Historically, members of the LGBTQ community have been excluded from popular mainstream media, particularly genre fiction. In response, LGBTQ content creators have carved out a space for themselves through the use of transformative fanworks such as fanfiction, fan art, and other art forms. This project seeks to explore and document the ways in which LGBTQ content creators and fandom participants use fanworks as a celebration of their identities and to force popular mainstream media to reflect their lived experiences. All Profits from the zine will go the The Out History Project and Trans Lifeline.
I grew up in a very conservative family that went to church 2-3 times a week, and while the people around me weren’t outright hateful toward LGBTQ people, they definitely didn’t approve. The most common phrase I heard on the subject when I was growing up, was something along the lines of “We don’t agree with them, but it’s not our place to judge them (it’s God’s).” Insert eyeroll here. After I graduated high school, I moved away for college and grew away from religion and the conservative rhetoric I grew up hearing. With this upbringing, it’s not surprising to me that I didn’t even consider that I might not be straight until I was well into my 20s.
For me, coming to terms with my sexuality has been a very hard and confusing process. I identify as an aromantic asexual, meaning I experience no romantic or sexual attraction. This also made it difficult for me to realize I was not straight: how are you supposed to know you don’t feel any sexual attraction if you’ve never felt it before? Blogs and websites helped a lot, but for me, fanfiction was a place of comfort.
I started reading fanfiction when I was in high school. Like a lot of other fans, I started my fan life with Harry Potter. Harry Potter has led to many other fandoms over the years, but Harry Potter will always be my first fandom. Being a fan means a lot to me. It is one of my defining characteristics as a person, and it is how I often connect with other people. In fact, my love of fanfiction and online fan communities led me to where I am today – working on my PhD and researching fanfiction communities online.
I’ve seen articles and posts about fanfiction and how character driven a lot of these works are. I think that is what draws a lot of us to fanfiction in the first place – we crave that connection with the characters. Especially if we see something of the characters in ourselves. In my experience, writing fanfiction also includes putting a little bit of your self in your stories, and if not yourself, at least your world.
I don’t do a lot of writing fanfiction, but I do a lot of reading, and having this little “window” into other’s worlds has been incredibly useful to my growth as a person and understanding myself. By reading fanfiction, I get to see other’s views of the world. And for a small town girl like me, it was my first experience with LGBTQ relationships and trans stories. Reading about these relationships and experiences normalized them and made them something that isn’t bad, or unnatural, or wrong. Which was the first step in coming to terms with my own sexuality.
As previously mentioned, I struggled a lot with being aromantic and asexual, but reading stories with asexual characters really helped me understand my identity. There’s this one fic that I absolutely adore and reread every few months. The story is about two friends who slowly over the years form a deep connection and the fic is dedicated to them exploring their relationship, defining what they are and what they aren’t, and how they deal with their other friends’ perceptions of their relationship. Throughout the fic, they make it clear that they are more than friends -- that they love each other, but they are not in love with each other. This fic is especially important to me because it is the first time I was exposed to what I consider my ideal relationship. In most romance fics or stories in general, I appreciate the fantasy of the relationship, but in this fic I found something that was attainable (and desirable) in my own life.
Reading fanfiction about asexual characters (and less often aromantic characters) has made me feel less alone in my identity. Not only am I able to connect to the characters and see myself represented in their thoughts and actions, but I can also connect to the authors of the fic. If the authors are putting themselves in the fic (as I believe the are), then the thoughts and actions of their characters are reflections of their own thoughts and actions. To me, this connection makes us a community that goes beyond fandom interactions and can easily transfer to our daily lives. Which I think is pretty great.
I think it's fair to say that I owe my current conception of my identity to fanworks— both directly and indirectly.
For the longest time, I was in an emotional stasis—I said I was "fine" because I was. I said I was "fine" because it was the magic spell I used to convince myself that I was happy, that I was okay with where I was.
And it worked. In my day to day life, I was...fine. Flatlined, I see it now, but not struggling under my identity or feeling hemmed in or needing space. I could feel happiness when hanging and interacting with friends, and I could turn myself off and feel numb when I wasn't. If you asked, I probably would've said I was happy, but I did wonder if I was broken, if what I felt was happiness, or if it was merely just acceptance.
