How do we hold onto identity in a world full of expectations about what you do with your private parts.
Asexual pansexual—the title reads like that of a bad poem and in a parallel universe it may very well be but for now, it is the one I carry. One I use so those around me can identify/roughly guess what I do with my genitals and heart (but mainly my genitals). With the title, however, comes the weight of having to live up to what I claim to be. To perform, for lack of a better term, my queerness in order to prove to the world that I am, in fact, what I say I am.