The Denier

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The Denier is the reason why so many writers feel compelled to explicitly state a character's sexuality.

I found some examples by Googling, “Are [characters] gay?” and opening one of the first forum threads on the subject. Here are the resident Deniers, doing their job of... very strangely denying that characters are gay:

"I don't think they're really gay but they're definitely in love with each other."

Problem #1: Deniers apparently don't like the word "gay." What they are describing is the definition of gay. Two people of the same sex being in love. 

"Since the creators have never outwardly said the exact relationship between [characters], we can't really make assumptions to anything outside of a really devoted friendship."

Problem #2: If a pair isn’t heterosexual, we require the creators to confirm them as a couple outside of the narrative. Yes, even if they say, “I love you!” 

"[Character] isn't human, so their relationship doesn't count as gay."

Problem #3: This one came up in so many of my searches. It's funny how this can be open to debate when the characters are of the same sex, but when there's a mountain of male/female romances in mainstream fiction where one of them isn't human, there's no room for doubt, right? 

There are different kinds of Deniers, as well. I've created a list for you to look out for: The Extrapolator (analyzing and interpreting information given by the canon in order to "disprove" a character's sexuality); The Raging Homophobe (ranting about homosexual characters, family values, filthy liberals, and the like); The Subtle Homophobe (generalizing and stereotyping homosexuals to disprove correlation between a character's behaviors and "gay" behavior); The Assertive Heterosexual (constantly ignoring same-sex couples and instead saying that those characters are actually in love with a character of the other sex); The Raving Fanatic (claiming that they know a character better than the creator and that there's no way their precious idol would ever be anything but heterosexual); and many more. 

If you want some examples, try reading the comments section of this article about Batman's possible homosexuality. (Although, comparatively, this one is very tame compared to some of the comment sections I've seen about similar topics.)

Additionally, take into consideration the case of the series finale of Avatar: The Legend of Korra. Despite the creator of the series coming out and confirming a same-sex pair as bisexual and now dating, the Deniers continued to deny, on the grounds that “if it isn’t in the show, it isn’t canon.”

There is literally no way to beat the Denier, except to ignore them.

Photo Credit: David Crow

Danielle Murdock-Landry

Born in Sudbury, Ontario, Dani always had a penchant for adventure. Her reading was avid to the point of getting her scolded in school, and she began writing once she realized that she had stories to tell too. Writing every day and collaborating with friends across the globe, she has a mind full of worlds that need sharing.

Twitter | deviantART

The Gay Genre

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Categorization can be a useful tool of organization, especially to help people find exactly what they're looking for. Genre, specifically, has become a prominent and effective means of distinguishing interests. Science-fiction, fantasy, murder mystery, tragedy, horror, to name a few off the top of my head. No matter what genre you pick, it tends to follow a theme: The genre relates to the content of the narrative – either the setting (fantasy, science-fiction) or the plot (murder mystery, tragedy). 

So it seems strange to me when I see an aisle devoted to "LGBT Fiction" amidst all the genre labels. It also becomes a hassle when I try to find a science-fiction story, or a fantasy novel, with just a few LGBT characters, and find myself immediately redirected to this section. Why?

The answer's unsurprisingly, and disappointingly, simple. "If you want LGBT characters, you want to read LGBT-focused books." The thing is, that implication isn't true at all. I want to read about space pirates, the political tension between changelings and vampires, and body-snatching alien parasites. Just because I want to have a sprinkle of LGBT representation in that story doesn't mean I want a sub-plot about discovering one's sexuality, or coming to terms with a loved one's transition, mixed into the narrative. 

Look – including a gay character doesn't mean you have to mix in an entire sequence of a homophobic character gradually realizing, "Hey! This guy's human too!" It's very possible, and very easy, to mention that this particular Andromeda Galaxy Corporal is bisexual, and then move on with the narrative. Or maybe the elven prince was called a princess for the first fifteen years of his life. But I've never seen that kind of thing in books.

I won't deny that it's great to see a section where curious and questioning kids and teens can go explore to try to learn more about themselves. Being able to see ourselves in fiction is a good step forward.

But it doesn't exempt everyone from including those characters in stories where their sexuality or gender isn't the sole focus of the narrative. We don't exist in a vacuum where the only story that can be told with us in it is about our identity or love life. We can be space pirates, and zombie hunters, and alien slayers.

Yes, you actually have to put gay characters in your book for there to be gay characters in your book. Who would've thought?

Here's an example of "Gay Characters" vs. "Characters Who Just Happen to Be Gay."

Photo Credit: Gábor Bejó  

Danielle murdock-landry

Born in Sudbury, Ontario, Dani always had a penchant for adventure. Her reading was avid to the point of getting her scolded in school, and she began writing once she realized that she had stories to tell too. Writing every day and collaborating with friends across the globe, she has a mind full of worlds that need sharing.

Twitter | deviantART

Bumblebees Among Butterflies

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If I asked someone to name a gay character from a book they've read, I bet that they'd be able to. It's because they stand out, as a rarity - a novelty, almost. Seeing one in a narrative sticks with us, because we think, "Oh! Well, would you look at that?" It's a surprise, because in fiction, heterosexual is the default, the expected state of being for a character. 

If I asked that same person, "Name a straight character from that same book," they'd have an easy task ahead of them, because odds are that every other character from that book was straight. 

Distinguishable

Thinking about it from the perspective of a gay consumer, it can have an acute sense of alienation. I'm normal, I exist; why are there so few people like me in fiction? With regard to statistics, maybe the argument could be made that gay people are a minority compared to straight people. That might be true. But when compared to bisexual people, asexual people, panromantic people, demisexual people, aromantic people, and the countless other non-heterosexual/heteroromantic people, the odds of someone being LGBT+ skyrocket, and it only goes up if you include transgender people.

So I come back to my original point: Why are so many fictional characters so similar in these ways? The go-to cookie-cutter shape for fictional characters is white, able-bodied, mentally healthy, cisgender, and heterosexual. 

Being able to name a gay character off the top of your head might seem like a testament to that narrative's diversity, but it's only one step in a towering staircase. Could you name an ethnic character from that same book? How about a character with a physical disability? A mental-health condition? Can you name a single transgender character out of all the books you've read? 

In the end, even if you can name characters that fit these criteria, I ask you next to count the white, able-bodied, mentally healthy, cisgender, heterosexual characters. They are the overwhelming majority, despite the fact that encountering someone with all of those traits is actually a lot more unlikely than you'd expect from how prominently they feature in fiction. 

The lack of diversity in fiction is glaringly obvious, so why are authors so slow to diversify their characters? Why does it seem so hard to look at those listed traits and change just one out of five? 

We aren't as rare as you'd think. 

Photo Credit: Mandie LeScum

Danielle Murdock-Landry

Born in Sudbury, Ontario, Dani always had a penchant for adventure. Her reading was avid to the point of getting her scolded in school, and she began writing once she realized that she had stories to tell too. Writing every day and collaborating with friends across the globe, she has a mind full of worlds that need sharing.

Twitter | deviantART