Let's Talk About Visibility
At the end of Pride Month last year, the video game company BioWare showcased some of its LGBTQIA+ employees in an interview done on their blog. In it, various employees got to share their identities, how those identities are represented in various games, and what it’s like working at the company. The result was, in general, very heartwarming; it was sweet to hear how all these people loved games and how their hopes to see themselves represented in their favorite medium were met in different BioWare titles such as Dragon Age, Mass Effect, etc. Indeed, many BioWare titles are noteworthy for their diversity, so it was nice to see the ways that diversity touched the lives of some of its LGBTQIA+ employees.
However, for as nice as the post was, I found myself
disgruntled by the assertions that BioWare is dedicated to representing the entire
LGBTQIA+ spectrum, since I’ve seen examples in which the asexual and aromantic
spectrums – the “A” in that acronym – are not well represented at all. I love Dragon
Age and talk about the series often, in large part because it’s full of
amazing characters, many of whom I see elements of myself in (like Josephine Montilyet
or Cole). However, it’s a tough pill to swallow when the same studio that’s
proud of their diversity in other areas does so little for these characters who
may or may not be aspec. It can be hard to feel like all is going well with
representation at BioWare when, for instance, Cole being made more human means (spoilers) he gets a girlfriend, or when Sebastian Vael from Dragon Age II and the
option for chaste marriage with him is treated by the game as a joke.
In general, aspec representation is still something we’re
struggling to achieve, so an overwhelming majority of my favorite media is
media that naturally doesn’t include aspec representation. And that’s okay.
Personally, I believe that a piece of media is not required to include aspec
representation if they don’t want. However, I also believe that if you want to
say that you care about the LGBTQIA+ spectrum, you should at least try to care
about the A in that acronym. By lauding all you do for representation, I feel
it’s now fair game to look at that representation with a critical eye in a way
I might not have otherwise.
This has been bothering me a lot lately. For as much as I’m
excited by the new and unique ways asexuality, aromanticism, and their related
identities have been visible in recent years, I can’t help but find myself
frustrated with the many ways in which these identities are still treated as
invisible – or worse, invalid. As we approach the beginning of Pride Month, I’m
thinking about these topics even more, and want to discuss the concept of aspec
visibility. The quest to make aspec people less invisible is still ongoing, and
as such, visibility itself isn’t a bad thing; that’s why today’s post is not
framed as “Dangers of,” but rather as a discussion. So today, I’d like to examine
visibility – where it is, where it isn’t, and where it’s possibly going.
Inclusion Should
Include Aspec People
To really illustrate the points I made in my intro, consider
the following analogy. One day, a noted orchestra comes to your town and you,
as a musician yourself, eagerly go to see them. When you get there, it’s hard
to tell for certain, but you feel like you may see one or two people who play
your instrument, waiting in the wings (for the sake of this analogy, let’s say
your instrument is the harp). You didn’t come here with the intention of seeing
someone play the harp and your enjoyment of the concert isn’t dependent on
that, but it certainly would give the evening extra meaning for you. Not all
orchestras have harp players, so seeing someone play the instrument is always
special to you. However, throughout the concert, the harps stay off stage and
their players just sit awkwardly in the back with nothing to do. All right,
you tell yourself, that’s fine. Not every song has a harp part, and it’s
a great concert even without a harp player.
However, during the concert’s intermission, the conductor
gives a speech about how the orchestra is dedicated to showcasing as many
instruments as possible and talks about how they are doing an excellent job of it.
Except for the harp players, you think, who – unless you’re viewing the
concert from a specific angle – don’t even seem like harp players. They’ve just
been sitting aimlessly while the audience members who aren’t sitting at your
vantage point wonder what the heck their role even is. Even though the concert
isn’t required to feature harp music or parts in songs written for harpists,
you can’t help but be annoyed that the conductor claims the orchestra is
showcasing all its instruments and musicians, while there is a very clear group
that is being entirely ignored. Even worse, this means they’re being ignored (and
even ridiculed) by the audience as well. Unless something changes, you know
these musicians like you are going to be virtually erased.
Now, I admit that metaphor isn’t perfect, and it does get quite
belabored the longer you lean on it, but I hope it makes my point at least
somewhat. While I never go into a piece of media looking for aspec
representation (unless I know it’s there, like in a book review post), I can’t
help but get disgruntled when I see media practically set aspec characters up
only to mistreat, mishandle, ignore, or erase them. Beyond that, I can’t help
but get especially upset when this is done by people who are otherwise vocally
excited about their commitment to diversity. It’s the same issue I have with
shows like Fox’s Glee, a show which wanted to be seen as being about
acceptance, all while humiliating and ridiculing characters who were
non-sexual. All this to say, you can’t claim to care about inclusion for all
people and identities if your stories willfully exclude asexuality,
aromanticism, and their related identities. Similarly, you can’t say you
support the entire acronym, which includes these identities, all while ignoring
and mistreating them at every turn.
