Autism/ADHD

“Why can’t you?”: Breaking free from internalized ableism as an autistic or ADHDer

Essy Knopf Leave a comment
Essy Knopf internalized ableism
Reading time: 3 minutes

Have you ever asked yourself, “Why can’t I just be normal?”

If you’re autistic or an ADHDer, chances are you’ve heard this question—whether from others or inside your own head—far too often. Each time, it chips away at your sense of self, your right to exist as you are.

Let’s talk about that voice. Let’s talk about internalized ableism.

Where It Begins: The “Why Can’t You” Script

Many of us remember exactly when it started—early school days, perhaps, when a teacher asked why we couldn’t sit still, or a classmate mocked how we played or spoke. These moments don’t just sting in the moment; they shape the stories we tell ourselves for years to come.

The world asked, “Why can’t you…?” And we began to wonder, “Is something wrong with me?”

TIC: The Tyrannical Inner Critic

Eventually, the outer criticisms become internalized. A voice forms—harsh, relentless, always on alert for any mistake. This voice, which author Pete Walker calls the tyrannical inner critic (TIC), becomes a survival strategy.

“If I beat myself up first,” it says, “it won’t hurt as much when others do.”

But here’s the truth: self-criticism doesn’t protect you. It only deepens the wound. TIC isn’t your inner wisdom—it’s internalized trauma.

You’re Using the Wrong Yardstick

Society measures us using neurotypical (NT) expectations: how we socialize, focus, learn, behave. But this yardstick wasn’t built for us. It ignores the rich inner lives, creative passions, and unique ways of thinking that define many autistics and ADHDers.

No wonder we feel “less than.” We’re being held to a standard we were never designed to meet.

Masking: Surviving, Not Thriving

To protect ourselves, we often mask—camouflaging our traits to appear more “acceptable.” But masking is exhausting. It can leave us burnt out, disconnected, and unsure where the mask ends and we begin.

And when the mask slips, we risk rejection—not just in the form of bullying, but the colder pain of ostracism.

The Invisible Pain of Being Ignored

For many, the silence hurts more than the insults. Being ignored, left out, or dismissed triggers deep feelings of unworthiness. Research shows that even brief ostracism lights up the same pain centers in the brain as physical injury.

This can feed a cycle of rejection sensitive dysphoria (RSD)—where even small slights feel catastrophic. It’s not a weakness. It’s a trauma response.

Perfectionism and the Shame Spiral

To avoid criticism, we may strive for perfection—at work, in relationships, even in therapy. We do all the “right” things and still wonder, “Why can’t I just get better?”

But healing isn’t linear. Especially when we’ve spent a lifetime absorbing messages that we’re broken.

Start Here: Reframe the Question

Instead of asking “Why can’t I?”, try this: “What barriers have I faced that made this harder for me?” “What does my neurotype need that hasn’t been supported?” “Why should I have to mask, bend, and twist myself to fit a world that refuses to bend even a little?”

These are truth-telling questions. They shift the blame away from you—and back where it belongs: on a system that wasn’t built for ND minds.

Unmasking, Boundary-Setting, and Self-Compassion

Healing involves risk. Unmasking, setting boundaries, asking for accommodations—it’s vulnerable work. But it’s also freeing.

You’re allowed to stim. To need quiet. To ask for help. You’re allowed to say “no“.

Each small act of self-acceptance is a rebellion against internalized ableism.

Essy Knopf internalized ableism

And That Guilt?

Guilt for needing support? For being “different”? That’s not yours to carry.

Would you call a ramp user “a burden” for not climbing stairs? No? Then your sensory aids, executive functioning supports, and communication needs aren’t a burden either.

You Are Not Broken

Next time that voice whispers, “Why can’t you…?”—pause. Take a breath. And say:

“Because the world wasn’t built for me. Because I’ve had to survive in spaces that ignored my needs. Because I’ve masked and hustled and overcompensated just to get by. And above all, because I am not broken.”

