An Open Letter To Our Collective struggle and Liberation

As I sit here and reflect, I remember the confusion I once carried—thinking I might be bisexual, or maybe straight. I didn’t know how to separate romantic attraction from sexual attraction, and for a long time, I believed they were the same. Those years were heavy, shadowed by depression and silence. But as healing began, so did clarity. I discovered the difference between those attractions, and slowly my eyes opened. I realized—I am asexual. And when it came to gender, I knew it didn’t matter to me whom I felt romantically connected to.

That journey brought me to a truth I finally embraced this June: I am panromantic asexual.

Even though representation in the media for people like me is scarce, I’m at peace. I’m me. That’s enough. But I also know that representation matters and I hope it grows, so no one feels as alone as I once did.

And while I speak of queer liberation—so vital in the context of India’s still-patriarchal and often anti-LGBTQ+ laws—I must emphasize: none of us are free until all of us are free. My queerness doesn’t exist in isolation. It stands beside the people of Palestine, Congo, Sudan, and every other place where communities are being crushed by militarism, capitalism, and colonialism.

To be queer and liberated means standing against all forms of oppression, not just the ones that affect us personally. It means saying clearly: I am queer, and I stand for Palestine. I stand with Sudan, with Congo, with Indigenous people whose lands have been stolen, and with refugees whose lives are treated as disposable.

And in this moment…when trans communities are under attack, when transphobia is being disguised as “feminism” by TERFs and reactionary movements—it is urgent that we protect our trans siblings. Queer liberation without trans people is not liberation at all.

This Pride, I remember who I am. I celebrate it. But I also fight; for all who can’t yet celebrate, for those still struggling to be seen, to be safe, to be free.

Because queer pride means solidarity. It means resistance. And it means love—across borders, beyond binaries, and through every act of collective care.

With all my heart,
A panromantic asexual queer for justice