This was so informative and is worth more praise and attention. The author explores how colonialism, anti-Blackness, and cisheteropatriarchy work together. This is book was full of so much research and would be a fantastic non-fiction read for "fun" or a great selection for an academic class about race and sexuality.

I got an ARC of this book.

Let me just say that I have exactly two issues with this book. The first is that it focuses only on aces that don’t engage in sex. The second it focuses mostly on ace women (men are mentioned, but it is mostly how they are objectified for being Black and less to do with their asexuality). All of the ace media I engage with does this. It is always sex repulsed aces that get the stage. I am glad they get the attention when it is books like this, books that are amazing and actually respects ace people. I just wish there was more for ace men and aces that engage in sex (especially kinky aces). While I am grumpy there was no delving into aces that have sex and how that would fit into this lens, the focus on ace women made a ton of sense and made this piece stronger. So I will just pout and hope that Brown will write a book about ace men or kinky aces. I would love to read their thoughts.

I can’t even name one idea that made this book so wonderful that stood out above the others. They were all important. Every chapter was amazing, though the history chapter did drag a bit. I loved how thorough the ideas were. I loved how much they fit the world. I loved just how thought out everything was. This is honestly the best book I have read on ace anything. I am used to having to stop myself from rage quitting the books, because they just can’t even acknowledge there are different definitions of asexual. Instead other books make it solely about actions, which makes so many aces not ace. Brown was able to explain why the definitions are different and why their focus was what it was. Instead of denying that aces can have sex and enjoy it, they went on to say they were focusing on one type of ace person. They did not gatekeep being ace. Instead they opened the door. Even said that while they wanted to claim certain people as ace, it is not responsible or right to do so. Respect what people call themselves and just respect people.

This book really does cover everything it promised to. I am so thankful I got to read it and that it is out there for people. I am off to make sure the WGS program I graduated from knows this book exists and adds it to the curriculum and that every ace group I am in knows it is a safe book.

My coworker’s son was even contacted and asked to give a review on tiktok. So the whole team was on board with getting this book into the hands of people who needed it. Plus then you can hear directly from a Black ace about the book. He also recommends other books, I highly recommend checking out his videos.

Please look for reviews from Black ace women for a better look at it. Please elevate their voices. Brown was completely right when they said it is hard to find the Black ace activists. It is not because they don’t exist, but they are pushed out of the predominantly white space that is ace places online. I do not engage in most social media, so I don’t know any places to start your search.

An excellent resource for understanding asexuality, especially in the context of POC within the queer community.

I've read several books on asexuality. This is a very well-researched book that traces theories on asexuality farther back than other authors have while making important points about sex and racism.

This book was a lot! It was a lot of information and often blew my mind. So many of the ideas that are discussed and dissected in the book are things that I never thought about, so in that case, this book truly expanded my thinking.

The book is really all about intersectionality specifically between compulsory sexuality, Blackness, and white supremacy. What I found truly interesting was looking at the history of sexuality and how damaging stereotypes have been used in our society.

Although it took some time to get through it was a very worthy read.

This read much more academic, like essays than I expected, however none the less was an extremely valuable piece exploring the experiences of being black and asexual.

Much more academic than I expected from the blurb, though certainly worth the effort.. My favorite chapter by far was the one (chapter 10, I think?) that explored the sexuality of Langston Hughes and Octavia Butler. Loved the idea of allowing people — especially historical figures — to be ambiguous in their sexuality and resist the urge to label them, particularly if they themselves resisted labels during their lifetime.

An insightful and informative read on the black experience of being ace. This book gave me a lot of perspective, and despite the fact I am ace, I still had a lot to learn due to the fact I am white. I highly recommend this book to everyone.

This book was incredible. I think everyone should read this, and as an asexual person myself, this book felt like a breath of fresh air. The asexual perspective is often excluded from queer spaces, and the discussions of the over-sexualization of women, specifically Black women, is talked about a lot in this book!

This was amazing, clear, well articulated. We definitely need more books about asexuality, and even more books that talk about different intersections. I’ll be sure to buy my physical copy!

Such an important book, a Black queer feminist perspective on asexuality, the author explores their topic with depth and clarity that is impressive. This book will be hugely important for anyone open enough to understand more about asexuality, as well as being affirmative for those who are asexual and/or aromatic. The intersectional lens she uses was also particularly insightful, echoing others who have written about how Black people but especially those socialised as women are sexualised from an alarmingly early age. She makes repeated reference to the oppressive nature of cisheteropatriachy in various chapters, which would be relevant for everyone as we are all affected but I would say especially to anyone socialised as women. Where relevant trigger warnings are included at the beginning of chapters. Highly recommended.

With thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

I really loved this book!! As someone who identities as ace, I am always looking for things that make me feel seen. I am also always interested in how identities intersect with each other. I had been looking for a book about asexuality from a Black perspective and this really hit the spot. Sherronda Brown really hit it out of the park.

Not only does this work provide detailed insight into the history and trauma of asexuality, but Brown does so in a way that's thoughtful, prolific, and respectful. As someone who identifies as asexual, this is a work that made me feel seen and recognized. The amount of research that went into this text is staggering and impressive; for example, even though there are very few academic articles focused on asexuality, Brown manages to cite so many and succinctly analyze information from them. The few asexual texts that exist are focused solely on the white ace experience, and that's something that Brown discusses in this book. By doing so, Brown makes some great observations by explaining the intersections of gender, identity, and sexuality. This book is a must-read for all future gender and sexuality classes curriculum!

Refusing Compulsory Sexuality is a perfect mixture of educational tools and an easy-to-understand book.

As someone who is going to be doing a master's in gender and sexuality, with the hope of doing my dissertation in Asexuality, the book held a lot of important information and resources to further research the topics they discussed.

This is a book that I'll definitely be buying a physical copy of to have as my own and will be reading and rereading multiple times.

Definitely worth the read for those interested in the topic and others who may want to expand their academic knowledge on asexuality and sexuality in general.

Thank you to the publishers for providing me with an eArc in exchange for my honest review.

I gained a lot of understanding from this read, especially contextualizing overlaps with being part of Black communities yet even as someone who reads a lot of academic texts there were sections that seemed overly verbose or in need of edits to better grab the audience’s attention.

This book is incrediblely written and informative. Because asexuality is a spectrum and there are so many different ways to experience it encompassing it all can be difficult. This book gives provides an enormous amount of complex information in a comprehendible manner.

I want to start with my overall thoughts before diving into the meat of my points. Personally, I enjoyed this book and found it both validating and instructive. Many aspects of how society treats asexuals that are discussed in this book are relevant to me and line up with my own experiences. Having these written in print and talked about as things that are common to others who share my identity, whilst on one hand is hard to hear because it means we are all treated poorly, on the other is welcome to see that I am not alone in this. There is then a layer of learning I felt whilst reading this book as Brown discuss is things that are more commonly experienced by black people regardless of their sexualities and then the compounding of the two, I have not experienced those inarguably cannot experience those ,and it showed me how much further we have to go in society in a way that I don't think I would have been able to find out about otherwise. For that alone, I thank her for writing this book so I can work on correcting these things within myself. I imagine that if another allosexual person of colour was to read this they would find the same thing reverse being very familiar with things that are felt and experienced by all black people but then learning about things that and also the compounding of things that is more common within the asexual community that they might not understand the full effect of on black asexual individuals.
I do think that this book would be harder to read the less of your identity you have in common with being a black asexual person, as there would be less to relate to and more things that you are potentially learning about for the first time. I think that potential readers should be aware of that before deciding when and if they want to read this book I highly recommend that everyone does read it but for more people orates goat highlight more work than they need to do for others and I think making sure that you are in a position where you're able to properly understand what this book is trying to say is an important thing to do before picking it up as opposed to reading it to say that you have read it to get some kind of personal growth brownie points.
I did also appreciate pulse reading this book that people who are referenced who are still living all we can accurately verify the status of have their pronounce including next to their names so that they can be refer to correctly by people who wish to talk about them later. I think it was a really nice small gesture of inclusion and tolerance that is not often seen in books, although is most commonly in books discussing identity. I also quite like the fact that there are content warnings throughout this book and relevant chapters and subtitles within the book so that if you need to skip passages you can but it's done in such a way that you only have to skip the smallest amount of the book possible to avoid content you don't wish to see instead of having something just at the start of a chapter for a sentence right at the end of it it's these under 4-5 paragraphs in this section maybe move on to the next section but you could still read the rest of the chapter.
This book covers a variety of different topics in depth and isn't unafraid to hold a critical lens to not only to wider society but also things within the queer and black communities and how they treat black asexual people and how the intersection of these identity's just make it harder for people to find safe spaces. I did find interesting enough that the chapter titles were often a little bit colder and blunter than the way phrases things were phrased in the main text and could sometimes find it a little bit off putting; for example, the ‘unfit’ and ‘unhuman’ chapter titles. While there is more nuanced in the chapters themselves and everything is explained and fleshed out just felt a little bit how to understand and made me slightly tense and brace before reading them because I could feel that an attack was coming which did slightly lesson my enjoyment of reading the book I understand that that is ridiculously nit-picky thing to say but I personally feel that more positive titles could have been given more like affirmations as opposed to the putdowns because this book is a tough read as it is and having that that printed at the top of every page was not particularly pleasant. I understand that this book is not talking about pleasant things and is about the struggles that people face I and that is going to lead to some discomfort but sometimes I feel like putting comfort for the sake comfort is not necessary especially as by reading this book you're showing some willingness to understand society better and make changes the main text itself is often filled with lots of affirmations that I've highlighted because some of these descriptions and quotes are highlights or key points but I think all worth keeping around once I finished reading the book.

