Open Discussion: What changes have you noticed over time in the Asexual Community?

A recent post by godlessace that linked to a discussion about changes over time in queer and feminist communities, and how those changes are perceived,  has kicked of a bit of a parallel discussion about how the asexual community has changed over time. It’s been getting a lot of cross-discussion, so we thought having a more linear discussion site mightbe useful.

The conversation on tumblr can be a bit hard to follow, so here are links to some of the tumblr replies so far:

1. godlessace, writingfromfactorx, and nextstepcake discuss whether changes move faster in online and/or asexual activist circles.

2. nextstepcake and writingfromfactorx discuss some of the thematic changes we’ve seen in asexual communities.

3. Captain heartless weighs in on ambiguity and definitions and how that’s changed over time, and I comment on some of my understandings about the purpose of AVEN’s definitional models.

(There are also some sem-tangential but inspired by this conversations going on here.)

So, readers: what changes have you seen over the course of your time in asexual communities? Do you think these changes move faster or slower than in other communities you’ve been in?

Building an Asexual Blog List

So I’ve started using an RSS reader to streamline my blog reading and increase the spread of asexual blogs I follow to include a lot more non-tumblr blogs, and it’s been super helpful (and I’m wondering why I didn’t start doing this years ago).

So, of course, the next step is to build up a list of blogs to follow. I have a list that I sort of cobbled together from some blogrolls on the blogs I did follow before, but it’s hardly an exhaustive list and I suspect I’m missing a lot of good blogs.

Does anyone have any suggestions for non-tumblr blogs that are either mostly or sometimes about asexuality? feel free to self-promote too! 

The current list of blogs I follow is below. (Note that many of these blogs are inactive, unfortunately).

Blogs that are mostly* about asexuality (at least over the few weeks I’ve followed them):


Blogs that are sometimes about asexuality:


Housekeeping notes – Name Change

As some of you may have noticed, I’m no longer listed as “Cleander” on several ace sites but have been gradually switching to “Sennkestra”. This is part of an ongoing attempt by me to consolidate some of the many “personas” I’ve taken on over the years on various corners of the internet.

The username “Cleander” is one I started using during my first explorations of asexuality, at a point when i wasn’t ready to be out or be linked to any of more public personas. While it still holds a special place in my heart and it’s a name that I’ll always respond to, now that I’ve come a long way in accepting that part of myself as a core part of my identity, I felt it was time to end the separation between my asexual and non-asexual online personas.

Second Generation Atheism

So, the theme of this month’s Carnival of Aces is Asexuality and Atheism, which got me thinking about atheism. And while I haven’t really noticed any ways in which my atheism and my asexuality affect each other, it has gotten me thinking about my relationship atheism in general, so this is going to be a non-asexuality post.

My relationship with my atheism has I think been most strongly affected by the fact that I’m what I guess I would call a “second generation atheist” – both of my parents are well-educated atheists, and I was raised in what I guess could be called an atheist household, although I never really think of it as such. And even most of my other close relatives tend to be minimally religious at most. So because of that, I didn’t grow up with religion – I never went to church, I wasn’t raised to believe in a god or gods, I wasn’t really raised with any particular supersitious or other pseudo-religious beliefs.

And as a result of that, I never had to “find” atheism. I have never had to question or overcome religion. I have never had to “come out” to my family as atheist. And I never really had to struggle with the assumption that there must be a God – because from my time as a kid, I just never was given any reason to believe that “God” was any more real than Harry Potter or the Simpsons or any other popular character. I’ve never really been “passionate” about atheism because it’s just something I’ve always taken for granted. And while I’m passionate about things that are often correlated – like, say, good science and having sensible politics that are dictated by real data instead of arbitrary dogma – I don’t tend to think of those as part of my atheism, but just as part of being a sensible individual.

And because of this, I sort of feel like an odd duck in atheist communities. Now, admittedly, I’ve never really done more than glance at occasional atheist blogs or groups, or talk to individual atheists, so my first impressions may be completely off. But in general I feel like I wouldn’t be that comfortable in most atheist groups because I just don’t care about religion or god as much as they seem to. It’s not that it doesn’t make sense – Atheism, as an identity typically defined by not believing in God, or not following a religion, would sensibly have to talk about these topics. But when people are talking about how coming out as atheist to their family was hard, or sharing notes about when they began to doubt the existence of god, or people talking about the difficulty of “breaking up with religion” or the hypocrisy inherent in some particular school of religious thought, or whatever, I have nothing to share. It’s just a completely alien experience to me.

