On my world, it means hope.

This is a list of books published by indie publishers that feature an asexual-identified POV character, or the POV character's love interest, in a romantic plot/major subplot. I've excluded self-published books just because it's harder for me to keep track of the details in those books, as well as because of the lack of gatekeeping with self-publishing. (Also excluded: YA books, because YA tends to skew to less discussion of sex by genre default.)

( Books listed under the cut )

So...yeah, sex-repulsed asexuals are really not well represented, particularly in the romance genre. (I think, with regard to traditionally published books and non-romance books, sex-repulsed asexuals are primarily represented by aro-ace characters, which is obviously not the same thing.)

Which sort of lends credibility to my argument that gray-aces/demisexuals/sex-positive aces of any romantic orientation would be more welcome by the general (presumed non-asexual) reader body than sex-repulsed heteroromantic aces—the idea of not desiring sex at all is seen as more subversive than a LGBP romantic orientation. (Which isn't even getting into issues with fetishization of M/M sex.)

Yes, of course demisexuals, gray-aces, and sex-positive aces deserve representation too. But sex-repulsed aces currently have almost no fictional representation, and that's something I wish people would take into account.

When the vast majority of books with asexuals show those asexuals as only able to be in a romantic relationship if they're willing to have sex to some degree, that sends a message that alloromantic sex-repulsed aces have no hope of finding romance (unless they find another alloromantic sex-repulsed/indifferent ace—which is a fine solution, but in real life, the statistics of that happening are on the low side). It reinforces the idea that sex-repulsed asexuals (and sex-repulsed non-asexuals, for that matter) are still freakish deviants, as well as the idea that there's only One Real Way to have a romantic relationship, and that involves sex, instead of presenting different kinds of romantic relationships.

I'd hope that, in the future, we can get to the point as which writers can let go of the sex = love framework, because alloromantic sex-repulsed aces deserve to believe they can have happy endings, too.

Disclaimer before I start: I'm asexual but not demisexual. If any demis want to chime in with their experiences, please feel free.

So I started thinking about this topic after reading a review for a book with a demisexual character. This is a book I've wanted to get my hands on, but haven't been able to as of yet, so unfortunately I can't speak about my own take on the book. Anyway, this is a book about a demisexual character—however, the character is never explicitly stated to be demisexual in the text (only on the publisher's website), which is a problem we'll get back to soon. The reviewer (who thought the protagonist was ace-spec but didn't know he was demisexual) basically said they were uncomfortable with how the demisexual character progressed from total sex repulsion to interest in sex as soon as his love interest showed up, linking it to harmful messages about how ace people are often pressured with regards to "just wait until the right person comes along, and then you'll be interested in having sex/sexually attracted to them."

There's a lot to unpack here, and I'll do my best to cover all my bases.

First thing I want to get out of the way is that I'm not sure whether this is an #ownvoices story about demisexuality or not. Normally, I am 100% not a fan of asking authors to out themselves with regard to sexual orientation, but whether this is an #ownvoices story or not could change the optics of it. If the author is ace-spec, I'd be more hesitant about criticizing the portrayal of demisexuality, as I'm not demisexual (even though #ownvoices isn't a shield against producing problematic content). If the author isn't, then I'd be a lot more openly critical of the rep. I am extremely wary of when allosexual (non-asexual) authors write about asexuals who begin as sex-repulsed and then progress to "Oh, but I'm okay with sex if it's with you, Designated Love Interest." There is an element of—to me—almost fetishization of ace-spectrum identities, positing their sex-repulsion as an obstacle to a romantic relationship to be overcome, in a way that is very loaded coming from an allosexual author.

Another issue with if the book isn't #ownvoices goes to accuracy. Again, I can't speak to the demisexual experience. But, based on my own cursory research, many demisexuals seem to report that it can take quite a long time for them to develop sexual attraction to someone they have a close relationship with. Whereas, in the book, reviewers report that the sexual attraction seems to happen quite quickly. Again, not saying that that's completely impossible, but the optics of it are different if written by an allosexual writer vs. a demisexual author.

The next thing is, clearly, the book suffers from not explicitly identifying the protagonist as demisexual in the text. Given that that kind of narrative could be less problematic with a demisexual character than with a not-demi ace character, it becomes critical to make that clear in the book, which this book failed to do.

