PRIDE in Writing: Representation vs Fetishization
For the sake of this piece, I am going to use the term ‘queer.’ No one word can embody an entire community’s feelings or experiences, especially one as vast and diverging as the LGBTQ+ community. No one should force a word or label onto anyone, and that is not my intention.
Queen Characters in Media
There are more queer characters in media now than ever. That is, objectively, a good thing. It’s also not an especially difficult metric to hit considering how few queer people have graced the small and large screens, or even the page, in decades past. If anything, queer characters have played minor roles as comedic relief, ‘the one who dies,’ and even villains. Tropes like the Depraved Homosexual and Bury Your Gays are so well documented they became, well, tropes.
Many similar avenues of discrimination are still walked today. For example, in the claims that drag queens will sexualize and groom children, or that gay and nonbinary teachers will turn kids queer. Homophobia can be wrapped in the softer, more palatable blanket of religion or hurled like jagged rocks. Either way, many people would prefer to blend the rainbow into a starker sky and pretend it never existed.
Hell, just look at Bud Light. Back in April, they ran an ad campaign with Dylan Mulvaney, an actress and TikTok star who speaks about trans issues through her personal experience. After her Bud Light video came out, people were shooting up their beer cans and running them over with their Ford pickup trucks. Ironic, considering Ford made a ‘Very Gay’ raptor back in 2021.
We have a long history of adding in ‘distasteful’ characters to laugh at, vilify, or get social brownie points for inclusion. How many villains are fat? (Too many.)
None of this is to say that villains can’t be queer or fat. The Little Mermaid's Ursula is fat and queer-coded, which makes sense since she’s based on the iconic drag queen Divine. I love Ursula. I think she’s one of the most entertaining Disney villains. Ursula is witty, charismatic, and unapologetically Ursula.
There’s discourse on both sides of the tentacle here, though. Despite Ursula’s fabulous evilness, she is the only outwardly queer-coded character. Because of this, it may paint an unintentional picture: people like her can only be the bad guy.
Queer people can be villains just like queer people can be bad in real life–because lots of people are bad, and queer people are just that, people. The issue is when the only queer character in a story is the bad guy, the one who dies, the one with no deeper traits.
What is Fetishization?
Fetishization happens when the focus isn’t on the individual who happens to be queer, but on their queerness. This, of course, is not a prospect limited to the queer community. BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, people of color) fetishization has long been rampant and can cross over when an individual is a part of both communities. For now, though, let’s focus on queerness.
Technically, fetishization refers to perceiving someone as a sexual object based solely on their race, sexuality, etc. I would argue that it doesn’t have to be a purely sexual thing. The ‘Gay Best Friend’ era of the 2000-2010s is an example of this. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with having a gay friend as a character. Problems arise when the focus is ‘you’re a gay person, let’s go shopping and talk about boys’ and not ‘I enjoy spending time with you.’ There is dehumanization in that which, I would argue, fetishizes the stereotypes of queerness.
This is not an isolated way of thinking: gay people, disabled people, black people. Why do we need the qualifiers? They have their place in broader discussion, like when looking through a sociological or scientific lens, but otherwise, what is the purpose? Othering.
There’s a difference between saying, “My disabled friend needs a ramp,” and “my buddy Jim needs a ramp for his wheelchair.” When we put the ‘othering’ factor first, it serves to make someone feel less like a person and more like a sort of person.
Would you ever say, “This is my straight, white, able-bodied friend Pam.”? No, because it sounds ridiculous. While we have largely gotten away from introducing people as “My lesbian friend Jane,” there are still some who do.
If you’re wondering why that’s an issue, I would ask what purpose sharing that information serves other than to let people know Jane is ‘different.’ Your coworker doesn’t need to know Jane’s romantic and sexual preferences. Would you ever say “This is my violist friend Jane”? Not unless it was relevant.
MLM (Men Loving Men) and Slash Fiction
Slash fiction, most often shortened to ‘slash fic,’ is a reference to the fanfiction community. It predominantly refers to fan-favorite ‘ships’–preferred romantic pairings from a piece of media. In this conversation, slash fics refer to male/male pairings, as that is most often where issues arise.
It’s no secret in the fan fiction sphere that most male/male slash fics are written by women. I don’t think this is inherently bad. There are discussions to be had about why women write these stories. One I think is important to note is that male characters are often more developed within canon work. Their relationships and history are often better explored, which makes it easier to find chemistry. Even if the existing romantic pairing is male/female, it’s hard to get behind a character who’s puddle-deep.
Another is that there isn’t enough LGBTQ+ representation, so people choose to write it. There are issues with this argument, like why women predominantly write MLM fics, but I agree we need more diverse queer pairings overall in popular media. I’m not here to defend slash fiction today, so I won’t delve much further. I do want to discuss why many in the gay male community specifically have claimed it is detrimental.
Before diving in, I want to address the aspects of the anti-slash argument that are not relevant to this conversation. One, not all slash is smut. Even still, I don’t think writing explicit material is evil, so long as it’s sorted the right way and away from the eyes of children. It’s also not bad to write characters in alternate realities or situations that differ from the source material. In classic fanfic terms, “don’t like, don’t read.”
