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I wish that I had had demisexual representation in the media growing up.
It feels like so many people I know who are queer had an “aha, that’s what I am moment!” while watching television. They had already been wondering what the name for their experience was when Maureen said “I’m bisexual” out loud in rent. The aha! happens — and suddenly there’s a word for what they are. There’s a confirmation that other people are like you, too — you’re not some bizarre outlier to whom no one can relate. You have a community and friends. You just have to find them.
I didn’t get that. There aren’t demisexual characters in television and movies — at least, not that I know of at the time of writing this. There weren’t asexual characters on screen that I knew of as a child, either. We are starting to finally get some asexual character representation on screen. It’s miles ahead of where we were just ten years ago. As a demisexual, however, this would have served to both confirm and confuse my experience. Most of the time I didn’t have sexual attraction growing up, except for one or two instances in serious relationships. My aha! moment came on Tumblr, years later, and I fought with it for a long time because I didn’t want to steal or use a label that wasn’t my own. It had to happen several times for me to accept myself, and even now, it can be difficult.
I’d like to think that in the future there will be a lot more aha! moments for aces across the spectrum of asexuality, demisexuals and graysexuals included. After all, these terms are becoming trendy as they get more exposure — both for people to validate and learn about and for people to make fun of and dismiss. Even the comedian Tom Segura dismissed asexuality recently on his podcast. When McKayla Kennedy-Cuomo came out as demisexual the demisexual community rejoiced — finally, someone famous had come out as demi! This joy was short-lived, however, when multiple outlets, journalists, and even queer educators trusted in other aspects in the community scoffed and laughed at the word and what it means.
I wonder what her demisexual aha! moment was like, and if she initially dismissed it out of fear of rejection. I’m glad she came out publicly. I’m sure it gave many demisexuals their “oh, that’s me!” moment of realization. I think we all deserve that.
More demisexual representation in media would help with that. Blog posts and Twitter threads and articles — they help too, don’t get me wrong. I hope my upcoming book will help many people have that moment in their journey of self-discovery. I wonder, though — what would it have been like if my moment came while watching a musical adaptation? What if Mark had said back, “I’m demisexual!” when Maureen told him? What if Mimi was asexual? What if a musical had come out in 2008 that I had been able to sit in a theater and watch and I had learned what those words meant so much sooner?
RENT is a musical that I have a complicated relationship with. On the one hand, I know every song by heart, and it was the first queer representation on screen that I wasn’t shunned away from growing up. I’m still surprised that my mom didn’t walk us out of the theater. I recognize now some of its bigger problems — such as Maureen being portrayed as a bisexual character who is more likely to cheat, or Mimi trying to get Roger to do drugs when he asked her repeatedly to leave and told her he wanted to stay clean, just to name a few. Even so, I still find myself singing about a restaurant in Santa Fe now and again, thinking about how I always wanted to live in New York City growing up but I still don’t have a clear notion why. Maybe it was because of RENT. Maybe I wanted to live next to the MOMA. Maybe it’s the NYC Pride or Times Square on New Year’s Eve that makes it seem so much more romantic than it could ever actually be. Maybe it’s because more than anything, NYC seemed like a place where I could be myself without shame — queerness that I was hiding and all.
Five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes in a year. How many of a demisexual’s are used to measure feeling validated? How many are used to put good asexual representation on screen? We could measure in more good moments, more “that’s me!” moments, more “aha! That’s what I am!” conversations. We’re on our way to more seasons of acceptance and validation with more asexual representation and education in the world; more seasons of pride, of love, of expanding what it means to be queer by letting the world know we exist. That’s a beautiful way to measure a year.
Elle Rose, also known online as scretladyspider, is a freelance writer and demisexuality advocate specializing in LGBTQIAP+ education and issues. She is also a member of The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project, or TAAAP. She has guested on other blogs and has discussed her experiences on podcasts. To take a look at where else she has written and the podcasts she has been on, click here. If you’d like to help her write more essays like this consider supporting her on Patreon, contribute directly to her tip jar, or buy her a coffee. Contact her directly at secretladyspider@gmail.com.
