Understanding Asexuality

characters or no one that could be connected to their identity in real life. These themes reinforce the idea that many masturbating asexuals may need sexual stimulation to receive sexual release/pleasure, but this stimulation is disconnected from their identities.

One question that emerges is this: Do these people have a “sexual orientation”—that is, a persistent erotic inclination toward others—given that they seek out and respond to consistent forms of sexual stimuli that contain people? This is an interesting question, at least to me. It might be argued that their bodies (or, more accurately, aspects of their brains related to arousal) do have a “sexual orientation” of sorts, but that they themselves, or their identities, do not.

A related question is whether these people are still truly “asexual,” using a common definition of asexuals: a lack of sexual attraction (Bogaert, 2006b; Bogaert, 2008). After all, they are responding sexually, at least on a bodily level, to sexual content in their fantasies or in pornography; hence, a part of them must be sexually attracted to something if they are seeking out and responding to a specific sexual stimulus, rather than responding, say, to nothing at all or randomly.{Although I think this discussion on paraphilias is important, it must always be remembered that some masturbating asexuals do not direct their sexual responses to anything, or they direct their masturbation to situations or objects in a more or less random way, and still others do not masturbate at all (see more in chapter 5 on masturbation).} Thus, on some level, sexual attraction occurs to something, including to others (e.g., in pornography or to/as fictional characters).

Even so, my answer is “yes,” they are still asexual, at least in one sense: they have an absence of subjective sexual attraction. Subjective refers to the I or me in one’s identity as a person, and if the person’s I or me is not connected to something sexual, then they are asexual; they lack subjective attraction (Bogaert, 2006b). They—as individuals—are disconnected from their sexual responses to others or to sexual stimulation. In other words, they don’t “own” those sexual attractions. Their bodies (or aspects of their brain regulating arousal) are responding to sexual stimulation on some level. The missing piece for them is the I or me, or an identity as an individual, in subjective sexual attraction. In other words, the I is missing in the statement “I am attracted to…”

A similar phenomenon may occur in some forms of transgenderism. A transgendered person who was born as a biological male, for example, may not “own” his masculine responses. This individual may behave in a traditional masculine way, he may appear masculine, and his body may respond to stimulation in a traditionally masculine way, even sexually. But if this person does not “own” her responses, and in fact is completely disconnected from them because of an internal sense of self as female, these masculine responses are not part of her identity, or her I or me.

Similar forms of disconnected sexuality have been discussed in the clinical literature on paraphilias. Indeed, this phenomenon may be construed as a rather exotic paraphilia, which literally means “beyond love,” or “love beyond the usual.” Thus, a paraphilia can mean that an individual has a sexual attraction to something unusual. It could also imply something broader: any kind of unusual sexual phenomenon associated with a person, and not merely a sexual attraction to something unusual. As a consequence, if you are keeping score, the label of “asexuality” could still apply to masturbating asexuals with “disconnected” fantasies, because their paraphilia is an unusual sexual phenomenon: there is no subjective sexual attraction to anything. Complicated indeed!

But back to the clinical literature on paraphilias: Ray Blanchard (1991) argues that some of these unusual sexual phenomena reflect alterations in the typical “targeting” process in human sexual attraction and sexuality in general. Our sexual attractions might occur when we connect our sexual feelings to others, as when we see or fantasize about someone, or perhaps our attractions are more responsive in nature, occurring when another person sees us and that incites or engages our sexual attractions to him or her. This “responsive” targeting system includes receptivity and object-of-desire mechanisms, and is more likely to occur in women (see also chapter 6 on gender). Both the more male-oriented and female-oriented target processes may ultimately relate to basic “mate- recognition” mechanisms (Bakker, 2003). In other words, these target processes are part of a larger mate- recognition system that humans use to seek out and choose reproductive partners.