Final Thoughts

You are not alone in this. Many of us are on this journey—peeling back layers of shame, questioning old narratives, and learning to stand in our truth.

So I invite you to ask yourself today: Where did “Why can’t you?” show up in your life? What belief did it plant in you? And what can you do—today—to start unlearning it?

Maybe it’s writing that belief down and crossing it out. Maybe it’s advocating for one small need. Maybe it’s letting yourself rest, unpunished.

Every step is a step toward liberation.

What’s one “Why can’t you…?” message you’ve internalized—and how are you beginning to rewrite it?

Autism/ADHD Identity Wellbeing

Why I hate going outside as an autistic ADHDer

Essy Knopf Leave a comment
Essy Knopf sensory overload
Reading time: 2 minutes

For many autistics and ADHDers, stepping outside isn’t a simple task—it’s an exercise in endurance. From unpredictable noises to overwhelming crowds, the world outside can be exhausting and even painful. Here’s why sensory overwhelm makes going out so difficult, and how it impacts daily life.

The Unseen Battle of Going Outside

For neurotypicals, stepping outside might seem effortless. For me, it’s a calculated risk. The moment I leave my house, I brace myself for a wave of sensory overwhelm—the bright, flickering lights, honking cars, and the endless chatter of people.

It’s not just annoying. It’s exhausting.

Every sound, smell, and visual detail seems to crash into my brain at once, with no filter. My ADHD means I struggle to tune out irrelevant stimuli, and my autism makes everything feel too much, too fast, too loud. The result? I burn out before I even reach my destination.

The Chaos of Public Spaces

Public spaces are an unpredictable sensory minefield. One moment, I’m fine. The next, a sudden noise—an ambulance siren, a child screaming, or harsh sunlight—sends my nervous system into overdrive.

Shops, train stations, and crowded streets all come with their own brand of overstimulation. The sheer number of people moving unpredictably about can be stressinducing.

I’m constantly on edge, trying to manage the discomfort while also masking—pretending I’m “fine” so I don’t stand out. But masking takes energy, and before long, I’m mentally and physically drained.

The Exhaustion of Social Expectations

Going outside also means navigating unspoken social rules. Eye contact, small talk, dodging people on sidewalks—it’s all an exhausting mental game. Unlike neurotypicals, who instinctively follow these social norms, I have to consciously process every interaction.

If I miscalculate—speak too bluntly, react too slowly, or misread a situation—I risk being judged. The stress of trying to “act normal” adds another layer of exhaustion on top of the sensory overwhelm.

Managing neurodivergent sensory needs

Why Staying Inside Feels Safer

At home, I control my environment. I can keep the lighting soft, the noise minimal, and avoid unpredictable social interactions. There’s no pressure to mask, no overwhelming sensory input, and no need to constantly adjust to a world that wasn’t built for me.

But the downside? Isolation. Avoiding the outside world means missing out on experiences, friendships, and opportunities. It’s a constant tug-of-war between self-preservation and the desire to engage with life.

Finding Ways to Cope

While I can’t change the world, I can adapt. Here are a few ways I manage:

  • Noise-canceling headphones – Blocking out overwhelming sounds helps me focus and stay calm.
  • Sunglasses or tinted lenses – Bright lights are a major trigger, so I reduce the strain however I can.
  • Planned outings – Knowing exactly where I’m going, when, and for how long helps me prepare mentally.
  • Sensory-friendly breaks – Finding quiet spaces to recharge mid-trip prevents burnout.

Final Thoughts

Going outside as an autistic/ADHDer isn’t a simple task—it’s a sensory endurance test. From chaotic public spaces to social expectations, every outing requires energy that I don’t always have.

If you relate to this struggle, know you’re not alone. It’s okay to set boundaries, to take breaks, and to advocate for environments that support neurodivergent needs. When feeling dysregulated, consider trying some of these self-care techniques.

Do you experience sensory overwhelm when going outside? How do you cope? Let’s talk in the comments!

Autism/ADHD Identity Wellbeing

Neurodivergents mask to survive systemic ableism—but at what cost?