Of course, personal experiences with god are only part of the reason that people can have strong feelings about atheism vs. religion – for many people the need to talk about religion comes from external clashes with religion, but even there I don’t have a lot of personal investment.

Even outside my blatantly atheist family, I lived in a community that wasn’t particularly pushy about religion. In fact, most of my exposure to organized religion had been through the local Jewish congregation – I went to a Jewish preschool because it was one of the better schools in the area, and later on I had a lot of Jewish friends and would occasionally tag along to synagogue with them when I was visiting for a sleepover or playdate or whatever, and of course there were the rounds of bat and bar mitzvahs in middle school. But even there I never really felt any pressure to be anything other than atheist – I think probably because Judaism, with it’s mix of religious and cultural components and (in my experience) a seeming emphasis on traditions over beliefs, tends to be more open to secular participation (and several of those friends have identified as secular to varying degrees), and the local congregation was I think a fairly laid back one. And apart from those occasional events, religion or god were just…never a topic of conversation.

To be honest, my first real serious exposure to a more aggressive religion came in college, when for a couple years I lived with a Christian roommate and two of her friends who were all in the same Christian student fellowship. I was present at a couple dinner parties and things for this group, and my roommate convinced me to go to one of their campus social activities once (and only once) – the free food was pretty great, but there was just way too much talking about christ and pretty heavy recruiting pressure, so I was never comfortable there. But then that has been like most of my religious experiences: I went somewhere with religion, was made uncomfortable, so I just left and went back to the rest of my life, where most of my activities and friends are, if not explicitly atheist, quite nonreligious. Which pretty much sums up my relationship with a religion: there really isn’t one. We occasionally brush up against each other and then depart, but there’s no strong connection, whether of a positive or negative nature. On a political level, sure, I have strong opinions about what role religion should (or shouldn’t) play in things like government and education, etc. etc. But there’s no personal resonance.

On the other hand, I get the impression that so-called “Skeptic” things (which are sometimes but not always tied into the atheism movement) – as opposed to “Atheist” things, tend to be a little more in line with my interests, as they seem to be less focused on organized religion per se and also include things like pseudoscience and common superstition, urban legends, etc – which I have much more experience with in my personal life and actually care about a lot more personally, and I do follow a small handful of skeptic-themed blogs and podcasts that I do enjoy (Though keep in mind that as with atheism, my interaction with the Skeptical “community” is tangential at best). But considering that I’m mostly there for the science, theory, and current events talk, I still feel uncomfortable identifying myself as any part of even the more “general” atheist/skeptic/etc. community considering the issues discussed above.


As a sort of corollary to that, though, I have a question for any of my followers who might be more aware of this than me: Do any of you know if there’s any information available on how common “2nd-generation atheism” even is, or if there are any good blogs/books/etc. that talk about the subject? My impression from my current social circles is that it tends to be extremely uncommon (especially when you restrict it to parents who were actively “atheist” – coming from vaguely nonreligious backgrounds seems more common in some of my international friends from counties that are in general less religious than those from western/christian backgrounds). But I still haven’t been able to find any actual hard data so I have no idea what the reality is.

Olivia Experiment Public Release

So if anyone’s been curious about The Olivia Experiment, it’s now available publicly via amazon and itunes (you do have to pay though). I think the cheapest option is a one-day rental for $4-5.

Amazon link here. iTunes link here. (ETA: it looks like it’s available on several other platforms like google play as well, but they all seem to have the same pricing).

You can watch the trailer here.

The main character is questioning her a/sexuality, and it also features a Berkeley asexual meetup group in one scene (though they are nowhere as fun or accepting as the real Berkeley asexual meetup group).

Be aware that it does have some really awkward asexual stereotypes (mostly in the beginning), though I think the conclusion of the movie was better done. Overall verdict: treatment of Olivia’s questioning a/sexuality  = pretty decently done. Treatment of all the other asexual characters = pretty poor stereotypes. So it’s a mixed bag, but I think it’s worth taking a look given that explicit asexual representation of any kind is so rare, and there were several genuinely funny/touching scenes.

Also, re: the “have sex to figure out if you are asexual part” that seems to worry a lot of people – they actually handle this part pretty well in the end even though it may not look like they will at first, though I can’t say more without spoilers. But yeah I know it looks really skeevy but that’s not actually a part to worry about (in my opinion anyway, ymmv).

