As an asexual person, am I queer enough?

“As an asexual person, I often feel as if I’m fighting for a space at the popular kid’s lunch table, constantly trying to prove I belong.”

I’m going to set the scene for you. It was a Saturday night in the winter of 2021, and I was out on Smith Street celebrating a friend’s birthday at a queer club. A group of girls who identified as straight/cis/allosexual came in to celebrate a bachelorette party, which is a time-honoured tradition.

It’s when women often tokenise the queer experience while trying to escape the objectification that comes from being women in straight clubs, and it became a topic of discussion for the group I was with.

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I gave a balanced counter, taking in both sides of the topic as it was a very complex discussion. To this comment, I was met with “Well you’re straight, so you shouldn’t even be here” to which I replied, “Actually, I’m asexual”. This person sized me up and said “Eh, same difference because you’re not really queer”.

At that moment, I felt my entire relevance in the queer community dissipated. I didn’t know how to respond as I’d only had my asexual (or ace) awakening a few months prior, and I’d not faced this kind of discrimination yet.

I have the privilege of being a straight-passing person which is admittedly a contentious double-edged sword. I couldn’t have imagined the first instance of prejudice I experienced would be dished out by someone who was in the queer community.

Since this event, however, I’ve had a few similar encounters. I’ve arrived at this point where nothing is more nerve-wracking to me than going out to queer clubs and spaces (except going to spaces with straight men). It just reinforces my belief that I feel like I never got the keys to the queer kingdom.

I was questioned at the gates, judged by other members of the LGBTQIA+ community and more often than not, would flee the castle before the clock strikes 12. Whenever I step into a queer space, I immediately feel like a fraud and that my occupying that space is in some way incorrect or invalid.

Why is it this way? Why do I feel like an imposter in a community I should feel myself in, given it boasts pride and acceptance? Is it because attraction is intrinsically linked to most forms of queerness? It is because sharing my experience with a lack of physical attraction in my life challenges the idea that being attracted to someone makes you queer?

Is it because sex is another crucial aspect of queerness and that queer, allosexual people have fought for the ability to celebrate? Does a lack of sex make me less relatable? Queer people have fought for their love, attraction and identity to be validated.

They’ve put their lives at risk to fight for their communities’ rights, which has led me to the position I’m currently in, typing away a think piece like an asexual Carrie Bradshaw. I will always have the utmost respect and love for the people who have paved (and continue to pave) the way and fought for the (not perfect) world that we currently occupy – but I will also readily call out gatekeeping and erasure when I see fit.

Pride, for example, is a concept I feel a great disconnect from. When Sydney held World Pride this past year and all of my friends were scurrying off to Oxford Street for celebrations and Kylie Minogue, it didn’t cross my mind once to go.

A major queer event occurred in Australia, yet I felt so disconnected from it due to how untethered I felt from other parts of the queer community. This is likely due to how World Pride is, for many, an event for sexual liberation. How can I be truly sexually liberated while being ace?

I wish my experiences with asexuality discrimination were seen as something more queer people could relate to. We are all fighting for the same understanding, acceptance and pride in our identity. As an asexual person, I often feel as if I’m fighting for a space at the popular kid’s lunch table, constantly trying to prove I belong.

But I will keep fighting for allosexuals to stop gatekeeping the queer community and allow asexual people to celebrate their identities and authentic queer selves. I’m aware that if one of my main issues is whether I’m queer enough, I’m very fortunate. Many queer people are consistently facing far worse. I just feel asexuality should be more widely discussed and represented, especially within the LGBTQIA+ community.

For more on asexuality and identity, head here.