The actual issue is that the type of women who write harmful MLM slash fics are the same sort who ask real gay men invasive sexual questions and treat them like cute pets more than real people.
Most of the research I found about this topic came from the mid 2010s. As such, I would like to think this has gone the way of the Gay Best friend–it still happens, but most people know better. Again, I could be wrong. Maybe my time on AO3 (a popular fanfiction site) has blinded me to whatever is going on in places like FanFiction.net and Wattpad. Regardless, the biggest argument against this breed of slash fiction is that women who are writing harmful works don’t listen when called out by real gay people. It’s the romanticization of gayness, and of gay sex, that doesn’t treat gay people as people.
If a woman writes an MLM couple in a way that embraces character depth and explores experiences and motivations, is that fetishization? I don’t think so. Even if they add in a steamy scene or two, I think it’s okay, so long as everything is written with care and consideration. Then again, if someone says it’s harmful, listen. Not everyone argues in good faith, but there are plenty of people who genuinely want to offer suggestions. Listen to the people you’re writing about.
This is all part of a much larger discussion, but I couldn’t write about fetishization without delving into it a bit.
Sexualizing WLW
Unlike MLM’s ‘cute-washing’ brand of fetishization, fetishization of the WLW community is entirely sexual.
I think we’ve all seen media where men are too into the idea of women being together. Lesbian sex is a large segment of the adult film industry, but its intended audience is men rather than anyone in the WLW community. This spawned companies like Bellesa who make adult content made for women.
I’m not here to say that men can’t like or watch that kind of content, but it gets dangerous when there is no mental separation between adult films and reality. There are plenty of stories about men trying to “turn lesbians straight.” It may be some twisted idea that the woman in question “hasn’t met the right man,” which, I would argue, has the same energy as “I can change him.” She doesn’t want a man, and no, you can’t.
There are other reasons for men trying to iron out lesbian-ness, like the fantasy of sleeping with a lesbian or the power play of it, but the why isn’t the focus right now. What matters is the impact.
Most every woman knows the fear of walking alone and of being approached by an unknown man. Most every woman knows she has to cover her drink at a bar and be mindful of her words if she’s rejecting a man who’s hitting on her. Queer people have to be even more careful. Either you end up as a conquest challenge, or you might have to fear for your safety if the other party is an even worse brand of bigoted.
There’s so many harmful ideas about different groups within the LGBTQ+ umbrella. For example, bisexual people are all greedy and promiscuous, asexuality is an illness or a choice, polyam people are perverse cheaters. None of these are true. Sure, you could have a promiscuous bisexual person or a polyamorous person who cheats, but that’s just one person. It doesn’t reflect the community.
Sexualizing queerness is inherently dangerous. It’s what makes people think gay teachers will hurt kids, what makes them fight against Drag Story Hours. It’s why they insist two women holding hands will pervert their child. Queerness isn’t a sexual thing. It’s a human thing. It’s about love and life and just existing.
How can we be inclusive and not step over the line?
So, how do we write queer characters without fetishizing them?
1. Mingle. First, even if you identify as LBGTQ+, talk to other members of the community with different identities and experiences. No bi person is the same, just as no asexual person is the same. Don’t write what you think you know without taking into consideration that every person is different. At our core, we are all just people.
2. Get sensitivity readers. This role has been divisive in the publishing process, but there’s a lot of good to be done with it. Even when we are well intentioned, sometimes a bias or unwitting stereotype can slip through into our writing. Having readers who match the backgrounds you’re writing about can give you steadier footing when walking down the path of inclusivity. Diversity should add depth and realism, not inclusion brownie points.
3. Listen. It doesn’t matter if it is sensitivity readers or beta readers telling you something is off, take in their critiques. Not all advice is helpful, but if someone says you have a diversity issue, you should at least check in with other people and do your own research.
4. If you don’t think you can write respectfully, don’t write it at all. Much like the childhood adage, if you cannot create a diverse cast in your story without reverting to harmful stereotypes, don’t write a diverse cast. Representation is only helpful if it’s productive, or at least not harmful.
5. Let queer characters be funny, let them die, let them be villains. Just don’t let the only queer characters be that way. Give them depth. Make them the main character. Make them the antagonist. There’s nothing wrong with giving queer characters diverse roles in a story, but you have to consider your messaging. If your only trans character is the ‘big bad,’ or if you kill of the lone lesbian, what does that say to your readers?
Sexuality and gender identity don’t have to be the central focus of your queer characters. It’s only a fraction of who they are. At least, it should be. Other characters in your story can be LGBTQ+ without it changing the trajectory of your story. If your villain is gay, maybe your hero is, too. Or, maybe the hero has two moms or polyam parents.
I’m not saying you need to paint your story with a rainbow brush, but if you’re going to fall back on the funny/dead/evil queer, they had better not be the only one.
There are more queer characters in media now than ever, that’s true, but how great would it be if this wasn’t something I had to write about at all? One day, maybe, we will have so much inclusion that we don’t need to point out what shows have queer characters or debate Nick Offerman’s role in The Last of Us.
That tomorrow is still many days away, but we can all do our part. Write more inclusively. Write more thoughtfully. Write so future generations don’t have to make their own version of this post thirty years from now.
Happy Pride Month!
