What being demisexual means for me
A year ago, I tried to explain to my current partner that I experienced sexual attraction differently from other people. I struggled to find the words to describe it. Then two months ago, the stars aligned and I chanced upon an article from the Huffington post and realised I was demisexual.
According to asexuality.org, a demisexual is a person who does not experience sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection with someone... This term does not mean that demisexuals have an incomplete or half-sexuality, nor does it mean that sexual attraction without emotional connection is required for complete sexuality... Demisexuals are not sexually attracted to anyone of any gender; however, when they are emotionally connected to someone (whether the feelings are romantic or deep friendship), they experience sexual attraction and desire, but only towards that specific person.
This does not mean all demisexuals can be attracted to any gender if a deep emotional bond has been made. It also does not mean a demisexual will be attracted to every person they form an emotional connection with, just like a gay man will not be attracted to every man they lay their eyes on. Demisexuals have underlying sexuality that goes alongside demisexuality, whether it be homosexuality, bisexuality, heterosexuality, etc. Demisexuality can be considered on a spectrum of being asexual, meaning that demisexuals do not feel sexual attraction towards anyone until a deep emotional connection is made.
Like any sexuality, being demisexual means different things for different people. It may mean that one-night stands do not appeal to them at all. It may mean they wait longer than normal to initiate a sexual relationship with someone they know or have been dating. They can be dubbed as prudes when really, they just have no sexual interest.
From my online research, I know that people who identify as being on the asexual spectrum tend to question their belonging to the LGBTQIA+/rainbow community. Asexuality is characterised by a lack of sexuality and can be hidden behind romantic relationships. People on the asexual spectrum with non-heterosexual gender preferences will most likely only have their gender preference validated by the queer community.
I am a demisexual, but I am also a cis-hetero woman who has a male partner. Because of this, I fear that there will be a certain amount of gatekeeping that may stop me from accessing queer spaces and communities. The following passage from intersectional feminism media speaks to this:
‘Over the last few years, it has become increasingly clear to me that far too many people largely define queerness in the same problematic way that many define Black women—by how many harms and heartbreaks we are faced with and how much danger we are in daily.
I cannot begin to express how dangerous and counterproductive it is to define queerness by our suffering. I’ve had my queerness invalidated. I’ve witnessed others have theirs invalidated by self-proclaimed queer experts citing the dangers allosexual queer identities face for being out or not “passing” as straight and/or cis, making all sorts of assumptions about what traumas I may or may not have and how they may or may not be wrapped up with my asexuality.’
Several reasons lead me to conclude that I identify with being demisexual. Firstly, every crush I have had was a close friend before I developed feelings for them. Secondly, having a crush didn’t happen often, so it always felt monumental. I can count on one hand how many crushes I have had, and even then, I was not sexually attracted to all of them. Lastly, I have never expressed any interest in watching porn. When there are sex scenes in movies, I will only ever be turned on when I feel the characters have a deep emotional connection.
To be honest, I have no idea where to go from here. There is an element of trepidation going forward now that I have accepted being demisexual with my chest. My biggest fear is being in limbo, not just being cis-hetero but not being queer enough. There probably will be a support group that would accept me with open arms, but I need to hold space for myself before I can take that step. Right now, I take comfort in knowing that I am not alone in what I’m feeling and that every queer person has different journeys to finding community.