Author: Jadey Holcomb

What I’ve Learned From Dating my Trans Partner

My partner and I recently had our one year anniversary. Please, hold your applause for America’s Favorite Couple. And even though we’ve been together for some time, there’s a lack of blog posts relating to this very queer part of my life. You’d think the blog content would be skyrocketing to new unimaginable levels. Over the course of our time dating I’ve tried to write multiple blog posts on what I’ve learned from dating a trans person, how that’s affected me, yada yada so on and so forth. But for some reason I haven’t been able to ever complete one and hit that publish button. So, today’s the day I’m going to lock in and do it. I think part of the reason I haven’t been able to finish the post is because there’s always a melancholic undertone to the reality of our situation. While my past queer relationship was challenging due to it being my first, and navigating how others perceived us, my situation here is different. I’m beyond worrying about coming out for the first time or being perceived as queer. Now, our difficulties lie in the state of the world and the reality of the transgender experience. Which is to say, it can be extremely difficult. But, it’s not all difficult and horrible. There are many awesome and amazing things about knowing and loving a trans person, and it’s taught me a lot about myself. So much so that I feel a need to write about it and post it on the internet. Let’s get into it!

  1. I’m Customizing my Character 

I’ve done a lot of things recently to customize my character (and by that I mean change my appearance). In the past ten months I’ve gotten a shaggy haircut, a lip piercing, bangs, shaved the ends of my eyebrows off, grew out my armpit hair, and bleached my eyebrows. I’ve done a lot of these things thanks to my partner’s encouragement and seeing them express themselves so freely. For example, my partner told me I should get bangs. And while at first I thought this was a rude suggestion and it would make me look incredibly ugly, I did in fact get bangs and it was kind of the best decision ever. Because now I look hot and sexy and gayer. Additionally, my partner grows out their armpit hair, which inspired me to do the same. I thought it looked really hot and cool on them, which made me question why I had never grown mine out. I found it incredibly strange that I had never seen my body with hair that naturally grows because of some made up patriarchal, capitalistic expectation that I as a female should have no body hair. Eek! I was succumbing to patriarchal expectations and infantilizing myself for the male gaze?! Something had to be done. So, I grew out my armpit hair and now I’ve had them grown out for four months and I don’t plan on going back to shaving them anytime soon. Sure, I could have grown out my armpit hair and done all of these things on my own at any time. But witnessing my partner express themselves so freely, and beyond the gender binary, encourages me to do the same. Being with them gives me a safe space to explore my appearance and self expression, and I knew I would have at least one person in my corner hyping me up. 

  1. I’m Exploring my Gender

My partner taught me how to bind using trans tape. They showed me how to apply it, gave me tips for removal, and gave me some tape in case I wanted to try again later. It felt really special to do that together, to see an aspect of my partner’s life and to try it with them. It was a really comforting experience. I felt like I was in such a safe space to explore my gender and to try new things. Afterwards we talked about our own experiences with gender, how we feel, signs we were queer as kids. It was so special and so queer.

It felt really nice to be a cis person and bind, something I’ve realized does not get a lot of representation, but is perfectly normal and cool. I’m a person who typically goes braless, and I wear a lot of tank tops and little shirts. Binding my chest made me realize how much I focus on covering up, worrying about if I’m bending over the wrong way, if I need to cover my chest. Having my chest bound for a couple days felt so comfortable. I never worried about my top slipping or who was around when I was getting dressed and shirtless.

Once I took the tape off, it made me realize how much energy I spent focusing on my body, and worrying about how clothes would sexualize it. And I really did not like that! Because there’s nothing inherently sexual about the body. It’s all just made up ideas in order to control people, especially women. And I sure as hell am not going to be a victim to the patriarchy. 

So now I’ve been making a conscious effort to simply exist in my body. What does this look like? I’m shirtless more often. I get out of the shower at night and do my night routine without a shirt. That’s maybe five or ten minutes. I tell myself there’s nothing sexual about my body. If a man can bend over and not worry about his shirt showing his chest, I can too. 

Dating an asexual trans person has given me space to simply exist. I never worry about being perceived in a sexualized or gendered way, and that makes me feel very free to just be a human being. I’m not doing certain acts or gendered things in our relationship because I’m “supposed to.” I’m just existing and doing what makes me happy. 

  1. My Sexuality is More Fluid Than I Thought 

When I started dating my partner I identified as a lesbian, but that label quickly went out the window. Using the term lesbiam to describe myself was something I did casually, and while it felt okay, it was never perfect. Then, I started dating my partner, who is not a girl and not a lesbian, and I realized that label was too restrictive. I think I just like people who are queer. I don’t want to date a cishet man, but my partner is much more boy than they are girl, and I like them very much. I’m just attracted to queerness and hot people, and that typically manifests as women and gender non-conforming people. If in a hypothetical world my partner fully transitions to a boy, I wouldn’t have an issue with it. 

Additionally, I’ve been able to explore what my asexuality means as a 22 year old in a serious relationship. I think for a long time I have been unintentionally boxing myself in. I’ve been realizing that by using the ace label, I haven’t really considered how I would feel in sexual experiences that aren’t sex or won’t lead to sex. There was a long period of identifying as asexual where I felt that I didn’t want to do anything that fell under the category of sexual. But the thing is, when you don’t experience sexual attraction, what makes something sexual? Things that might be sexual to someone else might just feel romantic to me. And even if I am interested in more “sexual” acts, that’s okay. I’ve been learning that the basic definition of asexuality fits me: experiencing little to no sexual attraction. Just because I don’t experience sexual attraction doesn’t mean I can’t participate in “sexual” activities. To put it in an analogy, you can eat when you’re not hungry. 

Aesthetic attraction is so real. Sensual attraction is so real. I never expected to feel this kind of desire I do with my partner. I haven’t given myself enough space to understand how I experience desire, but now I am exploring that. Things I didn’t think I would be comfortable with, or want to do, are actually things I find fun and I want to do. It feels so special and important to me to be able to learn about my sexuality in a safe, loving environment. 

My partner and I have had conversations about what we’d be comfortable with if we had sex. Up until recently, I was fully planning on never having sex. Staying a “virgin” for life. And while this has all been mere conversation, it’s fascinating to understand this part about myself. For the sake of experimentation, of closeness with my partner, maybe even “fitting in,” there’s a part of me that’s curious and open to it, and I never thought that was possible. 

  1. I Have to be Really Fucking Emotionally Vulnerable

Luckily for me, I’m the most emotionally mature person on earth. Trust that my therapist is proud of me. The reality of me and my partner’s situation is that their trans identity affects their mental health. Their parents don’t support them, they’re not out at work, and they desire HRT, which they’re not currently on. They’re living a double life as the person I know them as, and someone who is a stranger to me. That takes a toll on a person! Additionally, we’re long distance. It can feel challenging to not be able to comfort each other with a hug or other physical reassurance when we’re far away. This also means that vulnerable conversations are almost always through a screen. 

I feel really proud of the communication my partner and I have. We allow each other to sit in silence, to share, to cry, to pause conversations and come back. Recently I noticed that I was initiating physical intimacy more than my partner was, and I asked them if that was something they noticed as well. And honestly, I was really nervous to ask this. Part of me was thinking about worst case scenarios. But it turns out, their lack of initiation had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the dysphoria they feel. This is a new conversation for both of us. I’ve never experienced wanting physical intimacy, and both of us are trying to find the language to express our feelings and what makes us both the most comfortable. 

I have a hard time saying my feelings out loud. That’s why I write a lot. Because these conversations happen over FaceTime, I like to make a point to schedule when we’re going to talk about more emotionally heavy things. This then forces me to know when conversation is coming, and give me time to gather my feelings and prepare to share them. It’s a lot easier to gauge someone’s body language and mood in person, and we have very different needs when it comes to expressing emotions. I get anxious over not talking and want to clear things up right away, but my partner has a very difficult time being emotionally vulnerable. This means that we plan a time to talk so I don’t anxious-spiral, and spend a lot of time sitting in silence as they work through their feelings. 