I'd considered my sexuality before, and I knew that I wasn't straight, but it was something that I felt didn't really matter. I'd been with my girlfriend at the time for over four years, and we'd spoken about it before, but I'd always felt like my sexuality was a separate component of my identity - something that really only needed to come up in certain circumstances. And while I still don’t feel the need to be openly queer all the time, I realize now that I was also suppressing an aspect of myself and its related emotions in my daily life.
That all changed over a short weekend.
I have a friend who had a free pass to Anime Expo (AX) because they volunteered and had some connections, and it came up in conversation and they offered it to me months before. I had been four years prior, and was mildly interested in going again. I'd had fun before, but I wasn't really sure if it'd be worth the money to me. I told her that I'd love to have it if she didn't have anyone else who'd want it, and so I wound up in late June with an AX badge. I was excited at the prospect of getting a chance to go again and experience the event in all its 18+ glory (I was just under the cut my previous time—I also didn't really make use of my age this time around either).
When I got the schedule, I was intrigued by several of the panels that I saw, and I marked a few of them - especially "LGBTQ+ Representation in Canon & Fanon." I was excited, but a little nervous. I was out to exactly one person, and the friends that I was going to AX with were school friends that, while close, were not people with who I had any kind of emotionally vulnerable relationship. But I was confident that I could, at the very least, split off and see what I wanted and never acknowledge it and I would be "fine."
I broke down slowly, that weekend.
It was a positive breakdown. A tearing down of emotional walls. My friends were speaking openly about the 18+ panels they were interested in, about seeing if they could find any smutty material worth buying, and I felt safe and comfortable loosening my restrictions around them.
I saw some explicitly queer booths in the exhibit hall, and I felt safe thumbing through them.
I awoke to the thought of KiriBaku (a BnHA pairing), and the walls started crumbling.
I wanted, I needed to talk about it.
And so I did.
I let it slip, but by bit.
and it was welcomed.
And I died inside.
I felt happy.
That was Day 2.
Day 3, we visited the Artist Alley, and I died all over again.
Everywhere I looked, I saw queer representation. I felt welcomed and accepted. I felt at home, knowing that I wasn't alone. That there were people who felt like me, who shared my conception of the characters' relationship and thus, who shared, in some part, my identity. I knew that we shared a conception of relationships and sexuality. Through their art and my viewership, we were recontextualizing these characters, we were shaping an idealized understanding of one way of loving. We were conversing about identity without needing to speak or acknowledge each other in any fashion.
And my friends joined in, in their own way. Most of this was mental, but it was so, so affirming and validating to have them pointing out merch for me. Things that I knew that they didn't care about at all - they didn't watch the show, they weren't queer, and yet they knew that it was something that mattered to me.
On days 1 and 2, I wasn't sure about if I was going to go to Day 4, because all there was that I was interested in was that one LGBTQ+ fanon/canon panel, and I was tired and hadn't been sleeping super well, and felt like I was imposing on the friend whose place I was staying at, andnI've always struggled with fanworks because they aren't shared universally in the way that the source material is.
But Day 3 had shown me a world of fanwork that I could at least appreciate. I knew I needed to return at the very least to walk around Artist Alley once more, and perhaps purchase something.
So I did.
I wound up waiting at Lowah/HiBerrybottle's booth for 30 minutes, because she was getting a late start, and I purchased a print and a copy of Trails, a wordless KiriBaku doujin. And I sat down and waited for my friends to meet up, and I read it, and I had to fight back tears. And I had to fight back tears for the next hour, until I couldn't stand it and basically sprinted back to her booth to ask if she could sign it and gush over it. I don't know what the feeling was. I can't really explain it.
All I knew is it felt so powerfully right
And I started formulating what thoughts about fanworks, and their importance. And I started thinking about what I'd say if I got a chance to speak at the panel.
I was excited all throughout waiting in line for the panel, and for the first time in my life, I was open with people. I was willing to accept my identity in its totality. To be queer and connect with people through those experiences.
And we got inside, and the panelists introduced themselves and mentioned that they would have time at the end to ask questions and share experiences, and I knew that I had something to say.
