Am I bi, pan, asexual, just plain straight or maybe even gay?

Kai counsels a questioning Gen Z reader riding a “sexual rollercoaster” 

Ask Kai: Advice for the Apocalypse” is a column by Kai Cheng Thom to help you survive and thrive in a challenging world. Have a question? Email askkai@xtramagazine.com.

Dear Kai,

I’m in my early 20s, and I still don’t know what my sexual orientation might be. My sex drive and desire are all over the place. Am I asexual? Demi? Gray? Allo? Just plain straight? Bi? Pan? Maybe even homo?

At times I’m like, “Ew sex. Eww, genitals.” At other times I’m like, “I want to have sex with this person and that person, plus every person in between.” And sometimes I’m like, “This person is good-looking, but I don’t want to have sex with them.”

I was assaulted at the age of 16. I believe that my assault changed how I view romantic and sexual relationships. I have a sixth sense: I know which type of men will have crushes on me and won’t leave me alone, and I am very hostile around them. 

I am also on the autism spectrum. Does having autism affect your sexual orientation? I hope you can answer all these questions.

Sincerely,

Sexual Rollercoaster

Dear Rollercoaster,

What thoughtful and sensitive questions these are—exploring the vast realm of the erotic can be such a deep, tender journey. For most people, our deepest and most intimate selves are bound up in the erotic and are often quite complex, so it makes sense that sexuality can be confusing, inconsistent and, at times, even painful. Contrary to the messages of the dominant, heteronormative culture that we live in, it is not uncommon for people to travel through many different modes of sexual desire and expression over the course of a lifetime.  

First off, Rollercoaster, I think it’s important to say that it’s not absolutely necessary to “arrive” at any particular sexual orientation. If my memory serves, it used to be fairly popular in the late 2000s and early 2010s for folks outside of the heterosexual norm to identify as neither gay nor straight nor bisexual (those three were the only commonly known options at the time), but simply “open minded” or “into people.” As all the cool kids were so fond of reminding us at the time, “labels are for boxes, and people don’t belong in a box.” (I know! I know! It was a terrible cliché even then.)

 

“As all the cool kids were so fond of reminding us, ‘labels are for boxes, and people don’t belong in a box.’ I know! It was a cliché even then.”

As asexuality, pansexuality and other more nuanced terms to describe sexual orientation have become increasingly mainstream, I think it’s become easier for many folks to find a category that works well for them. But the problem with a lot of sexual orientation terminology is that it still operates on the assumption that all people have a static sexual orientation waiting to be discovered. Many people, however, experience a variety of sexual feelings that are not always consistent over time and that don’t necessarily conform to any particular set of rules. 

As this Guardian article points out, in a 2015 survey, 43 percent of people aged 18 to 24 in the United Kingdom self-identified as neither completely heterosexual nor homosexual, but on a spectrum of bisexuality (options such as pansexual and asexual weren’t given, unfortunately). As the article describes, many people report experiencing sexual desires that do not land neatly within a specific category. What does it mean to be mostly attracted to women, but occasionally have fantasies about men? What does it mean to be a “mostly straight’’ man who nonetheless has sex with other men? And where do attraction to trans and non-binary people, asexuality, kink and all the other kinds of erotic experience fit into all of this?

Furthermore, there’s research that shows that, for many people, sexuality is at least somewhat contextual, meaning that their experiences of desire and arousal are influenced by the environment and what’s happening in the moment. A person’s attraction to a particular gender, intensity of sexual desire (sex drive) and general feelings about sex can all shift based on context.

Finally, in response to your query about whether being autistic affects sexual orientation, research has indicated that autistic folks are more likely than their allistic (non-autistic) peers to identify as LGBTQ2S+. But researchers say larger studies need to be done; the science also isn’t clear on why autistic folks might be more likely to identify as LGBTQ2S+, or whether autistic folks experience sexual attraction differently than allistic individuals. I’d recommend checking out the work of autistic sexuality advocates such as Amy Gravino for writing and speaking on autistic sexuality that comes directly from the autistic community.  

“A person’s attraction to a particular gender, intensity of sexual desire (sex drive) and general feelings about sex can all shift based on context.”

All of this is to say, Rollercoaster, that sexual orientation isn’t “real” in the sense of being a tangible, biological construct. Of course, there are trends and common experiences in human sexuality. We know that you can’t change someone’s sexuality through conversion therapy, and attempts to do come with a high risk of psychological harm. But sexual orientation categories in and of themselves are descriptive rather than innate—they are, in a sense, labels that we’ve made up to try and better understand how sexuality works. If you don’t fit easily into a category, that’s not necessarily a reflection on you. It might just mean that the labels we have aren’t advanced enough to describe your experience.   

However, if the fact that it’s hard to pin down a particular orientation is causing you significant distress—if it’s interfering with going about your daily life or maintaining social relationships—I would suggest seeing a sexuality professional (such as a sex therapist or somatic sex educator) who is also able to work well with autistic folks. (It’s totally okay to straight up ask a sexuality professional if they have experience and/or training working with autistic clients.) This is particularly because you’ve mentioned having an experience of assault. 

I’m so sorry that you were assaulted, Rollercoaster. Such experiences can be traumatic. Sometimes, they can have an impact on one’s experience of sexuality, though the specific effects can vary widely from person to person. Some common effects of intimate violence on survivors’ sexuality include anxiety about sexual intimacy, difficulty accessing pleasurable sexual sensations, feeling a distressingly compulsive need for sex and many others.  

If you feel that you might be experiencing symptoms of sexual trauma, Rollercoaster, getting caring, competent professional support could be really important. Remember, though, that you are the only expert in yourself, and you get to decide whether or not you are in distress and in need of professional help with your sexuality. The point of sexual health treatment should be to help you feel happier and more fulfilled in your sexuality, not to put you into any kind of box just for the sake of it. 

A rollercoaster is in many ways the perfect metaphor for sexuality—there are highs and lows, potential peril and possible euphoria. The point of a rollercoaster is the fact that it moves in ways that are unpredictable and unconventional; it’s not about the beginning, the destination or any particular stop along the way. A good rollercoaster naturally feels risky, but also safe enough that one is able to enjoy it. This is what I wish for you: That with all the support and time you need, you find a way to enjoy the ride.

Kai Cheng Thom is no longer a registered or practicing mental health professional. The opinions expressed in this column are not intended or implied to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. All content in this column, including, but not limited to, all text, graphics, videos and images, is for general information purposes only. This column, its author, Xtra (including its parent and affiliated companies, as well as their directors, officers, employees, successors and assigns) and any guest authors are not responsible for the accuracy of the information contained in this column or the outcome of following any information provided directly or indirectly from it.

Kai Cheng Thom is a writer, performer, and social worker who divides her heart between Montreal and Toronto, unceded Indigenous territories. She is the author of the Lambda Award-nominated novel Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars: A Dangerous Trans Girl's Confabulous Memoir (Metonymy Press), as well as the poetry collection a place called No Homeland (Arsenal Pulp Press). Her latest book, Falling Back in Love with Being Human, a collection of letters and poetry, is out now from Penguin Random House Canada.

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