I didn’t ask many people to look at my Common App essay.

Here’s a list of people who looked it over: Mrs. Trowbridge, Ms. Mazzaferro, the illustrious Karen Ge, and Ceci Gao (a friend from JSA). Notably missing are the names of any of my friends and family members; though I showed it to a few others, I didn’t ask for their input. I didn’t pass it around during our AP Lit round-robin, terrified of people’s judgment over a topic immensely personal to me. I let it sit in my Google Drive, completely and utterly dissimilar to its first draft, written in a blur of inspiration in the spring of my junior year.

At this point, you’re definitely wondering what any of this has to do with the title of my blog post. Unless you’re one of the lucky few who’s read the essay.

I wrote my Common App essay about romance. Specifically, about my love for romance, how a good romantic story makes me feel better about the world, and how I am simultaneously the exact opposite of a romantic. I’ve never been attracted to someone before. And I probably never will. And I’ve become increasingly more and more okay with that as I’ve moved through my life.

So I’d like to bring your attention to an often forgotten identity: asexuality, the A of LGBTQIA+ (an increasingly common, though admittedly quite cumbersome, acronym).

What is asexuality?

Asexuality is a sexual orientation that denotes a general lack of sexual attraction to others, regardless of gender. It exists on a spectrum of sorts; while some asexual people can be attracted to people on occasion, others are never. Some asexual people experience romantic attraction, and others don’t (they’re called aromantic). It’s also possible to be aromantic and not asexual, although as far as I’m aware, it’s less common. If you’re asexual and aromantic, you might call yourself aroace.

That sounds like an incel.

Okay, no. Please dispel that from your mind completely. Ace people aren’t able to be attracted to others; incels think nobody is attracted to them. And they’re also horrible.

How common is asexuality?

The most correct answer is that we don’t know. Because sexual and romantic attraction are so complex and often closely intertwined, there isn’t a good way to draw a line between asexual and not asexual. Also, it’s not a widely known identity, and generally, the more commonly known a label is, the more people use it.

Great. So asexual people don’t like sex. Got it.

Also no. There’s a difference between sexual attraction and having a sex drive. But I’d like to keep this PG-13 (unlike Darl’s scene in As I Lay Dying), so visit AVEN to learn more.

So do you just not know when someone’s hot?

Asexual people can still appreciate a person’s looks. Can’t a straight girl tell when other girls are attractive?

Do asexual people reproduce asexually?

You are a bio nerd who doesn’t know anything about asexuality.

No, they don’t. Asexuality as a sexual orientation has nothing to do with asexual reproduction.

Hang on, go back to earlier in your post. What the heck is LGBTQIA+?

Oh, goodness.

I think I might be asexual and/or aromantic. Who do I talk to?

Someone you trust. Could be another asexual or aromantic person. Could be a family member. Could be a friend. It’s a lot to talk through, but regardless of whether you end up identifying this way, it’s important to explore your identity.

Can asexual people date?

Yes! Sexual and romantic attraction are different, remember? Just consider casual hookup culture if you don’t get it; there’s not really much romance in that. Even if someone identifies as asexual and aromantic, they may still occasionally have feelings for someone and decide to date.

The title of this post is misleading.

I’m getting to it.

I enjoy reading romance stories sometimes! They’re fun and heartwarming. Can I relate? No. Does that matter? No. After all, can you fully relate to fantasy characters like Harry Potter and Frodo?

I could go on a whole tangent about how high school dating culture is super toxic and doesn’t promote the sort of love that teen characters in YA romance have. But this post is already long enough.

Suffice it to say that I enjoy fictional romance stories because they’re so wholesome. I listen to breakup songs because I, too, feel emotion. And sometimes, I just read a really bad book that makes me laugh because of how bad it is, and I enjoy that too.

Hey, different person asking this question. I don’t care about misleading titles. Back to the whole asexuality thing: what’s up with “gray-asexual” and “demisexual”? I’ve heard those terms thrown around.

Gray-asexual people may experience sexual attraction, but rather infrequently. Demisexual people can only be sexually attracted to someone they are emotionally close to. They both fall under the umbrella of asexuality (or as Perrine would say, the cone of asexuality).

Can asexual people come out like other queer people?

Yep. Many do. And many don’t.

How do I support aromantic and asexual people?

Listen.

Don’t invalidate their existence.

Don’t comment on their AP Lit blog post with hate messages.

For the love of all things good in the world, genuinely make an effort to learn, instead of reading one article and declaring that your worldview has changed and you now know everything.

And this applies to everything, any marginalized community you’re not a part of. We aren’t all automatically part of the Black Lives Matter movement now that we’ve read Toni Morrison. We aren’t all feminists just because we’ve read Kate Chopin. (But you should be a feminist.) But try your best.

A list of resources:

AVEN (The Asexual Visibility and Education Network)

The Trevor Project

An interview with Yasmin Benoit, asexual activist