And I knew that if I didn't get a chance to speak, it would be okay, because I at the very least had broken down my walls a little bit, and regardless, it would be an improvement.
And then I got called on, and I spoke to the point that the person previously had made, and I began to try to tell my story.
I've always struggled with getting my emotions out. It starts fine, and then I get choked up and teary for no reason (and that's happening at this very moment), and I took some steadying breaths and tried to calm myself down, and everyone started applauding me and telling me I was valued, and loved, and accepted and I felt so, so happy (and I'm bawling even now as I write this, one month later). And I finished my story (which you have just read).
And I was told to come up and talk to them panel afterwords, and I felt more validated then than I ever had before. And people came up afterwards to tell me that my story resonated with them, and to offer hugs and encouragement,
and to further develop discussion of the points that I had made, and each and every time I felt happier than I ever had before.
I felt whole. I felt complete. I felt a unity and acceptance of my identity, both internally and externally, that I have never felt before.
I felt valid in my queerness.
People were telling me that they understood how I felt, that they had gone through the exact same periods of question and self-denial and self-discovery, and I knew, finally, that I was who I claimed to be.
And we talked after the panel, and out the halls, and down to the exit of the convention center, and I felt incredibly appreciative that I had decided to come to the panel.
Because if I hadn't, I would've been fine.
But I know now that I wouldn't've been happy.
I see now the true power of fanworks. They are an individual experience, and it can be hard to find people to share those experiences with. But at the same time, it provides unique opportunities for representation and engagement that cannot be found through traditional avenues of media production. And, when you do find someone to share those fanworks with? A community or an individual, that bond is so much stronger than anything you can forge with the larger fanbase.
As long as we are denied representation in media, we will need to create our own representation and queer spaces.
At the very least, I feel proud of just how queer AX 2018 was. Every other booth had a queer pairing of some kind, had explicit support via buttons and pins, or pairing-based artworks, and I felt at home and accepted in a way that I'd never felt before.
The “A Room of Their Own” project is now accepting submissions to the project!
What is “A Room of Their Own”?
“A Room Of Their Own” seeks to explore and document the myriad of ways in which LGBT content creators and fandom participants use fanworks as a celebration of their identities and to force popular mainstream media to reflect their lived experiences. Basically, it seeks to be a collection of essays, comics, and interviews documenting how LGBT members of fandom use their various talents to carve out a space for themselves in mainstream fiction and to explore their identities in a relatively safe space.
“A Room of Their Own” is currently a blog that will accept submissions on a consistent basis, but the eventual goal is to compile a selection of the pieces into a zine or a series of zines, the proceeds of which will go to the Trans Lifeline and The Out History Project.
I will also be analyzing quotes/submissions from people who say itś okay and will be using these quotes as part of my thesis on lgbtq fanworks.
Who Can Submit?
Any members of the LGBT community who have experience as fanwork creators or even who have just partaken in fanworks created by others are welcome to contribute! While I do understand that transformative fanworks have also positively impacted non-LGBT people as well, the focus of this project is specifically on LGBT fanwork creators and consumers and how fanworks have given them a space to explore their identities and see themselves represented in popular fiction.
Thesis Submission information:
Minors (under 18), are more than welcome to contribute to the zine and blog, but I will not be using them in my research.
All 18+ people who volunteer to submit will be asked if they would like to have their work used for the thesis. I will only use submissions from those who fully consent.
In the same vein, anyone who submits to the blog or the thesis can be as anonymous as they wish. You can choose to be totally anonymous, use your blog name, use your actual name, etc. It’s entirely up to you.
What Can I Submit?
Pretty much anything! Essays, comics, videos, songs- whatever format allows you to interact with the subject best. If you have any doubts as to whether or not your preferred format fits the project, feel free to send an ask!
The piece you submit should focus on how participating in fandom culture has impacted you in your journey towards self acceptance and discovery, particularly as pertains to your identity as a member of the LGBT community.
How Can I Submit?
Please click here to submit your piece.
We are accepting submissions on a near-constant basis! Zine dates/deadlines forthcoming!
Why Should I Submit?