After my partner and I talk, one of us says “Thank you for sharing,” and the other responds “Thank you for listening” (which I  think would be the outro to our hypothetical couples podcast).

So tl;dr, it’s really slay and awesome to date a trans person. Trans people are hot and awesome and empathetic and cool and fashionable and teach us about dismantling oppressive systems by just existing. And personally, I’m very grateful to date a trans person and I love that my partner is trans. And, if you have someone in your life who is trans, or you’re dating a trans person, you should tell them you love their transness. 

Alright. I’ll talk to y’all in the next post. Thanks for reading! 

Sharing Sexual Experiences with Friends: Asexuality and Voyeurism (it’s not an oxymoron!)

It’s been many, many moons since my last blog post and the fans have been begging for an update. So, today I’m coming in strong with a steamy, scandalous, explicit blog post! Okay, I’m mostly kidding, but we are gonna talk about voyeurism and sexual experiences with friends. 

I have a friend, let’s call her Nova, and she gets around a lot. She has the beautiful bisexual experience of hooking up with people of all genders and I have the privilege of hearing the juicy details of these hookups. She occasionally sees this girl, who we’ll call Violet, and has nothing but good things to say about her. A few months ago, Nova was telling me about her most recent rendezvous with Violet, and I thought to myself, “I want to be there.”

Now, apparently that’s not a typical response to hearing about your friend’s sexual excursions, but that’s what I thought. And I’ll explain it to you because you’re probably wondering “Jadey, you pervert, what on earth do you mean?”

So here’s the thing. The obvious thing. I’m asexual. This whole sex thing isn’t something I have ever participated in. However, it is fascinating to me. The taboo of it all, the shame that surrounds it, the things we get told are “good” and “bad” expressions of sexuality. Kink and fetish, the multifaceted layers of sexuality. I love it. I love hearing about it, I love talking about it, and I love writing about it. 

But, it can be challenging to get authentic information about the nitty gritty of it all. Porn is unethical, and ethical porn costs money, and that amount of money isn’t worth my lack of interest to view it. There are novels and short stories, but it’s difficult to find the line between smut and erotica, and literature that comments on sex and sexuality. So, the best option to see how it all works, to ask questions, to be in the experience without actually having sex myself, is to watch it. And Nova is the most open, trusting friend whom I am very close with, so I posed the question: can my partner and I come over and watch you have sex with Violet?

Nova was beyond thrilled. So we began planning a day we could all get together, and obviously talking about boundaries and what we expected during this voyeurism experience. To sum it up, we decided on going with the flow. Maybe we show up and it’s just hang out time. Nothing sexual happens and we all get to know each other as friends. Maybe it’s just a make out session, my partner and I watching or doing our own thing, or Nova and Violet do have sex and all my voyeurism fantasies come true. 

Let’s talk about friendship for a second. Because I need to make a very strong point of how incredibly grateful I am to my friend for having this experience. The fact that Nova and I are so close, that we have such a trusting, open friendship, where I could even bring this up to her, let alone have it actually happen, means so much to me. Additionally, this was planned on the basis of me wanting to explore my sexuality, test out a fantasy, and having someone say yes to that, to be so willing to be vulnerable and share such an intimate moment with me, actually makes me kind of emotional. Plus, up until this point, I had never met Violet, but she was so willing to do this for a stranger, which I think just shows how kind and awesome of a person she is. 

I do think queer friendship is inherently different from straight friendships. I’m not saying it’s better, just different. There’s an openness to go beyond traditional “rules” of friendship. There’s an openness to talk about sexuality, to touch each other, and in some queer friendships, sleep with each other. Plenty of queer friendships involve sexuality that remains platonic. Just look at boygenius! 

There are a lot of things that you’re not “supposed” to do with your friends. You’re not supposed to be physically intimate with your friends. Kiss them, have sex with them. And god forbid you’re not supposed to want to do those things when you’re in a relationship. And I think that’s weird. I think that limiting expressions of intimacy to just a romantic and/or sexual partner is weird and problematic. 

Obviously, there are limits and boundaries set between partners in a romantic/sexual relationship. However, the implication that being in any way intimate with your friends because you’re in a relationship is bad, is toxic. It suggests you don’t trust your partner and you want to control how they behave around others. I don’t like that. My partner and I are very open to the idea that we could want to have sexual experiences the other wouldn’t be comfortable with. That could happen in any relationship. I never want to stop my partner from learning about themselves and having a new experience. It is inevitable that there are things, sexual or not, I will not be able to give my partner. And that’s normal. That’s okay. I don’t want to be everything to my partner. That’s impossible, and not healthy. And I wouldn’t want the pressure of that, and vice versa for my partner. You can’t be everything for everyone. So that’s all to say, that’s where my head is at in being open and excited to do something “unconventional” with my friend and partner.

Alright. That’s a lot of chit chat. Let’s get into the nitty gritty. 

Funny enough, this voyeurism adventure was happening the same weekend my partner and I celebrated our one year anniversary. So after a romantic sushi dinner at the restaurant where we had our first date, we headed over to Nova’s house. Nova had placed a mattress in the middle of the living room where she and Violet sat, and my partner and I perched on the couch as we all began to get to know each other. We talked books, majors, music, even which websites are the best for pirating movies. We established boundaries in person, had a couple drinks, and things started to pick up. While I’ve alluded to what kind of physical intimacy my partner and I have as an asexual couple, I’ve never explicitly said it on my blog. But since we’re here, I might as well not hold back (and also it’s really not that scandalous). We refer to physical intimacy as “asexual make out” which basically sounds like what it is. It has aspects of a “traditional” make out that are adjusted to fit our comfort level as asexual people, and doesn’t necessarily lead to sex or anything of that nature. For example, I don’t love being kissed on the mouth, so asexual make out might involve less kissing on the mouth, and more kissing on the cheek or neck. That’s all to say, while things heated up from Violet and Nova, things heated up between my partner and I as we watched. And, being the writer and poet I am, I obviously brought a note pad and pen to take notes and write down important quotes. 

Then the evening went down as you’d expect, but also not. Yeah, Violet and Nova had sex, but also, we all just became friends and hung out. In the middle of things Violet and Nova left to play dress up. Violet showed us a YouTube video about My Little Pony. We stood in the kitchen mostly unclothed to get another drink and talk about Brandi Carlile, which record should be put on next, and the politics of Zohran Mamdani. Basically, I was doing my favorite things: hanging with my friends and being gay. 

And then, after a couple hours we got tired and went home. The funny thing about this experience is how normal it all felt. It really was me just hanging with my friends, and some of them just happened to be naked. A lot of cool things happened; I made a new friend, I had my first kinky experience, I got content to write about, and I formed closer bonds with my friend and partner. So basically the night was incredibly successful and awesome.

Now. One last note before I end things. You might be reading this and thinking the same thing a friend of mine asked me when I updated him on this experience; “Does this mean you’re not asexual?” I’m still very asexual. Just because I participated in a sexual experience doesn’t mean I feel sexual attraction. You can eat when you’re not hungry. However, this experience did open up a new way for me to look at my asexuality. While before I defined my asexuality by the things I was not comfortable with doing, now I’m defining it as simply a lack of sexual attraction. I think I was unintentionally boxing myself in and now I’m expanding definitions of my sexuality. I’m reminding myself that it’s okay to experiment. That the asexual experience is vastly different and not a monolith. Some asexual people might not like physical touch and never have sex. Some might be super kinky and have sex. That doesn’t make them not asexual. There isn’t a right way to experience sexuality. The spectrum is vast and different and that makes it cool and interesting. There are a variety of reasons why I, or another asexual person might want to engage in sexual activities or sex. And as long as it’s consensual, that’s awesome. 

Alright. I hope this makes up for my lack of posts and now I’m thought of as a super cool, mysterious, kinky asexual on the internet. 

