Beauty and The Geek (And Why They Can Both Be Asexual)
You either know all too well what a headcanon is, or are imagining a new form of self-defense headgear that would, honestly, be amazing.
If you’re in the latter camp, your thing is better, but I’ll break down what a headcanon actually is. “Canon” refers to a body of work in general, but in the Internet age, saying something is “canon” means it actually, provably happened in a work of fiction. Likewise, a “headcanon” is something that’s only canon in one’s head. For example, the fact that Darth Vader is Luke’s father is canon. It really happened, it’s clearly spelled out that it happened, and it can’t be disputed. However, a popular headcanon is that biologically, the children are not Anakin’s, but in fact Obi-Wan’s. While there are things you can point to in the text that could theoretically support this — a few looks here and there between the two; the age difference between Padme and Anakin, especially when they first met, making things weird; Obi-Wan just clearly being the better option; etc. — people know it’s not canon, and (most) people won’t chew you out or call you an idiot for not agreeing with it.
Headcanons are not only a way to make something fun or thought-provoking out of a piece of media that the viewer doesn’t see as good or even interesting (ahem hem), but also a form of criticism and analysis. How would the conflict of the Prequels be better or worse with a love triangle being the source of the Big Betrayal? Do Luke and Leia share more attributes with Anakin (nature) or Obi-Wan (nurture)? How does Anakin function as a metaphor for impotence and threatened masculinity? Why would Padme go for mopey, mullety Anakin when studmuffin Ewan McGregor is RIGHT THERE?
With some exceptions, headcanons aren’t trying to become canon. They’re trying to ask questions about the media the headcanon is being placed upon. And most headcanons, at their core, ask a very simple question: Why not? It’s all about opening up possibilities, asking why storytelling decisions were made, and broadening the horizons of what art and stories can be and include.
As you can imagine, one of the most popular headcanons is queer headcanons.
It’s one of the easiest “Why not?” questions to ask. Most characters are straight and cis, or at least assumed to be, so it’s an easy divergence to take from canon. Does every character need to be queer? Of course not. But asking why they can’t be opens up a Pandora’s box of base assumptions about our culture.
The kneejerk response, for example, is that making any given character queer would “distract” from their thematic story and make it all about their queerness. This both reveals that society at large sees non-queerness as “neutral” and “normal”, not needing any explanation, and that society at large can’t see how a queer character can have any other arc or be part of any story that doesn’t directly relate to their queerness.
There’s a lot there, but the point is, queer headcanons in particular ask those who read them to question not just the work being examined, but the very society they participate in. That’s a hard pill to swallow, and that combined with general queerphobic bigotry means that queer headcanons are often met with derision, anger, harassment, and even accusations of pedophilia if one implies that an underage character is queer (because queer is inherently hypersexual, right? Gag).
But queer headcanons continue, because despite organizations like GLAAD that push for more representation, queer media representation is still fairly lacking. In many ways, headcanons are a way for queer people to create the full, developed, not-killed-off characters that are still few and far between in canon media. If you have no representation, you have to make it yourself, in your own head.
All of which is to say, I have some two ace character headcanons to share.
Reminder: I am not trying to say these characters are canonically ace, or that the creators were secretly making them ace the whole time and I’m uncovering The Truth. This is me, looking at two characters I connect to, and showing how framing them in an ace lens both deepens the characters and asks some hard questions of the heteronormative society that created them.
Now, can someone gloriously sweep us into the first topic?
Thanks, girl.
Full disclosure: I have loved Beauty and the Beast for as long as I can remember. It was one of maybe three Disney movies I could recite start to finish in my sleep when I was a kid, and I watched Beauty and the Beast the most out of any of our VHS tapes. I knew exactly when the picture would jump, exactly when a line would suddenly appear in the middle of the screen and slowly make its way up before disappearing, and exactly how many “Coming Soon” bits I had to fast-forward to before getting to the actual movie.
Part of the reason for that was because I dealt with a lot of bullying in elementary school. The two targets were that I was “just weird” (never underestimate the power of a six-year-old’s gaydar), and that I liked to read. Not exactly the most hard-hitting ammo, I know, but you’d be surprised how much a shove and a sing-song “weirdo” will do to a kid’s psyche. So of course, my mom would plop me down in front of that movie every time I came home crying, since it was also about a girl with brown hair who liked to read and was bullied constantly for it, and the connection was formed.