Still waffling on whether to write up a longer review/summary/commentary, would people be interested?

“Privileged” ≠ “Oppressor”: why these two concepts should not be conflated.

So, to start this post off, I’m including a quick rundown of oppression/privilege terminology as i understand and prefer to use it. A very quick 101 rundown of those terms might go something like this:

1. “Privileged” refers to a group whose members have certain social advantages in the given context. [1]

2. “Oppressed” refers to a group whose members have a certain social disadvantages in the given context.

3. These two groups are considered for the most part to be mutually exclusive. [2]

Now, while I may not be the biggest fan of this terminology, I understand it and at least mostly agree with the underlying principles.

However, there is one thing that certain social justice circles do that does not work for me at all: the conflation of “privileged groups” with “the oppressors”:

ex. “women are the oppressed, men are the oppressors”, rather than “women are oppressed, men are privileged.”

I can see how people get there – privileged is the opposite of oppressed, and oppressor is also the opposite of oppressed, so they must be the same right? It’s an understandable thought process – but that doesn’t mean it’s right.

There are two big problems that I see with this:

1. It implies that oppression is the work of individual actions, rather than greater social and institutional forces.

2. It implies that members of an “oppressed” group are incapable of perpetuating oppression.

See, the thing about oppressive dynamics being institutionalized is that they are built into an entire culture. “Oppression” isn’t about the actions of any particular individual or individuals – it’s encoded into the laws and social mores and traditions and attitudes of an entire culture. And it’s pervasive – anyone who grows up or is exposed to that culture is both affected by it an perpetuates it, willingly or knowingly or not.

The truth is, we are ALL oppressors – oppression works on a societal scale, and all it’s members are actors, whether they benefit or suffer from it in the long run. “Privileged” people don’t go through some secret “how to be an oppressor” initiation that the rest of us are never exposed to. “Oppressed” people don’t get a free pass on their own oppressive actions.

But, surely that can’t be true! you say. Well, let’s look at a real life example of privilege/oppression dynamics in action: let’s look at women in science. Overall, women are drastically underrepresented in most “hard science” fields, esp. in graduate studies and career positions, and recent studies have found that there is very clear bias against female candidates for scientific lab positions – for an example, I’m using “Science faculty’s subtle gender biases favor male students” (Moss-Racusin et al. 2012) [3].

In this study, the authors submitted sample resumes for science positions to several faculty members in science departments, and asked them to rate them on competence and hireability, and to propose a salary level and an amount of career mentoring. The key? All the resumes were identical – except that some had typically male-gendered names and some had typically female-gendered names.

“In each case, the effect of student gender was significant (all P<0.01)…faculty participants viewed the female students as less competent and less hireable than the identical male student. Faculty also offered less career mentoring to the female student than to the male student, and the mean starting salary offered to the female student was significantly lower than that offered to the male student.”

So, here, right off we have pretty firm evidence that women in scientific fields have a disadvantaged (oppressed) position and men have an advantaged (privileged) position. Now, if the claim that “oppression” is a function solely or even primarily resulting from the actions of the privileged group is correct, then we should find a difference in the way that male and female faculty members rated student. So, let’s take a look at those results too:

“The effect of faculty participant gender and their interaction was not [significant] (all P>0.19)…female faculty participants did not rate the female student as more competent or hireable than did the male faculty. Female faculty also did not offer more mentoring or a higher salary to the female students than did their mail colleagues.”[4]

Well. As we can see, this idea that oppressive systems [in this case, sexism] are merely something perpetuated by the privileged [men] against the oppressed [women] is incorrect – sexism is being perpetuated by everyone, most of the time without even realizing it.

As a corollary to this – when someone objects to statements like “all men are oppressors”, that’s not the same as denying that men have a privileged position, or that this advantaged position means that their acts of oppressive behavior may sometimes have greater results. What it’s objecting to is the idea that sexism/racism/bias in general is something perpetrated uniquely and solely by the privileged group. Nor does it necessarily come from an ignorance of privilege/oppression terminology and theory – often it comes from having been exposed deeply to such discourse and finding it lacking. Critiquing the way that privilege/oppression discourse is sometimes structured isn’t the same as denying that any kind of privilege or oppression exists.


[0] if you follow tumblr, you may have noticed that this is sort of reaction to this post over at ace advice, though it’s meant as a more general criticism of this kind of terminology overall rather than any particular post. This was just the particular one that triggered me to write this up.