Rejecting Labels, Dismantling Desire, Poetry Publications, & Other Life Updates

It has been many, many moons since my last blog post. And that’s not to say I haven’t had one sitting in Google Docs 80% done for the past four months. Because I certainly have. I just haven’t brought myself to finish it for whatever reason. I, of course, have still been writing lots. More than ever actually. It’s my senior year of undergrad so not only have I been writing for classes, I’ve been applying to grad schools and writing my thesis: a poetry collection on asexuality, queerness, desire, and taboo amongst other things. 

Maybe I’ll have to do a rundown of the best books and poetry collections I’ve read. But that of course is for Future Jadey to decide. 

Last year at this time I was unpacking comphet and deep in the journey of my Lesbian Renaissance, coming to terms with lesbianism and the fact that I wasn’t attracted to men. And shocker, here’s an update on that – I’m not a lesbian. Listen. Did I spend months thinking about that label, adopting it, and working through comphet? Yes, obviously. Was all of that completely necessary? Yes. But as I kinda figured I would do, I decided labels aren’t for me, and un-labeling my romantic orientation and using queer as a broad term makes me feel the most comfortable and seen in my identity. 

Do I resonate with aspects of lesbianism and the lesbian community? Yes. I’m still going to use the label lesbian for convenience, but in my little gay heart, I’m not one. The label lesbian feels too limiting. I have the capacity to like a wide range of people, just not cishet men. 

Part of this discovery was through dating my genderqueer partner, and being with them – dismantling gender norms and existing as just a person – has allowed me to feel perfectly at ease with not being boxed in. The same thing has resulted for my gender, where I may use she/her pronouns and be perceived as femme, on the inside I’m just a person existing who doesn’t need labels to define or box in the many experiences and nuances I feel around my identity. 

Being with my partner has also allowed me to reevaluate desire and my asexuality. Even as well-versed in ace knowledge as I am, I realized I was boxing myself into a preconceived notion of asexuality. By this I mean that I had it in my head what I was and was not comfortable with. How I wanted to show intimacy, what desiring someone meant. As I got older I wanted to explore that more, but a lot of it seemed like a hypothetical. 

Now, I find that I am stripping my understanding of my asexuality down to the very basic definition. Asexuality means experiencing little to no sexual attraction. While before that was closely tied to how I understood what I did not want, I am now reversing that idea, and understanding my asexuality through what I do want. To me, this means exploring physical intimacy in a way that feels right to me. Maybe what most would perceive as a sexual act actually feels romantic to me. Maybe I feel most connected with my partner through conversations surrounding our queerness – a part of that being how we physically interact with each other. Additionally, I’m accepting the fact that I could desire things that are seen as sexual. I can want physical intimacy and closeness even when I don’t experience sexual attraction. To put that idea to an analogy – I can still eat even when I’m not hungry. I’m also learning how huge a role aesthetic attraction plays in my desire. 

There are things I never thought I would be comfortable with that I now do and enjoy. And it feels so freeing and exciting to learn these things about myself. For example, if you’re an avid reader of the blog you may recall that for a long time I’ve been opposed to kissing on the mouth. There was something about it that just wasn’t for me. It made me uncomfortable, I didn’t see the appeal, and frankly, it seemed gross. And I often complained about this, because I so badly wanted to be an asexual who kissed. For many reasons. Because it was a “normal”  thing to do. Because it seemed fun. Because it seemed romantic. Anywho. I never thought I’d actively want to kiss someone. And you know what, now I’m dating someone who likes to be kissed. And guess what, now I like it. Now, I don’t get “sparks” or “butterflies” like I do when I’m kissed on the cheek or somewhere else. I’m not begging to be kissed on the mouth. But I know my partner likes it, and it makes them happy, and that alone makes me enjoy it and want to do it. 

A lot of factors went into this new kind of thinking. The first obviously being the relationship I have with my partner, the safety and comfort I feel with them, and the desire to explore and experiment with someone I love. Simply getting older, wanting to try new things. Conversations with my friends revolve around sex and relationships and I’ve always taken such an interest in intimacy and desire I wanted to further explore it within myself. 

While this may sound like I’m exploring what could be deemed “sexual” I am not at all saying I’m not asexual. In fact, this makes me more confident in my asexuality, and excited to explore it further. While before I searched for other aces talking about their experiences as sex-repulsed or sex-averse, I’m now interested in sex-neutral to sex-favorable ace experiences to understand different perspectives and see how they resonate with my own identity. 

A few baby updates not long enough for their own post:

I listened to this podcast called Velvet, a fictional narrative about a woman coming to terms with her newfound asexuality and understanding “what it means to experience pleasure beyond sex.” She discusses desire with her allo friends, attends an ace group, and even goes to a Shibari class, which was my favorite episode and by far the most interesting. I wasn’t blown away by the writing, but it was so relatable, and covered so many pieces of the ace experience. This was awesome to listen to as an ace person, and I think would be really informative for allo people wanting to understand asexuality more. 

Click here to read a poem I got published:  I Wish I was a Riot Grrrl Magpie Zine 

This was my first publication outside of my university, and a poem I’m really proud of! My bio is on page 61, and my poem on page 62. 

Anywho. It feels good to be back on the ol’ blog. It’s also been really nice understanding more about my queerness and exploring who I am and my relationship to love and romance. See y’all later. 

Dismantling Heteronormative Ideas and Timelines in Queer Relationships 

Seven and a half weeks into knowing my partner I texted my friends and asked them if they would disown me if I told my partner I loved them. “Jadey. You’re telling us you are so down bad for your partner that you couldn’t even wait two months to say ‘I love you?’”  Well, um…yes. Thankfully my friends said they wouldn’t disown me and if this was something I wanted to do and say first then I should do it. 

Now, listen. I like to think I’m a pretty rational person. I am not one to Google questions that will lead me down a rabbit hole. I’m not going to Google my symptoms and convince myself I have cancer. I’m not going to ask Google if I should quit my job or move across the country. However, clearly I was desperate because about two weeks prior to this text conversation I was Googling “when should you say I love you” because the fact that I was feeling this way towards my partner had me feeling completely irrational and insane. However, Google honestly didn’t have terrible advice. Google said to wait at least two months and to probably meet the parents and to not feel pressured to say it. And honestly that’s pretty logical advice. However, I of course completely ignored it. 

I am the kind of person to trust my instincts. I trust my gut feeling and I feel confident in myself to make smart decisions. However, this situation made me feel insane. Everything about our relationship has been moving at the speed of light. My partner met almost all my friends on our second date. Three weeks in they met my parents. Less than two months in I said “I love you.” To say we were moving fast was an understatement. But then again, fast to who?

I had been basing these milestones off of preconceived societal norms for dating. And who makes these “rules?” Straight people. So that got me thinking. This whole system and rules around dating and love is based on heteronormative expectations and ideals. And I even told my friends in my flustered text chain “why worry about traditional relationship timelines” in order to convince myself I wasn’t crazy. So today we’re going to dive into these traditional relationship ideas and talk about how I’m dismantling them and re-learning in order to have the loveliest, most fulfilling life possible. 

  1. Chrononormative Timeline

Chrononormativity is the expectation that everyone follows the same timeline for life events. This suggests there’s a “right” time to get married, have kids, etc. But it can also be small events like how many dates you’re going on, labeling the relationship, planning future events, etc. This can create feelings of anxiety and stress from external and internal pressure. This kind of mindset can be toxic for all people, not just gay people. In fact, there is probably more pressure on straight couples to abide by this timeline because queer couples are already defying the status quo. They have more leeway to not abide by these rules because they’re already seen as doing the “wrong” thing (in the eyes of a patriarchal society). 

That’s to say that I’ve been working on not allowing heternormative and societal norms to slide into my relationship and make me feel pressured to do certain things at certain times. And in fact, even though I have not been dating my partner for very long, and the speed at which we’re moving is a lot to grasp at once, I feel perfectly secure and at ease with it. “Jadey, why is that?” you might be wondering. That’s because my partner and I are on the same page. When I asked them to be my partner after three weeks, and when I said “I love you” seven weeks in, I felt with full confidence that I would be met with enthusiasm and reciprocated feelings. This timeline works for us, so it doesn’t matter if it’s “too fast” or if we’re doing the whole dating thing “wrong.” The basis of our relationship is already so queer based on our sexualities and genders that it feels ever queerer and right to go against these timelines and create our own rules. 

