Happy Pride Month! Science might be a bit behind when it comes to exploring sexuality and gender identity but our storytellers managed to figure it out just fine. In this week’s episode, in celebration of Pride Month, both of our storytellers share stories of being queer and proud of it.

Part 1: After fully embracing their asexuality, Katherine Holmes begins questioning the necessity of a romantic relationship.

Katherine Holmes (They/She) is a final year mathematics PhD student at Imperial College London studying quantum mechanics, and they identify as both asexual (ace) and aromantic (aro). They have been engaging in ace and aro awareness and community building with Imperials LGBTQ+ student and staff networks and external networks including Aces in STEM and Ace Space London. https://katherineholmespublic.wordpress.com

Part 2: Julie Tomé is thrown for a loop when her child announces they’re “not a girl”.

Julie Tomé is a science educator and communicator who has worked at various observatories, science centres, and museums where she shares her passion for all things science and history with folks of all ages through school programs, camps, exhibitions, and special programs. When not doing that, she can be found spending time with her family, at the karate dojo, playing board games, or doing all the crafting.

Episode Transcript

Part 1

In 2018, I realized I am an asexual person. An asexual person is someone who experiences little to no sexual attraction and/or desire. I wish I realized this sooner. I realized in 2018 when I was a 19‑year‑old and I'm making up for lost time because, really, I could have clocked on a lot sooner when my friend at college suggested I might be asexual or ace, which is the slang.

Back then, first time hearing about it, I was in denial. I wanted to be a normal heterosexual person, not a queer person. I didn’t want to be different. But, the longer I pretended to be something I'm not, the more it becomes apparent that I am different. And when you realize that your orientation or identity about you is different, you’ve got to educate yourself and learn what it is.

Asexuality is not well‑represented in our media or just talked about all that much. In fact, the terminology only started getting used about two decades ago, so I need to learn.

Luckily, I had loads of friends around me to engage in conversations as I looked through videos, blog posts, forums, Wikipedia pages, and I got to learn about all the different ways you can be an asexual person. You can be sex repulsed, sex favorable, sex neutral, demisexual, gray sexual, so, so many more sub‑identities within the community.

My friends were wonderful allies, and none more than my housemate and best university friend, Ben. Ben would just engage with me in trying to figure out what the community is about and how I fit into it.

Slowly, over time, my anxiety started to diminish, except for one. Myself, like most of us in this room, have grown up with the expectation that we have to find a romantic relationship to be complete. It's something we should all strive for and, to an extent, maybe our platonic relationships won’t be enough to make us feel whole. We've got to find something romantic.

I found this a bit of a bummer, but I was trying. The reason this kind of got me down is because, well, like everyone, we want to be complete. But I looked at my platonic relations and I loved the people that I had them with. Most of all, I loved Ben so much.

Like, we went through so much together. We went through societies, courses. We spent countless hours having conversations into the night, cooking house meals. He was really the person I loved the most, just platonically.

Despite it being just platonic, I went through heartbreak at the turn of the pandemic when we had to say goodbye to our home, to each other, to go to opposite ends of the country. I was going to miss his hugs the most. The last few before we left really stayed with me.

So, the pandemic. Still need to find that relationship, so carry on talking to people online and trying to find, I guess, networking with people, strike up polite conversations about what they do, in case they're interesting. Often, they weren’t.

Alongside this, I did actually get to spend time in communities. I got to find new online communities that just emerged. Aces in STEM, my favorite. Asexual network for people in academia. And I got to make one of my own, the JBFC, the Jimmy Bennett Fan Club, a group of friends, five of us, including myself and Ben, as we went to watch bad movies every week from the start of the pandemic to right now. They are watching a movie on Discord right now.

We have seen 160 movies. The best one stars Jimmy Bennett. It's Fatal Deviation. It's on YouTube.

I had a quite pleasant pandemic because I got to spend so much time with them and I had so much fun. So much fun that, 27 months in, I started to forget about dating.

