Cuando terminé de leer Crepúsculo, pensé en escribir una reseña completa. Cuando iba por la mitad de Luna Nueva mi estómago comenzó a revolverse por tanta idiotez junta, y ya al finalizar Eclipse sabía perfectamente que cualquier reseña que escribiera sobre la serie no sería más que una explosión de mi incredulidad y mi decepción hacia los estándares literarios tan bajos que complacen a las adolescentes del siglo XXI.

En realidad hablar de lo que a uno no le gusta o le da mal genio no hace sino aumentar ese mal genio. Así que, en vez de escribir una reseña destrozando la serie de Stepheny Meyer, cosa que ya habrá hecho más de una persona con dos dedos de frente, decidí escribir algo de tres párrafos, finalizando con el por qué es uno de los peores desperdicios de papel, tinta y, sobre todo, tiempo valioso de un editor:

Crepúsculo encarna el comportamiento arquetípico de una adolescente ingenua, insegura y absolutamente dependiente, cuya vida no tiene sentido sin su galán. Y nunca hay en la serie nada que le indique al lector que ese comportamiento no es más que la receta para el desastre. Muy por el contrario, lo ensalza y lo endulza, hasta el extremo de representar a un hombre completamente irreal (chicos, esta serie es peor que cualquier película romántica). Y lo que es peor, en lugar de encontrar el valor en sí misma, por sí misma, la chica se sale con la suya con su comportamiento de muñequita hiperdependiente. Porque, claro, el sujeto la ama por encima de cualquier cosa, por el solo hecho de respirar. Simplemente patético.

No soy practicante. Pero siempre he dicho que si hay algo lindo que conservo de mis 13 años de instrucción en un colegio católico es haber conocido la historia de San Francisco de Asis :)

Ahora que lo pienso, me habría gustado haber entendido toda la dimensión franciscana mejor, cuando era más pequeña. Recuerdo que desde kinder me enseñaron que a San Pachito le decían «El rey de las fiestas», porque era muy alegre, y que su animal preferido era la hormiga, porque era la más pequeña. «¿Y qué?», me decía a mí misma. No sé si fue por la estricta disciplina de convento dentro de la que me lo enseñaron (uno no podía hablar en la ruta del bus), pero la verdad es que nunca me había dado cuenta de que la cosa era tan bonita.

Pero ahora veo mucho mejor el valor de la filosofía franciscana de estar siempre alegre, de vivir una vida transparente y de respetar la naturaleza, en la vida de cualquier persona, religiosa o no.

En el siglo XIII, San Francisco era visto como un loco por decirle «hermano» a toda criatura que encontraba. Incluso al temible lobo de Gubbio, que acechaba a todos los habitantes de la población. Se cuenta que San Francisco fue a buscarlo y, en lugar de intentar cazarlo como todos los demás, le pidió no seguir matando a la gente porque estaba asustando a todo el mundo y por eso podían hacerle daño… y aparentemente el lobo le entendió y dejó de atacar. Independientemente de la obvia satanización del lobo por parte de los narradores de las diferentes versiones de la historia (pues, está en la naturaleza del lobo ser carnívoro y eso no es diabólico), el episodio es un ejemplo de tolerancia y humildad por parte de la especie humana hacia el reino salvaje. Las estatuas de San Francisco que más me gustan son las que aparece con el lobo.

Y siempre se me escapa una sonrisa al recordar que el héroe del bestseller El nombre de la rosa, el padre Guillermo de Baskerville, es un religioso franciscano que defiende la risa, disposición natural de San Francisco, ante la reticencia del ciego bibliotecario benedictino Jorge de Burgos (un guiño reconocido a Jorge Luis Borges y su biblioteca de Babel):

El hecho es que ayer encontré esto y no puedo contener las ganas de compartirlo. Es hecho con imágenes de una película del 2007, Clara y Francisco, que ahora tengo muchas ganas de ver. La vedad es que me da un no sé qué no sé dónde que me hace sonreír cada vez que veo a un fraile con el hábito franciscano.

La canción no puede cuadrar mejor con toda su sabiduría: Entre quedarte sentado y bailar… ¡Espero que bailes!

People all over the world are supporting Democracy in Iran. But how many of them truly understand what they’re doing? How many of them can answer questions like: What is happening in Iran? Why is it necessary to support democracy? Why is it necessary to do it in that country? What in that country’s history or social situation makes that there is a movement asking for support, in the first place?

I don’t have the answer to any of the above. But I do know it is very tricky to really have them.

Maybe supporting Democracy in Iran is a good thing. It seems to be. But I just can’t support something I don’t understand just because it seems a good thing.

The truth is, this very much reminds me of the case of all the European activists who think that FARC are a group of freedom fighters who risk their lives in an heroic social fight that aims to bring down a regime of injustice, social repression and murder in Colombia. They support it because it seems a nice thing to do. But they clearly don’t understand what they’re doing. It’s complicated. It requires to be Colombian or to have lived in Colombia for many years to truly understand it. I personally don’t blame them for trying to support a cause that seems right. But I do blame them for being so arrogant as to pretend to understand the social reality of a country they barely know, and to pretend to understand it even better than Colombian citizens.