And honestly, following a certain timeline has no logical sense. Why wait a certain amount of time to make things official or meet the parents? If it’s something important for you to do early on, or if it’s important for you to wait a long time, do it. Following these expectations and hitting these “milestones” really only benefits capitalist ideals. Of course the patriarchy and capitalism want you to get married and have kids to produce more workers and nuclear families because it benefits the system!

  1. Gendered Behaviors and Expectations

I’m less reflecting on this topic and more including it for a conversation piece because me and my homies hate gender roles and gendered expectations. You will never catch me bending to oppressive patriarchal gender roles. 

One thing I will never understand are same sex (or queer) couples falling into gendered roles based on who is more “masculine” or “feminine.” If I was basing my relationship of gendered expectations, then I would be sitting pretty as the fem(me) partner twiddling my thumbs. You best believe on our first date I asked for a second date, paid for dinner, and drove! Of course I buy my partner’s meals and bring them flowers and say “I love you” first! I know what I want and I’m going to get it! You will not catch me sitting around waiting for things to happen. If I want something I’m going to ask for it. Plus, breaking gender roles is hot. 

That’s not to say that embracing gendered roles is always bad. As long as it’s a choice that makes all members of the party happy, then go for it. Having a traditional gendered relationship could be really affirming for a T4T couple. Plus, some people just like their traditional gender roles! As long as it’s not falling into scary tradwife Republican submission where boxing people in is used to control them, do whatever gendered things you want!

  1. Creating New Rules

The fabulous thing about being queer is that you’re already going against the “norm” so there’s freedom to continue to defy expectations. And anyone who thinks otherwise is just trying to uphold heternormative ideals. It’s giving gay Republicans. Gross. 

When I asked my partner to be my partner I figured we could just make that day our anniversary because I assumed that’s just what people did. But then I realized I didn’t like it. What about all the time we spent before, did that just not count as time we’ve been dating? Plus, the day just didn’t sit right with me. It was in May and a Thursday and it just didn’t feel right so I asked my partner if we could just make our first date our anniversary and they loved that idea. And I know plenty of people make their first date their anniversary but that’s all to say I was originally trying to do what I thought was typical and guess what, I didn’t feel like it fit me and my relationship, so we changed it. And it made me a lot happier. 

I see the “rules” and conventions around romantic relationships as something that’s merely a suggestion. The system that has set up these expectations isn’t built for queer people, so why should we follow it? Anyways. Was this blog post mostly an excuse to talk about my partner? Maybe. But did it allow me to reflect on queer relationships and the heteronormative institutions that try to regulate them? Yes. 

Being Disappointed in Lesbianism (and being okay with that)

Jadey’s writing about being gay again. Raise your hand if you’re shocked.

For the second time in undergrad I am taking a poetry class. The first time I took this class I was a freshman; nervous and mostly unfamiliar with the world of poetry. Being that I’ve currently gotten all the credits I need for my major as a junior (besides thesis classes I’ll take my senior year) I decided to retake poetry for fun. It’s been about a month and a half and I can confidently say I’ve had a lot of fun already and am excited to keep writing poems.

I can see the improvement in my poetry and have gotten into a productive writing process. My poems are whimsical, yet serious. There are good images and metaphors. It was recently pointed out to me that there were similar themes and rhythms of exploration I was doing in my poetry. And while this is good in one aspect, that I’m honing in on my “thing’ as a writer, and will have a thread throughout my end of semester portfolio, it also was frustrating for me to realize. And I’m not really that upset about my similar line breaks and typical silliness my poems have. I enjoy those things about my poetry. My frustrations come from a greater problem. Recently, almost all my poems have mentioned my sexuality, if not being explicitly about lesbianism. 

And of course I’ve told myself that this is okay. Because it is. It’s cool. Queer representation is needed and I haven’t heard any other explicitly lesbian poems in class yet, though it’s definitely a possibility. I’m telling myself I’m in a lesbian renaissance. I’m coming to terms with things. But the issue is that I don’t want to. 

It’s frustrating for me to be upset over my queerness. Because usually it is something I find so much joy in. It’s my favorite thing about myself. But recently I can’t help but feel sad about it. And granted, this is not all the time. Maybe a brief moment or thought in the middle of the week. I don’t wake up dressed in black (though I do wear black a lot – not the point) like a widow in mourning for the husband I’ll never have. But every once in a while the thought will pop into my brain and it’ll pass, or like this present moment, it will linger, and I’ll mull it over. 

This grief I’m feeling for the life I won’t have is an ongoing process. As much as I surround myself with positive queerness and am in queer circles the issue of homophobia is a systemic issue. It’s embedded into our culture. And with this presidency it’s certainly not going anywhere. 

I simply find it not fair. I don’t want to be sad. I don’t want my life to be harder because I’m gay. I want to live in a beautiful state of ignorance where I don’t know about the systemic oppression and homophobia and constant news of trans people dying. I don’t want to be distinctly aware of the fact that I can count the number of queer adults I know on less than ten fingers. How am I supposed to imagine a full beautiful life as a queer adult, as an asexual for that matter, when I can’t see it in my real life. The only asexual people I know are my age. Most of the queer people I know are 20 years old. How am I supposed to imagine in the future when the queer adults I know don’t surpass the age of 40? How am I supposed to see a fulfilling life as an asexual when I’ve never met as asexual adult? How am I supposed to believe that’s even a possibility? 

I have thought that maybe the label lesbian isn’t for me, which is exactly what I predicted myself doing. I think my issue is that in an attempt to accept it, I’ve forgotten to hold onto the queerness and aceness I live with, which is equally, if not more, important to me than using the term lesbian. But I am a lesbian. I don’t have to scream it from the rooftops. If anything, I could end my lesbian acceptance renaissance and use the term queer, knowing that term encompasses my asexuality, lesbianism, gender, and unconventional relationship types. Which honestly, is what I might do. Going through the process of coming to terms with this label was necessary, but I also can use the label queer, and know that I am a lesbian. Because I am asexual, and because I am not straight, and because of all sorts of other things like my strong rooted feminist identity and relationship with gender I feel incredibly queer in my identity and my lifestyle. So, I am queer. But, if asked to expand what that means to me, part of that would be that I’m a lesbian and asexual.  

Anyway, I am definitely going to write more poems about being gay. I just needed to rant. Thank god I have a blog. 

Update: I did write another poem that was gay and it actually is one of the best poems I’ve written so clearly I have something going for me. 

Why Sabrina Carpenter’s “Busy Woman” is a Problematic Pop Girl Anthem

If you’re constantly on the internet like I am, then you know Sabrina Carpenter had her rise to fame this past year. A former Disney star turned pop icon, Sabrina really gained her popularity when she opened for Taylor Swift on the Eras Tour and released her sixth studio album Short n’ Sweet. 

Sabrina recently released the deluxe version of this album with the following songs: “15 Minutes,” “Please Please Please (feat. Dolly Parton),” “Couldn’t Make It Any Harder,” “Busy Woman” and “Bad Reviews.” As much as these are pop bangers, one stood out to me for the wrong reasons. 

Now, don’t get it twisted. I am a Sabrina Carpenter fan, so much so that I’ve seen her twice in concert. I am a bigger fan of her fifth album Emails I Can’t Send, which I think has a more diverse track list, where the theme of her most recent album is simply…horny. And listen, I love a sexy pop song as much as the next gal, but I can only relate to singing “I’m so fucking horny” so much.

However, Sabrina’s song “Busy Woman” is full of lyrics that made me raise an eyebrow. This song got popular very quickly, and I’ve seen a lot of people listening to it and enjoying it online and in real life. But, being the English major and feminist that I am, I found it necessary to sit down and talk about this song and why I have an issue with it. 