Essy Knopf6 Comments
systemic ableism autism masking Essy Knopf
Reading time: 6 minutes

Autistic/ADHD individuals learn early on that if they want to survive in a society shaped by systemic ableism, they have to mask their true selves.

But over time, masking damages our self-worth. And it may fuel internalized ableism. So why then do we persist in doing it?

While accommodations are sometimes made for people with disabilities/who are neurodivergent (ND), they are by far the exception to the rule.

In the case of autism and ADHD, accommodations can be even less likely, due to what clinicians call “disguised presentation”. That is, neurodivergence isn’t always that obvious, in some cases because the autistic/ADHDer is working very hard to keep their struggles hidden.

Neurotypicals (NTs) as a result may expect NDs to meet the same standards as people just like them, setting the bar for acceptance impossibly high.

When NTs expect ND folk to think and behave as they do, the moment the ND individual drops their mask—for example, by being overly direct or failing to read social cues—the NT will attribute that lapse to another cause, such as them being “selfish” or “rude”.

They may even respond by criticizing, judging, punishing, and excluding the ND.

Systemic ableism & microaggressions

The issue here is not merely that NTs are intolerant of neurodiversity and the differences it presents. It’s that NTs, in general, operate from baseline expectations that are ableist.

Most are oblivious to the extent to which this ableism informs their thinking, resulting in microaggressions: the “commonplace daily verbal, behavioral or environmental slights, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative attitudes toward stigmatized or culturally marginalized groups” (see Microaggressions in Everyday Life).

Microaggressions can happen even within the families of ND folk. For instance, I remember my own parents calling me “antisocial” for my tendency to choose the company of books and computers over that of other human beings.

They also play out at school, with kids slapping all kinds of hurtful labels upon their ND peers.

I recall even teachers telling me that I lacked “common sense”, and that my handwriting was “poor” and “sloppy”. Turns out, all of these traits were part and parcel of my being ND. 

But even having a diagnosis doesn’t necessarily guarantee understanding and compassion. 

Shortly after I was told I was autistic, I had a friend suddenly touch me from behind. When I reacted with shock and explained my reasons, this friend responded by cussing out my “Asperger syndrome”. (Note: This was my diagnosis at the time. It is now considered to be an outdated term and no longer exists in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders).

Rather than apologizing for having startled me, this friend did what so many NTs did and called out my autism as being the problem.

Miscommunications & Theory of Mind

These misunderstandings are compounded by issues related to a skill called “Theory of Mind”.

Theory of Mind (ToM) has been defined as: “the ability to recognize and understand thoughts, beliefs, desires and intentions of other people in order to make sense of their behaviour and predict what they are going to do next”.

Researchers have claimed many ND folks have impaired ToM. What I’ve noticed however is that our unusual thinking style and behavior can also general a kind of temporary ToM impairment among NTs. 

That is, NTs tend to ascribe NT motives to everyone, but doing this to ND folk can lead to confusion and misunderstanding. Turns on, there’s a name for this: the double empathy problem.

To give an example: when I got into trouble as a child, I would usually be upfront about the truth, believing that my confession would be taken at face value. 

But protesting my innocence or admitting to my naivety would rarely win me favors. In one case, an adult suggested I was “stupid” for expecting them to believe my story. 

What happened here was that this individual couldn’t fathom my intentions, and thus concluded my being honest had to be an act of deception.

Another example of this misattribution occurred during a visit to my parents. My mother told me she was going to fetch a can of tomatoes to make pasta sauce. With her fingers, she indicated that the can would be about the size of a bucket.

Knowing my mother had a tendency to bulk-buy, I assumed she indeed meant the can would be the size she suggested. Because of my impaired ToM, I interpreted her gesture literally. 

When I expressed my confusion over why she wanted to use such a big can, it didn’t occur to my parents that I was genuinely confused. Instead, they accused me of being a smart aleck.