So I clearly have a bias, here. Of course I’d want my favorite childhood character to share even more with me. And even if that was the end of it, it wouldn’t make this headcanon unjustified. People can imagine whatever the hell they want. And besides, almost none of the Disney princesses have canonically had sex. Ariel had a kid in one of the spin-offs, so did Nala if she counts, Wendy had two kids, and Megara had a boyfriend that wasn’t Hercules at some point, so we can pretty confidently assume they’ve done the do somewhere along the way. Everyone else might as well be ace too, right? No reason to single Belle out.
However.
Looking at Belle through the lens of asexuality not only deepens her character, but fills plot holes people have been joking about for years.
We’ve all heard the lazy “Belle’s into bestiality lol” joke, and I love those as much as anyone else.
But Belle’s relationship with Beast is actually fascinating from an ace perspective. Before we dive into that, let’s go back to the topic of sex in Disney movies.
Disney movies are family fare by definition. When you see the Disney label, you’re supposed to feel confident that this is something you can put on for your children without even watching it beforehand, because you know it’s going to be good, wholesome, lighthearted fun. That’s the idea behind the brand.
But obviously, that’s not completely true. We all have our stories of being traumatized as children by something we saw in a Disney movie, whether it was the donkey scene in Pinocchio or Mufasa’s death. Disney movies have their horrifying moments and their depressing moments, and that’s hardly a bad thing. After all, if nothing scary or sad happened, the stories wouldn’t be very good, would they?
And that goes for inappropriate stuff, too. Disney knows it has to throw a bone once in a while to the poor parents or babysitters who are being forced to watch this movie for the hundredth time, but it obviously can’t be too explicit for the little ones. So, there’s a lot of innuendo, suggestion, and framing to communicate more explicit ideas to the older audience members.
Sometimes they don’t really try to hide it, for example:
But other times, they do. In Frozen, when Kristoff is grilling Anna for what she knows about this stranger she’s engaged to, among his list of questions, he asks for his foot size, to which Anna says, “Foot size doesn’t matter”. An innocuous, silly line to a kid, but a clever innuendo for everyone else.
Disney may not be able to talk about sex openly, but they have all the talent their ungodly amount of money can buy to say it without saying it.
The easiest way Disney does this is with looks. No one does a sultry look quite like a Disney princess.
All of these looks are given in anticipation of the character doing something either flirty or outright romantic with the object of their affection. It’s not a coincidence, it’s direct coding that tells the audience there’s some sexual tension.
These are just some examples — almost every Disney love story has the characters share this sort of look somewhere down the line. But I dare you to find one instance of Belle looking at Beast this way.
The closest ones I can find are here…
And here.
Now this one seems pretty suggestive in freeze-frame mode, but when you put it in motion…
It’s just not the same as the other examples.
You know who does do that look a lot in the movie, though?
(Side note: I am just now seeing the lazy eye and no nipples and can’t unsee it, and now you can’t either. You’re welcome.)
Gaston is a force to be reckoned with in this movie. If there’s any kind of government system in this little town, it’s not nearly as influential as Gaston. The man is able to get an entire town to put together a “surprise” wedding for him, as well as turn them into an angry mob to suit his own ends. Without any magic powers or even any connection to someone powerful, he has this entire town under his thumb.
All except for Belle, of course.
This isn’t exactly news to people who watch the movie. It’s kind of the entire plot. But when I ask people why Belle is immune to Gaston when no one else in town is, I get very boring, telling, and flimsy answers.
“Belle’s smarter than all those other women!” Who says? I realize the movie doesn’t help by having three blondes literally named “The Bimbettes” (seriously, how did that get past the censors?), but you’re telling me no other woman ever saw Gaston approaching and groaned? I highly doubt that.
“Belle’s smarter than everyone! She reads!” You know who else probably reads? The guy who runs the bookshop. And also plenty of other people because what else are they going to do all day? Video games and pretentious thinkpieces about media representation hadn’t been invented yet.
There’s variations, but for the most part, the explanations fall either under “people dumb” or “women be shopping”, which is probably the canonical answer, but also, LAME.
But if Belle is asexual, suddenly the conflict is a lot more interesting. Gaston manipulates people’s sexual desires, which he sees as easy because seemingly everyone has those. They’re either sexually attracted to Gaston, or want to attract people as easily as Gaston does. As a result, everyone lets him get away with anything, and gives him whatever he wants.
The only reason Belle is immune is because she HAS no sexual desires to manipulate. It’s not through her intelligence or her being “not like other girls” that she can stand up to Gaston. It’s almost dumb luck, pure chance. She doesn’t resist his pull, there’s just nothing TO pull. She understands that Gaston is handsome, but since he’s also “conceited and rude”, she wants nothing to do with him. Other people in town also probably find him conceited and rude, but because of the power of his sexuality, they are willing to let more things slide, or find a positive in that, something that Belle simply cannot fathom. No matter how hot, no matter how powerful, no matter what they could do for her, sexually or otherwise, Belle only accepts men into her life that she deems worthy on a personal level.
