Alienated and stigmatised, asexuals have to forge a new space within sex-focused LGBTQIA construct

“In India, though we may come off as prudish about sex, sexuality is a highly profitable commodity, and the asexuals are here to ruin it.”

If one were to pick the most crucial takeaway from Shambhavi Saxena’s 2015 essay When Cake Is Better Than Sex: Growing Up Asexual In A Straight World, this would be it. And if the number of shares is anything to go by, the features writer with Youth Ki Awaaz, an online platform for reportage and opinions, struck a chord with many whose identities are invalidated by the ‘sex makes the world go around’ collective.

“The pressure was immense. It felt like everyone else was in a secret meeting and I was left out,” remembers the 22-year-old of her school and college years. “I’d play along in conversations about crushes and sex to avoid being dissected. At the time, there was a lot of stigma around being gay. Which meant that if you didn’t like a boy, you were branded a lesbian and ridiculed.”

Saxena identifies as asexual — one who experiences little to no sexual attraction. She’s one of the few whose families accept asexuality as a legitimate identity rather than an inadequacy. But aces (the term asexuals use for themselves) not only have to contend with alienation in a heterosexual world, but also forge new citizenships in largely sex-focused LGBTQIA (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Intersex, Asexual) spaces.

“People who welcome asexuals in the LGBTQIA fold are few and far between. Much of the discourse is about the L, G and T,” she feels, adding that India doesn’t have a vibrant or vocal asexual community, leave alone support groups. “Even bisexuality isn’t particularly talked about.”

For Pune-based P. Benjamin*, the hurdle is two-pronged: he is a bisexual ace. “I’m a Venn diagram of society’s misconceptions,” laughs the 36-year-old. “Bisexuality itself is either scorned or fetishised because people think we’re promiscuous or confused. Imagine what it’d be like to tell them you’re asexual too.”

Benjamin, who’s come out to close friends as bisexual, is yet to open up about his disinclination for sex. “For years, I thought something was wrong with me since people thought the world about sex and I didn’t. My relationships didn’t work because I was in the dark. Being asexual was never a concept when I formed my identity.”

Frigid, celibate, antisocial, sick — these are just some padded cells aces are straitjacketed into. That celibacy — a choice made by a sexual person — is hallowed and asexuality is decried doesn’t help. Neither does the American Psychiatric Association’s (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) V, which lists hypoactive sexual desire disorder (HSDD) and sexual aversion disorder (SAD) as mental conditions. Add to that the world decreeing sex is a must for romantic love to be validated, and you have a negative identity ghoulash at hand.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in marriage. “A man who once approached me couldn’t grasp that his wife — who loved him — never experienced sexual attraction,” says Mumbai-based sexologist Dr Rohann Bokdawala. “Despite ruling out all pathologies, he kept asking if she could be ‘fixed’.” That many Indian aces themselves are unaware of their identity only compounds matters, he adds. “Virginity is a virtue for a woman but asexuality isn’t. In other words, patriarchy demands that a woman be able to ‘do it’, but not be disinclined.”

In the preliminary findings for its 2014 census, The Asexual Visibility and Education Network — the world’s largest asexual community — found that 62.1% from its pool of 10,880 aces were women. While 24.6% comprised people who identify as ‘agender’, ‘genderqueer’, etc, men formed only 13.3%.

This doesn’t necessarily point to women being more inclined towards asexuality. If anything, the pedestal given to hypermasculinity shames more asexual men into remaining in the closet. Attitudes range from asking them if they’d been sexually abused or are unable to ‘score’ to inquiring if they’re impotent.

“Our understanding of physical intimacy is extremely limited and subsumed under sexual activity,” feels counsellor Dr Pavan Sonar. Sex isn’t a requisite in a loving relationship, he points out. “An asexual/sexual equation may be challenging, but with mutual understanding and acceptance, such a relationship can work.”

Both Shambhavi Saxena and P Benjamin call for better platforms and support mechanisms for Indian asexuals. For not only will this make asexuals more visible in LGBTQIA spaces, but also redefine mainstream notions of love and sex.

“I dream of the day I can declare myself proudly asexual without being told I’m abnormal,” Benjamin says. “And have people know I’m as capable of giving and receiving love as anyone else.”

(*Name changed on request)