Sabrina Carpenter is most known for her silly, dirty lyrics full of funny lines and innuendos. “Busy Woman” is no exception, though I do think she was trying too hard to be funny with these bonus tracks. I also think it’s important to note that Sabrina is an incredibly conventionally attractive, blonde, heterosexual woman. It’s not that surprising that she is so famous. The media loves to boost the ideal person into stardom, and Sabrina definitely has that look. She also presents herself in an incredibly feminine way. She shows off her body, wears skimpy outfits, and does sex positions on stage. However, there’s duality to this disposition. On the one hand, Sabrina is presenting herself in a very heteronormative way. She’s a pretty blonde woman singing about having sex with men. What’s new? However, she’s also singing explicitly about her sexuality and celebrating it, showing off her body in what you could argue is in an empowering way.

Anyway, let’s get into this song. In “Busy Woman” Sabrina sings about her mixed emotions about desiring a romantic relationship but settling for a purely sexual one because of her busy schedule as a pop star. She warns the man she’s singing to that if he doesn’t want her, there will be consequences.

And that’s my issue with this song. In the first verse Sabrina sings “I’m so mature, collected and sensible / Except when I get hit with rejection / To turn me down, well, that’s just unethical / I’ll turn into someone you’re scared to know.” Sabrina warns her love interest that she is usually good-natured, but if she’s rejected, then she’ll become unpleasant. As much as this line, and this entire song, could be a joke, it comes off pretty serious. And this line in particular plays dangerously close to the hysterical woman trope. Once Sabrina’s looks are discounted, and she isn’t desired by men, her self-worth plummets. This is suggesting that as a woman, Sabrina’s value is placed in the hands of others and she must rely on the approval of men to feel any confidence in herself. That’s bad. 

She then backtracks and says if this man doesn’t want her she “didn’t want your little bitch-ass anyway.” Upon rejection, Sabrina then insults her love interest in a vulgar way and demeans his masculinity. Not only is this playing into the hysterical woman trope, but this line is upholding traditional values and placing the pinnacle of masculinity as sexual conquest. The man is then regarded as simply an object for sex, a machine if you will, one who is regarded as broken for not wanting Sabrina’s traditionally attractive femininity. 

This point is proved further when she sings “If you don’t want me, I’ll just deem you gay.” Oh boy. How I hate that line. The only reason a man must not want to be with her is because he’s not attracted to women. Sabrina is known for embodying hyper-feminine attributes and being the model for traditional beauty. This line implies the over-sexualization of men, and if a man doesn’t want this desire of beauty, it’s because there’s something wrong with him (i.e. he’s gay). 

In an instance when she does see this man she sings “So much to shave and lipstick to reapply.” Oh my god. This line makes me want to die. Sabrina might be shaving her body and applying makeup because she wants to, and it makes her feel put-together and sexy, but I can’t help but cringe at this line which is just consumed by the male gaze. To be considered beautiful and desirable, Sabrina must be well-shaven and smooth (which is oddly childlike if you really think about it), as well as ultra feminine and put-together, suggesting that how Sabrina naturally looks (with body hair and no makeup) is undesirable and not good enough for someone to desire her. 

This is a lot to say about a song that is three minutes and seven seconds long. However, the media we consume shapes our thoughts and opinions in a conscious and unconscious way so it’s important to analyze the things we are consuming. It’s also totally fair to see this song as a complete joke. However, as much as I do think there are some joking elements to this song, there’s a problematic underlying truth that is important to think about. And this in no way means I’m not going to listen to Sabrina Carpenter. She has some bops. When “Bed Chem” comes on you know I’m cranking the volume all the way up. 

Cool vs Uncool Gays: Othering in the Queer Community

What makes someone cool? Is it personal opinion, or societally constructed? Do different cultures have varying views on what makes someone cool, or is there a universal cool? Why are certain qualities deemed uncool?

Recently I was talking to some friends, and as people do, we were discussing the people we go to school with. I run my queer club on campus and we started talking about the members in this club. Like with any social organization, there are always people you like more than others, and we got on the topic of who was cool and uncool. These friends of mine deemed a lot of the people who attend my club as uncool, but to me, a majority of my members are super cool people. 

The people my friends deemed cool seemed to be conventionally attractive, cisgender or cis-passing people. They weren’t super alternative in their looks, and could arguably be heterosexual passing. Now, of course everyone is allowed to have their own opinions. And these friends did just happen to find more traditionally attractive people cool. But that got me thinking. Why were these heterosexual/cisgender looking people cool? Was it personal preference, internalized homophobia, the media’s standards of beauty? There could be many reasons, but I wondered what makes someone, especially a queer person, cool? 

So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to break this down into four categories. First, what society (western standards) deem as a “cool” gay person, and what society deems as “uncool.” Then we’re going to discuss Jadey’s version of “cool” and “uncool” gay people.

Now, first we have to address a few things. What does being “cool” mean? 

When I Google the slang definition of cool, the general consensus I gathered is that someone who is cool has a certain attitude, behavior, or style that is admirable to a certain group or society and appeals to social norms. So, this definition could change depending on who you are, where you are, etc, but it has largely to do with “fitting it” and appealing to social norms. However, there is a bit of edge to a cool person. They are confident, but they have a certain sense of autonomy and are distancing themselves from authority. Being identified as cool usually appeals to younger generations. 

Okay. Awesome. So what is my definition of cool? 

When I think of someone who is cool I think of someone confident. They are sure of themselves. They don’t care what others think. They are a kind and respectful individual but they also stand up for what they believe in. They’re not afraid to be outspoken and have people disagree with them. Cool people have a unique sense of style and self. To me, a cool person is politically active, has an alternative edgy style, has niche interests and hobbies, and is (though they don’t have to be) queer. 

And, we have to acknowledge that in contemporary Western society it is never “cool” to be gay.

Now that that’s out of the way, that brings me to another question. Why do we “other” people in an already minority community? Why do some queer people feel that they have the authority to feel superior to other queer people? 

I think the main reason is that queer people who “other” people in their own community are struggling with internalized homophobia. They might see themselves as a “normal” queer person, someone who is quiet about their queerness. They think that loud gay people are doing a disservice to the community. That if these loud gays were quieter, if they weren’t loud and flamboyant or polyamorous or trans or used neo pronouns or was a furry, that straight people would respect these so called “normal” gays. But the truth of the matter is, no queer person is ever going to be normal in the eyes of a cishet society.  

What Society Deems as “Uncool”

  1. Trans and GNC People 

People who are not cis are not cool. People who go against the gender binary are not cool. The exception to this might be cis passing trans people where those around them don’t know they are trans. Once this is found out about them they are deemed uncool. So, this means that anyone who is not transexual (be it non-binary, agender, genderfluid, androgynous, etc) are never going to be cool. Breaking the traditional gender binary goes against everything the patriarchy has in place to subordinate minorities. Very uncool. 

  1. Loud and Proud Gays

Our patriarchal and homophobic society does not like queer people who are loud about their identity. Why? Because these people are hard to control. This can be the kind of gay person who is flamboyant and extroverted, or alternatively dressed and heavily active in politics. The only good gay person is the silent one. 

  1. Unconventionally Attractive and/or Alternative Gays (including those who might be disabled or neurodivergent) 

White, cishet passing, able-bodied queer people are the only ones who might be allowed to be queer in public. Being neurodivergent, disabled, or a person of color, anything that already others you is not cool, and once you mix that with queerness, god forbid! This definitely has to do with white supremacy but that’s another conversation. 

What Society Deems as “Cool” Gays

  1. Cisgender and Heterosexual Passing Gays

The type of gay people society thinks is cool is the people who aren’t read as gay. These people are conventionally attractive. They fit into gender roles and expectations. They aren’t alternative in their style. This is the kind of person who is your everyday Joe. All in all, these people pass as cishet. 

  1. Gay, but not Queer 

The more acceptable type of gay person in American society is the gay person who subscribes to the American ideal. They have a house and white picket fence. They are not vocal about their queerness. They join the PTA and the HOA. They aren’t friends with other queer people. They’re in a nuclear family unit. The acceptable type of gay person is a gay person who hides their queerness and assimilates into straight cisgender roles and expectations. 

