If you’ve seen the Netflix adaptation of A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder by Holly Jackson, then you may be able to recognize the main character Pip in this trope. (Disclaimer: I haven’t read the book the series was based on yet, so I can’t say if the issue was carried over or introduced during production).
This trope does something called queerbaiting; it telegraphs the inclusion of a queer character, only to play an Uno reverse. Usually the character turns out to be straight after all, but in stories like these, they may also be gay or lesbian—anything but being aro-ace.
This trope is most likely to come up in romance subplots, so keep an eye on those.
a few more things to watch out for
So far, we’ve covered tropes that are rooted in particular types of characters and plots. But others are born from the thematics, and are therefore more insidious. I’d argue that that makes them even more harmful.
Unlike character tropes, which we can readily identify and pull apart, thematic tropes are subtle, ethereal. They stem from unquestioned assumptions that are deeply seated in the cultural mass psyche. By repeating them in our storytelling, often unwittingly, we reinforce beliefs that we don’t consciously realize we have.
I’m going to briefly introduce some of these here as food for thought. In later articles, we can go on some deep dives.
Loveless villains
Is the main baddie of the story the only major character without a love interest or an acknowledged history of relationships? There’s a broad tendency in literature (and film) to align romantic love (and the presumed sexual passion to go with it) with moral goodness, and the lack thereof with evil. If the hero has a love interest and the villain doesn’t, ask why, and in what other ways all forms of love play out in the story.
Sex/romance as a “cure”
We’re talking villains who go on redemption arcs for the sake of a romantic relationship (leaving character development in the backseat); socially awkward virgins who suddenly “get it” after handing in their v-card; particularly anal characters who finally chill out when they get laid. Ask yourself what the character’s root internal conflict is—and get really specific about how sex/romance supposedly solves that.
Persistent suitors
Alright, let me get on my soap box about this one real quick. No means no, not “just give me a chance” or “let me convince you.” If the cold, stand-offish hottie wants nothing to do with the sweet, so-right-for-her dude, Mr. Right needs to back off. He can be a friend. He can give himself emotional space. Persisting until she finally breaks down in fire and tears and realizes that she was the problem all along is wrong on so many levels, not limited to what it says about aro-ace people.
But aro-ace people in particular hear “you just need to try it,” “you'll like it if you let me,” and “I could change you” far too often, and are targeted for sexual violence explicitly because of who they are and someone’s refusal to accept that.
There can be a right way to do this suitor vs love-interest dynamic. We just have to bare in mind the very real consequences of what we pen (or edit) and publish accordingly.
Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk—please carry on.
Partner as “my other/better half”
Whether said explicitly or conveyed through subtext, the idea that a person is incomplete without a partner is—odd to us aro-aces, to say the least. As writers and editors, we should re-examine accepted statements like this. Often, I think the intended sentiment is that your partner brings out more in you or builds you up, and that’s totally okay and healthy. But the same is true of all kinds of loving relationships—familial, platonic, queerplatonic—not just romantic.
some closing thoughts
If some of what we’ve covered challenges your way of thinking, maybe chafes against a trope you love, then I encourage you to dig into that a little bit. Ask yourself why that feels uncomfy, what it tells you about the fundamental ways you’ve been taught to see the world and other people. Like I said, the driving force behind these tropes is hiding deep in unquestioned cultural assumptions.
There’s far more to get into about this topic than will fit in one blog post, and this is just a cursory look at some of the most common and insidious aro-ace tropes. If these ideas are new to you, then first, thanks for being here to learn! Second, it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. I believe that in order to make space for aromantic and asexual people in the world, we’re going to have to make a fundamental shift in how we think about human experience. That’s daunting. But I also believe it’ll be a good thing for everyone. The more we understand the full breadth of what it is to be human, the more we can understand our own, individual places within that.
But enough waxing philosophical. The main take away here is: Aro/ace-spec people are human too, so let’s tell our stories in a way that reflects that.
Happy writing!