I think the biggest moment in, like, getting over this anxiety came from graduation. I actually graduated in 2020, but, thanks to the pandemic, my University of Nottingham graduation was postponed to 2022. Ben was going to be there.

So what's two former housemates to do but rent a whole property together to live together for four days. And then book a holiday with our bad‑movie group to watch questionable things in York. Very questionable things in York.

The week started with a hug. Again, it's been over two years. And as we greeted each other, our hug lasted a long time to say welcome back.

I had the best week. I left feeling loved and I felt like I loved them all. And I returned home, ready to move to London a month later so I could actually pursue my PhD in person ____ [06:06].

Reflecting on what had just happened, well, I had a realization. I felt complete by this platonic feeling I had by these people in my life. And I realized I'm aromantic, and I'm happy. An aromantic person is someone who experiences little to no romantic attraction and/or desire. Again, there's loads of ways to be aromantic, and in this case, like, it's something I needed.

Naturally, I went to Ben online and told him the good news. He was not surprised. He wasn't surprised. He was very understanding and accepting and appreciative. It was really lovely.

Then he came to me and said, “I've got a revelation too.” Well, he didn't say that bit. But, implicitly, he has a revelation too. And I quote, “Kate, I have romantic attraction for you.” Plot twist.

I laughed, but not in a mean way, but in the way that you all gasped. It's the last thing I ever expected. I genuinely never saw it coming. I didn't even consider it. But, it turns out, five‑and‑a‑half years of making a bond with somebody, for me, completely platonic, for him, who's falling for me.

I understood and appreciated that. It's a feeling that I know we didn't have, he didn't have, specifically, for the majority that we've known each other. We grew to love each other without that. But, now, this is a new feeling in the same way that my revelation is new to me.

So he asked the question. “But, Kate, you wouldn't be interested in a romantic relationship, would you?”

“Let's not assume that. I don't know.”

I don't know. Like, okay, great, I don't need a relationship, but do I not want a partnership with my best friend?

So we then had what we call the 90‑minute business deal where we discuss everything and anything to do with a hypothetical relationship we might share. Why do we want it? Why do we want it together? What are our boundaries? What do we see for our future? Like, why?

We asked so many questions because, ultimately, we didn't want to mess around with something that was already so fruitful and important to us.

My favorite moment is when I said to him, “Look, you know I am asexual. You know specifically that I'm a sex‑repulsed asexual. The relationship itself would have to be an asexual relationship, and I know you're not queer. So, would that work?”

He said, "Yes, because you're worth it." I love that bit.

So we decided to think about it. Gave ourselves two business days to come up with an answer of, do you want a relationship?

The most interesting thing that happened in those two days is, the night that we had this conversation, after all was said and done, I had a moment that made me realize I really am an aromantic person because I felt romantic attraction for the first time in my life at the age of 23. And it's weird feeling an emotion at the age of 23. It's like feeling excited and relaxed at the same time and reassured. It's a nice feeling, though I still don't think it's that important to me. I think what's important is this platonic love I have for this person.

The couple of days pass and we're on a video call again. I say to him, "All right, you opened up to me about your feelings first, so let me open up to you about my feelings first. I'll say yes or no, do I want a romantic relationship. No, sorry, maybe a romantic one. Yes or no, do I want a partnership. Then you say yes or no, do I want a partnership. Then we make a conclusion, are we in a partnership, relationship, whatever, and then we talk about it. Deal?”

“All right. Ben, I've been having feelings… What. Sorry, no. Wait. Sorry, no. Wait. Sorry, no. No. Wait. Stop. No. Stop.... Yes, I want a relationship.”

“Goodness, Kate, I thought you were saying no. Yes, I want one too.”

That conversation was almost two years ago now, and we're housemates again, living together in a two‑person flat. I am still asexual. The relationship is still an asexual one and I'm still aromantic. And Ben reminds me very often he's very happy and I remind him very often I'm very happy too.

So, no, I don't need a romantic relationship, but I do like having a partner and I do love that it's Ben.