So let's go to the next issue, which is: assuming the portrayal of the demisexual character is authentic to at least some demis' experiences, does this nevertheless create a problem with making sure we don't convey the message that asexuals can be "cured" by meeting the right person?

Again, there's a confounding factor at play here, and that's that demisexuality tends to be represented only in one very specific way, by usually allosexual writers (so far), and that's: demisexual is sex-repulsed and/or uninterested in sex, until they meet the "right person," and now suddenly they are down for sex with Mr./Ms./Mx. Right 24/7.

Right now, we don't have portrayals of demisexuals who have a low libido even once they experience sexual attraction to someone, and/or demisexuals who may still experience sex repulsion after meeting Mr./Ms./Mx. Right. And that becomes a problem, again, when allosexual writers are dominating the portrayal of demisexual characters right now. (A cynical view could be that some of said writers want to write "cured asexual" narratives but know enough to know that that's offensive, so they go, "Okay, let me just make the character demisexual instead!")

My point is: Everyone deserves to have their experiences represented, of course. But, while I'm not arguing for this portrayal of demisexuality to be banned, I think authors have to be very careful with this narrative, because it does lead to splash damage for non-demi asexuals.

Asexuals are very, very vulnerable to sexual coercion. Many aces, too, spend years questioning themselves, wondering, "But what if I *do* experience sexual attraction at some later point? Maybe I'm not really asexual?" Rates of sexual assault against asexuals are not well studied, but some evidence suggests that asexuals experience higher rates of assault than most other sexual orientations (excepting bisexuals). You can draw your own conclusions about how allosexual sexual predators view asexuals from that data.

So I get nervous whenever I see a narrative about a sex-repulsed asexual who "learns" to like sex because of Mr./Ms./Mx. Right. I just can't be certain that an allosexual reader won't read that narrative and take away the idea that "don't worry, sex-repulsed asexuals can still learn to like sex after meeting the 'right' person."

If you're an allosexual author, there's an easy way out: Just don't make your ace-spec character sex-repulsed! Problem solved! Don't use sex-repulsion as an obstacle to be overcome in your romance, because all that does is throw sex-repulsed aces who will never "learn" to like sex or experience sexual attraction to the wolves.

And, again, even if it's a demisexual author writing about their own demisexual experiences? If you frame it that way, you have to be aware of the possibility of splash damage to other aces.

This is not, by the way, something unique to this situation. Writers can write about gay characters feeling pressured by heteronormativity to date the opposite binary gender but, if they're not careful, can end up throwing bisexuals under the bus, for example. Lateral oppression between different axes of marginalization happens all the damn time. And it's never okay.

Don't throw other marginalized groups under the bus. Just don't do it. No matter how strongly you feel about your own experiences as a marginalized person, there's always a way to frame it to be inclusive instead of harmful to some other group.


**EDITED TO ADD: I found these relevant twitter threads from gray-aces/demis:

https://twitter.com/SH_Marr_Writes/status/919984008402014208

https://twitter.com/mixeduppainter/status/920005662666575873

So it sounds like I was right to be intuitively wary of "character is gray-ace/demisexual, meets Right Person, BAM basically allosexual" narratives.

I saw a book reviewer make this comment—that he couldn't enjoy a book about an asexual romance (although my understanding was that it was a gray asexual romance) because a sexless romance, to him, felt "immature" and therefore "squicky" because it made him feel like a voyeur into "teenage puppy love."

That comment made me feel sick.

It may seem less blatantly acephobic than a lot of other comments asexuals get, but it's acephobic nonetheless because it's positing asexual romantic attraction as "childish," "not as mature" as "adult" romance which by necessity must involve sex and sexual attraction.

Also, logically, it makes no sense. A lot of YA romances these days involve sexual attraction on some level (though it's often desexualized relative to adult romance/erotica). But even a sexual relationship can be written in an immature way.

The difference—which is something that depresses me to think about—is that people are conditioned to view sexual relationships as "automatically" *mature* and *adult.* So you could write about a sexual relationship between two characters who whine and complain at each other and throw tantrums, OR between two characters who are very mushy and lovey-dovey and serenade each other with their undying love every single day, but it will STILL be considered "adult" as long as they're shown having sex.

That's not only acephobic, it's also incredibly reductive regarding what exactly is "mature" and what is "immature."