Visibility is wonderful, and it proves great strides have
been made over the years. In many cases, it may even be enough or a very good
start; after all, aspec people can’t exist in spaces – whether they’re
real-life spaces or fandom ones – unless they are first seen and acknowledged
by other people. But just seeing and acknowledging aspec people only goes so
far, especially in instances where people want to be viewed as accepting aspec
people or being good allies. Claiming aspec people have a place in LGBTQ+
spaces or in fandoms can’t coexist alongside taking representation, safe
spaces, or our voices from us. Caring about aspec identities can’t happen when
you also demonstrate a perfect willingness to make fun of them or deride them
as unnatural.
In the case of the BioWare example, I admit I’m willing to
give them the benefit of the doubt at least somewhat; after all, Dragon Age:
Inquisition was released nearly ten years ago and Dragon Age II was
released over twelve, so it’s possible the studio has learned from these
less-than-stellar portrayals. Even in the case of Glee, the show often
stereotypically portrayed its characters and thus it might not be the best
place to search for good representation anyway. However, I believe my points
are still valid in large part because they seem to point to an underlying
attitude, one which makes it seem like portraying aspec identities isn’t really
as important as just paying lip-service to the idea.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s great that aspec identities are
mentioned in these conversations at all, since even that level of recognition
has taken years. In fact, during Pride Month 2021, I wrote a post about how
much it meant to me to see the asexual and aromantic flags included in Pride
related content, and that’s still true. But if the goal is true diversity,
acceptance, and representation, these require more than just including the flag
amid pride celebrations and calling it a day. This is where a conversation
about visibility needs to be had because, as I said, sometimes just
acknowledging that aspec people exist is not enough. Despite the strides that
have been made, I’ve still seen firsthand how often aspec people’s opinions are
heard but not respected, where we are seen but not included, and where we are
tolerated but not accepted – even while people claim we are.
In many cases, I can imagine how difficult these things must be. The asexual and aromantic spectrums are full of identities that are different not just from other queer identities, but even from each other, making it difficult to accommodate them all. For instance, I as a sex-repulsed AroAce am going to come at things from a different perspective and have different needs from someone elsewhere on the spectrum. Therefore, there is no "one size fits all" way of accommodating aspec identities; even many of the solutions I propose when I do posts about allyship are more extreme than many aspec people would likely deem necessary, since I’m discussing these things from my own unique point of view.
I don’t doubt that this struggle is the reason why many
people stop at visibility alone. But I believe most people don’t realize the
impact their actions can potentially have, even if they’re not overtly aphobic.
Again, because there are many different aspec groups, their feelings on what
makes something aphobic are likely not always going to be the same. However, at
least in my experience, there are a lot of people who believe they are doing
enough for aspec people by acknowledging their existence, while unknowingly
doing things that make it difficult for aspec people to exist in certain circles.
With one breath, these people seem to say aspec people are welcome, but with
the next, they seem to entrench the same types of aphobic ideas that push us
out of fandom, Pride, or other related spaces.
Visibility in
Fandoms
If visibility in real life is difficult, then it feels
nearly impossible in fandoms. For instance, I’ve met many people in fandom
spaces who are willing to listen to my aspec headcanons, or who even headcanon
certain characters as aspec themselves. This is an amazing and welcoming thing
to do, and it certainly increases aspec visibility. However, there are plenty
of other people who will vehemently deny a character’s aspec tendencies and
will shout down anyone who tries to advance them. Sure, they can see we as
aspec people exist and they may even acknowledge the validity of our identity,
but they refuse to accept that we may view a character a certain way if it goes
against their own headcanons.
This is an unfortunate problem in any fandom and it
naturally doesn’t just affect aspec people and their headcanons – there are
plenty of instances where people headcanon a character in ways that are
completely unrelated to identity and it still leads to friction. But when it
comes to denying aspec people the ability to tell their own stories or carve
out our own spaces, there is a layer of unseen damage that can occur. I think
allosexual people can sometimes not realize these impacts and think that,
because these things are not directed at an aspec person specifically, there is
no harm done. In my experience, however, that isn’t necessarily the case.