Most explorations into the world of transformative fanworks have been done by outsiders and more for the sake of morbid curiosity rather than for the purpose of accurately representing LGBT fandom culture. This project seeks to even the balance of who has charge of our narrative by giving LGBT fanwork creators a platform to tell their own stories. So you should submit because you have a story to tell, a story that might help someone else just by being told.
Thank you very much and I hope to hear from you soon!
If you have any questions, please feel free to send an ask or an email at any time.
Why would you use a name based on a work that’s specifically about how *women* are denied spaces of their own for a project that includes non-women? That seems extremely inappropriate and disrespectful to the spirit of the original
I feel like the parallels between the exclusion of women and the exclusion of LGBTQ people from spaces of their own, particularly within fiction, are perfectly valid and reasonable ones to draw, but of course you are free to feel about it however you wish.
It is also worth noting that this is not the first LGBTQ oriented project to draw these parallels and to find solidarity between the two (often overlapping) experiences, nor is it even the first LGBTQ thesis project/research article to do so. As a nonbinary woman who loves women, I chose this name with lots of deliberation and mindfulness. Thank you for your question!
Why would you use a name based on a work that’s specifically about how *women* are denied spaces of their own for a project that includes non-women? That seems extremely inappropriate and disrespectful to the spirit of the original
I feel like the parallels between the exclusion of women and the exclusion of LGBTQ people from spaces of their own, particularly within fiction, are perfectly valid and reasonable ones to draw, but of course you are free to feel about it however you wish.
Just a reminder that I‘ll be presenting all of y’alls stories at Eagle Con, @calstatela‘s annual comic con focusing on diversity and marginalized identities. The panel is titled “Where do We Belong? Experiences of Marginalized Communities in Fandom” and will run from 12:30-1:30.
If you’re in the area, join me or tell your friends to come check it out!!
If you’re unfamiliar with the project, click here to learn how you can contribute to a thesis, charity zine, and blog which seeks to document the experiences of LGBTQ fanworks participants!
I'm happy to announce that I will be presenting about this project on a panel at this year's Eagle Con!
Eagle Con is Calstate LA's annual comics convention and it centers around diversity in comics and other forms of media!
Join me for the panel on Thursday, March 8 from 12:30-1:30!
More info on the con, my panel's location, and the panel schedule (there are so many other cool and important panels!!) can be found here: http://www.calstatela.edu/events/eagle-con-schedule
hi guys! I usually don’t post these types of things or like to talk about my personal life, but I recently came out to my father as bisexual and it did not go as planned. he does not support my decision and is going to stop helping me with my tuition. FAFSA doesn’t give me enough to cover my meal plans. I am a sophomore in college and I am struggling to make ends meet so even if you could donate a dollar, it would be so helpful! if you can’t, I totally understand but please reblog this post to spread the word!
hello Tumblr family, thank you so much for your support. please keep reblogging as I am not near my goal and time is running out. thank you for all of the kind messages.
This is actually pretty important. Any donation is appreciated. Show the same love and support that you show to me, to her so she can survive. Her paypal is linked on the post. Have a great day everyone and please take care.
The “A Room of Their Own” project is now accepting submissions to the project!
What is “A Room of Their Own”?
“A Room Of Their Own” seeks to explore and document the myriad of ways in which LGBT content creators and fandom participants use fanworks as a celebration of their identities and to force popular mainstream media to reflect their lived experiences. Basically, it seeks to be a collection of essays, comics, and interviews documenting how LGBT members of fandom use their various talents to carve out a space for themselves in mainstream fiction and to explore their identities in a relatively safe space.
“A Room of Their Own” is currently a blog that will accept submissions on a consistent basis, but the eventual goal is to compile a selection of the pieces into a zine or a series of zines, the proceeds of which will go to the Trans Lifeline and The Out History Project.
I will also be analyzing quotes/submissions from people who say itś okay and will be using these quotes as part of my thesis on lgbtq fanworks.
Who Can Submit?
Any members of the LGBT community who have experience as fanwork creators or even who have just partaken in fanworks created by others are welcome to contribute! While I do understand that transformative fanworks have also positively impacted non-LGBT people as well, the focus of this project is specifically on LGBT fanwork creators and consumers and how fanworks have given them a space to explore their identities and see themselves represented in popular fiction.