And I'm really goddamn sick of it.

Concourse by Santino Hassell - DNF

Recently I've been reading some of Hassell's books (see also the previous entry) since he apparently seems to be a popular MM author, but aside from Hard Wired (which he was one of the co-authors for), I'm having a hard time figuring out why he's so well-regarded, and Concourse is a pretty stark example of that for me.

(Unless his books are popular because they have copious sex scenes...)

So, Concourse. Childhood friends to lovers is one of my favorite romance tropes ever, and yet...this book didn't do it for me at all. In fact, the further I read, the LESS I understood why Val and Ashton were attracted to each other. They're completely different and don't seem to have much common ground or qualities they admire each other for. And I'm 200% NOT a fan of books that rely entirely on UST/characters who angst about not being able to bone each other for convoluted emotional reasons for most of the book. It's boring and annoying to me to read. (Like, at least give me magic or political intrigue or things blowing up to keep me otherwise entertained.)

I'm also not a fan of the way the book handled Val's demisexuality (and apparently I'm in the minority here, but oh well). First, it's kind of the "allo savior trope" (non-asexual person tells asexual person that they're asexual) that some people dislike. I'm more ambivalent about the trope myself, but I thought I'd put a warning just in case.

What bothered me a lot more was how Ashton's queer friends kept calling Val "some kind of straight"/"heteroflexible" once they hear that Val rarely dates and the only guy he's had feelings for is Ashton, even though Val himself doesn't identify as such and he's also only ever had feelings for 1 girl/woman in his life.

Yes, Ashton does tell them not to call him that, but the default assumption that asexual-spectrum identities are "some kind of straight" is extremely harmful. (It would be like calling bisexual people by default "some kind of straight.") For one, not all ace-spectrum people are heteroromantic, and erasing bi/pan-romantic aces is not cool. And assuming aromantic/aro-spec asexuals are straight is violent erasure considering that Actual Straights (heteroromantic+heterosexual people) don't consider aro-aces straight at all. But even for heteroromantic aces, some don't want to be called straight because they don't want to be lumped in with Actually Straight people when Actually Straight people are often very acephobic, including toward hetero aces.

And seriously, enough with singling out ace-spectrum identities as "some kind of straight" as opposed to every other letter under the LGBTQ+ as "queer enough." I'm really, really tired of that.

[Last updated Feb 11, 2018]

I saw someone on Twitter basically say that a certain character from a book, who was aro-ace only by Word of God, had been "straightwashed" because "cis heteroromantic aces are more palatable to Straight people."

I mean, maybe that's true vis-à-vis aro-aces—though, technically, any alloromantic ace is going to be "more palatable to Straight people" than an aro-ace—but I don't know if that's really true in general. Personally, I don't feel like a completely sex-repulsed heteroromantic ace is "more palatable" to a Straight person than a gay demisexual or gray-ace.

I also feel like there's a misconception that among the tiny pool of asexual representation, sex-repulsed aces are well-represented, which is why there's often a push to represent demisexuals, gray-aces, and sex-positive asexuals. But that is actually pretty untrue. I can count on one hand the number of books I've read/am aware of that featured an asexual who managed to find a happy romantic relationship where sex wasn't required. Every other romance that I've read/seen with an ace-spectrum character (as a leading character, not a minor character) was about a demisexual, gray-ace, or sex-positive asexual.

( Books listed under the cut )

So...yeah, sex-repulsed asexuals are really not well represented, particularly in the romance genre. (I think, with regard to traditionally published books and non-romance books, sex-repulsed asexuals are primarily represented by aro-ace characters.)

Which sort of lends credibility to my argument that gray-aces/demisexuals/sex-positive aces of any romantic orientation would be more welcome by the general (presumed non-asexual) reader body than sex-repulsed heteroromantic aces—the idea of not desiring sex at all is seen as more subversive than a LGBP romantic orientation.

Yes, of course demisexuals, gray-aces, and sex-positive aces deserve representation too. But sex-repulsed aces currently have almost no fictional representation, and that's something I wish people would take into account.