Thank you.

Part 2

It is 2011. I am 20 weeks pregnant and my husband Denis, our two‑year‑old daughter, Amelie, and I are at the medical imaging clinic. I'm given a hospital gown to put on, wait for a little bit. It feels like an eternity because, as required, my bladder is full.

They take me in for the data and measurements portion of the appointment, so I'm by myself. I'm giving myself a crick in the neck because isn't it amazing that science and technology lets us see what is going on in my belly. I love seeing the little skeleton. I love seeing the heart flutter.

Finally, it's time for the big reveal part of the 20‑week ultrasound and so Denis and Amelie are invited in.

The technician uses the mouse cursor to circle a long oval on one side of the screen and says, “This is one leg.” And she circles a large oval on the other side and says, “This is the other leg.” And she circles the space in between and says, “In the middle, no boy parts.”

Now, my husband and I are both university‑trained scientists. We go back out, I turn to Amelie who, up until this point, has been insistent that she is going to have a baby sister. No matter what I tell her, “We don't know yet,” “We're going to find out soon,” it's a sister.

I turn to her and I say, “You were right. It is going to be a baby sister.”

And she looks me dead in the eyes and says, “It's a boy.” Oh, brother.

The rest of my pregnancy goes by and we bring home our baby girl Veronique. Amelie's reaction, “Awww.”

Now, Amelie is an A+ big sister, doting. She helps me out, she brings me things when my hands are full. She sits on the couch next to me and nurses her baby doll while I'm nursing Vero. Vero's early childhood is fairly typical for a kid in the suburbs. Following big sister Amelie around, doing whatever Amelie is doing, hand‑me‑down dresses, trips to the park, Disney princesses, so many Disney princesses. I don't even know where they came from.

Eventually, the Disney princesses were sent overboard and replaced with Spider‑Man. Awesome.

My father passed away when Vero was seven months old. And Vero's personality, sense of humor, penchant for putting on all the dress‑up clothes at once would have brought him so many belly giggles, so many belly laughs, because it certainly has brought so much laughter and joy to our family. Vero made our family of four complete.

Fast forward a little bit. We are now 2019, and I'm driving home from somewhere. It's just me and the kids. They're in the back seat in their boosters.

And seemingly out of nowhere, Vero pipes up and says, "Mom, I'm not a girl.”

My chest tightened. Oh, boy. I don't know much about this at all. What is this going to mean? Will her friends accept this? Will her friends even understand this? They're seven years old. Will her friends' parents understand this? How do I explain this to Mom? Oh, thank goodness I don't have to explain this to Dad,” because he was a homophobe and I don't even want to think about what he thought about trans people.

“What does this mean for school? You know what? Maybe if I just stick my head in the sand for a little bit and pretend like it didn't happen, I can buy myself a little bit of time and we'll see if she brings it up again.” So that's what I did.

Now, our kids go to Catholic school. Around this time, Vero was getting ready for her first communion and was insistent that, “I don't want to do this.”

“Vero, why?”

“Mom, I'm going to have to wear a dress.”

“My love, you don't have to wear a dress. You can wear whatever you want.”

“Oh. Well, if that's the case, then I'll do it.”

A Facebook memory comes up from the summer before when our friend Stephanie had visited. Stephanie had a pixie cut at the time and Vero had said, “I want to cut my hair like Stephanie.” So, right away, we went and we got that haircut. The grin on this child, ear to ear.

Oh, that reaction means a little bit more now.

A little later that summer when I buzzed the back of my head, kept my bangs, a more extreme version of what my sister referred to as my lesbian haircut when I was in university, Vero saw it and said, "I want that."

“Okay.” Same reaction, grin, ear to ear, and wore it better.

So this takes us to 2020. There was this little virus. I don't know if you all remember. The world shut down. We had a lot of time to sit with our families, to sit with our thoughts. Amelie is now 11 years old. She has gone down an internet rabbit hole of Pride flags and variations and videos about being queer.

