Aspec Themes to Use in Stories
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| Image description: A scene from the Star Trek: Voyager episode "Author, Author", in which The Doctor pens an overdramatic holonovel about his life and experiences. If I wrote a holonovel about my own life, it might not be as dramatic as The Doctor's, but it would probably include a few themes you can find in a lot of asexual and/or aromantic spectrum stories. What are they and what makes them special? Your mileage may vary, but here are a few themes I think are identifiable as aspec. |
However, something else that is common on the blog, due to
asexual and/or aromantic representation being somewhat limited, is that I’m often analyzing
characters that aren’t explicitly aspec; in fact, some of them are later proved
to not be asexual/aromantic/other related identities at all. So, rather than analyzing them based on irrefutable
proof, I am analyzing them based on the so-called “aspec vibes” they present. What
that means will doubtless be different depending on circumstances, the media
the characters appear in, their own personality or how they’re written, etc. But
despite these differences, the reason why I key in on certain characters as having those vibes is because of the recognizable themes they may
present and the overlap these themes have when compared to other characters.
Because many characters with aspec vibes are sadly victims
to aphobic tropes or negative stereotypes, it’s quite refreshing when more
positive themes and elements present themselves, or when certain themes allow
us to more fully understand and sympathize with a character. So today, I
thought it would be interesting to look at a few themes that often jump out at
me during my analysis. These are character traits and plot elements that I
notice with some of my favorite headcanon aspec characters – in fact, in many
cases, they’re some of the things that made me headcanon these characters that way in the first place, or at the very least, made me start thinking of them
as identifiable. In other cases, they are canon
asexual characters whose stories involve these elements as key factors in their
journey to embracing themselves more fully. But regardless of who the
characters are or what the rest of their story is like, I believe looking at
these elements can allow people of all kinds to think deeply about these
characters, their stories, and their struggles in new and meaningful ways.
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Star Trek: Voyager
BBC's Merlin
Names
Although the theme of names is not explicitly aspec in
nature, I’m often surprised by how many aspec characters struggle with their
names and, by extension, their identities. I think it’s because names are such
a fundamental part of who we are and how we relate to each other/the world
around us; thus, what others call us versus how we refer to ourselves tends to
be a natural feature in stories about people trying to determine who they are.
Of course, this is also central when it comes to figuring out something like identity, and so I’ve seen the theme of names come up several times for
canon asexual characters, as well as characters that give me those elusive
“aspec vibes.”
To start, there are numerous examples of this when it comes
to Star Trek characters I’ve discussed before on the blog, including
Data, Odo, Seven of Nine, and The Doctor. In Star Trek: The Next Generation,
Data’s humanity is often called into question, which results in things like
people calling him “it” rather than “him,” or by not using his name correctly.
There is probably no better example of the latter than Doctor Pulaski’s first
appearance in season two, during which she erroneously pronounces his name as Dah-tah, rather than Day-tah, and then fails to see why it’s a problem. When
she laughingly asks, “what’s the difference?” Data replies, “one is my name,
the other is not.”
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| Image description: Data and Dr. Pulaski from Star Trek: The Next Generation |
In Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, meanwhile, we have Odo, whose name comes from a word meaning “nothing.” This is because his species (the Changelings) reverts to a liquid state, and thus when he was first discovered, it was legitimately unknown what he was; the words “unknown sample” got translated as “nothing.” But even after the scientists who found him came to realize he was a sentient lifeform, they still referred to him using this word, apparently not seeing any problem in it. Even worse, Odo thinks of this story as “amusing,” something which becomes even sadder when you consider that him finding it to be so probably stems from the fact that no one saw fit to give him a name or encourage him to find one for himself, so even he doesn't see it as a problem.
In Star Trek: Voyager, we see the theme of names very
obviously present in both Ex-Borg drone Seven of Nine and in the ship’s
holographic doctor, who never chooses a name for himself at all. In the case of
the former, Seven began her life as a human girl named Annika Hansen, but when
she was assimilated into the Borg Collective, she was given the wordy
designation of “Seven of Nine, tertiary adjunct of Unimatrix Zero-One.” This
string of numbers indicates her role within the cybernetic race, which strips
individuality away from people and makes them part of the vast hivemind. In
this case, losing one’s name is a very clear example of losing one’s sense of
self, but I find it interesting that when she becomes human again, others are quick
to force her former name back upon her, despite the fact that it doesn’t seem
to fit her anymore.
