimacy from the heterosexual majority and the politicians who serve them. Relatedly, one might also argue that a coherent and integrated sexual identity in gays and lesbians was also born of this necessity, in order to allow the group to fight for their rights as unique sexual beings and to engage freely in sex in the manner of their choosing. In short, it is important to recognize that (sexual) identities may also emerge out of and serve political and social goals. Note that I am not implying that a gay/lesbian identity was consciously created by gay and lesbian political activists, although such activism may have contributed to this identity; broad social forces also might have acted to bring these identities to the fore (Terry, 1999). Interestingly, the military understands these processes and political/social forces. They use young people’s search for an identity and their need to belong (e.g., You are a Marine!) to achieve similar but more extreme social/political effects during basic training: to motivate and ready soldiers for battle (Dyer, 1985).

If asexual people have less need for battle against oppressive forces in society (relative to gays and lesbians), this may also partly explain why they have been unrecognized as a social group, and why a coherent asexual identity and culture has not emerged until recently. Asexual identities and group cohesion among asexual people are not necessities for many asexual people, as asexual behavior is not at stake if they don’t rail against “the man.” In contrast, historically, gay and lesbian people needed to—and often still need to—rail against the (heterosexual) man to ensure that they could engage in the sexual behavior of their choosing.

It is also true that sexuality, by definition, is a nonissue—off the radar, so to speak—for many asexual people (Scherrer, 2008). Thus, an asexual person’s need to assert an identity, particularly a public one, may have little “sexual” slant to it. This is in contrast to gays and lesbians, whose identity may be more sexualized. After all, sexuality is anything but a nonissue for them. Indeed, it is relevant and salient to their identities in two basic ways. First, gay people’s sexuality contrasts starkly with the heterosexual majority. Second, like heterosexual people, gays and lesbians are sexual beings, strongly influenced by their desires and attractions. Thus, their sexuality is doubly relevant and likely acts as a creative force in forging their identities. Of course, asexual people share with gays and lesbians their status as a sexual minority, and thus they also stand in contrast to a sexual majority. So, sexuality is potentially important to their identity also, as it makes them stand apart from the majority group. But unlike gays and lesbians, asexual people are not sexual beings (e.g., lacking in sexual attraction), and so sexuality, given that it is a nonissue, is not as likely to invade their psychic space and to take front and center position when their identities are being formed.

Consider this quote from an asexual person: “Outside of AVEN or conversations specifically about sexuality, I don’t really consciously think of myself as asexual. Like being an atheist or non-Hispanic or a non-driver (all apply), asexuality is something I’m not and never was, rather than something I am. The label is mostly a useful marker. So, my asexual identity is important in certain contexts, and I can’t imagine my life if I weren’t asexual, but it is not specifically important to me” (Scherrer, 2008, p. 630).

The famous psychologist George Kelly and his personal construct theory are relevant to the two points made above. According to Kelly (1955), the way we see the world, other people, and ourselves is based on our personal constructs. We are construct “constructors.” These constructs (or ideas about the way things work) almost always are perceived to have extreme points. Thus, we tend to think about people as occupying an extreme of say, a “happy-sad” dimension: Sally is happy; Frank is sad. Thus, the happy-sad construct is defined for us in large part by its extremes. It is not surprising, then, that sexual minorities use extremes, or contrasts, of sexuality (e.g., hetero-homo) to define themselves as people, or that heterosexual people would use these extremes/contrasts in defining sexual minorities. But it is also true that some constructs are just not as relevant for people as other constructs. So, if sexuality is completely removed from one’s life (and one barely gives it a second thought), it may not be a personally relevant construct in defining oneself, or in forging one’s identity. Some asexual people, then, may have little to no incentive to form an asexual identity and come out, or at least no incentive to make public displays of their nonsexuality.

Consider an example to illustrate this point further: Do non-golfers—agolfers?—go to golf courses and march on the eighteenth green to assert their non-golfing identity? It would be rather strange, of course, for non-golfers to do so, because golfing, as an activity and as a construct, is not personally relevant to most of them, nor is it part of their identity. Thus, as a golfer, as I am finishing up my round and heading to the clubhouse, I rarely see such displays and marches from non-golfers.[27]

From the above, it may seem like there are only modest reasons for asexual people to forge and fiercely defend a sexual identity. But we must not discount the importance of the other identity-relevant forces in asexual people’s lives, such as general identity needs, not wanting to be alone and isolated, and perceiving oneself on the extreme end of an often very salient construct in society—sexuality. Moreover, there is another reason why forging an identity, developing an asexual culture, and becoming part of a cohesive group is of importance to asexual people: to defend their lives against modern medicalization and the perception that they have a disorder or are unhappy.

But before we address the issue of medicalization, let’s consider a little background. Asexuality, broadly defined, has often not been viewed across cultures and historically as a disorder or an illness. In fact, from a religious perspective, asexuality (or at least abstinence) has often been viewed as a virtue. For example, most religions across the world proscribe liberal sexuality, and some (e.g., Buddhism, Roman Catholicism) still view abstinence as a virtue. Moreover, non-religiously based institutions, including the Western medical establishment, historically would not likely have labeled asexuality a disorder, particularly in women. In the 1950s and 1960s, this started to change. Sexuality became decoupled from reproduction, and sex was viewed on its own merits; that is, as a source of physical pleasure, recreation, and so forth (Sigusch, 1998).

Given this decoupling of sex from reproduction, it is perhaps understandable that the absence of sexuality started to be seen as a potential problem and eventually found its way into important medical texts and manuals, like the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM- III) (American Psychiatric Association, 1980). (Most North American clinicians diagnose mental health problems based on criteria found in the DSM.) For example, “inhibited sexual desire,” a name later changed to “hypoactive sexual desire disorder,” first appeared in this manual in 1980. About ten years later, “lack or loss of sexual desire” first appeared in another important medical manual, the International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems (ICD-10) (World Health Organization, 1992). Some social critics, particularly feminists, have also argued that the medicalization of many aspects of sexuality, including asexuality—again, broadly defined—has occurred because there are profits to be had from creating disorders where, arguably, none existed before (Drew, 2003; Fishman, 2004; Fishman, 2007; Tiefer, 2002).

In the wake of this medicalization of asexuality, the modern asexuality movement began. David Jay, the