I’m not saying people shouldn’t support causes. I’m not even saying people shouldn’t support this particular one. I’m saying that, as far as I know, it is very easy to support terrorism while thinking you support peace and equality. Even if you have read about it. Even if your sources seem convincing. Even if terrorism, peace, equality and Democracy have the same meaning everywhere.

So, as a Colombian, I couldn’t possibly “support” said Democracy in Iran without depriving me from my right to be upset at people who support misinformed causes about Colombia. Not because it’s wrong, but because I have the same level of understanding of Iranian reality as all naïve European students who support FARC have of the Colombian reality.

I truly wish all countries have freedom, quality of life and growth opportunities for all their citizens. But I also acknowledge the fact that, as someone with little understanding of their particular conditions, I may not be the most indicate person to decide what the best way to achieve that might be.

That being said, no. My twitter avatar remains white and black. Don’t think green suits me, anyway.

How did the person who made this video read into my mind… and heart?

I must admit this post was long due. And I must say that I wanted very much to write it, mostly because I have been tossing around pieces of asexuality everywhere, without really explaining why. And it needs an explanation, it really does, otherwise there’s no point on me being out n’ proud: If I’m openly out, it’s for the sake of visibility. Very few people know about asexuality, and explaining it to my friends, and then helping explain it to the rest of the world, is a huge task that needs every possible effort to be done.

So, yeah, I’m asexual. And I’m perfectly OK. I’m healthy. And I’m sane. And I live a happy life.

Yet there is a problem with being asexual: As asexuality is known only poorly, it is often misunderstood and very often misjudged. And it is so diverse, so different from person to person, so wide and so fluid (just as any other sexual orientation) that taking a single testimonial (even if I’d love to give mine!) as a definition would lead to a constrained generalization.

So, yes, I will tell you how I have experienced asexuality, but before I do that, I’d like you to see this:

I like this video because I feel it is a good summary, a good introduction to asexuality, and also a good example of how the traditional medical/psychological community approaches the subject. Medical professionals tend to try and «fix us» explaining that we most likely have some kind of trauma, or are ashamed, or are afraid of intimacy (well, if you make a living by counseling people about their sex life, how inconvenient would it be that potential clients find out there’s actually nothing wrong with them?).

So, after that, let me say that I am asexual because of three main reasons:

1) I am not heterosexual
2) I am not homosexual
3) I am not bisexual

I am 4) Asexual. Asexuality is a sexual orientation… that defines the lack of sexual attraction (although I don’t feel I «lack» anything).

I do, however, have a romantic orientation: I’m hetero-romantic… asexual. I fall in love with men, but I have never, ever, experienced any kind of sexual attraction (the desire to engage in sexual activity) to men. Nor to women. Nor to both. This doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy sex, or that I despise it. I just have never felt the need for it. And that is OK.

The funny thing is that, I learned this only two months ago. Being 29, I had always identified myself as heterosexual because… well, I liked men. Did I?  Euh… not in the way most women do.

My crushes have always felt only in my stomach, and ultimately, in my broken heart :P But apparently, most people feel them further down too (and I was actually shocked when I found out). Actually, that’s what defines what your sexual orientation is: Which gender is the one that produces you that feeling down there.

But at school you are never told that!!!

I guess that in sexual education classes they assume that by the words «sexual attraction» everyone understands what they’re talking about. Well… some of us don’t. I always believed I was «sexually attracted» to men because I fell in love with men… except that I never felt anything sexual about it!

It’s complicated. We are all different. But I know that from the moment I knew I was asexual, I have felt a lot happier. I have always wanted a romantic relationship, but I always thought that, in order for that to happen, I would have to ultimately have sex at some point, because it was the «adult» thing to do. Because it was what I was «supposed» to do. But since sex is something I have never wanted, the issue of its importance in romantic relationships had always felt as an enourmous pressure. Now that I know asexuality exist, and that I know a lot of people identify as asexual, I feel… relieved! Truly, deeply relieved.

And I can’t but smile at all the asexual pride we have adopted: An asexual is called an Ace (for the pronounciation of the English word asexual). And we use a lot of emoticons of cakes, because it is said that between sex and cake… an asexual would rather take cake. And we are all asexy!

It’s been said that 1% of the population of the world is asexual, but I’m sure that number is higher. It’s just that people don’t know that asexuality, as the fourth sexual orientation, exists, and they define themselves by their romantic one. Just as I used to do.

The good news is that there are already popular asexual characters on TV, literature and film. It’s just that the label hasn’t been put officially on them. Check out some of my favourite ace moments, from very popular characters I’m very fond of:

Sheldon, from The Big Bang Theory, as The Clueless archetype*:

Amélie from Le fabuleux déstin d’Amélie Poulin, as The Cupid archetype*:

So… that’s pretty much it.

Want to learn more? I believe there is no better way than AVEN (Asexual Visibility and Education Network) itself. Check out the forums. Either if you are sexual or asexual, you are always welcome to share experiences, advise, and above all, ask questions about asexuality and participate in an open debate. But please, be nice. You can also check out my blog on asexuality at Ace of Butterflies.

Please, feel free to share this article. The asexual community needs as much visibility as possible. Believe me, this will make a lot of people happy. Thank you!

*As proposed by David Jay (@davidgljay) in Asexuals on the TV Screen