When I say a person is gay, but not queer, I mean that they do experience attraction to the same gender but they do not participate in unconventional familial, household, or relationship roles. When a person is queer, this shows up in their daily life. They probably have radical views of gender and sexuality. They don’t subscribe to traditional gender roles in relationships and if they do, it’s a choice, not from outside pressure. 

What Jadey Deems as “Uncool” Gays

  1. Uneducated Gays

People who identify somewhere on the spectrum of LGBTQIA+ but don’t know queer history. These are people who realize they are gay and stop there. They don’t know about Stonewall or other micro identities or neo pronouns and why the L is at the start of the acronym. Basically, they ignore the struggle and hardship of their queer elders. 

  1. Homophobic Gay People

Listen. Homophobia can get the best of us. But identifying as gay and disliking other people for being queer (usually too queer or trans) is problematic. We live in a homophobic society, it is understandable to internalize those messages and subject them to yourself and others. But, if you’re not doing the work to overcome that, then you’re contributing to the issue, which is not cool. 

  1. Gay, but not Queer 

I have a really hard time being around people who are gay but not queer. These are gay people who think they have the right to speak on queer issues just because they’re gay when in reality, they know nothing about the subject. Just because I’ve taken an algebra class doesn’t mean I have the right to tell you your calculus is wrong. 

  1. Gays with a Victim Complex

These are the people I think the right would call “snowflakes.” These are gay people who think every single bad thing to happen to them is an act of homophobia. These people make everything centered around their queerness. These people expect everyone to know everything about queerness. They get pissed off at someone who slips up on pronouns even though they’re trying their best. This is the gay person who says they hate straight people. 

The kind of gay people I don’t like are the ones who are constantly playing the victim card. These are the people who are completely convinced every single bad thing to happen to them is pure oppression just because they are gay. Like, no Samantha, that person doesn’t like you because you’re annoying, not because you’re gay. 

What Jadey Deems as “Cool” Gays

  1. Gays Educated in Queer History.

If you’re educated about queer topics, you’re cool. Because if you’ve educated yourself on a variety of queer history, it’s very likely you’ve gotten a variety of stories and perspectives of the queer experience and therefore have become a more educated, well-rounded, empathetic person.

  1. Gays Educated in Queer Media 

This goes with the above topic. Listen, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you have to exclusively listen to queer artists or consume queer art and media. Unless you’re me that is. But, it’s important to know who is trailblazing in your community and making it easier and more accepted for you to live your life as an out and proud queer person. 

  1. Queer, not Gay

At this point I’ve repeated myself enough so I’ll only say this: people who are simply “gay” and not “queer” are trapped in patriarchal bounds. They’re trying to appeal to a system that will never accept them and was made to erase them. That’s not cool. 

My asexuality (and my lesbianism) has played a huge role in how I identify as queer. Just my asexuality alone makes every romantic relationship I am in queer because it is an unconventional relationship. There’s no sex. Romance is prioritized. Other forms of affection are prioritized. 

I prioritize being in queer spaces and hanging out with queer people. I consume queer media. It’s important to me to know about my community and the complexity in it because the diversity is what makes it cool and unique and beautiful. How boring it would be to just be gay. Being queer is complex, and it’s really cool. 

  1. Confident and Outspoken Gays

It is cool to be proud of who you are. Why? Because it creates space for your identity to be normalized and makes other people feel confident in who they are. I always think back to the out queer kids I knew in high school when I was figuring out my identity and I thought these people were the coolest kids ever. I wanted to be their friend. Seeing people like you exist is crucial to accepting your differences and identity. Simply existing as a queer person is a protest in itself. 

  1. Social and Political Activity 

Queer people who are active not only politically, but socially as well in their community. These are people who hang out with other queer people. They consume queer media. They make an effort to support queer business. They go to drag shows and support queer art. These people are making a difference for the wider queer community. 

  1. Multi-layered Queerness 

The coolest type of queer person you can be is the queer person who understands (or is trying to understand) the multilayered complexity to your queerness. Because your queerness and sexuality isn’t just who you feel sexual attraction to (or in my case, don’t). There are so many types of ways to feel attraction: romantic, sexual, emotional, sensual, intellectual. The list goes on and on. Sure, you could identify as gay, but what does that mean? Being a cool gay is being aware of the complexity and layers to your identity. How does your sexual and romantic attraction to people affect your relationship dynamics? Plus, your sexuality can totally impact how you experience gender. How is your gender and sexuality different? How do they overlap and intertwine? 

Anyway, It’s cool to be queer. Who knew one conversation with some friends would turn into a full blown blog post and become such a nuanced conversation. 

I’m Coming Out…Again

Jadey. You’re coming out? Haven’t you already done that? Didn’t you come out years ago and make being gay your whole personality? You made a blog about it and run your campus’s gay club and write and read and listen to and watch queer media. Doesn’t everyone in the world know you’re gay?!

Well…yeah.

But. Alas. I have adopted a new label that I thought I should share with you all (hence the reason I have a blog).

I’m a lesbian. And it feels weird to type that. It feels weird to see those words in reference to myself. I know this is probably shocking for you readers (it’s definitely not). But don’t worry. I’m definitely still asexual. That is not changing.

How did I come to this conclusion? I’ll tell you. 

  1. I kinda always knew.

Unfortunately I have come to the conclusion that I was maybe sorta possibly just ignoring this part of my identity. This label has been swimming around in the back of my mind for a while. I know I don’t like men, yet I haven’t been using the label lesbian. I thought I would possibly come around to the label eventually, but I was never actually putting the work in questioning if that was a label I wanted. I wasn’t questioning it because I simply didn’t want to have another sexuality crisis. It’s a lot of work to question your sexuality and I did not want to go through that journey again. 

Besides the fact that I thought one day I might identify as a lesbian, I also felt very connected to the lesbian experience. Sometimes I would see people on TikTok talk about being an asexual lesbian, and I would feel very seen in those statements. Lesbians would talk about lesbian experiences and I would relate, but push it off as just a queer experience or a commonality because I also like women. 

During the summer I came to the realization that all my friends, even the ones who are queer, still experienced attraction to men. And I thought to myself “I need to make more lesbian friends.” That’s kind of a gay (lesbian) thing to think…If I didn’t identify as a lesbian then why would I want lesbian friends? Probably because I found it relatable…

  1. I made lesbian friends.

This school year I became friends with two lesbians and they converted me. All these republicans are worried about the gay agenda. Well look what happened when I befriended some lesbians! 

No. What really happened is I simply talked to them about being lesbian. And low and behold it resonated with me. I would tell them things and they would look at me with a kind of “duh” look in their eyes because the things I would say to them were clearly lesbian experiences. 

Plus, these two friends have a list of all the lesbians on our campus and when I heard about this I thought to myself “I should probably be on that list.” That’s a pretty gay thing to think.

It turns out talking to people with commonalities makes you realize things about yourself. Plus, they would remind me that it’s cool to be a lesbian and send me lesbian memes on Instagram so that was nice and made me feel better about accepting this label. 

  1. Heterosexual relationships disturb me.

Don’t take this the wrong way. I swear I’m a straight ally. My point is this: I don’t want it. I see straight couples out in public expressing PDA or holding hands or what have you, and I find it kinda…gross. It disappoints me. I see queer relationships and it makes my little gay heart flutter with hope and admiration. 

  1. I read the Lesbian Masterdoc.

Yeah. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve read the Lesbian Masterdoc before. But that was years ago and I read it out of curiosity and to see if those points related to what I was feeling as someone trying to figure out if they liked women along with men (which is what I felt at the time). 

For about the past year I had put off reading it again. I put off reading it because I knew I would relate and I simply didn’t have time to question my sexuality again. I thought I was done with that. I spent years doing that and being out. I thought that period of my life was behind me. I was wrong. 

Now, some parts of the Lesbian Masterdoc simply don’t apply to me. Mostly because I’m ace, but also because I used to like boys.