When the vast majority of books with asexuals show those asexuals as only able to be in a romantic relationship if they're willing to have sex to some degree, that sends a message that alloromantic sex-repulsed aces have no hope of finding romance (unless they find another alloromantic sex-repulsed/indifferent ace—which is a fine solution, but in real life, the statistics of that happening are on the low side). It reinforces the idea that sex-repulsed asexuals (and sex-repulsed non-asexuals, for that matter) are still freakish deviants, as well as the idea that there's only One Real Way to have a romantic relationship, and that involves sex, instead of presenting different kinds of romantic relationships.

I'd hope that, in the future, we can get to the point as which writers can let go of the sex = love framework, because alloromantic sex-repulsed aces deserve to believe they can have happy endings, too.

I was thinking some more about Bender by Gene Gant (which I've talked about before here), and I was trying to reconcile my discomfort with the culmination of the romantic storyline being a sexual relationship, with the fact that aces can and do have sex, and I think I've come to a conclusion.

If, as in Bender, an author wants to write a conventional romance with the climax/high point being sex between the romantic leads...why bother writing about an asexual character at all?

To be clear, I'm not saying every asexual character in fiction must be sex-repulsed, but here's one example of what I mean from (to date) my favorite book with asexual rep, All the Wrong Places by Ann Gallagher: both romantic leads (who are both ace) have had sex with past partners, and both are described as sex-indifferent/sex-neutral, but their romantic relationship with each other never treats sex as the best part. In fact, they don't have sex at all, and they're still happy and madly in love with each other.

Aside from the fact that, in Bender, the protagonist's asexuality is used to set up his tragic backstory and current circumstances (which...also makes me a little uncomfortable, mostly on a personal level)...the entire story could've worked with him not being asexual at all. To wit:


Mace, the bisexual protagonist, has emotional issues due to [insert any reason here, frankly], which causes him to drink too much at a party one night and accidentally cause the death of his younger brother. Filled with self-loathing and severely depressed, he turns to self-harming sex work, and he's only dragged out of his funk by the concern of his dorm RA, Dex, who also becomes his love interest. They begin a relationship with special, fulfilling sex (that's completely different from the self-harming sex Mace has been engaged in up to now) and Mace finally takes steps to improving his mental health.


In fact, the story arguably could've worked better if Mace hadn't been asexual, because it would've avoided the confusion of "If Mace had previously been described as somewhat sex-repulsed, and also not graysexual or demisexual, why is he suddenly very much into sex with Dex?"

Asexuality is not a modifier (despite what some acephobes on Tumblr claim); it's its own sexual orientation, with a fundamentally different romantic experience from heterosexual/gay/lesbian/bisexual relationships. Not every book about an asexual character has to explore asexuality in depth, but if the asexuality is going to be treated as an important part of the character's identity (in the course of a romantic plot), then that difference should be highlighted.

Most of us can agree than an acephobe who says "No one cares if you don't want to have sex" fundamentally doesn't understand what the definition of asexuality is.

However, what frustrates me is that in most people's rush to correct that misconception, we don't talk about how that sentence is fundamentally not true. And while asexuality does not equal celibacy, the majority of aces (based on a survey I saw) are sex-repulsed, so this is a problem that aces are more likely to face.

Simply put, it's difficult to talk about lack of sexual attraction to non-ace people, because most people simply assume romantic and sexual attraction go hand in hand and, honestly, aren't even aware there's a difference. So when talking to people about my asexuality, I—and other aces, I'm pretty sure—gloss over the details and just say, "Even if I were to fall in love with someone, I don't want to have sex with him." (Demisexual erasure plays into this as well, which is why I have to use that kind of phrasing to avoid people telling me, "Not wanting to bang strangers is totally normal! It's not a different sexuality!") Basically, while there is the internal questioning/feelings of brokenness and/or abnormality, there's relatively little external discrimination based on lack of sexual attraction per se.

A random stranger on the street probably might not care if you don't want to have sex. But family? Possibly friends? They absolutely care if you don't want to have sex. And a random stranger who knows you're asexual might care if you don't want to have sex.

This is what most of the discrimination against asexuals is rooted in. People believe having sex is a biological necessity; that having sex with your partner/spouse is a romantic necessity (and, in the case of certain religions, a moral and religious necessity); that "withholding" sex from your significant other is "selfish" or the sign of a dead relationship.

The fact that acephobes don't understand this discrimination is probably because non-ace people never have to face this. That, in itself, is fine, but then for acephobes to go on and say "I don't notice acephobia! Therefore acephobia doesn't exist!" is utter BS.

