Ace Rep Basics: To Name or Not to Name?

Do you need to say the word “Asexual” to do representation right?

If you write fiction, or if you perhaps aspire to write fiction, and you want to include an asexual character in your story, there are certain considerations you may want to take into account as far as how you portray that character. If you are not asexual, you may want to read about real asexual people’s lived experiences and try to understand the vast expanse of the asexual spectrum, for example.

But for everyone writing asexual characters, there’s one question that usually comes up first; should you, or do you have to, explicitly name asexuality in your story?

The answer is dependent on a number of factors like genre, style, and the ace characters themselves. We’ll get into some of that, but I think there’s another, more important question hiding behind this one.

Whether you’ve used the word or not, how do you creatively and compellingly describe the asexual experience in fiction?

A notebook surrounded by flowers. The page reads “Ace Representation…” A purple pen sits on the corner of the page.

First, when should you almost certainly be using the word asexual?

If you’re writing contemporary fiction that takes place in the 2010’s or later, it’s likely your characters would be able to figure out what asexuality is and name it. Depending on their access to the internet and interest in labels, this may be more or less likely, but there should be some way for the word to come up, and sometimes it would be weirder if it didn’t come up.

For these kinds of stories, because it’s incredibly plausible that the characters would know or be able to find the word asexuality (or other labels under the ace and aro umbrellas), I think it’s important to name it. Using these labels in fiction helps spread awareness of their meaning beyond the asexual community, so the average person can hear “demisexual” or “aroace” or “greyromantic” and just think “oh! Like that character in that book!” rather than “that sounds weird and made up.”

For other genres, it can be harder to fit the words into the story and have it feel believable. I wouldn’t ask historical fiction writers to make anachronistic choices about how their characters name or don’t name their sexuality, but for speculative fiction, there’s still a possibility for explicit naming.

For example, using the word “asexual” in most sci-fi stories wouldn’t seem too out of place, especially if the story is set in a near future or an alternate Earth that’s still similar enough to our own. It depends on the writer’s preference, but contemporary sexuality labels can also be used in fantasy stories in the same way. It’s not our Earth, not our history, so who’s to say they don’t have these words? You’re writing the story using words that come from our reality anyways, why not bring over these labels, too?

However, while I think it’s worth considering, I don’t think explicitly naming asexuality is an absolute must in speculative fiction. Sometimes it really doesn’t fit with the world, but if it doesn’t, then we have to ask how do your characters talk about their sexuality?

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One option for speculative fiction writers is to create an alternative labeling system for the world. If words like “asexual” don’t fit in with your medieval-knights-and-dragons aesthetic or your enlightened-aliens-exploring-the-galaxy aesthetic, then what words do you think they would use instead?

An important consideration here is whether this world has a concept of heteronormativity—or any “normative” sexuality for other sexualities to be defined against. Are the words well-known, or in-community slang? If the words don’t exist in their language, have the individual characters decided to call themselves something?

Historical fiction writers, meanwhile, can look back at how people with experiences similar to asexuality have been described in the past. Would they think of themselves as frigid or a spinster? How do they grapple with the negative connotations of these words? Do they reclaim them, or choose a new way to describe themselves?

Every character, like every unique asexual person, is going to describe their asexuality differently, even if they use the same label.

Here we arrive at my second question. How we write about asexuality goes beyond the label. So whether it’s in tandem with or in lieu of labels, I think the most important part of asexual representation is how you, as a writer, describe the asexual experience.

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Let’s look at these three quotes:

“Both exasperated by and amused with the distraction of teenage awakenings—another thing Firuz thankfully avoided; puberty had shown them that unlike some of their peers, sex was about as desirable as a maggot-infested banana—Friruz patted the sofreh.”

(Naseem Jamnia, The Bruising of Qilwa, page 43)

“I told myself again that I wanted this, but I couldn’t silence the rising scream inside of me. The no. I’d long thought Ciari was beautiful, and I even had the urge to be near her, but as soon as she’d started kissing me, as soon as I started even imagining going beyond kissing with her, I lost interest. More than that: I wanted to run the other way. The solid posts and silk sheets of my bed, glowing softly in the spicy candlelit air, no longer felt like a hand cradling me in safety, but one offering me up, exposing me…”

(A. M. Strickland, Beyond the Black Door, page 27)

“Sometimes it strikes Sydney as truly bizarre that she could be as she is, as attracted to the idea of kissing Monica as to the slinking warmth of a cat on her lap, and still find so much of herself in Crowley’s poetry.”

(K. C. Meadbrewer, “Her Black Blinking Gown” from The Crawling Moon: Queer Tales of Inescapable Dread, page 54)

Each of the three characters here are asexual, but they each have a different relationship to sex and romance. Each of their experiences are unique, and the authors illustrate their experiences for us with figurative language. The imagery is striking, and it calls our attention to sensory experiences that have nothing to do with, and yet are comparable to, sex and sensuality.

For some asexuals, sex is a rotten banana, for others it's just a cat in your lap. There are so many ways to describe the asexual experience, so many complicated emotions, sensations, thoughts, and desires that go beyond simply “not feeling sexual attraction.”

You may also notice that none of these three quotes include the word asexual, and yet, even if you were presented with them out of context, I think it would still be quite clear that these three characters are asexual, or at the very least somewhere on the asexual spectrum. This is why I personally believe that descriptions like these are more important than just using the word “asexual.”

Name it if you can, but by all means, describe it.

We come to literature to read compelling descriptions of humanity. We come to literature to read seemingly indescribable feelings put into words. And as writers, we come to the page to write that literature. So write asexuality as beautifully and creatively as you would any other worthy subject—because asexuality is an incredibly worthy subject to write about.

Happy writing, and until next time,

-Amelia