One day, we're just up in her room and she says to me, "Mom, why did it take me 11 years to figure out I'm not straight?"

Like, “Kid, you figured it out a lot faster than I did. I was 16.”

“Why, Mom?”

“Well, it was the ‘90s. People didn't really talk about the possibility of being in a relationship with someone of the same sex. And if you did, it wasn't in a positive light. So, not something I considered.”

“Oh, okay.”

“So how do you identify?”

“Oh, I'm Aroace.”

“All right. Cool.”

Now, if any of you don't know the lingo, Aroace is short for aromantic asexual. It's a big no thank you to any romantic or sexual relationships.

“All right. Cool.”

I walked away from that conversation feeling pretty proud for two reasons. I was proud of Amelie for doing something that I never had the courage to do with my parents. And I was also pretty proud of myself for having created an environment where my child felt comfortable just bringing that up like it was nothing. Parenting win. Yeah. So, I'm starting to catch up with the program when it comes to Vero.

Now, a lot of my important conversations with my children happen at bedtime. Some might say they're stalling. Some might say it's more comfortable for me. Maybe it's a bit of both.

And so one evening, I asked Vero, “So, how do you feel about maybe trying on some different pronouns?” Because this thing about not being a girl, if we were to plot it versus time, frequency versus time, because who doesn't love a good graph, it was probably exponential. And so it was time for me to get my head out of the sand and do something.

And he said, "Yeah. Yeah, let's try that."

So, I said, "Well, maybe we could start with they/them?" I was still stalling. Non‑binary seemed a little less jarring to me.

Vero said, "Yeah. Okay."

The thing is that we are a French‑speaking family, and French does not do gender‑neutral. So, I went to the old Google machine. “What do people use for gender‑neutral pronoun in French?” Came up with the term “iel”. It's awkward, but okay.

We smushed together the word frères et sœur to make froeur, because there's no word for sibling in French.

We told Amelie. She was on board right away. We told Denis. He was on board but confused right away.

This whole scheme lasted two weeks. It didn't work. And, also, it wasn't true to Vero's identity. So within two weeks, we went to masculine pronouns.

I had to rewire my brain. “Amelie, tell your sis- um brother that,” blah, blah, blah. “Girls, I mean, kids, can you come here, please?”

It took a while but I got there. Amelie was really good at gentle corrections when I made a mistake. I don't think she made a mistake once. She was the best cheerleader a transitioning kid couldn't ask for.

So Vero transitioned at home, great. We have now gotten to the spring of 2021. School has been on site, online, like a yo‑yo all year. And it's time for Vero to transition at school.

I type out an email, one line. “Vero would like to switch to masculine pronouns at school, please.” And I hit Send. It's probably the email I was most nervous about in my life. What's going to be the response? Am I going to have to go mama bear on the school? I will if I have to, but I'd rather not have to.

Luckily, Madame Manon was amazing. She needed time too. As far as I know, Vero was the first kid at his school to transition, so she wanted to make sure she was doing it right. It wasn't just like, “Yeah, okay. No problem. Let's go.”

They brought in the social workers from the school board who did presentations about differences, both visible and invisible to Vero's class. And then the next meeting the next week, any student who wanted to could present about their differences.

Vero's two besties totally had his back. They did presentations as well so that he wasn't the only one doing a presentation. I was so proud of him, first of all, for doing a presentation about something so personal to his class, but also they were online at the time. And one thing Vero absolutely hated was online school and having to be on mic and on camera. He did great. I could relax knowing that he was in a safe, open environment.

So, yeah, I have two kids, both of them identify as queer. And because of them, I've had to come into my own queer identity in a more open way. Because how could I be an example for them if I was hiding myself away? But if truth be told, they're just as much of an example for me as I am for them.

And as for that day back in 2011 in the medical imaging clinic, Amelie loves this story because, “Mom, I was psychic. I was right.” There may not have been any physical boy parts there, but there was a boy there, and he is my favorite boy in the universe.

Thank you.