Thesis Submission information:
Minors (under 18), are more than welcome to contribute to the zine and blog, but I will not be using them in my research.
All 18+ people who volunteer to submit will be asked if they would like to have their work used for the thesis. I will only use submissions from those who fully consent.
In the same vein, anyone who submits to the blog or the thesis can be as anonymous as they wish. You can choose to be totally anonymous, use your blog name, use your actual name, etc. It’s entirely up to you.
What Can I Submit?
Pretty much anything! Essays, comics, videos, songs- whatever format allows you to interact with the subject best. If you have any doubts as to whether or not your preferred format fits the project, feel free to send an ask!
The piece you submit should focus on how participating in fandom culture has impacted you in your journey towards self acceptance and discovery, particularly as pertains to your identity as a member of the LGBT community.
How Can I Submit?
Please click here to submit your piece.
We are accepting submissions on a near-constant basis! Zine dates/deadlines forthcoming!
Why Should I Submit?
Most explorations into the world of transformative fanworks have been done by outsiders and more for the sake of morbid curiosity rather than for the purpose of accurately representing LGBT fandom culture. This project seeks to even the balance of who has charge of our narrative by giving LGBT fanwork creators a platform to tell their own stories. So you should submit because you have a story to tell, a story that might help someone else just by being told.
Thank you very much and I hope to hear from you soon!
If you have any questions, please feel free to send an ask or an email at any time.
“So … I fell in love with the characters from The Legend of Korra and spent the last two years drawing them. The show contains a vast array of female characters: many are (canon) or could be interpreted as queer, differently-abled, and non-binary and ALL of them are women of color.
Representation in the media absolutely matters. I could have saved myself a lot of emotional stress and mental anguish growing up if there had been more/better representation of queer women of color on TV.
I've spent a lot of time and effort drawing these characters; exploring the nuances and crossing them over into other shows/books. I try to keep the work very optimistic or positive: Body positive, sex positive, with many different types of relationships. Drawing the characters being unabashedly queer....modeling different body types …. just out their living their lives....that type of world building in art.... can have a huge affect on the artists own self-image.
Drawing these characters is a type of healing for me.... and hopefully positive for the viewers. It's a different type of activism”
This piece of art was submitted to the @aroomoftheirown project, a blog and zine that seeks document the myriad of ways in which LGBT content creators and fandom participants use fanworks as a celebration of their identities and to force popular mainstream media to reflect their lived experiences by collecting essays, comics, and interviews documenting how LGBT members of fandom use their various talents to carve out a space for themselves in mainstream fiction and to explore their identities in a relatively safe space.
The blog that will accept submissions on a consistent basis and the eventual goal is to compile a selection of the pieces into a zine or a series of zines, the proceeds of which will go to the Trevor Project and Trans Lifeline
To learn more or submit to the project, click here.
It has taken me a long while to figure out who I am. And without fandom I may never have gotten where I am now.
I grew up in a single-parent, demanding household. I spent so much of my youth helping to be the other parent that I didn’t have much time to think about me. However, I still knew from a very young age that I preferred “boys’ clothes and looks” over girls’ and that all the characters I wanted to be from my favorite books, movies, and TV were male or gender non-conforming (GNC). But my mother explained that just meant I was a tomboy, that the closeness I felt with my female friends was just strong friendship, and that I would be interested in romance when I met the right boy.
Now I’m 31, I’m a panromantic nonbinary asexual, and I am finally starting to learn what it means to be happy and fight for what I want. And getting back into fandom and writing fanfiction is a big part of what got me there.
When I started writing again, thinking about characters and focusing on the minutiae of their lives, I remembered how complex and detailed they can really be. And it helped me think more about myself--who I wanted to be and what kind of work I wanted to create and share with the world. Additionally, it made me realize how many choices had been made not by me, but for me.