Overall I really enjoyed reading this book and I'm going to pick up a physical copy in the future I would recommend that everybody reads it, as my biggest problem is what the chapters are called as opposed to anything of actual consequence. but please make sure that you are ready to hear what it has to say before you start Otherwise there is no point I will definitely be giving this book multiple re readings overtime so that I can fully appreciate what is going what is being said and charge make appropriate changes in my own life to make the world a better place and do my part in changing the way we think as a society to make it a kind of place for everybody.

I was first introduced to this book on the podcast "Sounds Fake But Okay".
I immediately knew I needed to read it. Although asexuality is still underrepresented in books and media, I've still managed to grow tired of reading and re-reading the same basic facts, perspectives, and experiences. THIS BOOK GAVE ME KNEW LIFE. I highlighted EVERYTHING. I sat with sentences for hours. There was so much to think about, accept, and explore. I'm grateful for Sherronda J. Brown's experience and perspective, and I can't wait to share this book with an Asexual Group (part of the online community: Queer Christian Fellowship) starting tomorrow! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!

It’s one of those books on which you want to highlight every single sentence. Sherronda Brown does not talk down to her reader, and just jumps head-first into the illogic of compulsory sexuality. I almost gave myself a whiplash nodding along. I am unsure how to describe this book. I would exhort everyone who is interested in unlearning whatever nonsense social conditioning and pop culture have taught us about human sexuality to read this book.

(Review copy from NetGalley)

Sometimes being asexual (and in my case, aromantic) can feel very lonely, for reasons perhaps obvious but which I will elaborate on in a moment. In particular, it feels like we are usually an afterthought when it comes to research about queer people and sexuality. I know that’s not entirely the case, though, and am always looking to broaden my knowledge about those who study and write about asexuality. So of course I leaped at the chance to read Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture by Sherronda J. Brown. Not only does it discuss the ways in which our society privileges allosexual people and pairings, but it also challenges some of my understandings as a white person, getting me to think about the intersections of racism and acephobia.

The book comprises twelve chapters (plus a foreword, introduction, and afterword). Each chapter explores a different dimension of compulsory sexuality, which is a term Brown uses to build on top of the more well-known compulsory heterosexuality, which is the idea that social pressures encourage and reward heterosexual expressions of love and desire and punishes those who deviate from that norm. In uplifting voices on the asexual spectrum and research into asexuality, Brown wants to emphasize that beyond compulsory heterosexuality, there is a wider idea that sex itself is a requirement for full admittance into the human experience. Hence, compulsory sexuality: moving the gatekeeping goalposts so that queer people are OK as long as they’re having sex with someone, but if you don’t actually care all that much about sex … well, that is just a bridge too far!

This privileging of sex as a determiner of identity has long bothered me, and I’m glad more people are calling it out. Your sexual orientation is whom you’re attracted to, not who you do, if you know what I mean. Yet even in queer spaces, the performance of sex and sexuality often become more important than the underlying attraction. Brown argues that this is inherently exclusionary of ace people:

In order for asexuality to be understood and recognized as the queer identity that it is, sex acts and sexualization would first have to be removed from the center of dominant conceptions of queer identity.

This can be a touchy subject among queer rights activists, and understandably so. A great deal of the queerphobia lobbed our way these days comes in the form of accusations that we are predatory, as the recent co-opting of groomer by far-right activists demonstrates. I get why allosexual queer people are very invested in celebrating non-normative sex and sexuality in a healthy, sex-positive way. Yet I appreciate that Brown is unyielding on this point:

> Hyperfocus on queer sex and sex roles is a direct result of the oversexualization of queerness as a means to construct it as nothing more than sexual deviance and also to reassert heteronormative gender roles within queer relations….

That is to say, the way our mainstream society oversexualizes/hypersexualizes queer people is an intentional form of controlling and minimizing our queerness as a political and personal identity. It is a radical act, therefore, to reposition our queerness along those axes—and in doing so, realigning allosexual queers and asexual queers.

Brown’s unrelenting grounding of asexuality in the history and politics of queer liberation is refreshing. She makes it clear that we have always been here, always been a part of queer movements. It’s gratifying to see it all spelled out this way in black and white, for so often, asexual exclusion takes the form of asexual erasure. This is a book that is determined to make us feel seen.