Seven herself wants to keep using “Seven of Nine” as her
name, but experiences some initial pushback, until Voyager’s crew
eventually compromises and settles on the nickname of “Seven.” Although she
eventually comes to embrace this nickname, it’s clearly chosen because it makes
the crew more comfortable and they find it more accessible than calling her by
even the shortened part of her Borg designation. Furthermore, there are several
episodes in which it becomes something of a sticking point that Seven doesn’t
want to use the name Annika anymore. For instance, there are several things I
dislike about the episode “Unimatrix Zero,” one being the fact that Seven is
shamed by the people in the Borg-dream world that gives this episode its title
when she refers to herself as Seven of Nine rather than Annika.
In many instances, Seven’s name becomes a clear boundary
line between who she used to be and who she becomes during her time with the
crew of Voyager, as well as representing the pressure to become
something she isn’t – in this case, something and someone more recognizably
human. This same pressure is also faced by the ship’s doctor, although in his
case it’s somewhat more self-imposed. As a hologram originally built for use in
emergencies, The Doctor doesn’t have a name; he is originally designated simply
as “the EMH,” short for “emergency medical hologram.” However, because
circumstances necessitate that he be active all the time, he tries to think of a
name and often comes up empty for one reason or another. While The Doctor
himself is certainly the least aspec of the characters I’ve mentioned here
(ironic, considering his original program literally doesn't have sex, sexuality,
or sex organs included), it’s still interesting to see how the themes of name
and identity come into play for him.
Of course, all these examples share an obvious similarity:
they are non-human characters. However, the theme of names is not just used for
non-human characters with aspec vibes, but also for human ones. In fact, this
is something I’ve noticed comes up a great deal in many of the ace books I’ve
read and reviewed for the blog – whether intentionally or unintentionally. Again,
I think this is because names are intrinsically tied to our identity and, often
times, getting to our true identity requires stripping away artificial things
the world has given us, which may include a name. For instance, I’m reminded of
many of the characters in Nicole Kornher-Stace’s books, such as the main
character of the Archivist Wasp novels. Part of Wasp growing and
maturing is achieved through abandoning this moniker she got as archivist and
returning to her real name of Isabel. Likewise, the ghosts of the supersoldiers
that she befriends have also had their names taken away, being known only by
numbers during their lifetimes.
This theme can also show up as people’s names being
misinterpreted. I was struck by a scene in the novel Tash Hearts Tolstoy
by Kathryn Ormsbee where Tash’s internet crush (who turns out to be awful when
she meets him) mispronounces her name several times in a way that Tash suspects
might be deliberate. It puts me in mind of what I said earlier when referring
to Data, and how his name was sometimes mispronounced, followed by this
disrespect being dismissed as unimportant. In this way, I think names serve as
a good metaphor or symbol for the concept of basic respect, which is part of
what makes this theme so impactful when given to aspec characters or characters
who have those tendencies.
In fact, I think one of the most impactful things about
making names an element for aspec characters is the theme of being able to embrace
a name and an identity in a new way. For instance, Odo embraces his name
despite its origin and Seven makes her Borg designation her own symbol of
embracing the duality of herself, and it feels like in so doing, they both
embrace their own identities. As you likely know from my analysis, the writing
of these shows doesn’t often let them stay in that place of acceptance, but I
think these moments still serve as noteworthy reminders for us to overcome a
lack of respect and continue to find meaning in our own identities. Of course,
there are other ways where respecting differences and the struggles therein
appear in media too, and these can apply to aspec characters in very meaningful
ways we all can use to cultivate confidence in ourselves.
Being Unconventional
In various types of media, portraying a character as being
“different” can be (and often is) used as a shorthand for various queer
identities. The same can likewise be true for portraying characters who are
aspec or are relatable from this lens, and this is something that many of the non-human
characters mentioned above have in common. In their cases, they are
unconventional primarily because they are not human, don’t understand certain
elements of humanity, or have their own unique ways of doing things that often
don’t fit into established norms. But just like the theme of names, we also can
see this in human characters too.
