A Comedic Journey to Self-Acceptance Beyond Love Potions and Love Magicians!

By Dipa Mahbuba Yasmin

Have you ever tried explaining something to your parents and it feels like you’re speaking a different language?

Yeah, that was me when I tried to tell my mom about being asexual. She thought I was talking about some exotic plant or a rare species of amoeba.

Growing up in Bangladesh, where ‘matchmaking’ as their favorite pastime, scouting my potential partners at my 16, my dear mother was already planning my wedding, she was like the captain of Team Matrimony, constantly recruiting suitors like she was running this service for someone twice my age. I mean, now call it a “sugar daddy” situation if you will, but back then it was more like a “salt and pepper grandpa” vibe for me.

And let me tell you, the lengths my mom went to find me a suitable partner! So, she bless her heart, mom continues into full-on matchmaking mode, thinking my “phobia” was just fear of older men.

Finally, she’s came with joy, “I found this young, successful, good-looking guy for you!” And I’m just sitting there thinking, “Uh, thanks, but no thanks. It’s not about the age, it’s about the lack of interest.” So, no matter who she found, I just couldn’t muster up any excitement. I mean, even thinking about my future sex life after marriage had me feeling colder than a snowman in a freezer!

Now, fast forward to my thirties, and I finally discovered the missing puzzle piece to my life: I’m asexual. Cue the confetti and the celebratory music, right?

Wrong! Instead of congratulate me, my mom decided to pop over to the doctor’s office for a “fix-me-up” session.

“Love potions, often associated with black magic, can be seen as a form of corrective assault targeting a-spec queer individuals. Sexual orientation is an intrinsic part of a person’s identity, unchangeable by any form of medicine or magic. These acts of coercion and harm not only violate individual autonomy but also represent serious infringements on personal rights and dignity. Such practices must be recognized as crimes and addressed with appropriate legal measures.”

Dipa Mahbuba Yasmin 

Oh, those doctors were a riot, let me tell you. It was like being in a comedy show, except the punchlines were about “fixing” my perfectly valid orientation. They threw around labels like “Frigid”, “Psycho sexual disorder”, “Gemophobia” and “OCD” faster than a kid in a candy store, as if my lack of interest in romance and sex was a mental disorder needing a cure.

But wait, it gets better. My mom, again bless her heart, decided to pull out all the stops and consult a black magician.

Yes, you read me right – a black magician!

I half expected her to whip out a wand and start chanting spells like she’s auditioning for Hogwarts.

And then came the pièce de résistance – the magic potion. I kid you not, this magician handed my mom a vial of water and said, “Drink up, and suddenly your child will be all about that sex life.” I mean, come on! Last time I checked, I wasn’t Cinderella waiting for a fairy godmother to grant me a happily ever after.

But fear not, dear allo folks, for I have emerged from the surrealistic circus of attempted “fixes” with my asexuality intact.

Here’s to proudly waving my asexual flag in a world that’s a little too fixated on what happens between the sheets.

Cheers to being true to oneself, even if it means dodging black magic and misguided medical interventions along the way!