Then we have the way Brown discusses how compulsory sexuality overlaps and interlocks with anti-Black racism, especially misogynoir, along with fatphobia. She relates well-known stereotypes of Black people, such as the Jezebel, Mammy, Mandingo, etc., to compulsory sexuality, demonstrating how white supremacy has long set up a correlation between hypersexualization and race (at least in the eyes of white people). Hence, Black asexual people face additional challenges that white asexual people like myself don’t because they also carry the burden of numerous racist stereotypes. Something I really like about Brown’s presentation of these ideas is the way she works them into every chapter, truly ensuring that this important element receives thorough examination instead of, say, a token chapter like it might be given in another scholar’s work.

Indeed, while I would have read this book even if it was solely about asexuality, the intersectional component is what truly got me excited. As a white person, it’s important to me that I understand not just the privilege I have in terms of how society treats me but also the ways in which our society has shaped my very thinking. Brown does not mince her words:

> What is true of whiteness in every space, even in “progressive” and “inclusive” spaces, is that it will always work to create some form of exclusivity as a means to reassert white superiority. Therefore, white asexuals often claim asexual queerness as a property, just as whiteness itself is claimed as a property, as a space that others are barred from entering into.

I’m being called out—and I appreciate it. I think this is one of the most pressing challenges that white queer activists face right now, i.e., acknowledging how we inadvertently work against the overall cause for liberation by refusing to acknowledge the presence of race and role of racism in our spaces. This book is a direct challenge to any claims on asexuality as a bulwark of whiteness and white supremacy. While we white asexuals might not be intentionally perpetuating those ideas, we have grown up with them and internalized them. So this book, in addition to validating us, will challenge us in the best possible ways.

And Refusing Compulsory Sexuality is so validating! The older I get, the more that compulsory (hetero)sexuality bothers me. I used to think that I had escaped it, having grown out of the dating-heavy period of my twenties wherein all my peers seemed to be hooking up and then shacking up. I thought that once I reached the refuge of my thirties, I could start my inevitable evolution into the “cool spinster aunt,” the friend who would take your kids for a night when you wanted to fuck, the perpetual bachelorette sipping tea on her deck, ready when you called to vent about your partner. That was supposed to be my life!

But I am realizing that compulsory sexuality will continue to stalk me through my decades, evolving as I evolve yet ever present. Nowadays it’s the gentle but hollow caress of loneliness as I watch more of my peers pair off and embark on a new phase of their lives that I have opted out of. (Brown introduced me to chrononormativity, coined by Elizabeth Freeman, to identify this idea that our lives should unfold along a particular trajectory as determined by social and cultural norms.) I have no desire to have a partner of any kind, to have children of my own; I enjoy living by myself—yet I live within a society that is constantly telling me such a state is unnatural, pitiable at best and deviant at worst.

Please believe me, my allosexual readers, when I say that you don’t truly understand how much of our world is built upon this assumption that sex and sexual attraction are required and normative. You don’t. It isn’t just the idea that our society itself has become over-sexualized, the so-called “raunch culture” that other books I’ve read have tried to unpack. It goes so much deeper than that, intersecting, as Brown notes, with forces like white supremacy. For us asexuals, it’s a world that holds us at arm’s length, misunderstanding or mistrusting us.

But maybe if you read this book, you can get a glimpse into my world. Truly the most fulfilling part of this book for me is Brown’s unapologetic tone. Early on she calls out how we asexual writers often attach disclaimers and qualifiers to our statements: oh, some ace people masturbate; some of us choose to get married or even have sex; some of us might even enjoy sex! Partly we do this because the asexual spectrum is incredibly diverse, ranging from people who experience zero sexual attraction, like myself, to people whose attraction fluctuates based on factors ranging from time to connection to someone. But we also do this because of internalized acephobia and this idea that we need to make ourselves more palatable to allosexual readers, reassure you that we are actually Just Like You! Brown recoils from this, as do I (though I freely admit I am guilty of acceding to the pressure to do this in my blog posts), and it endeared me to her writing immediately.

Refusing Compulsory Sexuality is not just a succinct and edifying work of Black asexual scholarship: it’s an unyielding assertion of the belongingess of asexuality in our society and sociology. Not only does this book make me feel seen, but it makes me feel valued and recognizes my humanity. It centres me in a way that many queer conversations do not, even when they are inclusive of me. If you have any interest in a more scholarly read about sex and sexuality in our cultures, you need to read this. I received an eARC via NetGalley and North Atlantic Books, but I’ve already ordered a copy from my indie bookstore.