Think, for instance, of someone in fandom spaces discussing
how a character “can’t possibly be aspec,” or saying that a real person should
date, get married, and/or have children “to be happy.” These things are usually
not targeted at an aspec person specifically, but the attitudes that underpin
them still have an impact. These attitudes may not be intentionally harmful,
but they still reinforce the notion that “normal” people live in a certain
manner, and that people who don’t live like that must somehow be unhappy or unfulfilled, that they must somehow be living an “unnatural” life. For some
aspec people, this may not be of great cause for concern for them, but in my
experience, it can be exhausting to know that even people who “see” me may not
be willing to acknowledge the validity of my experiences. When I say
“validity,” I don’t mean that I require their validation or permission to live
my life; rather, when I discuss the concept, I’m referring to the idea that
someone like me may actually have my right to experience a fandom in peace taken
away or have my safe spaces and headcanons slowly pried from my hands because
my opinions don’t match up with the opinions of the larger majority.
For example, it’s a common fandom occurrence that people
turn to fanfiction as an escape from something they don’t like in a piece of media,
taking solace in a well-told story by a like-minded fan. However, even this
simple comfort is often difficult for someone like me because it feels like
aspec fans must constantly demonstrate the “validity” of their claims. To use
myself as an example, I point to a fanfic I wrote a few years back as an
asexual take on something from the sixth season of the British period drama, Downton Abbey, a show I’ve discussed before. However, something I haven’t discussed
yet are the characters of Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, and the notion of having
a marriage that is a “lie.”
Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes are two of the senior staff
members of the house whose relationship eventually becomes a romance and culminates
when Mr. Carson asks Mrs. Hughes to marry him. She gladly accepts, but begins
to worry that Mr. Carson, a bit of a traditionalist, will want a “full
marriage” – meaning one that involves sex. As such, she asks her good friend, Mrs.
Patmore, to discover his intentions on her behalf. Unfortunately, Mrs. Patmore essentially
frames the choices as either a “full marriage” or companionship, but
specifically calls it “warm friendship,” ignoring the notion that the two could
love one another even if sex was not involved. This then acts as a springboard
for Mr. Carson to say he wants “a real marriage, a true marriage” – to the
point where, despite his deep love for Mrs. Hughes, he would gladly see her
walk away.
Image description: Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes from Downton Abbey |
A few things with this. Firstly, I rarely go into period pieces expecting aspec representation so as it is. Secondly, although there were a few instances early in the plot point where it seems like this could have had aspec vibes even so, the show makes it clear that it’s not that Mrs. Hughes is against the idea of having sex, just that she worries she won’t live up to Mr. Carson’s expectations somehow and will be embarrassed. This could actually be somewhat sweet (since he assures her that he finds her beautiful and that she would never be a disappointment) were it not for the notion of framing a non-sexual marriage as a lie and everything else as “real” and “true.” This, to me, is a prime example of a scene that isn’t aspec but nevertheless makes use of a lot of language that devalues aspec experiences. This is somewhat par for the course from Downton Abbey and yes, it is a period piece; however, despite its period setting, it is being watched and interpreted by modern audiences who are being encouraged to see this plot point as not just understandable and inevitable, but also romantic.
For as much as I enjoy Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes together,
this scene was obviously difficult to stomach as an aspec person. Thus, to drown
my sorrows, I found some aspec fanfic of this couple in order to wash the taste
of calling non-sexual marriage a “lie” out of my mouth. Afterwards, I was then
inspired to write my own in which I reimagined their concerns as more aspec in
nature and ended with the idea that they both discover that loving one another
is the most important thing, not whether they are intimate with each other. This
story was written almost seven years ago, so I admit it’s not nearly as nuanced
as something I might try to craft today, but I was pleased with how it
portrayed the characters and I even got a few very lovely comments. But I also
got a few comments that, while not bad, also reinforce my ideas about aspec
people’s struggles in fandom spaces.
One comment ran as follows: “The great thing about fanfic
is everyone can express their own ‘take’ on shows and relationships. This was
well-written, but in my opinion, the Carson and Mrs. Hughes romance is one of
TV’s greatest love stories.” As I said, this comment is not malicious or
even especially rude, but it does confuse me even to this day. The implication
seems to be that portraying a character as asexual or portraying their romance
as not involving sex automatically devalues it; that, by showing these
characters as accepting one another and loving one another without sex, there
is something inherently incomplete about their romance. Another commenter,
although they very kindly admitted the story helped them see how finding
romance without sex must be difficult, also said they "don’t understand how not
wanting to do something is a titled thing,” referring to the label of asexuality in general, once again making the task of “Fandoming
While Aspec” to be a somewhat confusing experience.
Again, much like my Dragon Age/BioWare examples,
these comments did occur almost seven years ago, and as such it’s certainly
possible to imagine fandom spaces have evolved and improved over the years. And,
while that may be true, it’s not the case in every fandom nor in all instances.
