With Pride around the corner, I want to take the time to talk about something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I have a tendency every Pride since I came out to think about my identity, particularly how it’s displayed. And for my more queer stories, I think about how to write that rep too.
Seeing ace rep is still so rare I get a jolt of joy at something as simple as an ace flag for sale. Most of my ace friends do. When we had a meetup at C2E2 a few years back, someone found a stall selling ace merch and we flocked to it. I think everyone in our group bought something from that stall, even if it wasn’t ace merch. Just seeing a symbol we identify with is delightful. It’s also very, very new.
Shortly after I identified, I went digging for ace rep in stories. It was hard to find, a Tor list of 10 here, a blog post there. I found them as I dug deeper (my list is now 300+ strong!) but I dived into the independent publishing world to find them. When I started my list, Every Heart An Open Doorway hadn’t been published. Nor had Let’s Talk About Love. There’s over a dozen traditionally published ace books now, and that’s shocking to me. So much, so fast. I giggle when I think about it.
That growing list feeds a local ace book club, all of us eager to see ourselves in fiction. We’ve consumed and discussed over two dozen books with explicit ace rep. Every single time we meet, the ultimate question eventually gets asks. “Was this good rep?”
Our answers have changed over the years as our baselines and experiences have shifted. For example, the token ace side character used to blow my mind, but now I have higher standards. But every once in a while, we’ll take that question one step further. “Who is the rep good for?”
I always blame Let’s Talk About Love for that. We read it and came to a consensus that what we’d like to do is take it between our hands and present it to partners, friends, and family and say read this to understand me. Yet, at the same time, none of us connected with the experiences of Alice, the main ace character. We all thought the book was good representation, but it was a teaching representation. We couldn’t see ourselves in it, but still praised it for how it explained the ace life.
I wonder how frequently that happens for other communities. Are other stories, those I think are great portrayals of other queer identities or POC, full of experiences that particular group connects with? As I see more representation, more stories and experiences of other groups that I can sympathize and engage with, are those groups depicted also praising them? Does the opposite happen – does a community connect with a piece of media that can’t pull in those outside of it?
There was a Twitter discussion about Mexican Gothic last year. About how the Latin community loved it because they saw themselves in it, while while white readers were disappointed because it wasn’t more Mexican.
Representation in stories is important, anyone who doesn’t think so needs to reevaluate themselves. But the more I read ace fiction and break it apart – does it match me? does it match the community? does this help my community? – the more the idea of two types of representation circles in my mind:
- Educational Representation
- It introduces readers to someone new, explains things, guides them towards responses the community desires and away from those it doesn’t. It’s the dos and don’ts of interacting with a group, a primer we wish you all had access to.
- Ace Example: characters usually react badly to being called a plant or being told they haven’t met ‘the one’, but appreciate those who respect their identity and the lifestyle that comes with it.
- Reflective Representation
- Stories a member of a community can connect with and project onto. The one a reader feels seen by. Stories where a character’s feelings and situations are similar to a reader’s own.
- Ace Example: characters who subtly react to situations, like leaning away when someone gets too close or being particular about boundaries.
We need both, obviously. Ace acceptance by society will only happen when we’re seen and understood, but we have to see ourselves in that society too. Both sides are needed in media.
I’m trying to find a balance of both in my own work, to have both educational and reflective representation, but it can be hard. My writing, my identity, is all wrapped up in me. But Pride is also about our visibility outside the community. Standing our ground and saying we’re important too.
Representation in fiction sends out a whole slew of signals. I’m stilling figuring out mine, but I hope my stories connect with those of every identity.