Fandom--particularly fanfiction--asks its viewership to consider all angles of a character, not just what canon has the time or capability to include. Art, stories, headcanons; these are all examples of laypeople taking characters and saying “they are more than what you, the creators, say they are.” And for members of the LGBTQIA+ community, that drive to explain the more complex nature of these characters acts as a proxy for ourselves. We do not neatly fit into the categories determined by others, like outdated perceptions of gender or sexuality.
I recently wrote my first GNC fic. I took a couple that appears to be traditionally heteronormative (though one of the pair is canonically asexual) and, based on my understanding of the characters’ perspectives and interests, I was able to expand upon that in a way that still fit with their established traits. Since I wrote this fic for a smaller fandom, the idea of the main male character being GNC or genderqueer had not been explored before. And, especially because of its personal connection to my own struggles, it was one that I was nervous to present. It was not my longest work, but it was by far the most difficult I had ever attempted. It left me sleepless and made me forget to eat for days on end. But in the end I was proud of it. And I was proud of myself for writing out that little bit of myself and my interests, placing them into something that is out there for others to interact with.
Reception has had a few pitfalls; there were some who understood less about the struggles of being bi and GNC and instead found humor in some of the heavier moments. This was hard for me to see. As that was, of course, not my intention and something that I was very conscious of trying to avoid while I was writing.
Fortunately, the rest of the feedback thus far has been overwhelmingly positive, and not just responses such as “I liked this,” or “this was fun to read,” but in terms of thoughtful comments from members of the community who felt this presentation of the characters really spoke to them. One reader told me that they were “proud to be a part of the fandom that this was a part of”. Another mentioned how they were reminded of a time when they had been presented with a similar situation, and had not reacted in a way that they would now be proud of.
These comments were particularly important to me because in my mind this is what creative works are meant to do: touch people and make them think, about the world and their interactions with it. I believe that, in some instances, fanworks can do this just as much as--if not even more than--original ones. In fanworks you, the creator, are not just being judged on your ability to make emotionally relatable works, but in your ability to transform something that is already beloved to your audience. Fan creators push consumers to see and accept something different about that which is already familiar. And that is a skill set that is necessary in a positive and inclusive world.
Fandom is all about expression, both in terms of creation and self. Fandom is about finding something you are passionate about embracing and reveling in it. And perhaps most importantly, it is about connection--the connections between the characters that fanworks so often focus on, the connection between fan creator and the work they are toiling away on, the connections the communities build for themselves. So it is a great place for someone to reach out and begin to stretch their expressive muscles.
That isn’t to say there isn’t conflict in fandom; we are only human, after all. Since fandom is ultimately an expression of interests, it is therefore rife with different opinions. So sometimes fandoms can suffer from toxicity, just as the real world does. In my 18-plus years in fandom I have seen its ups and downs, but I have always seen it strive to be something more than what is standard or offered by the mainstream. It has been my experience that participating in fandom provides a community of people who are there for one another in both creative works and self-expression.
Being a part of fandom has taught me how to be a fan, not only of the works I love but of myself and the choices that I am making. With the understanding I have gained from my time in fandom I can move forward without forgetting the moments and experiences that got me here. Like a character's struggle in a fanwork, my life has its angst and its fluff. Sometimes it’s full of tropes and sometimes it feels like I am all alone in these new experiences. But it has also given me an outlet to repurpose these feelings, to put my own stories out there, to be a part of a community. And it is incredible.
This essay was submitted to the @aroomoftheirown project, a blog and zine that seeks document the myriad of ways in which LGBT content creators and fandom participants use fanworks as a celebration of their identities and to force popular mainstream media to reflect their lived experiences by collecting essays, comics, and interviews documenting how LGBT members of fandom use their various talents to carve out a space for themselves in mainstream fiction and to explore their identities in a relatively safe space.
The blog that will accept submissions on a consistent basis and the eventual goal is to compile a selection of the pieces into a zine or a series of zines, the proceeds of which will go to the Trevor Project and Trans Lifeline
To learn more or submit to the project, click here.
My name’s Ann, I’m almost 48, and I live in a small town in the Midwest USA. I’ve been married 18 years, have two teenage children, and I’m bisexual.
I grew up in a small, religious, traditional area. I don’t say conservative, because it was the 1970’s, and I went to a tiny Catholic school run by the Sisters of St. Francis, which was and is a pretty progressive group of women. I seriously considered the convent for myself for many years.