We mask because authenticity is risky

As I’ve mentioned, this tendency of NTs to not adjust expectations when dealing with an ND individual can sometimes be the result of the disguised presentation.

Specifically, when NDs present themselves as NT. In some cases, this camouflaging is deliberate, with the ND trying to mask their struggles for fear of being judged, attacked, or marginalized.

Like NTs, autistics want above all to be accepted for their authentic selves. But when ND authenticity collides with ableist expectations, as in the situations I’ve described, disaster can result.

Due to the double empathy problem, it can be hard to understand NTs and anticipate how they might react to our actions. So we become master imitators and concealers. 

We mask, knowing that by hiding our neurodiversity, we are shielding ourselves against a perplexing and often hostile world.

Sometimes these compensations can be positive and adaptive, such as wearing headphones whenever out in public to compensate for sound sensitivities.

Other times, they are maladaptive. For example: avoiding talking about one’s interests, for fear of misreading social cues and rambling on.

But masking is self-defeating

NDs will often tell themselves that they need to change in order to fit NT expectations. But this really is an expression of internalized ableism.

Furthermore, ignoring your needs and hiding your differences as an ND is almost always self-defeating. 

Years ago I had a friend who would invite me to the movies. Personally, I find sitting in a movie theater to be sensory torture, with people constantly rustling bags and crunching on popcorn.

Rather than explaining this to my friend, I went along with her invitations, usually at great discomfort to myself.

Feeling shame over my sensory problems, I refused to tell her about the issue. Eventually, I started making excuses for not being able to join my friend, who came to believe I was intentionally avoiding her.

Difficulties with executive function are common among ND folk. Personally, in the past, as a result of my ADHD, I have struggled with self-organizing, managing my time, and staying on track.

One time, a manager unloaded on me over this, accusing me of being self-absorbed and irresponsible.

Rather than reacting defensively, I admitted my mistakes and asked this manager how I could improve certain executive function skills. She replied by telling me that my request was “beyond the scope of her role”.

It was one thing to turn professional feedback into a personal attack, but to then deny me support was quite another.

This is, unfortunately, a common experience for NDs. Often we’re told that we have done wrong, without being told how to course correct.

Systemic ableism creates internalized ableism

Until I was diagnosed as autistic and ADHD, I didn’t have a framework by which to explain or defend my difference. Having long been challenged and attacked over my ND traits, defenses have usually felt necessary.

Of course, even without having fully understood the whys and hows of my challenges, I could have still spoken up and tried to negotiate accommodations.

What stopped me, however, was the belief that I was somehow choosing to be difficult. Having internalized ableism, I had come to feel inferior and ashamed of my differences. 

My self-esteem consequently became conditional upon the approval of others. This led to me adopting a workaholic lifestyle in a bid to prove my worth to myself, and to others.

Personal boundaries blurred, to the point that I feared I was always somehow responsible when something went wrong.

Such was my shame that even after my diagnosis, I shied from the company of other NDs.

I convinced myself that the people who frequented autism and ADHD support groups weren’t like me, that I was somehow more “high functioning”—a term I’ve since realized is ableist.

What I feared—but dared not acknowledge—was that to be in their company might make me “one of them”. 

Ableism creates so much stigma around disability/neurodivergence, that despite everything I knew, I still believed my autism and ADHD to be a kind of flaw or personal shortcoming.

Wrap up

Systemic ableism oppresses NDs by demanding we abandon our identities and silence our needs.

We can start countering it by leaning into authenticity, the practice Brené Brown defines as “letting go of who we think we’re supposed to be and embracing who we are”.

One immediate way we can embrace our authentic ND selves is by seeking out fellow NDs around whom masking isn’t necessary.

The ND community exists to normalize individual experiences and to combat the stigma that can make being disabled/neurodivergent such an isolating experience.

ND readers, how does ableism show up in your life? Do you recognize any of the forms of internalized ableism I’ve described here? Drop a comment below.

