If you’re reading this, there’s a good chance you’ve never heard of aromanticism. If so, don’t worry, you’re not alone. Aromanticism (along with asexuality) is often referred to as “the invisible orientation” due to the fact that it is rarely discussed and not as represented as other queer identities, despite there being just as many of us. This is why, in 2014, members of the aromantic community came together to create a week where aromanticism could be talked about and celebrated. It’s picked up since then, even being officially recognized in a couple states, but there is still more work to be done. That’s why I’ve decided to take a moment and discuss what it means to be aromantic, why this week of visibility is so important, and what you can do to help.
Let’s start simple. Aromanticism is defined as the lack of romantic attraction. Someone who is aromantic experiences little to no romantic attraction to others, regardless of gender. Aromanticism is different for everyone who identifies with it, but this is usually the underlying thread. People who are aromantic may not experience crushes, be interested in traditionally romantic activities, or want to participate in physical affection. It’s important to mention that this is different from asexuality, which is the lack of sexual attraction. The two are similar and can often go together, but this is not always (or even usually) the case. Someone who is aromantic is not always asexual, and vice versa. Part of this confusion comes from unfamiliarity— the Oxford English Dictionary says that the earliest known use of the word “aromantic” wasn’t until the 1960s, although the word wasn’t added to the dictionary itself until 2018.
Only seven years ago.
It’s very difficult to track the history of aromanticism. Much like asexuality, it’s historically been misunderstood as a personal deficit or decision, rather than a legitimate identifier, mainly due to the fact that romantic attraction is normalized in our society to an overwhelming degree, and has been for years. Many people in the past who might have otherwise identified as aromantic were regarded as bachelors or old maids. Some were considered too busy with work to bother with romantic relationships, or perhaps they were religious and chaste. Many others entered romantic relationships simply because they believed they were supposed to in order to be “normal” and have a happy life.
The word for this belief is “amatonormativity,” a term coined by Elizabeth Brake in 2012 to describe the societal assumption that everyone benefits from romantic relationships, and cannot possibly be fulfilled without one. Obviously, this isn’t true, regardless of one’s romantic orientation. But regardless of whether we believe it or not, it has been the prevailing social narrative for millennia: grow up, get a partner, marry that partner, settle down and have a happy life. Till death do you part and all that.
Much like the rest of the history of aromanticism, the origin of this sentiment is difficult to track. Some blame conservatism, some blame religion, some blame both. It’s certainly become more popular after the European Enlightenment of the 1700s; increasingly so after the introduction of the nuclear family in the 40s and 50s. Nowadays, despite the slow breakdown of familial and social norms, amatonormativity is everywhere: movies, TV shows, music, books, social media, toys, cartoons, advertisements, politics, school, religion…on and on and on. It doesn’t even have to be heteronormative! Depictions of homosexual relationships do the exact same thing.
It’s everywhere. It’s inescapable. And unfortunately, no matter your reasons, no matter what you do or don’t feel, if you deviate from that pattern you are abnormal and wrong. And if you are openly aromantic, chances are you will hear this from someone at some point. People will say you’re a prude, or that you haven’t dated the right people. They’ll say you’re too young or naive to know how you feel. They’ll say you’re sick or mentally ill. You’re disabled. You’re broken. You’re inhuman. According to them: You do not exist.
And it’s different for aromantic and asexual people than it is for other members of the queer community. They at least have decades of openly queer people to look to, hundreds of years of music and art, and thousands upon thousands of years of literature expressing queer love. They have proof. And what do we have?
Seven years in the dictionary and eleven years since we were taken out of the DSM-5.
This is why Aromantic Awareness Week is so important.
Aromanticism is called the invisible orientation because it is so, so easy to believe that we don’t exist. But we do. There may not be anyone like us in movies or TV shows, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t watching and waiting for the moment that there is. There may not be much literature on us, but that doesn’t mean I can’t sit here and write my own. We may never in our lifetimes be mentioned in any piece of civil rights legislation, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fight for those who will come after us.
And for those reading who are not aromantic, you no longer have the excuse of ignorance. It doesn’t take much to support someone who’s aromantic; all it takes is for you to acknowledge them, to see them and accept them. Progress is only possible through empathy and education, and if you need a good place to start, a week of visibility is an excellent opportunity.
And for those who are aromantic, for those who’ve never gotten a crush or been on a date or kissed someone, for those who don’t know if they experience romantic love, for those who experience sexual love but not romantic love, and for those who are still figuring themselves out:
I see you. You exist. And you are so, so loved.
Aromantic Awareness Week is an annual week of visibility that takes place the first full week after Valentine’s Day. In 2025, Aromantic Awareness Week took place February 16-22. More information on aromanticism and Aromantic Awareness Week can be found on the official ASAW website, AUREA, and the AZE literary journal.