And with that, let’s talk about the Beast.
I’m not as gung-ho about the idea of Beast being ace, but it’s certainly a possibility. Granted, we only see a very small chunk of his life before the PTSD-inducing incidents of the movie, but it doesn’t seem like any relationship is a priority in his mind, sexual or otherwise.
Belle staying in the castle was never the overall plan, but rather a convenient thing that came out of him losing his temper at a random old man. He says she’s “so beautiful” when he’s talking to his servants, but it’s more of a way to put himself down than any form of leering.
Which isn’t to say there aren’t respect issues on his end at first. Gaston sees Belle as a sex object and a trophy, something to give him kids and care for the dogs so he can have even more prestige in the town. Beast, on the other hand, sees her as a means to an end, a goal to be achieved so he can go back to his normal life and pretend none of this ever happened, her included.
This is even more obvious in the stage musical version. The Beast’s big ballad is “If I Can’t Love Her”, which he sings after he’s looked in the magic mirror and heard Belle tell her wardrobe what a douche he is. It’s a depressing song, but it’s also very self-centered. As the title suggests he thinks things are hopeless “if [he] can’t love her”, and only once, at the end of one line as if it’s a complete afterthought, does he mention that he has to “make her love [him], too”. The bigger challenge, as he sees it, is forcing himself to love her. Even in his beastly, self-hating form, there’s still a bit of entitlement and narcissism alive in there.
Belle recognizes once again that she’s not being treated like a whole person, and rejects the Beast just as, if not more, harshly than she did Gaston. But eventually, after he stops being a Hefty bag of dicks, she does come to love him, and he her. Incidentally, the Beast’s shift is made literal in the stage show with “If I Can’t Love Her (Reprise)” where the chorus is now “If she can’t love me”.
Belle’s love for the Beast never has anything to do with his looks or sexual attraction. Even when he turns back into a ripped-shirt, long-haired hot guy (depending on who you ask), she never gets a look on her face that’s anything close to lust. It’s mostly confusion, then elation when she realizes it’s still the same man she fell in love with. She doesn’t care what she looks like, because it was never about that.
Belle and the Beast’s relationship is the least sexual relationship in Disney history. Think about that. In a sea of stories that can’t be too sexual thanks to being made for a young audience, this one is still the least sexual of them all. Maybe this movie resonated with me on more levels than I thought.
Speaking of, “Why do I love this so much more than other similar things?”…
Despite being a big reader, I never got into Sherlock Holmes. Up until this show, the only contact I’d ever had with the stories was watching some TV version of “The Speckled Band” in English class. It was a pretty cool way to spend a half hour or however long that class was, but it never went further than that.
Which is weird, because I’ve always loved mysteries. I watched a lot of Scooby-Doo and played literally all of the 30+ Nancy Drew video games growing up, and my favorite books at the school library were the Encyclopedia Brown series, which actively encouraged you to solve the mystery yourself. And yet, the detective that started it all never caught my interest.
I basically got into Sherlock through online peer pressure. I was just dipping my toes into Tumblr when Superwholock was at its strongest, and I was constantly bombarded with gifs, fanart, and fan theories about all three shows (Supernatural, Doctor Who, and Sherlock for you lucky folks who have no idea what I’m talking about). Sherlock seemed the easiest to get into, since it only had six episodes out at the time. Granted, each were 90 minutes long, but it seemed I had about two years to catch up per season, as opposed to a week between episodes for the other two.
I was intensely invested in the show by the middle of the first episode. I didn’t understand Tumblr’s obsession with putting male characters together who had, to me, nothing between each other. Loki and Thor? Harry and Draco? Didn’t see it. Still don’t see it, to be honest.
But with John and Sherlock, I saw it. Oh boy, did I see it.
And in case subtext wasn’t enough to get me on board:
But this isn’t about how Mofftiss completely lost control of their own show through bad writing, although they did and that’s a topic for another post. The point is, I was tied to the S. S. Johnlock from episode 1. I wanted them to get together so badly, and I didn’t know WHY. This was hardly my first shipping experience, after all. I’d been seriously on board for Robstar, Klaine, and Jeremy/Aelita (Jaelita?) in years past, but this was different. I can’t tell you how much of my time in college was spent reading fan theories and frame-by-frame analyses of how gay the show was. Not sure I would tell you even if I knew, because the answer was too damn much time, considering how it all turned out.