Even if aspec acceptance has grown leaps and bounds, there are plenty of
circumstances that prove aphobia still exists in the fringes of a lot of fandom
culture and culture in general. Indeed, there are plenty of examples from the
here and now where aphobic or “normalizing” attitudes are still alive and well,
often accidentally, unknowingly, or even couched as something positive.
The Slippery
Slope of “Positive” Aphobia
Because aphobia can be deeply rooted, many of the things
that I find the most harmful or disturbing as an aspec person are framed as
being “good,” “beneficial,” or “positive.” As I’ve discussed on the blog
For instance, something I’ve mentioned before is the idea of
allosexual people looking at certain aspec ideas as threatening – especially
when those allosexual people are part of other historically underrepresented
groups. In my life, I have seen instances where someone (whether aspec or not)
expresses the desire to not see content that’s oversexualized, and they are
immediately accused of various forms of prejudice. Likewise, I have seen plenty
of things that are non-sexualized be treated as suspect because of that fact,
as if their non-sexualized existence is going against the natural order of
things and is therefore suspicious. This is something that I think is
especially prevalent in fandoms related to real people, as it becomes easier to
frame these attitudes as a good thing.
I’ve had the misfortune of seeing this time and again when
it comes to things like K-Pop fandoms. As a BTS fan only, I admit I’m a bit of
an outside observer when it comes to other groups or the K-Pop industry, but I
have nevertheless picked up on a trend I find rather distressing. Because the
K-Pop idol system requires its trainees to make many sacrifices, some people
automatically assume that one of the things they sacrifice is dating. Like I
said, I know very little about the system as a whole or other people in it, but
what I do know is that many K-Pop fans lament the system’s restrictions and
claim that the system forces their favorite idols to not date. Whether or not
that’s true (as I've seen plenty of conflicting information), their reactions to this are what’s troubling, since many of these
fans then say idols need to be allowed to live “normal” lives and that “falling
in love” or “dating” is not just normal, but essential. Whenever an idol
struggles, there is inevitably a bevy of people who claim these struggles exist
primarily because said idol isn’t allowed to date, or who postulate that their
lives would be better if they had romance.
I’m sure this may be true for some idols. I’m sure there are performers within the idol system who do wish they had more freedom to date or who do feel bad that they don’t have romance in their life, and it’s perfectly valid if they do indeed feel that way. It’s also valid if a fan believes in their own life that dating and romance are normal, or if their life has been personally improved by these things. But two things – firstly, it’s a mistake to think that sentiment is shared by everyone; secondly, it’s an even bigger mistake to claim that dating and romance are “normal” or “necessary.” Beyond that, when someone like me tries to point out these things, we once again see issues with visibility. People will see and even acknowledge the opinions of someone like me, but then immediately wave them away. We are the exception to the rule, they seem to think, and thus we don’t have to be taken all that seriously. Our opinions are treated less like actual valid things and more like sideshows, weird aberrations that don’t fit with the established “normal” worldview, and thus can be dismissed.
I’m always very alarmed by these things because I have to
wonder how people who do this online react to people in real life. While online
opinions are typically exaggerated over ones we’d hold in the real world, I
don’t think they exist in a vacuum. Therefore, if a person online is willing to
dismiss these ideas and opinions as not real or worthy of respect, I believe
they’re likely to do it in real life as well. So again, this makes me feel like
visibility is not enough. Merely seeing someone’s opinion, shrugging, and
saying “agree to disagree” when it comes to aspec issues isn’t bad per se, but
it also leaves a lot of room for this supposedly well-meaning or
positively-tinted aphobia to creep in. And when that impacts people in everyday
life, the result is anything but positive.
As I said earlier, I’m not expecting perfect representation
all the time. There are plenty of things that aren’t meant for me and that’s okay. I’m not looking to belong everywhere; I’m just looking to belong
somewhere. Allosexual people aren’t required to inherently care about aspec
issues or to do things to please aspec people, but I do hope they take a closer
look at the struggles of aspec life and consider how their own actions may
occasionally make things harder. I hope they consider that celebrating the
Pride acronym means celebrating all of us. I don’t think it’s too much to ask
for a little bit more acknowledgement than what visibility alone would afford
us. I don’t just want to be visible, I want to be allowed to live my life in
peace, to exist in fandom spaces, and to have things I can claim for my own,
and I’m sure I’m not alone in that. With a little bit of mindfulness and a
little bit of deference, I do believe this goal is possible for people like me
– not just during Pride Month, but all the time.
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