[1] I say ‘in a given context’, because privilege/oppression dynamics are not universal constants – they are heavily dependent on the social culture of a given time or place. For the purposes if this post most examples will be coming from the context of mainstream US culture, and I’ll mostly be discussing male/female privilege/oppression discourse because it’s the first example that came to mind.)

[2] of course, when you start getting into perception vs. identity and all that things get a lot blurrier

[3] Available free to the public here:

[4] The authors also note: “It is noteworthy that female faculty members were just as likely as their male colleagues to favor the male student. the fact that faculty members’ bias was independent of their gender, scientific discipline, age, and tenure status suggests that it is likely unintentional, generated from widespread cultural stereotypes rather than a conscious intention to harm women. Additionally, the fact that faculty participants reported liking the female more than the male student further underscores the point that our results likely do not reflect faculty members overt hostility toward women. Instead, despite expressing warmth toward emerging female scientists, faculty members of both genders appear to be affected by enduring cultural stereotypes about women’s lack of science competence that translate into biases against student evaluation and mentoring.”

[5] Final note, this does get more complicated when you get into A. groups which are largely in seperate social/cultural spheres and thus exposed to different social attitudes and biases and B. situations where you have more than two relevant subgroups. (Male/Female is the most simplistic structure, since nearly everyone is raised in a mixed-gender environment and there are (for the most part) only two major groups at play. Race would be an example of a much more complicated situation, since there are many more than just two groups, and since members of various groups may be distributed much more unevenly among different social/cultural spheres.

I am Not Sex-Favorable: Identifying as a Sex-Indifferent Asexual, and What That Actually Means.

So, when I first heard the term sex-favorable, I thought it was great – I knew of a couple people who had long felt that they were something other than just indifferent, but that never had a good way to describe that. It seemed like a nice way to round out our terminology – sex averse/repulsed for the folks who can’t stand the idea, sex-indifferent for the types who are kinda “meh” about it, and sex-favorable for the folks that actually are kinda interested.

Unfortunately, over the last few weeks that hasn’t been how things have played out, in part I think to a bit of a misunderstanding over what “sex-indifferent” actually means. See, what’s happened with sex-favorable is that instead of being used to describe those who felt positively about sex enough that indifferent didn’t work for them, it’s recently been used to simply replace the term indifferent to create a more drastic averse-favorable binary that’s just missing the point.

See, it’s not about “liking sex” vs. “not liking sex”. A lot of people I think hear “oh, you aren’t averse to sex? that means you like it which means you want it!” But that’s not really how it works.

I like metaphors, so let’s try one: Instead of talking about aversion/indifference/favorability of sex, let’s talk about cleaning toilets.*

(* of course, this metaphor doesn’t align perfectly because non-consensual toilet cleaning is nowhere near as bad as non-consensual sex, and unlike avoiding sex avoiding cleaning your bathroom can actually have negative consequences on your health and happiness. But I hope that it can still explain things a bit).

See, there are some people I know who absolutely hate the idea of cleaning toilets. Like, the thought of having to touch a toilet with their hands or even go near one for anything other than excreting waste just grosses them out. Or maybe they don’t object to the toilet itself, but maybe the smell of cleaning products makes them gag. But for whatever reason, these people would almost never willingly agree to clean a toilet under any circumstances. You could perhaps describes these people as “averse” or “repulsed” by toilet cleaning.

Then, on the other hand, there are people like me who don’t really mind. Like, it’s not fun, but we can see that it has certain benefits, like having a clean bathroom, that are useful. And when I do decide to clean the bathroom, there’s no instinctual revulsion or anything that I have to deal with. Like, it involves weird smelling chemicals and some elbow grease and other unpleasant things, but nothing that bothers that much in the overall scale of things.  Let’s call these people “indifferent” to toilet cleaning

And then, on the theoretical other end of the scale, there’s probably some people who are actually kinda into cleaning bathrooms. Maybe they have like a porcelain kink or something, or maybe they just find the routine of cleaning things a good form of stress-relief. These people could maybe be described as “favorable” towards the act of toilet cleaning.

Still, let’s note some things. First, the fact that I am not repulsed by the idea of cleaning toilets doesn’t mean that I’m automatically going to say yes if someone asks me to clean a toilet. Like, if someone comes up to me and says “hey, wanna clean my toilet?” I’d laugh in their face. Heck, even if one of my close friends comes and pleads for me to help clean their toilet, I’m still probably not going to. See, even when you’re indifferent to something, you’re still not going to do it unless the benefits are greater than the costs. Cleaning toilets involves missing out on other things I could be doing, it requires energy that makes me tired, etc. so I’m only going to do I if there’s some reason I think I’ll benefit.