Here’s some key takeaways I took from reading the Lesbian Masterdoc that made me realize I should probably just use this label: 

  • You can’t imagine a happy and fulfilling life with a man
  • You think it’s objectively true that every woman is more attractive than men
  • Lesbian or gay feels like the label for you but you still doubt yourself 
  • You’re repulsed by the dynamics of male/female relationships 
  • You dread the idea of a future with a man
  • You go through past memories to prove your attraction to men
  • You couldn’t imagine yourself in a long term relationship to a man
  • You really like a male celebrity (an unattainable man)
  • Having past attraction to men or being in a relationship with a man in the past doesn’t take away from your lesbian identity now 

And this quote that really made me stop and think: “Lesbian doesn’t need to mean ‘only experiences attraction to women,’ it can mean ‘only feels comfortable, only prefers, and only prioritizes women & relationships with them.’” Once I read that I knew it was over for me.  

  1. I questioned why I wasn’t using the label lesbian. 

Turns out there were a lot of reasons. The main one is that I was definitely (and still am unfortunately) struggling with some comphet stuff, and using the label lesbian really solidified the fact that I don’t like men and probably never will. As much as I thought I was over the whole wishing I liked boys thing so my life would be easier, I clearly was not. 

I also like to be mysterious and not labeling my sexuality allowed me to be cool and mysterious. Now, I still have lots of love and appreciation for being unlabeled or just using the label queer, but it’s necessary for me to come to terms with the term lesbian in reference to myself. Plus Conan Gray doesn’t label his sexuality and now we don’t have that in common. Devastating.

The asexual thing also throws some complexities into the ring. One, because what I see on social media is a somewhat sexualized (in an empowering way) lesbian sexuality. I see gay people online talking about lesbian sex and enjoying it and being proud of it. That’s not something that resonates with me in the same way it does for others. And in a bad sexualized way, lesbians and queer women are often hyper and over sexualized in the media and viewed in a way for male pleasure. I’ve probably internalized that and subconsciously related that to lesbianism and therefore seen it as something I don’t experience/relate to as an asexual person. I had to separate these things and modify the lesbian definition to fit me, an asexual person. 

Let’s get back into the comphet stuff. I thought I wasn’t really dealing with compulsory heterosexuality because I love being queer. I went around saying I didn’t like men and I wouldn’t want to date a man…but I was secretly (maybe even unconsciously) holding onto hope that I did like men.

This came to the forefront when I befriended a boy. This is a pretty normal thing, but I’ve pretty much had friends who were girls (or nonbinary) throughout my life. So, of course, I got into my head about this. I like this friend a lot. We have a lot in common. We both write. We’re both hilarious. We’re both normal and not weirdo freak college kids. Unfortunately in the back of my mind I was hoping that I would like him. And that’s a terrible thing to admit. Because I don’t like boys in that way. But the hope was still there. 

It also didn’t help that my family members liked him. After I introduced this friend to my family (as one does when they make new friends) they had some choice things to say. “I wish you were straight so you could date him” and “do you still have a crush on him?” 

It’s terrible to hear these things because I’ve thought about them myself. I don’t want my family, people’s whose opinions and judgment I care about, to reflect back to me my own insecurities. Of course I also want to like him! Of course I wish that part of me liked boys. It would be so easy. I would relate to my other queer and bisexual friends. I would relate to my straight friends. I would be normal!! Ughhh not normal but you know what I mean. 

But alas. I don’t like boys. And I wouldn’t be happy marrying one. In fact, I’m haunted by Chappell Roan’s lyrics “you’re nothing more than his wife.” How a shiver runs up my spine! 

Why I’m using the label lesbian and other thoughts: 

I’m using the label lesbian because I want to be part of a community. I want to feel understood by people who don’t like men. I want to be on my friend’s lesbian list. 

I’ve been making myself save lesbian memes to my Pinterest folder. My lesbian friends will send me lesbian TikToks or memes and it makes me feel seen and all warm and fuzzy when they do. I’ve been making comments about me being a lesbian to a small group of people. I’m working on it. 

I made a presentation to tell my friends. This was good because I had to think about myself in conjunction with the label lesbian. I had to think about other people perceiving me this way. It also was something I could hang over their heads and be like “ooo super secret presentation I have to show you” so that made me feel better about it. At the time of writing this I have yet to show it to them, but I’m sure they will find it entertaining and funny and be happy for me. It definitely won’t come as a surprise. 

I feel as though I am back into the life I had at 17. I’m almost 21, a junior in college, and I feel just like my confused  junior year high school self. I’m watching YouTube videos about lesbians and finding comfort in that. I’m going on TikTok and searching up lesbian coming out videos. I’m looking at lesbian memes. I’m finding lesbian playlists on Spotify and singing along to songs about girls kissing girls. 

I’m mourning the life I could have had. I know a life of heterosexuality and traditional relationships is not for me. But embracing this label solidifies that in a way I didn’t expect. And that’s hard to admit. 

I am uncomfortable with this label now. But deep down I know that this is who I am. And later, if I realize labels never really were for me I can drop it. Because lesbian is just a word, and I’m a real person feeling real experiences and a word doesn’t have to define the complexity of things I’m experiencing. But I know that this journey of me realizing my internalized negative feelings was necessary. As proud as I am of my identity, I still can be prouder. 

No label is going to fit me the way asexual does. The community I feel, the comfort I feel in that word and seeing the ace flag is indescribable. Maybe one day I’ll feel that about lesbianism, but the most important part of my identity is my asexuality. Because I’m not just a lesbian. I’m an asexual lesbian. The term ace will always come first. 

I think I’m also having trouble because I feel like I have to give up the term queer. And I love being queer. It feels political. It feels broad and encompassing. It feels like a big fuck you to societal norms. So, let me remind myself: I don’t have to give up labels that work for me. I get to add labels. I can be a part of the ace community. The lesbian community. The queer community. I can be queer. I can be asexual. I can be lesbian. And I can be a queer asexual lesbian all at the same time. 

I don’t want to call myself a lesbian if it doesn’t fit. But I also don’t want to not call myself a lesbian because of homophobia or comphet or some other reason because I’m ashamed. I don’t want to be ashamed of my queerness. I want to love it with every ounce of my soul. 

I don’t have to go around screaming that I’m a lesbian. I don’t have to announce it.  I don’t even have to post this blog, but you all know I will because I love to overshare on the internet, and this post was not only funny, but meaningful for me to write, so maybe it’ll be helpful to someone else. 

Alright. It’s been about two months since I wrote all of the above. I’m happy to say I’m finding joy in identifying as a lesbian and it’s actually making me feel even more confident in my queerness. I’m sure this will be an ongoing process for me, and there will be more lesbian (and asexual) content to come. 

I Found a Dating App Just for Asexuals 

Today’s blog post is going to be a short one, mostly an update of sorts, about a dating app I have recently found thanks to everyone’s favorite educational platform, TikTok. 

Now, quite a while ago I tried some dating apps that were deemed “asexual friendly” and we learned that those words really didn’t mean anything. I’ve honestly had the best luck on the dating app Hinge, but it still rots my brain and I have it deleted from my phone hopefully to never return.

The main point of me testing out all those other dating apps was one, for content, and two, to see if their claims were right. When I found these claims were kinda wrong, and hardly found other aces, and didn’t have much success in the match department in general, I said I needed a dating app just for asexuals.

Well it turns out that there is such a thing!

There’s a dating app called “ACEapp The Social Network” which is a social network platform solely dedicated for people on the asexual spectrum.

So, of course, for science (and the possibility of finding my future wife) I downloaded it.  

First of all, you can tell this app was made for aces because the logo is a slice of cake the colors of the asexual flag. Plus, it’s an app that gives you the option for romantic or platonic relationships, which is very ace coded. 

The process went a little like this. I downloaded the app. I made an account. I uploaded a picture, gave my age, and filled out a few get-to-know-you questions that said I was looking for a romantic relationship, didn’t smoke, was an introvert, etc. The most exciting part of this app were the sexuality options which all involved romantic orientation labels such as grayromantic, panromantic, demiromantic, confused, lithoromantic, and many more. There weren’t even options to choose something  like lesbian or gay, because it was assumed you were ace! I chose homoromantic which I’ve never seen as an option on any other dating app. 