For instance, a character I personally headcanon as being on the asexual and aromantic spectrums is the character of Morgana from the BBC series Merlin, a more family-friendly retelling of Arthurian Legend. A large part of why I headcanon Morgana this way is simple – she never has a single romantic relationship during the series, unlike many of the other characters, nor even a hint of one – but there are other elements of her personality and story that I feel lend themselves well to this belief. The main conflict of the show is the fact that Camelot strictly prohibits magic thanks to the tyrannical rule of Uther Pendragon, father of Prince Arthur and adoptive father of Lady Morgana. So, when Morgana begins exhibiting signs of magic, this is not only frightening for her, but serves to remove her from the friends and the support systems she’s relied upon her entire life. By having magic, she’s forced to adapt to a new reality and her struggles with this eventually cause her to shift from a caring and sympathetic protagonist to a cold-hearted villain.
I discussed Morgana a bit in my villains post, which
postulates if being a villain can still be considered good representation, and
mentioned that Morgana is an interesting example of this phenomenon because I
feel the show never conflates the idea of her being non-sexual or non-romantic
with the idea of being evil. Rather, the thing that really makes her evil is
the fact that she is denied her true self – the self with magic – which is considered
evil by the people of Camelot. This denial of her true self and the way it
eventually warps who Morgana is and what she stands for is actually quite
fascinating, especially when analyzed from an aspec lens. I believe it
shows the struggle of being non-conventional in a world where being different
is on par with being heretical.
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| Image description: Morgana, after her turn to villainy, in the BBC series Merlin |
These are interesting themes to include because they have so much flexibility. In Morgana’s case, her non-conformity comes about because she has magic, but these themes can be explored in any number of ways. Another example of a character that isn’t explicitly aspec but nevertheless has interesting moments of characterization we can learn from is the character of Will Byers from Stranger Things. The series focuses on the bizarre and frightening happenings of a small town called Hawkins, but Will is a non-conventional outsider even before these strange occurrences. From the start, not only are Will and his friends established as nerds, but Will himself is often treated as less than by bullies and those who are stronger than him, who dismiss him as weak, frail, and “different.”
Later, Will becomes even more of an oddity to the people
around him when his mysterious disappearance and return – thanks to the spooky
forces of the alternate dimension known as the Upside Down – are treated almost
as if he’s come back from the dead. Now dubbed “zombie boy” by the people in
town, Will is treated as a “freak,” even more than he already was, which leads
to him feeling apart from those around him. But even beyond the reactions of
the people in Hawkins, Will does have some elements of himself that are
different, both in the supernatural sense and in a more day-to-day sense. For
the former, Will’s terrifying stay in the Upside Down leaves him with the
unique ability to sense the antagonist that dwells there, as well as greater
susceptibility to it; for the latter, Will is different even from his own
friends in ways that are actually quite relatable.
As I discussed in my post specifically about Will, it’s
extremely likely that Will is actually gay and that these moments that mark him
as separate from his friends, outside of the norm, or just generally
“different” are supposed to point us to this identity. But as I also mentioned
in that post, the way this is portrayed does have some aspec parallels that,
while perhaps not intentional, can teach us a thing or
two about aspec portrayals nonetheless. The way Will is characterized as being
unconventional – as a young man of his age, as a regular person, and even among
his own friends and family – are all elements that can be used in portraying
aspec characters if done well and respectfully.
Making a character markedly different from everyone else and
experiencing the world in different ways yields tremendous storytelling
potential, and can set characters up as being alone or lonely in ways that are
not at all sexual and/or romantic, which can be the great first step in telling
a good aspec story. This doesn’t have to be done in a cringey way or in a way
that sets up the character as being better than the people around them; indeed,
I think the point of portraying a character as unconventional is to show that
these things often lead to them being treated as or feeling “less than.” From
there, stories of all kinds can create tremendous potential for growth, and
coming into understanding, acceptance, or self-love, depending on the case.
Much like the theme of names, this can lead to an exploration of what it means
to belong or be accepted, which leads nicely to another theme I find very interesting
(and sometimes even comforting).
Seeking (and
Finding?)
In many cases, aspec characters
or characters that are recognizable from that perspective are searching for
something. Sometimes, they’re even searching for something they know they won’t
be able to find. For instance, Data in TNG knows that he, as an android, will
never be human, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to seek humanity. Seven
of Nine, meanwhile, seeks to figure out how she can be an individual while also
adapting to a new Collective – in this case, Voyager. In many cases,
these characters and their journeys can easily be described by saying they are
journeys to find respect, understanding, and belonging.
