“What does it mean to be asexual?”

“What does it mean to be panromantic?”

“What is the different between sexual and romantic attraction?”

First of all, let’s address the different levels of attraction, namely sexual and romantic attraction (these aren’t the only forms of attraction, but for simplicity’s sake they are the two that I will be focusing on here).

You can experience romantic attraction without sexual attraction and vice versa. How do the two differ? Sexual attraction refers to a desire to engage with sexual activity with another person, whereas romantic attraction refers to a desire to have a romantic relationship with someone else.

While these things correlate in the majority of people, it isn’t the case for everyone. You can be asexual i.e. someone who does not experience sexual attraction and still desire a romantic connection with others.

An asexual person may describe themselves as heteroromantic, homoromantic, biromantic, aromantic or (in my case) panromantic. An asexual woman for instance may wish to have romantic relationships with men, which would make her heteroromantic. A person who does not desire romantic relationships with others would be aromantic.

In the case of the panromantic asexual, such as myself, this attraction transcends gender, meaning they can be attracted to anyone; men, women or non-binary individuals.

I tend to describe this experience in the following way – “I don’t see gender. I see the person”. To me, gender is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter. It’s about as important to me as blood type or being left/right handed.

For someone like myself, this experience is not sexual in nature. I don’t feel any desire to have sexual contact with others (honestly, I would have rather eat cake). It’s about the emotional connection.

I can’t quite pinpoint exactly what draws me to a person, emotionally speaking, but that’s neither here nor there. If I like someone, I like someone. It’s as simple as that.

I should clarify that being panromantic varies from being biromantic (likewise with pansexual and bisexual). Quite simply, someone who identifies as biromantic isn’t necessarily attracted to all genders. They may be romantically attracted to women and non-binary individuals for instance, but not to men. As previously stated, a panromantic person can experience this attraction towards persons of any gender identity.

I hope that I have been able to offer some clarity on this subject. If you are interested in learning more, however, here’s a couple of useful links on panromantic asexuality.

https://www.webmd.com/sex/what-is-panromantic-asexuality

https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/panromantic-asexual

And just in case you haven’t had enough, here’s a whole website where you can learn more about asexuality in general.

https://www.asexuality.org/

Being a trans woman myself, I am all too familiar with the psychological burden of this. The best way I can describe it is that it’s like having a nasty, bigoted voice in your head telling you that you all sorts of things to break your spirit. In my case, this has meant believing that I am an “abomination”, a “freak” or an “embarrassment” to myself. I would look in the mirror and see an “ugly tranny”. You name it, that’s how I saw myself.

Experiences of this nature will obviously have a negative impact on your wellbeing, which can ultimately lead to a mental health crisis. This, in turn, intensifies the negative thoughts and feelings and it becomes a vicious cycle. I know because that’s how it was for me and I am sure any trans person who harbours internalised transphobia.

Other ways this may manifest itself include but aren’t limited to:

• A belief that being trans is sinful (if the individual is of a religious persuasion) or otherwise wrong
• Viewing themselves as inferior to other people of their gender e.g. a trans man might see himself as “lesser” than non-trans men
• Shame and guilt in relation to being trans
• Viewing other trans people in a negative light

Why might this happen? That could be down to many factors, from social and cultural influences to upbringing, from discrimination and rejection by peers to pre-existing mental health issues. Those with prior symptoms of depression and anxiety for instance may be more predisposed to internalised transphobia.

There is something to be said about the role of the media in particular. Since 2015, there has been an average of 154 articles about transgender people published in the British press every month (more than 16,000 in total). By contrast, 0.5% of the UK population stated that they were trans in the 2021 census.

It would be one thing is this was coverage was positive or neutral towards transgender people, but the reality is anything but. For instance the media has been systematically portraying trans people, especially trans women, portrayed as a “threat” for some time now. This is not unlike the media attack on homosexuals in the 1980s.

Trans people’s lived experiences are routinely invalidated and dismissed. We are told that we are not “real women” or “real men”. Terms like “social contagion” are thrown about like there’s no tomorrow (Julia Serano recently wrote about this type of rhetoric over on Medium). We are accused of “reinforcing gender stereotypes” or being “fetishists”. Comparisons are drawn to blackface or people who want to identify as a different species. Autistic trans people like myself are often infantilised and denied our autonomy.

It isn’t just the mainstream press either. Anti-trans discourse is rife on social media platforms such as X (doubly so since the Musk takeover).

When we are constantly exposed to trans-antagonistic viewpoints, we may internalise these viewpoints and believe them to be true. I have certainly experienced a tendency to ask myself “What if they’re right?” when exposed to these types of views.

How can we deal with this on an individual level then? That’s the million pound question and there is no easy way, but with time and practice we can learn to free ourselves from these shackles.

In therapy, I have been encouraged to challenge each negative thought that comes into my head. Let’s say for example, I find myself thinking that being trans is something to be ashamed of. In order to tackle this issue, I will ask myself “Why is it shameful?” and whatever answer my mind may come up with is followed by another, similar question or a counter-argument. The purpose of this is to expose the flaws with your way of thinking. The more you challenge the negative thoughts, the more cracks that begin to appear in the reasoning upon which they are based.

This can be very difficult to do and it takes time, for some more than others, but this doesn’t mean it can’t be done. Therapy is often touted as a solution to just about any personal problem, nonetheless it has been a useful tool for me in dealing with my gender issues (especially my internalised transphobia). I would urge anyone who is facing similar struggles to reach out to a trans-friendly therapist. Speaking from experience, this isn’t something that you should face on your own.