Part 1

One thing is that a lot of Tumblr people say "the specter of cis heteroromantic aces is a bogeyman, since, according to an AVEN survey, hetero aces make up less than 1/4 of the ace community, and there are barely any hetero aces on Tumblr! [same goes for aromantic heterosexuals, although there are no numbers for aros]"

So, I mean...I don't want to center the ace community on hetero aces (although I've kind of been forced to by the acephobia), but...I sort of wonder about this claim.

That hetero aces could be a minority of aces, I think is reasonable, but I *do* think that the lack of presence of hetero aces and aro hets on Tumblr isn't necessarily indicative of real numbers.

The thing is, hetero aces and aro hets are most likely to face erasure and not know of their sexual orientations. For one, those hetero aces and aro hets who genuinely don't feel like they experience discrimination...aren't identifying as ace/aro, they're identifying as straight. For another, asexuality, despite what some Tumblr people might think, is still not well known among the straight population at large; therefore, the average person out there is most likely to think, "Hey, I [a person with a binary gender] experience romantic OR sexual attraction to the gender opposite mine, therefore I must be straight!" As for their missing romantic or sexual attraction, they'll probably assume "Oh, I'm just a late bloomer" or "I just need to find the right person."

(I'm speaking from personal experience here, as a person who was 100% certain I was straight before realizing I was actually heteroromantic ace. [Although now I'm not even sure I'm heteroromantic ace and think I might be hetero-aro-spec, if that's possible.])

Plus, there are other, more general factors that impede realization that someone could be asexual: for example, gender stereotypes (women are expected to be sexually passive; a man may not want to admit to himself or others that he doesn't experience sexual attraction due to the hypersexual masculine "ideal"). Also, it's extraordinarily difficult to identify a lack of something. An asexual who likes sex, or at least is neutral towards sex, for instance, may not realize they don't actually experience sexual attraction. Same with an aromantic.

I suspect the population of hetero aces (not sure about aro hets) is larger than has been counted, because a few times when I've seen "Asexual Men 101" posts on the internet, I've seen a bunch of comments from men who talk about how they've always wondered why they've never felt sexual attraction or the urge to do something sexual with a woman. They're most likely not on Tumblr, and I'm guessing they're not even aware of AVEN.

As for the lack of hetero aces on Tumblr...well, with the acephobic culture on Tumblr being what it is currently, what hetero ace would be confident enough to be out? (I certainly am not.)

All the Wrong Places

I'm familiar with Ann Gallagher's writings as erotica writer L. A. Witt, so I was kind of wondering whether she could pull off an asexual romance without falling into the usual gross acephobic pitfalls. I'm happy to say in this case I was proven completely wrong.

First, I want to get the cons out of the way. The climax felt somewhat rushed, and the book seemed primed to make a powerful statement about acephobia, but ultimately glossed over it. I don't expect or necessarily want books about asexuality to always deal with acephobia, but given that right now, a vocal subset of people still believes asexuals aren't "oppressed" enough to be part of the LGBTQ community, it would have been nice to have a discussion of the insidious ways asexuals face prejudice.

(*Also, it occurred to me upon a reread that the definition of graysexual in the book seems not entirely accurate—if I read correctly, the author explains graysexual as being sex-neutral, but the standard definition (although graysexual is sometimes used as a catch-all term) is that graysexual refers to someone who experiences sexual attraction rarely.)

However.

I've been waiting a long time to read about explicitly asexual characters in fiction.

I've been waiting a long time to read a book about asexuality that acknowledges the diversity of the asexual spectrum.

And I'd basically given up hope that I would ever be able to read a romance between asexual characters that wouldn't portray the romance as inferior just because the characters don't have sex.

So hats off to Ann Gallagher for writing a book about asexual characters that was so well-researched and relatable, I was nodding and grinning the whole time I was reading the book. I can't recommend this book enough to anyone looking for a book about asexual characters with a sweet asexual romance, or even anyone who doesn't know much about asexuality but wants to learn. (And hats off as well for writing an interracial homoromantic asexual relationship!)


Lead Me Not

An interesting story about an antigay preacher (who turns out to be so deeply closeted he doesn't even realize it) who ends up developing a relationship with a religious gay bartender with a troubled past. Though I finished the book thinking it was just okay, I do think the romance was sweet and the book was a nice, feel-good read.