Autism/ADHD Identity Wellbeing

The secret to building neurodivergent self-esteem? ‘Strengths awareness’

Essy Knopf Leave a comment
self-esteem confidence strengths autism Essy Knopf
Reading time: 5 minutes

Many of the messages we get as neurodivergents (NDs) living in an ableist society remind us that we’re different. And this difference, more often than not, is treated as a negative—at the cost of our self-esteem.

When confronted with the unique traits and behavior of NDs, many neurotypicals (NTs) typically respond with discomfort, annoyance, hostility, and even vilification.

Sometimes they do it out of ignorance—a knee-jerk reaction to something they don’t understand. They may also simply view autism and ADHD as a “deficit” or “fault” that needs to be corrected.

Acknowledging areas for growth

There is a tendency within the ND community to react defensively to the “neurodiversity-as-deficit” paradigm by casting being ND exclusively as a strength. 

Given many of us feel that being ND is an intrinsic part of our identity, it makes sense that we should feel compelled to defend it. 

Personally speaking, I would much sooner rather celebrate my strengths than look at myself through the lens of inferiority.

At the same time, I recognize that being ND can come with some downsides. For example, I find my various sensory sensitivities to be a nuisance. And I wish I could form and sustain relationships with the ease enjoyed by many NTs.

Should I treat these downsides as a reflection of my worth? Definitely not. That said, I do think there is value in recognizing our personal areas for growth. For me, this is developing stronger social skills.

Self-esteem starts with acknowledging strengths

Areas of growth aside, I think there is merit in focusing on strengths. Being autistic, for example, can convey quite a few. For example:

  1. We enjoy peer relationships characterized by absolute loyalty and impeccable dependability
  2. We are free of sexist, “age-ist”, or culturalist biases; able to regard others at “face value”
  3. We are willing to share our mind, irrespective of social context or adherence to personal beliefs
  4. We have an ability to pursue personal theory or perspective despite conflicting evidence
  5. We seek an audience or friends capable of enthusiasm for unique interests and topics
  6. We take consideration of details and spend time discussing a topic that may not be of primary interest
  7. We listen without continual judgment or assumption
  8. We are interested primarily in significant contributions to conversation, preferring to avoid “ritualistic small talk”, or socially trivial statements and superficial conversation.
  9. We seek sincere, positive, genuine friends with an unassuming sense of humor

And as employees, we are also known to be: reliable, persistent, perfectionists, easily able to identify errors, technically able, and to have a sense of social justice and integrity.1

We are also willing to question protocols, can be highly accurate, attentive to detail, logical, conscientious, knowledgeable, original in problem-solving, honest, and likely to thrive on routine and clear expectations.

In a majority of situations, these qualities are quite beneficial. They also contradict the ND-as-deficit paradigm.

Are you ‘strengths blind’?

Strengths vary from individual to individual, and may manifest physically, mentally, emotionally, socially, or spiritually.2

We may not be aware of those strengths and how they may have helped us to cope with the challenges of day-to-day life. But they’re still there, regardless.

Failing to recognize our strengths is called being “strengths blind”. Four factors can prevent us from seeing them.

Firstly, there’s a lack of awareness of said strengths, resulting from not practicing self-awareness or feeling disconnected from our identity.

Secondly, we may not see our strengths as meaningful. Thirdly, we may downplay them as ordinary, rather than extraordinary.

And fourthly, we may overuse our strengths to the point that they create problems. One commonly overused autistic strength for instance is passion. 

To elaborate: autistics can have something of a reputation for wanting to share knowledge about their areas of interest, even with the most casual of acquaintances.

If we’re not careful, we may end up talking at length and scarcely allow the other person to get a word in edge wise.

In fact, we can become so caught up in the act of sharing that we fail to take notice of the subtle—and not-so-subtle clues—that the other person is getting annoyed, or feeling frustrated and overwhelmed.

Yet in moderation, this character strength can be hugely advantageous. Passion for instance can enable us to become leading specialists in our chosen fields.

Putting our strengths into practice

So, how do we overcome strength blindness? By increasing awareness of our strengths. We can start doing this by reaching out to our closest friends and family members and asking them what they like most about us.

