Not ace but fascinated by it

I don’t write about queerness much. As a straight woman, my perspective is not one people really need anyway. I try to include queer characters because I don’t want to be exclusionary and because it’s more reflective of the reality of the world, but because I don’t have much to say about queerness, that part of those characters is rarely a point of focus.

The only exception for me is ace characters. My most prominent heroine of Mrs. Hawking is not only an aro ace, but it’s plot-relevant, as it makes it a point of disconnection in her initial friendship with the Colonel, and she actually even articulates it to explain the frustration she feels with a culture that doesn’t understand people like her.

For some reason, however, I’ve always been very interested in asexuality. Maybe you could say I “relate” to it— though I’ve written about how limited I find that form of creating emotional connection —because for my teen years I thought I might have been asexual. I very much am not— and if I look back with honesty, I was not, even then, mistaking not experiencing attraction in the way I thought most people did for not experiencing it at all. So maybe saying I “relate” isn’t accurate.

But even in recognizing that, I’ve always found something kind of cool about it. While I’m very straight and enjoy owning that in my own particular way (read: grossly objectifying handsome muscular men) there’s a part of me that finds asexuality kind of powerful and aspirational. My interest in men gives me an investment in men being interested in me, and that makes me put a lot of time and energy into ensuring that happens. The idea of being asexual, and not caring who was attracted to me, of not needing that particular form of validation, has an appeal. It feels strong to me, in a way.

So I always enjoy the rare occasion of characters who are asexual, and that’s why I made Mrs. Hawking asexual. She’s in many ways a power fantasy for me personally, and that’s one aspect of it. I’ve done my best to depict it in a believable way, and I’ve gotten some positive feedback from some actual asexual people, including Frances Kimpel, the first actress to portray her. I hope she feels real. But for whatever reason, it’s the only sort of queerness I’m inclined to center. Because somehow, for whatever reason, it speaks to this otherwise aggressively het girl.