Mat Gilson

Women are often acted upon. In positive and negative ways, women are at the receiving end of men, other women, of the world. We hold. This quality, I think, makes us voyeurs. Observation as a lifeline for safety, for happiness, translates elsewhere. To observe is so inherently safe. There is no risk in taking something in this way, in passive consumption. There is no possibility of a boundary being crossed, as there is only one party involved. However, as an onlooker, this woman has nowhere to put her feeling, her desire, or her sensuality, that is safe. So she gives it all to something else. She implants these things inside of a character. If this character is nothing like her, all the better to distance her own frail, solid, and real body from the forces acting upon this fictional thing. The emotion is already there, the character already exists, all she has to do is see it unfold. The intensity is there, too. The desire to know someone’s insides is alleviated. Their brain is flayed open, their heart is pounding outside of their body. And they are not real! There is no harm to be done to them, they are a vessel built for exactly this exploration.

The niche, intense, and explicit nature of increasingly mainstream romance novels allow for the reader to experience a multiplicity of dynamics and experiences without risk. Women, straight, queer, or otherwise, do not have the infrastructure or culture that, for example, gay men have access to. Platforms like Grindr, combined with a painful history of HIV/AIDS, and the existing cruising culture made necessary by a violently homophobic country, have all led to a vibrant hookup culture amongst the gay male scene. This allows gay men, with relative safety from both diseases through the use of condoms, to explore a number of partners, dynamics, and experiences without social shame from within the community. Women have absolutely no access to anything comparable to that experience. Queer women do not have reliable, convenient access to STD/ STI protection; There is no condom equivalent for queer women. For heterosexual women looking for sexual exploration, the threat of rape, social consequence, unreliable use of condoms, and the necessity for cost prohibitive personal birth control means that women have no feasible way of participating in hookup culture safely. This leaves many forced to internalize their desire. This internalization primes us for these novels. The characters allow women to feel hurt, betrayed, even violated, without putting themselves at risk. 

Strangely, it’s all about comfort. Experiencing emotional pain without real risk is a comfort, it makes us feel safe but also capable and prepared. But the real comfort of the romance genre lies in its predictability. There are only so many tropes, and most seasoned readers know exactly what they will get the second they finish the description on the dust jacket. So be sick and twisted and feel comfort, queen.