Their responses should give you a clear idea of what you excel at. Alternatively, you can take this character strengths and virtues questionnaire.

Some common strengths or qualities are creativity, curiosity, judgment, love of learning, perspective, bravery, perseverance, honesty, zeal, love, kindness, social intelligence, teamwork, and fairness.

Other qualities are leadership, forgiveness, humility, prudence, self-regulation, appreciation of beauty, and excellence, gratitude, hope, humor, and spirituality.

The great thing about character strengths is that most are not in any way shaped by our being ND.3 (Small caveat: many autistics may struggle with social intelligence and teamwork, and yet we also love to learn and are very curious.)

Once you’ve identified our strengths, select your topmost three. Now ask yourself, what activities do you do in service of those strengths?

Chances are when you do those activities, you’ll feel great about yourself. Why? Because they are impactful, and because they provide satisfaction. 

self-esteem autism Essy Knopf

Strengths-based habits improve self-esteem

If you’re struggling with self-esteem issues, make a conscious plan to do at least one of the three activities when you feel down or like you’re struggling. Not only will this affirm your strengths, but it will also improve your self-esteem.

If love is one of your strengths, perform a kind act for someone, such as buying a friend a gift. If appreciation of beauty is a strength, visit an art gallery or public garden. 

If creativity is a strength, pick up a pen or paintbrush and start creating.

Of course, doing the occasional activity can only take you so far. If we really want to grow our self-esteem, we should make these activities into habits.

Set aside a regular time in which to do each of the activities you identified. Incorporate them into your daily or weekly schedule, until they become habitual.

Wrap up

Why is making activities into habits important? Because habits create a powerful snowball effect.

The more we exercise our strengths, the more they feel like a part of our character. The more we orient our character around our strengths, the more capable we feel.

The more capable we feel, the greater our sense of self-worth. The greater our sense of self-worth, the more likely we are to embrace our strengths. And so the cycle goes.

What are some of your strengths, and how do you express them? 

And what’s one new habit you could commit to over the coming week to develop awareness of your strengths? Share your responses in the comments.

Identity LGBTQI+ Wellbeing

Is there a place for the graysexual identity within the LGBTQ+ community?

Essy Knopf3 Comments
Gray-a demisexual graysexual asexual Essy Knopf
Reading time: 4 minutes

Apparently being LGBTQ+ also means being hypersexual. At least, that’s what many of us have been led to believe.

But human sexuality expresses itself very differently from person to person.

Today, I want to talk about two forms of this—gray asexuality/graysexuality and demisexuality—and the struggle many of us experience fitting in.

LGBTQ+ hypersexuality

At 18, when I was just starting to explore my LGBTQ+ identity, I found myself drawn to nightclubs. This seemed like the best venue in which to meet other gay men and hopefully make friends. 

Each club usually had a cover charge, but as a poor student, I often found myself balking. One time a bouncer laughed at my reaction.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll get laid.”

I remember feeling absolutely mortified. How could he have so mistaken my intentions?
Yet it was, as it turned out, a fairly normal assumption to make.

Inside these clubs, I frequently saw people sizing each other up across the dancefloor.

And when I tried to make small talk with strangers, I’d catch them looking over my shoulder at the latest person to walk through the door. Many people I met appeared to be solely looking for casual sex. 

Frankly, I was so bored by this idea, that I’d often end up sitting in a corner and browsing the free LGBTQ+ publications. 

The articles and advertisements I saw within seemed, again, to speak to this hypersexual facet of the LGBTQ+ identity—a facet that is often quite narrow in its definitions.

Being a graysexual in the LGBTQ+ ‘monoculture’

The LGBTQ+ community is, at least in theory, an inclusive one. In practice, however, it can lean towards being a monoculture.

The term “monoculture” refers to cultivating one kind of crop at a time. This is compared to polyculture, where one cultivates multiple crops at the same time.