So to exit from the metaphor, being sex-indifferent (or sex-favorable, for that matter), doesn’t mean you’re going to say yes to sex – now, or maybe ever. It just means that if the right circumstances arose, you might be comfortable considering it. It does not mean that you’re automatically willing to have sex with a romantic partner, or that you would ever be automatically open to anything.

Also, from a historical perspective, words like  “indifferent” and “averse” were meant to be less about your willingness to do certain acts than they were about your comfort level around certain things. At least, when I first encountered the terms on AVEN, they were often used much more broadly to describe things like not just dis/comfort with having sex but also various levels of dis/comfort with things like talking about sex, or watching sexually charged movie scenes, etc. And just being “averse” or “indifferent” didn’t really say anything about how you would choose to act in certain circumstances – for example, there are some people who consider themselves sex-averse or sex-repulsed who may decide that some level of sexual activity has, in their view, more benefits than costs, and may choose (for whatever reason) to engage in certain things, even if they might be uncomfortable with them – while on the other hand a person who feels more indifferent may nevertheless decide that for them, the costs aren’t worth the benefits.

Unfortunately, it seems like these definitions are being lost now – “indifference” has been extremely warped where it hasn’t been completely erased, and that “averse” and “favorable” have been bastardized into shorthand for “would you be willing to have sex with a partner”, which for people like me has never been what they were meant to mean. And at this point, I’m still wondering if those originally meanings can be reclaimed or if the concept has just been too far warped.

Asexual History Interest Group

Asexual History Interest Group

The Asexual History Interest Group is a Google Group (part mailing list, part forum, part document sharing and storage) for anyone interested in:

  • studying asexual history
  • learning about asexual history
  • recording asexual history
  • creating asexual archives
  • and more!

If you think you might be interested, please send a join request via the link above (or if that doesn’t work, message for an invite!)

This group was inspired by discussion had at the 2014 SF Asexual UnConference. Great things happen when aces gather :)

Categories are Complicated, or: What Tomatoes have to tell us about Demisexuality

So recently I’ve been thinking a bit about the debate that often goes around about whether or not demisexuality should be considered a “sexual orientation” per se. And while this post isn’t meant to try and settle that debate in one way or another, I want to address something that I think has been missing from the ‘debate’, which is the idea that there can be different categorical systems for different purposes, and that how a a thing is categorized can change depending on what you are using the categorization for – and that as such there maybe doesn’t need to be a debate at all.

A common example of different categorization for different purposes comes from the categories of fruits and vegetables. There are actually two different of systems for categorizing these. First, there are the biological definitions of fruits and vegetables: fruits are the seed-containing parts of a plant, vegetables are the other parts of the plant, like leaves and stems. Second, there are the culinary definitions: fruits are generally sweeter and used in things like deserts and jams and fruit salads and are almost always edible raw; vegetables are not very sweet and used in things like soups or roasts and are usually cooked. Biological fruit/vegetable categorization tends to be fairly strict, based on clearly defined definitions and innate, quantifiable traits; they’re based on trying to make a clear, objective, logical model of the fruit/vegetable distinction. On the other hand, culinary definitions are determined not by innate characteristics but by subjective social factors (for example, the popular definition of “if you wouldn’t put it in a fruit salad, it’s not a fruit”). It’s based not so much on the innate properties of the items but around how they are used in everyday life.

For the most part, culinary and biological definitions of fruits and vegetables overlap. Both agree that apples, blueberries, oranges, and mangos are fruits, and that  lettuce, carrots, broccoli, and celery are vegetables. On the other hand, there are other places where they differ: for example, things like cucumbers and zucchini and pumpkins and tomatoes are commonly considered culinary vegetables because they are used in cooking more like other vegetables than other fruits, even though biologically speaking they would be fruits. And things like mushrooms are culinary vegetables despite biologically being fungi and thus not even belonging in the fruit-vegetable distinction at all.

