Monologue #19 (performance piece)

The first time I saw the word “asexual” was in a biology textbook.

    (Asexual reproduction. Something amoebas do.)

The second time I saw it was in an online article about an asexual woman dating a
heterosexual man.

    (Anonymous: “That guy got friend-zoned so hard he made it into the news.)

The third time I saw it, I was typing it into Google’s search bar.

    (When a boy puts his tongue in my mouth, there’s supposed to be a “spark,” isn’t there?)

The fourth time I saw it was in me, when I finally understood how to define myself.

    (Asexual. Noun. Someone who does not experience sexual attraction.)

Where I didn’t see it was in my mother’s understanding, when I told her what I had
learned.

    (“Oh honey, there’s nothing wrong with you.”)

Nor did I see it in my friend’s acceptance of me when I opened up to him.

    (“Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”)

I didn’t see it in my perfectly regular hormone balance, no matter how many times they
asked me.

    (“Have you had your hormones checked?”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

    “Isn’t there a pill for that?”)

I didn’t see it in the Davidson 101 Sexuality poll either.

    (“Q” for “Questioning” since everyone tells me that’s what I must be doing.)

I don’t even see it in LGBTQIA, which is always cleaved down the middle because too
many letters—too many identities—is unpalatable to most.

    (“A stands for ally!”

      “LGBTQIA? That’s a bit too much, don’t you think?”)

    And sometimes—
    I don’t see me.
    Because being 1% of the population makes me negligible.
    Because seven hundred thousand people worldwide don’t really count.

    And when I don’t see me,
    I have to pretend I’m not me.
    Because it’s easier to pretend than it is to explain.
    And it’s easier to fake it than it is to hear someone say that I am broken—
    that I am lacking something inherently human.
    Or worse, for some stranger to tell me
    that I will never truly understand how to love another person,

      if I’m not fucking them.

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