The LGBTQ+ monoculture promotes the idea that all gay men should be hypersexual and openly discuss their sexual preferences with one another.

Sexuality for me on the other hand has always been personal and private. I’ve rarely felt any need to disclose my preferences with anyone, friends included, nor to actively pursue sex.

When I met other gay men online or in person, I’d explain that I wanted to be their friend and get to know them. For me, the familiarity and safety provided by a friendship were necessary before progressing the relationship.

Intellectual connection and interpersonal compatibility were also important, and I couldn’t be sure of either on short acquaintance.

But many people received my request to get to know them as a rejection. I was, in their view, friend-zoning them.

It seemed I had failed to grasp a common but unspoken belief: that when two gay men come into contact, sex must result.

What are graysexuality and demisexuality?

Given casual sex in the LGBTQ+ world is often treated as a kind of handshake, this expectation makes sense.

This is not to say that LGBTQ+ culture is monolithic. It arose after all as a response to the constraints of heterosexuality.

But this tendency to lean towards a single expression of sexuality can be marginalizing and oppressive to those who don’t and can’t follow it.

It’s only in the past few years, after coming to identify with the gray asexual and demisexual labels, that I’ve understood why hypersexuality never sat right with me.

What does it mean to be gray asexual, also known as graysexual, gray-a, and gray-ace? 

Graysexuals according to the Demisexual Resource Center: 

  • feel sexual attraction infrequently, of low intensity, to few people, or in specific circumstances
  • feel sexual attraction, but have no desire to act on it; have confusing or ambiguous feelings of sexual attraction
  • feel that sexual attraction is not a meaningful concept to them personally

Graysexuality clearly has many possible definitions and is experienced differently by each individual.

Demisexuality on the other hand involves “feeling sexual attraction only after forming an emotional bond”. Some consider demisexuality to be a subset of gray asexual.

In my case, I relate to both labels. I experience sexual attraction, but in limited circumstances, and at a low intensity.

These feelings are often ambiguous, aren’t that important to me, and I usually have little desire to act on them.

And if I do, full enjoyment is rarely possible unless I have first formed an emotional bond.

Quite a lot of fine print. And not exactly something one drops in a casual conversation.

When being graysexual conflicts with allosexuality

Allosexuality—that is, feeling sexual attraction—is often treated as the norm, so graysexuals and demisexuals like myself may thus find themselves pushed into the margins.

For example, we may often feel like our lack of sexual interest and/or drive is a problem and that something is wrong with us.

If we don’t indulge in hypersexuality, we may feel like we’re somehow failing the LGBTQ+ acid test.

Another fact to consider is that in LGBTQ+ culture, being sexually desirable is, unfortunately, often tied to self-worth. Having a lack of sexual interest in others may thus be interpreted as rejection.

Not wanting to engage in sexual activities may be perfectly comfortable for you. But failing to meet allosexuals’ expectations can create discomfort, if not frustration, for some.

Many a time, I’ve found myself in situations where another person clearly wanted a sexual outcome. When that outcome didn’t happen, some individuals would only pressure me further.

Sometimes I froze, and sometimes I gave in. When I did manage to find my voice and refuse, hurt and anger could result. 

Wrap up

It’s hard not to feel somehow wrong or at fault in these situations. You get to thinking that maybe it’s on you to be more upfront about your preferences.

But even when we are upfront, there’s always the possibility it might be explained away.

I’ve had more than a few people tell me that I “just hadn’t had the right sexual experience or partner” yet. Ironic, given that’s an argument that’s been used against LGBTQ+ people for having an interest in members of the same sex!

It isn’t fair that allosexuality is treated as a default and alternate sexual expressions as abnormal. We gray-aces and demisexuals feel blamed or shamed for failing to meet some kind of sexual mandate.

This is, after all, a fundamental part of who we are. And our diverse identities are just one variation of many that exist within the LGBTQ+ community. 

So enough about me, I want to know: do you identify as graysexual or demisexual? 

If so, what’s it been like for you? Let me know in the comments.