So, what does this have to do with demisexuality debates? Well, one of the problems with some demisexuality debates is that arguers are often using two very different categorical approaches: one the one hand, there’s the ‘theoretical scientific model’ approach which attempts to categorize aspects of sexuality in logical ways, categorizing things based on their underlying similarities or differences to build a general model for how sexuality works. On the other hand, there is the ‘social identity’ approach, which is based not necessarily on the underlying workings of a persons sexuality but on their personal identity and on the social implications of their sexuality. People using these approaches tend to come to different conclusions about whether demisexuality should be a “sexual orientation” because they have different operational goals underlying their categorical systems:

From a theoretical perspective, it’s true that demisexuality doesn’t really fit in with other “sexual orientations” which are based solely around the gender of the target of sexual attraction.  Demisexuality is primarily about what contexts sexual attraction can develop in, not what genders it can develop towards. Furthermore, some demisexual people do report also having an underlying sexual orietnation/gendered patterns of attraction, which again indicates that it can be useful to consider these two different factors from a theoretical perspective. From a theoretical perspective, what matters most is whether the mode is accurate to the underlying functions of sexuality. Thus, when constructing models or theories of human sexuality it makes the most sense to think of demisexuality (or not demisexuality) as a separate factor from sexual orientation.

On the other hand, from a social perspective, it makes perfect sense to place demisexuality as a sexual orientation. First, in a popular context there is usually very little distinction between a persons sexual orientation, sexuality, and sexual identity, and the three concepts are usually collapsed together*. In a popular (non-academic) context, sexual identity is all about what the most socially salient aspects of your sexuality are – for most people, it’s patterns based on gender, but for others (as in demisexual), it’s patterns based on familiarity, emotional connection, etc. Furthermore, even if you assume a demisexual person might theoretically have an underlying sexual orientation as well, they will likely never have enough “data points” to know what it is, so that knowledge is socially useless – their demisexuality is much more salient. From a social perspective, what matters most is validating a persons sexual identity. Thus, from a social perspective, it makes sense to include demisexuality in the same category alongside more “gendered orientation”-based sexual identities.

(Note: this relationship between “sexuality” , “sexual orientation”, and “sexual identity” is important. If you consider “sexual orientation” to be merely one small aspect of a greater sexuality/sexual identity, then saying that demisexuality is not a sexual orientation just means it’s a different underlying aspect, and just suggests a terminology change without implying any invalidation. However, when one assumes that “sexual orientation” is the same as “sexual identity” or “sexuality” -as is typically done by most people – then saying that demisexuality isn’t a sexual orientation is seen as invalidating the entire concept of demisexuality, even if that wasn’t what was intended. Because of this, I think it can be usefully to speak of “sexual identity” rather than “sexual orientation” in a social context. Personally, I tend to prefer using “sexual orientation” to refer to the theoretical category and “sexual identity” to refer to the social category to keep things clearer)

However, in asexuality debates, people usually don’t realize that there can be two different ways of looking at things: those who start from a more theoretical perspective get frustrated because they see the social model types seemingly blatantly ignoring how sexual orientation is historically used for specifically for gendered attractions. Those who start from a social perspective get angry because they think the theoretical types are trying to invalidate demisexual identity. However, a more useful solution might be to distinguish between the theoretical and social ways of categorizing demisexuality for different purposes. For example, if proposing an academic model for understanding sexuality, then it would be appropriate to consider demisexuality something in addition to rather than instead of another sexual orientation. But if asking about a persons sexual identity for community demographics, or for asking about anyone’s sexual identity in general, it makes more sense to use a social model and consider demisexuality alongside other sexual orientations. And, much like with culinary vegetable categorizations, while socially including demisexuality as a sexual orientation may seem “illogical” or “inconsistent”, from a social perspective being “right” doesn’t matter – being “useful” matters. And considering demisexuality as a sexual identity for social purposes is indeed useful. Just as a tomato can be both a fruit and not a fruit, demisexuality can be both a sexual orientation and not a sexual orientation.

So basically, it isn’t logically inconsistent to say “Demisexuality is not, theoretically speaking, a sexual orientation like heterosexuality or bisexuality, but it is, socially speaking, a sexual orientation like heterosexuality or bisexuality”. Understanding that scientifically considering demisexuality to be say, a mode of sexuality rather than a sexual orientation per se does not mean invalidating demisexual identity, and that considering demisexuality a sexual identity doesn’t mean ignoring the history of sexual orientations, would help people to actually have productive conversations instead of talking past each other as often happens now.

Just as a tomato can be both a vegetable or a fruit, demisexuality can be both a sexual orientation and not a sexual orientation depending on the purpose and definition.