Let’s Talk About Sex
An essay defining the goals and parameters of TCUF: an erotic anthology.
In a world dominated by white Christian cisheteropatriarchy, sexual shame and sexual violence are two sides of a coin, playing off of and making way for each other. As such, we are inundated by every form of media with messages about sex and pleasure that obfuscate the meaning and importance of consent, shame sex workers and non-men who engage in sex and reinforce violent systems and ideologies. These messages harm all of us, regardless of our identity or sexual proclivities.
One place where the sexual politics of our society can be seen but are not often critically studied is in erotic romance and romantic fiction. This inarguably extends to other forms of media, including pornography, cinema, visual art, and even the news, but this project will focus on written erotic/romantic fiction.
From a publishing standpoint, romance has historically been the highest-selling genre of fiction, so much so that it influences the choice of material used to bind the books themselves. Hardcover books are more costly to print, though they engender higher sales in the first six months of a book’s life. Since romance books are often sold quickly and prolifically, the majority of them are printed as paperbacks to meet the demand of the people.
Despite this, the typical attitude toward romantic fiction, its authors, and readers is one of disdain. The assumption is that its readership comprises solely single, man-hating women whose affection is reserved for stinky pets, most likely cats and that this is somehow shameful. Its authors are thought to be half-baked writers who were unsuccessful in reaching their “real” publishing goals.
The genre itself is often not taken seriously in that people don’t open a romance book and expect to read thought-provoking, politically aware literature that will stick with readers beyond the time it takes to finish the book. This often leads to romance stories that prop up harmful relationship dynamics (age gaps), racial hierarchies (marginalized people falling in love with their oppressors), and cisheteronormative gender prescriptions (the use of feminine and masculine to describe emotions, body parts, and sensual experiences).
“It’s a fantasy book that has romance, but the romance is the C-plot. It’s not really important,” is a sentiment I’ve heard expressed by authors more than once. ‘Fantasy’ can be replaced with any other form of fiction, and you’ve likely heard it as well, if not said it yourself. These are the workings of a society that is whorephobic and misogynist.
While romance authors and readers are busy defending our genre against non-believers, we also spend a good deal of time fighting with each other.
Non-white authors receive fewer and cheaper publishing deals and lower readerships; Black readers desire cozy romance, not that ‘ghetto, Black trauma shit;’ and the more prudish of us can’t stomach explicit on-the-page sex... after all, is this romance or is it porn? Because in a world dominated by puritanism and anti-Blackness, the latter is unacceptable, while the former can be tolerated under certain circumstances as long as it’s “artful” and doesn’t “distract from the real plot.” I believe that the need to differentiate the two birthed the category of erotica, which itself is upheld by standards of whiteness, able-bodiedness, rape culture, and whorephobia.
They Called Us Fast aims to disrupt this narrative about romantic/erotic fiction, pleasure, and sex by exploring the experiences of gender-marginalized Black people through interviews and artwork. Black feminist theory and sexual politics will serve as the theoretical foundation for this project.