It may also help to join a support group, should any be available in your area. Admittedly, not everyone will want to join a support group, myself included, but there are people who benefit from them. The NHS has a useful list of resources for any LGBT+ people who are struggling with their mental health here.

Surrounding yourself with supportive people can go a long way too. If you have friends and family who are accepting and respectful of your gender identity, this can make a significant difference to how you perceive yourself and your overall mental health.

Last but not least, I cannot stress enough the importance of carefully curating what media you consume. I wrote a post a while back in which I discussed how deleting my Twitter (or X as it’s now called) account improved my mental wellbeing considerably. Avoiding content which brings you distress can make a significant difference to your wellbeing.

When it comes down to it, being trans isn’t a choice. I didn’t just wake up one morning and decide on a whim that I wanted to be a woman. Being trans is just what I am. Just like I am autistic. I’m sure the same is true for any trans person. Why be ashamed of something you didn’t choose?

In light of the recent allegations made against Russell Brand, I have been reflecting on how society as a whole navigates discourse about rape. In the days following the Dispatches special, I participated in a discussion online about the Brand case, which was also a wider discussion about sexual violence in general. Disappointingly but not surprisingly, a number of problematic but all-too-common talking points were raised throughout the course of this discussion. I’m going to be confronting some of these and the inherent issues with the flow of conversation about sexual violence.

You may have heard the term “rape culture” in recent years. If you aren’t familiar with the term or are unsure of the exact meaning, here is a brief summary from Rape Crisis UK.

“Rape culture is a culture where sexual violence and abuse is normalised and played down. Where it is accepted, excused, laughed off or not challenged enough by society as a whole.”

Examples of rape culture include but are not limited to; rape jokes, victim-blaming, downplaying sexual violence, lack of justice for survivors, casting doubt on survivor’s accounts, the depiction of sexual violence in entertainment or re-enforcing harmful myths about rape e.g. women will say no when they mean yes, men can’t get raped etc.

Going back to Russell Brand for a moment, I observed a number of participants in the aforementioned discussion questioning why it is only now that the women have decided to come forward. “Why now?” is often asked in these discussions, particularly when it comes to historical allegations. Let’s address this.

Survivors don’t come forward or delay coming forward for a variety of reasons. For instance, they feel that they are to blame, lack faith in the justice system (more on that later), think nobody will believe them, not wish to relive their trauma, are in denial or minimising their experiences, fearing negative repercussions or doubting their recollection of what happened, due to being drugged.

These are just a handful of reasons why survivors will take years to come forward, that’s if they come forward at all. 5 in 6 women and 4 in 5 men don’t report. Since each case will be unique the reasons will vary drastically and be vast in number.

Regarding the lack of faith in the justice system, the statistics paint a very grim picture. 67,169 rape complaints were recorded by police in 2022, but only 1276 (1.9% of the total number) resulted in a rape charge. Never mind a conviction. In addition to this, it’s a long wait for rape cases to reach court. The current average is over two years, effectively prolonging trauma for survivors.*

As if that isn’t unsettling enough, a Home Office-funded survey of rape and sexual assault survivors found that three-quarters of respondents reported that the police response damaged their mental health. A mere 14% of respondents stated that they felt safer as a result of the police response, whereas 39% stated that they felt less safe.

I would also like to point out that there is no “wrong” way to deal with being raped. Everyone responds differently to trauma. Everyone will tackle it in their own way and that’s okay. It’s not a case of one size fits all.

Four words that also come up regularly in these conversations are “innocent until proven guilty”. The principle behind this sentiment essentially means that a court has to presume you are innocent until there is sufficient evidence to convict. This isn’t to say that you or I have to believe in someone’s innocence until a jury finds them guilty. By default, I believe survivors. False allegations are not nearly as common as people think they are. While it is difficult to get exact figures, the Home Office estimates that around 3% or 4% of rape complaints are falsified. Yet women are still not believed or treated with suspicion. Questions arise about the legitimacy of their complaints and/or their motivation for coming forward, not least in cases involving high-profile celebrities like Brand (“they’re doing it for money” is a common trope).

This is not to mention the prevalence of victim-blaming. Mindsets such as “she was asking to be raped dressed like that” sadly persist today. If a woman is raped on or after a night out, she shouldn’t have drunk so much. She should have got a taxi home. She shouldn’t have flirted. These are just a few examples of how society blames women when they are raped. This deflects from the actions of the male perpetrator and shifts the responsibility onto the female victim.

We hear questions such as “Why did she invite him back if she didn’t want it?” or “Why didn’t she scream?” Once again, placing blame on the victim’s shoulders or expressing doubt about their testimonies.

Here are some questions that we should really be asking about sexual violence.

• Why are so few rape complaints leading to a rape charge and even fewer to a conviction? How can we bring justice to more survivors?
• How can we make survivors more confident in coming forward?
• Why is sexual violence so prominent and what needs to change in order to address this issue?
• What can we do to raise awareness and change flawed public perceptions about rape and sexual assault?

There is far too much ignorance, prejudice and faulty logic dominating the narrative about sexual violence. This needs to change.

*These statistics are gathered from Rape Crisis UK. For further reading please see here.

Getting help:

• https://www.nhs.uk/live-well/sexual-health/help-after-rape-and-sexual-assault/
• https://rapecrisis.org.uk/get-help/want-to-talk/
• https://www.sarsas.org.uk/
• https://www.thesurvivorstrust.org/