But what if an individual’s targeting system does not operate in this way? What if, for example, the “I” in “I am attracted to him or her” in a typical targeting sequence does not operate in a traditional way? In some asexual people, the disconnect between identity/self (the “I”) and a sexual object seems to be this kind of target alteration: the identity or self is not connected to or “targeted” to a sexual object.

I am not aware of a specific name for this paraphilia. However, using a traditional Greek nomenclature, I have named it autochorissexualism: the quality of having sex without (choris) one’s self/identity (auto), or “identity-less” sexuality (see also Bogaert, in press-b).

People without sexual attraction to others may also have other target-oriented paraphilias. For example, my experience is that some self-identified asexual people may have automonosexualism, in which the person is attracted to him- or herself sexually (Rohleder, 1907).{Automonosexualism might still retain the characteristic of a lack of sexual attraction to others, but, technically, there would still be a sexual attraction to someone, even if it were only to oneself. Thus, automonosexualism is not a case of asexuality using the strict definition of “lacking a subjective sexual attraction.”} Blanchard argues that these paraphilias also reflect directional/target issues because, instead of directing one’s sexual interests outward, one targets his or her sexual interests inward. Automonosexualism is rare and has sometimes been associated with transgendered individuals (Hirschfeld, 1948; Blanchard, 1991; Blanchard, 1989; Freund & Blanchard, 1993). For example, the phenomenon of autogynephilia (in which a man is sexually attracted to himself, but as a woman) is a type of automonosexualism (Blanchard, 1989; Lawrence, 2011).

But aren’t these paraphilias—specifically, autochorissexualism and automonosexualism—disorders? So, one might agree that asexuality per se is not a disorder (see chapter 9), but surely these exotic paraphilias imply a disorder? Perhaps, but paraphilias are tricky mental health issues. Sexologists Charles Moser and Peggy Kleinplatz (2005), for example, have argued that paraphilias, or at least the original definition of them (as unusual sexual phenomena), should not necessarily be construed as disorders, partly because there is murkiness as to what construes a healthy sexuality in the first place. I agree. In fact, one might be so bold as to turn this issue on its head, expanding the definition of disorder to include not just atypical sexual fare but also sex in general, as it all may be construed as a form of madness (see also chapter 8).

To test more formally some of these ideas on autochorissexualism and automonosexualism, more research needs to be done on the sexual fantasies of masturbating asexuals. Some interesting studies examining the arousal responses of asexuals in the laboratory to various images, with narrations of the individual as a fictional character, and/or with images of the individual himself or herself (to assess for automonosexualism), could be conducted. In this way, we could find out more about any sexual proclivities, even secret ones, in asexual people.

Speaking of secrets, let’s end with a bit more discussion on this issue: Are there any secrets left? Modern technology and communications have created the potential to expose one’s inner life to probing and wide dissemination. Hence, even if one is highly motivated to keep one’s life private, this may be hard to do, or at least harder to do than it once was, especially if the details of that private life are juicy. This is particularly true for sex, and other people’s motivation to expose sexual details, especially if they are embarrassing or run counter to one’s public profession, is often as strong as the individual’s motivation to keep these details a secret. Even if others’ motivation is not as strong as one’s own motivation to maintain a private life, it is notable that we, as single individuals, are outnumbered by the throng, and thus there are lots of chances of exposure by one of the many people in the throng. The Internet, and Facebook in particular, are good examples of how quickly secrets are revealed in the modern world.

Interestingly, sex still makes good content as a juicy secret, but I expect that it is not as juicy as it once was. I think this is in part because modern communication has exposed so many “private” lives; thus, few sexual secrets shock anymore. Indeed, it is part of postmodern culture to be jaded and unfazed by sexual secrets. Sex is less of a big deal, and not to be hidden away in the same way as it used to be. So, it is still a monster, but one with less ferocity.

Why am I telling you all this? And what does it have to do with asexuality? Because the two points I have made here—there are no more secrets, and sexuality is less of a taboo to keep hidden than it once was—are both relevant to the issues of paraphilias and asexuality. First, people are less motivated to keep their sexual lives, or the