To me, this is the most
recognizable theme of the ones I’ve mentioned in this post. I personally have
never struggled with my name (other than having a lot of screen names online),
and, although I often discuss the ways I am different from those around me and
can feel alienated as a result, I know I am lucky enough to have a lot more
acceptance than other people have. As such, these other themes don’t hit me on
quite as much of a personal level as this one does; indeed, this might be one
of the biggest themes of my own life and journey as I’ve discussed before
on my blog – including in a post literally called “Redefining Belonging.”
Because our identities are still largely unrecognized and misrepresented, I
think many aspec people are seeking to even just be understood and
acknowledged, so this theme has always been an immediate way I flag characters
I recognize or identify with.
Unfortunately, sometimes these
characters’ journeys can be sadly mismanaged. For instance, the aforementioned
struggle Seven goes through to exist as an individual is portrayed in ways
heavily laden with amatonormativity, as is true of many of the characters I’ve
mentioned in this post, especially the ones from various Star Trek
series. But I believe these failures aren’t the fault of the theme itself, but
rather the fault of more negative tropes and stereotypes that get added to this
one. In my eyes, the theme of seeking respect, understanding, belonging, or
other similar states of being is not a bad thing, and indeed can be richly and
variously interpreted.
In fact, it’s not even automatically
a bad thing if a character finds these things through a romance (some of my
favorite romances are those based on mutual respect and understanding). The
problem is when a story pushes romance and/or sex as the only way a character
can find these things and the only acceptable path to pursue, which is what we
see with many of my usual examples. But as I said, this particular theme can be
extremely versatile, and it can be applied to characters in all sorts of unique
ways that don’t have to follow amatonormative paths. Despite moments in their
respective shows where I feel their characters are disrespected, Data, Seven,
and Odo do give us examples of places where this theme can go well.
In Data’s case, I think of the
moving scene in “The Offspring” where he teaches his daughter Lal about
striving to be more, and that striving is its own reward. For Odo, my mind goes
to an episode with a somewhat similar premise, “The Begotten.” In this
episode, Odo finds an infant Changeling and through it is given the chance to
accept all over again the things that are valuable and noteworthy about being different.
When it comes to Seven of Nine, I immediately turn to a scene in the episode “One”
where Seven must affirm that she can adapt to becoming an individual and can survive,
even if she is on her own. All three episodes are examples of these characters seeking
their own unique forms of individuation and acceptance – whether from their
peers or from themselves – and these can be very aspec themes, especially when
coupled with the other vibes we see from these particular characters.
With that said, you may wonder
why I put “finding” in parentheses and paired it with a question mark in this
section’s heading, and there are two answers. The first is that, often times in
stories, this theme of seeking is never fleshed out enough for a conclusion to
actually be reached; the second is that many times the journey is framed much
like it is for Data, where the seeking part is unending because the ability to attain
the goal may be impossible, and indeed in my own life I sometimes wonder if
finding is ever actually possible as well. In many instances, I think using the
theme of seeking is enough and that finding isn’t actually necessary in the
narrative precisely because people will each have their own definitions of what
“finding” these things actually is, or they may accept that these are ongoing journeys
without real endings.
However, the question mark is also
there to represent my ongoing wonder if it is indeed possible to find these
things in real life and in media. I think we’re starting to see more instances
where aspec characters are allowed to find the things they’re looking for, whatever
that might mean, and where the road, no matter how bumpy, does in fact reach a
conclusion that offers some satisfaction and hope. As I’ve mentioned in other posts, our real lives don’t often have endings as tidy as the endings for characters
in a story might be, so it can be hard to ever fully say we’ve accomplished a
goal or conclusion. But stories where aspec characters can find what they’re
seeking could potentially have the power to help people of all kinds keep
going, which is why I believe these themes have tremendous power and should be
explored/embraced more in storytelling, given to actual aspec characters who
are allowed to exist in recognizably aspec ways.
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| Image description: Odo with the infant Changeling in the Star Trek: Deep Space Nine episode "The Begotten" |
It will likely take a long time to deconstruct negative tropes
and stereotypes about aspec identities, and some of them may never go away
entirely. But if we have more positive themes we can embrace, we can offer an
alternate interpretation of these stories and teach better lessons. It might
not be simple or uniform, but even just thinking deeply about what these identities
might want or need to see, or what stories these characters can tell, can create
more positive representation. And with better representation comes better
stories, not just for aspec people, but for everyone – stories that everyone,
regardless of identity, can enjoy.
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