Being Aromantic: The Multitudes of Love
Eli Styles | February 21, 2024
Warren Wilson College (WWC) is a queer and trans haven for students. Though not without its problems and unique instances of queerphobia among the campus population, WWC allows for students to explore aspects of their identities that they may have never had the option to before. At WWC, saying your pronouns when you introduce yourself is second nature. Other schools — namely, ones with less than a 60% LGBTQ+ population — are nothing like that.
But despite living in this seemingly utopian queer environment, I have consistently noticed a few queer identities left out of the conversations people are having.
Being on one or both of the aromantic and asexual (aroace) spectra can be an isolating experience. Society revolves around love, and romance and sex are impossible to avoid in the media. Every movie I watch and every fictional book I read ends up depicting a romantic relationship. Assigned readings in class involve teenagers falling in love or a history of the sexual nature of some long-dead person’s relationship — I sit in class and wonder why everyone else is relating to the material except me.
Romantic love is beautiful. It transcends time, leaving marks on the world that are visible even long after the people are gone. But other types of love are just as important, and experiencing romantic attraction should not be the status quo.
This week, Feb. 18 to Feb. 25, is Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week.
In case you do not know, aromanticism means that a person experiences little to no romantic attraction. This means something different for everyone. Some aro individuals are open to romantic relationships and some are not. This is why aromanticism is referred to as a spectrum: there is no one way to be aromantic, just like there is no one way to be queer.
Aromanticism is widely misunderstood. Aroace people are constantly told that they are broken and force-fed the idea that they just “haven’t met the right person yet”. While many people are coming around to the idea that being cisgender and heterosexual should not be considered the “norm”, opinions on being alloromantic (a person who experiences romantic attraction) and allosexual (a person who experiences sexual attraction) have yet to catch up.
Yasmin Benoit, an outspoken aromantic and asexual activist often on the receiving end of controversy on social media for dressing “provocatively” despite her asexuality, put it perfectly.
“When you’re asexual, people usually think there’s something wrong with your body,” Benoit said. “When you’re aromantic, people think there’s something wrong with your soul. We’re taught to see romantic attraction and love as being the epitome of human connection, and if that just isn’t part of how you are there must be something ‘off’ about you.”
Think about how you grew up. Were you constantly being asked by grandparents, aunts, uncles and parents about who you had a crush on in school? Were you asked if you had a partner “yet”? Were you told that the “opposite sex” would be all over you when you were older?
Did being asked these questions feel invasive to you, or did you not think twice about them?
There are a million reasons why these questions could make someone uncomfortable. Growing up queer and closeted comes to mind first, as we are often forced to pretend to fit in in order not to rock the boat.
But why is there such a focus on ushering people into relationships — especially children? Why not focus on connections built naturally?
I have noticed throughout my many years of existing only around straight people that a quorum of their relationships are for show. There is no love there, no care. They are together because society says they should be, no matter how many times they argue or disagree over important issues. Even when they fundamentally do not work together, people stay in romantic relationships.
Why?
And why are aromantic people expected to participate in this romance system when it is broken in the first place?
Consider Valentine’s Day. Every Feb. 14 the world comes together to spread messages of love and affection. This day can be beautiful. It is a celebration of deep connections fostered between people, and a joyous occasion for those who are in a relationship.
But unless you are willing and able to subvert the traditional expectations of Valentine’s Day for your own purposes, it is a wildly othering holiday for aromantic people.
(I am not telling you to stop celebrating Valentine’s Day if you enjoy it. Live your alloromantic dreams!)
What I loved about Valentine’s Day was spending time with my friends. I may not currently experience romantic love but I do love deeply, and I want to spend as much time with the people I love as possible. That meant a lot more to me, personally, than being with a partner.
I am tired of the expectations that fall on aromantic people. I am tired of people expecting us to change at some point, of misinterpreting our platonic relationships for more or assigning hidden, untrue meanings to our comments about popular culture. To tastefully misquote Walt Whitman, “We are large, we contain multitudes.”
I contain multitudes of love. What does it matter if it is not romantic?