There are a few issues. First of all, this app, according to the app store, is over 17 years old. So the user friendliness of it isn’t the best. It’s definitely doable, but it’s not as convenient and user friendly as other dating apps. You can only choose one picture for your profile, and there aren’t prompts to fill out. You can only fill out a short bio about yourself which was daunting. What info should I choose to say about myself to meet the love of my life?!

Unfortunately for me, when I narrowed my results down to people in my age range looking for a romantic relationship 100 miles or less from me, absolutely no one showed up…

Considering the ace population is small, and I, a chronically online asexual, only found out about this app last week, means that the issue is that aces simply don’t know about this app, making the friend, and certainly the romance pool, incredibly small. 

This app does seem better for getting to know other ace people as friends. There was a cool feature where you could see ace people all around the world, which is a nice comfort. 

Overall it was a fun time but I deleted it after about twenty minutes. There’s just something about scrolling over people’s pictures and judging them as suitors that makes my brain hurt.

Anyway. This was an exciting discovery. Hopefully someone rich will buy this app and revamp it so it’s even better and cooler, and every ace person will download it and I’ll meet the love of my life. 

Ranking the Queer Books I Read in 2024

Hello everyone. Today I am putting my English major to use and ranking some of the queer books I read this year. As much as I would love to rate all the gay books I read, that would be practically every single book my eyes glanced upon, so I won’t be doing that. Plus no one wants to read a twenty page blog post and I surely don’t want to write one. So instead, here are my favorites, plus a few that dramatically let me down. 

  1. Filthy Animals – Brandon Taylor 

Filthy Animals is a linked short story collection following a young man named Lionel, and his romantic and sexual exploration with two ballerinas. Lionel is struggling to make connections, especially since his recent suicide attempt. This novel focuses heavily on human connections and the way people hurt each other. Half of this collection is stand-alone stories, my favorite being “Anne of Cleves.” 

I would like to personally thank my creative writing professor for having our class read Brandon Taylor because my life was changed. Taylor is quickly becoming one of my favorite authors, and that says a lot because being a creative writing major has made me become a book snob like you wouldn’t believe.

Taylor’s writing is rhythmic and accessible. It’s lyric in moments and honest all the way through. His characters are real people with real flaws. Taylor’s characters are queer, people of color, rich and poor. His diversity isn’t for the sake of diversity but simply because that shows humanity. This was truly a fantastic read. 

Rating: 8/10

Would I recommend it? Yes, absolutely. 

I’m giving it eight points because there were a few short stories I didn’t care for as much as others. However, that is not to say they weren’t well written and interesting. 

  1. The Great Americans – Brandon Taylor

Another Brandon Taylor “novel” that deserves its own commentary because it was that good. Now, I say this is a “novel” because that’s what the cover told me, but really it was a linked story collection, with longer stories than FA. 

This was more lyric than Filthy Animals, and the stories were longer and all connected to each other. I was more invested in these characters. This was largely focused on a poet and some ballet dancers. I’m a sucker for the arts. For stories about young, queer adults, Taylor does a fantastic job of pushing the story forward through witty and honest dialogue. Taylor also goes deep into the mind of his characters, always writing in third person. He’s become a huge inspiration for my own work and I look forward to reading more of his writing. 

Rating: 8/10

Would I recommend it? Definitely! 

I’m docking points because I really wanted this to be a novel. The first short story was fifty pages, and I was invested in the main character. I was disappointed to switch to another story. Additionally, a few of the characters were similar, and I had to jog my memory to make sure I was understanding the story right for who I was reading about. 

  1. The Spirit Bares Its Teeth – Andrew Joseph White 

TSBIT is a Victorian gothic horror where an autistic trans boy communes with spirits and battles ableism, misogyny, and transphobia in 1883 London. 

I am rarely a sci-fi/fantasy/horror reader, but this novel was very well done. Usually I hate world building and think there’s never enough, but this world was laid out well enough and close enough to ours where I could jump right into the novel and never be confused. 

This was my most captivating read all year. I thought about this book for weeks after. A realm between the human and spirit world. A school for disobedient girls. T4T romance. I was hooked. Even the cover art was jaw-dropping. 

I also read White’s debut novel, Hell Followed With Us, which was good and very strange, but not as good as TSBIT. Now I’m reading his third novel, Compound Fracture, which is currently not my favorite read. If you’re going to read any Andrew Joseph White novel, make it TSBIT. 

Rating: 9/10

Would I recommend it? Yes. 

  1. This Book is Gay – Juno Dawson 

This book is gay? More like this book is bad. Dawson attempted to write a nonfiction book surrounding queer issues and queer people’s experience, but what came out of it was a horrible read. I couldn’t finish it. No wonder this book is banned. It was terrible. “Jadey…I don’t think that’s why they ban books.” I know. But in this case I’ll allow it. 

The writing was bad. The jokes were not funny. And the stereotypes were abundant. That’s all I have to say about that. Truly a terrible read. 

Rating: 2/10. 

Would I recommend it? Only to my enemies. 

  1. Here We Go Again – Alison Cochrun 

Two ex-childhood best friends have to get together for a cross country road trip per their dying former English teacher’s request.  Of course, these two friends are hella gay and have feelings for each other and end up falling back in love. 

Alison Cochrun always writes demisexual characters and for that I must personally thank her. It’s always a nice surprise to pick up a novel and have discussions of asexuality. 

It turns out when one of the characters in your novel is dying…they’re actually going to die. This book made me sob. Tears were pouring out of my eye sockets. I shed approximately a million tears. Read this at your own risk. 

Rating: 7.5/10

Would I recommend it? If you want to cry and read about gay people, yes. 

  1. Exhibit – R.O Kwon

R.O Kwon was a guest author at my university this year and hearing her read and answer questions was a very cool experience. She came dressed in all black and read a scene involving kink and queer women. Awesome.

Exhibit follows a Korean woman named Jin, who is struggling with her marriage as her husband suddenly decides he wants kids and she doesn’t. At a party, she meets a ballerina named Lidija, and they hit it off. Jin starts an affair with Lidija while exploring her interest in BDSM, something her husband isn’t comfortable with. 

I was disappointed by this novel. Don’t get me wrong, the writing was beautiful. It was phenomenal. However, it was prestigious. There were lyric lines that made me stop and re-read because they were so good, but they added absolutely nothing to the plot. While the premise of the book was interesting, a young woman getting into BDSM while having an affair with her husband, it wasn’t flushed out enough. There were many subplots going on that were unnecessary and never finished. There were so many interesting ideas about relationships, kink, family bonds, curses and superstitions, career goals, feminism, but it was all too much to really dive deep into the themes and say something. 

For a book about kink it was shockingly vanilla. 

Rating: 6/10

Would I recommend it? Unfortunately no. 

  1. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue – V.E Schwab 

A young woman named Addie makes a bargain that for eternal life every person she meets will forget her. For hundreds of years she lives a life of solitude until she meets Henry. 

If you know me, you know I never take a BookTok recommendation. I have been let down time and time again. Thankfully, this book was recommended to me by a friend, and only later did I see it on BookTok.

This novel started out slow, but grew to be complex and interesting. The writing was absolutely beautiful. The plot was interesting. I thought it would be gayer. There were hints of bisexuality. Nothing crazy…Because Addie lived for so many years, it was interesting to see her live across centuries. Turns out you experience a lot when you live for over 300 years. 

However, I would say this is overhyped. I’ve seen people be absolutely mesmerized with this novel and wish they could read it for the first time again. That’s a bit extreme. It’s certainly not a five star read, but it is very well done. This novel is euro-centric and mostly heterosexual, so do with that information what you will. 

Rating: 8/10

Would I recommend it? Sure! 

Alright. That’s all. Hopefully 2025 will be full of pure, perfect literature.