The 1980’s arrived when I was in junior high, and the AIDS crisis was beginning as I entered high school. People did not come out. It was simply a thing one did not do. Gay people were the butt of jokes and lived in cities. I knew that I was different: I dressed in a butchy way, cut my hair short, didn’t wear makeup. I didn’t date, mostly because the small dating pool of boys was put off by my physical appearance (though fat wasn’t necessarily a deal breaker) and my intellect (which was). I had no clue if any of the other girls I knew at the time were attracted to other girls. They showed no sign of interest in me.
I had the good fortune to go to an Ivy League school. Yale was known in the League as the “gay Ivy”, and it was a transformative and positive experience. I met openly gay men for the first time. I don’t quite know why I didn’t meet any lesbians, but that may be because they were already paired off before I got a chance to meet them. I came out to my friends there as queer in my senior year, and it was very positive. By that time I’d realized that I’d been having crushes on other women. But at that point it might have been just a bit too late.
The most prominently out group on campus was gay men, and most gay content came from them. The AIDS crisis was an enormous factor in this visibility, and their writing and artwork was often sad, frightened, or militant because of this. The social climate of the outside world had not yet changed to be accepting.
What lesbian content I’d been exposed to was pornography created for a male gaze. It did not appeal to me. I was put off by it; I was out, but not comfortable being out anywhere but at school, and when I graduated, I went back in the closet. I knew that it was not a choice to be gay, but since I was bisexual I could still pass for straight and attempt a relationship with men after I graduated. I believed I could suppress my attractions.
In the few years between college and meeting my husband, the Internet did not have the reach it has today, and I simply didn’t know where to find other women like me. Finally I got internet access, and that’s where I met my husband. We are still happily married.
Being attracted to and married to a person of another gender didn’t end my attraction to my own gender. I hid those feelings and that part of my identity. I did tell my husband I was bi, but I’ve kept my marriage promise.
Seventeen years later, in 2016, I was sick of Facebook, and I decided to open a tumblr account because a college friend had been part of its creation. I had no idea what I’d find there.
Suddenly I was exposed to a deluge of artwork and fiction and meta discussion about all the things that interested me. My kids and I had very much enjoyed the Avatar: The Last Airbender and Avatar: Legend of Korra series, and I was surprised and pleased when I heard in the news that the lead character, Korra, was canon bisexual. So when I joined tumblr and found an entire community of people who enjoyed it so much they created new fan-driven content for it, I was at once delighted, enthralled, and at home.
I realized very quickly that much of the content was adult-themed; but though technically pornographic, it bore little resemblance to the videos I’d seen throughout my life. It had a completely different quality, because it had been created for and by women attracted to other women. It was gentler, sweeter, more affectionate. It was still very much sexual content, but it did not objectify women in the way that I had always seen before. It was incredibly easy to identify with the characters, and positively, and the fan works explored literature and artistic themes with queer characters where one would typically find straight characters.
My eyes were opened. Having married a man, I knew little about what my life might have been like if I’d been born 20 years later. Now I understood what I’d missed. It’s a great regret; a deep sadness that I can’t change, through no one’s fault.
At the same time, now I could enjoy things with a much more genuine feeling of fulfillment and identify much more closely with characters. I made friends in the fandom. They’re all younger than me, but sometimes I’m a mother they never had. I found nonbinary and trans kids and learned about their issues in a way I’d never known. I learned and learned and learned.
I found other fandoms, as well, and heard about movies and shows that I would never thought to watch before. All touched me in a way I never felt before.
I started creating art of my own. I’d received a degree in art 25 years before; now I was finally using it and making things I enjoyed and was deeply proud of. I had FUN making this art, which had been too rare an experience otherwise. My skills as an artist continue to improve as a result.
Recently, I started writing fan fiction. Taking two older characters from The Legend of Korra, I believe I have found a niche. I am able to write and draw women much like myself in age and temperament, with a perspective unlike that of younger writers. I’ve allowed myself to feel emotions in those characters that I have been unable to feel in my own life because of my circumstances. And I’ve received some wonderful praise for what I’ve written, and that is the most amazing feeling. To make believable something that I’ve never experienced personally is astonishing.
