There’s a video by Lovette Jallow that I keep thinking about. It’s about asexuality, but not in the clinical, checkbox way the topic is so often handled. Instead, it opens with an invitation to consider that what we’ve been taught to see as absence might actually be its own form of completeness.
What strikes me most is how the video reaches back into history to show that asexuality isn’t new, isn’t a modern invention, and certainly isn’t a problem to solve. In pre-colonial African societies and ancient cultures, people who weren’t driven by sexual desire were honored. They held spiritual roles. They were trusted precisely because of their stillness. Somewhere along the way, that reverence was stripped away and replaced with suspicion.
Jallow’s retelling of the Medusa myth is one of those moments that stops you mid-scroll. She reframes Medusa not as a monster but as a guardian whose refusal was punished, whose “no” was twisted into something terrifying. It’s a pattern that echoes through time: those who don’t respond to sexual expectation are made into something wrong, something to fear or fix.
The video is generous in how it lays out the asexual spectrum, from demisexuality to graysexuality and beyond, without turning it into a glossary exercise. Each identity is presented with care, as a lived experience rather than a label. And through it all, the message stays grounded: asexuality is not the absence of love. It is not brokenness. It is not a wound waiting to be healed.
Where the conversation deepens even further is in Jallow’s exploration of what it means to be a Black woman navigating asexuality. When your body has been historically hypersexualized, when desire has been projected onto you without your consent for centuries, simply saying “this isn’t how I experience the world” becomes a radical act. Naming your asexuality isn’t just self-knowledge. It’s resistance.
And then there’s the way she talks about love. Love that begins in conversation. Love built on shared silence and intellectual intimacy. Love that is slow, chosen, and rooted in truth rather than urgency. It’s a vision of connection that challenges so much of what we’re sold about romance and desire, and it’s beautiful in its quiet certainty.
If you haven’t watched it yet, I’d encourage you to sit with it. Not just as education, but as an invitation to question what you’ve assumed about desire, about wholeness, about what it means to be fully present in the world. Because this video isn’t just for people on the asexual spectrum. It’s for anyone who has ever felt that the way they love, or don’t, doesn’t fit the script they were handed.
You are not broken. You might just be full in a different way.
Link to video: https://youtu.be/CPUsQrJqUSA?si=WXvJKRJxIvpbbxne
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