It’s 4am, I’m in a tiny pair of hot pants on a podium. My body is gyrating to the music. I look at the crowd and see people gazing at me. Men and women compliment my legs, my butt, my sexy outfit.
The next night I am a fantasy elf. The crowd goes wild as I rip each layer of my glittering costume off to reveal a tiny leather harness and mini undergarment. I am Coco Fabulicious, an award winning gogo dancer based in Liverpool…
…but there’s one thing most people don’t know – I’m asexual.
Growing up autistic and asexual
I grew up as an autistic person. Part of that means I see things like sex, love and relationships differently to other people. It doesn’t mean I don’t experience those things, it’s just that I don’t immediately fit with what most people just naturally understand about how those things work.
People are just assumed to be able to express themselves sexually, to flirt, to have sensual and affectionate bonds with other people, and to establish relationships. For me, those things never came naturally – I largely had to learn them.
Like many autistic people, I am somewhere in the middle when it comes to sexuality and gender. I am asexual but also bi/pan and non-binary. I don’t fully understand the rules of sex and attraction. Rather, I see myself as a person who might like people, that’s it.
Body shame
I always felt so much pressure to conform – to “be a man,” to “be attractive” and hook up with girls etc. I felt panicked at the thought of it all because I didn’t know how to do it. I felt embarrassed and ashamed.
The shame I felt on the inside was projected out. I hid my body and hated being seen. I dreaded going to a swimming pool or getting changed around others. I obsessively worked out and took care of my diet and appearance so I looked “hot”. I figured if I could “fix” what was on the outside, then maybe I would feel better on the inside.
Unfortunately it only made it worse. As I tried to fit into society’s cis-masculine beauty standards, people started to objectify and sexualise me, particularly in the LGBTQ+ community spaces I liked to spend time in.
People would constantly harass me, try to hit on me and cross my physical boundaries. As an autistic/ace person these situations can be horrible. I don’t fully understand the social cues of flirting and sexual boundaries so I would become extremely overwhelmed and anxious.
Gogo dancing changed everything
One night when I was out, I saw a gogo dancer on the stage and I realised something. Everyone was appreciating them but no one was hitting on them. They had a pre-defined role in that space. They could be free to express their body and their spirit, but they were not “on offer”. I immediately realised – I would love to feel that freedom.
I began experimenting with different costumes and performing at any opportunity I could. At first, I was petrified to go out in revealing clothes and dance in suggestive ways, but the minute I did it, I loved it so much.
I dressed in gorgeous bright colours and textures that gave me sensory euphoria, and I expressed myself in a queer, genderfluid way which felt totally me. For the first time in my life, I could show my inner joy proudly on the outside.
Celebrating myself, my own way
I have shaken my booty on so many stages and met many other dancers who feel the same empowering feeling as I do. I love to exhibit non-binary body confidence and queer, neuro-divergent sexuality in all it’s glory. I love to see people smiling and having fun when they are dancing with me. It’s like I’m sharing my joy and freedom with them.
Most of all, I love to be a role model for other people who feel different to the norm. If you relate to any of the feelings in this article, please don’t tear yourself down, and don’t try to fit into someone else’s mould. Get your butt out, shake it in public, it might just change your life!
Coco Fabulicious is a Liverpool based drag dancer, DJ, singer and comedian. Visit @cocofabulicious on Instagram for booking and more info.