I can’t understate the importance of fan works to my acceptance of myself as a bisexual woman, even though I have come to that acceptance later in my life. I hope the content that I’ve created will be found by women like me, a little older, a little late to the game. And I hope it makes them feel as much better about themselves as it has made me.
This essay was submitted to the @aroomoftheirown project, a blog and zine that seeks document the myriad of ways in which LGBT content creators and fandom participants use fanworks as a celebration of their identities and to force popular mainstream media to reflect their lived experiences by collecting essays, comics, and interviews documenting how LGBT members of fandom use their various talents to carve out a space for themselves in mainstream fiction and to explore their identities in a relatively safe space.
The blog that will accept submissions on a consistent basis and the eventual goal is to compile a selection of the pieces into a zine or a series of zines, the proceeds of which will go to the Trevor Project and Trans Lifeline
To learn more or submit to the project, click here.
The women who taught me how to be queer are fictional.
Growing up, I didn’t know a single gay, bi, or transgender person. I was young, I was sheltered. When I started wondering if, maybe, the way I thought about women wasn’t the way most other girls did, I went to the internet.
I hoped to find answers. What I found was a lifeline.
I read about women in love. Unapologetically in love, unrestrained with their love. I read about women like me, and it gave me the courage to start writing.
I wrote about what I wanted my own future to look like. I wrote about women like me, queer women, getting happily ever afters. I wrote and wrote until I had published ten novels and over two and a half million words of fanfiction.
Then I started getting messages.
I got messages from myself ten years ago. I got messages that said: “Thank you.” I got messages that said: “This is me.” I got messages that asked: “Is it really going to be okay?”
And I got to say, “Yes, it really is going to be okay.”
My lifeline had become a rope, and I was pulling it from the other end. Now it runs in front of me and behind me. And that, I think, is what queerness is, and what fandom is. It inspires you, and gives you the chance—the honor—to inspire other people too.
It’s the most personal form of expression, but the best thing you can do is make it public, so you can touch someone else.
So this is my love letter to the queer fandom. Without it, I wouldn’t be who I am.
This essay was submitted to the @aroomoftheirown project, a blog and zine that seeks document the myriad of ways in which LGBT content creators and fandom participants use fanworks as a celebration of their identities and to force popular mainstream media to reflect their lived experiences by collecting essays, comics, and interviews documenting how LGBT members of fandom use their various talents to carve out a space for themselves in mainstream fiction and to explore their identities in a relatively safe space.
The blog that will accept submissions on a consistent basis and the eventual goal is to compile a selection of the pieces into a zine or a series of zines, the proceeds of which will go to the Trevor Project and Trans Lifeline
To learn more or submit to the project, click here.
Hey, all, Bree here. Some of you may have noticed my absence in the last couple of months. I was wrapping up some stuff for school and life threw me a couple of curve balls that I needed to give my attention to, but don’t worry, the project is still active and running!
Here’s what’s going on:
1. Some of the work that I did on the project was presented at the California State University, Los Angeles Center for the Study of Gender and Sexualities Student Research and Creative Arts Conference! If you would like to see my slides or research notes, feel free to ask me and I will be more than happy to share them with you!
2. Thanks to all of you, I got a high A on my research paper and project for my class! So thank you very much to everyone who submitted and shared.
3. The zine and blog will still be happening, but I am extending the deadline for the first volume of the zine to Sunday, September 5 at 11:55 PM PST.
4. I have revamped the submissions process! If you would like to submit, please click here
5. I will start posting the submissions I’ve already received. They will be posted within the next few days, so keep an eye out for that!
6. The next conference at which I will presenting my work is at Anime Expo! I was chosen to do an academic panel on July 4 at 10:00 AM. You can find more info about that here.
7. If you would like your submissions to be included at the Anime Expo panel, please turn in your submissions by July 1st (short notice, I know!)
8. I am still looking for someone who would be interested in designing a logo and the cover of the zine! If you are interested, please contact me here!
9. If you would like to help with publishing the zine, please contact me!