But then again, if I hadn’t suddenly started spending a huge chunk of my free time on Tumblr, I probably would have never discovered asexuality in the first place.
Like many people my age, I first learned about asexuality through Tumblr. I couldn’t even tell you how, exactly. I guess it just sort of showed up in the list when people would mention LGBT+ stuff in general. I didn’t think it was me at first, but the more I read, the more it made sense. Demisexual struck a chord with me first, but eventually I came to realize I was Ace Classic Flavor. And I wouldn’t have found out any of that, or would have found it out much later in life, if it weren’t for this terribly written show and its wonderful fanbase.
It all culminated when I saw this fantastic post that, much like I did with Belle above, explains in detail how the show and character are made far more interesting when Sherlock is seen as asexual. I’ll give you some of the bullet points, but seriously, check out that post for a more full, coherent analysis.
The show goes out of its way to tell us that Sherlock has never had sex. In season 2, when they’re talking about Irene’s job as a dominatrix, we get this exchange:
Mycroft: “Don’t be alarmed, it’s to do with sex.”
Sherlock: “Sex doesn’t alarm me.”
Mycroft: “How would you know?”
Even in Season 3, when Sherlock starts “dating” Janine, even though she leaves his room without any pants on, even though she then proceeds to join him in the shower offscreen, even though she puts out an article after he betrays her making wild claims about what he made her do while they had sex, the show makes sure this exchange is crystal clear.
Janine: “Just once would have been nice.”
Sherlock: (beat) “I was waiting until we got married.”
Janine: “That was never going to happen!”
Even through all that, they apparently didn’t have sex. Because Sherlock is clearly uncomfortable with it, and doesn’t even actively seek it out. The idea is that he’s a genius and above it all, but someone needs to tell Mofftiss that smart people can’t just turn off their sex drives. But even still, his avoidance of sex while claiming he totally wasn’t avoiding sex resonated with me.
As did the way he even viewed sex and sexual attraction. Many people think that asexual people are just oblivious, and there might be a grain of truth in that. After all, it’s easy to miss something if you literally don’t experience it yourself. But generally, most ace people know plenty about sex, and know the signs of sexual attraction. They can still know and recognize it objectively, even if they can’t fully connect with the feeling. This is especially true in a media culture that uses sex to sell everything under the sun. Ace people, along with everyone else, are told every time they watch anything exactly what is considered sexy, and what a person who’s attracted to another person looks, sounds, and acts like.
Similarly, Sherlock can read these things as well as he can read anything else. In the first episode, he deduces not only that two of the police officers on the scene are having an affair, but exactly what position one of them spent most of the night in by “the state of her knees”. He also has no problem listing off John’s many, many girlfriends when prompted, and has apparently even read through some of the romantic e-mails he sent to those girlfriends. The subject itself doesn’t faze him a bit.
The trouble comes when he is suddenly thrust into that context (no pun intended).
One of the characters, Molly, has a crush on Sherlock that we’re shown from episode 1. It’s unclear throughout the first season if Sherlock really doesn’t know she’s flirting, or if he’s pointedly ignoring her. Given that he’s shown to be both “spectacularly ignorant about some things”, including the emotions of the people around him, and rude and blunt when he needs to be, it really was a toss-up. We finally got our answer, though, in the first episode of season 2. John and Sherlock are throwing a fairly casual Christmas party. Most everyone is wearing jeans and sweaters (or, excuse me, ahem, (British accent) jumpers). Molly shows up looking like this.
Sherlock seems to not notice this, but that’s proven wrong when Sherlock finally joins the conversation by deducing the hell out of Molly. He talks about how she clearly has a new boyfriend, going by her outfit and carefully wrapped present. While there’s definitely some what-the-hell-you-asshole moments in his spiel (he describes her hair and outfit as her “obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts”), his tone, facial expression, and half-ironic use of the word “lurve” make it seem like he’s going for less of a diss track and more of a “Ooo, who’s your new boyfriend? Spill the tea, girl!” sort of thing.
But of course, all of that grinds to a halt when he comes to the conclusion everyone at the party is screaming in their heads and everyone watching is screaming at their screen: of course the guy she’s trying to impress is Sherlock.
As soon as he realizes (and takes a moment to revel in the shame), he apologizes, sincerely. He even kisses her on the cheek. And notably, this really is the last time he ever deduces her like that (he’d done it a few times before). It’s notable because, like far too many shows, Sherlock makes a big stink about the characters “growing” and “changing”, but never follows through. Sherlock learns the lesson of “maybe don’t be such an asshole” at least once per episode, but by the next one, it’s back to good old say-anything Sherlock because if he didn’t say offensive things, where would the humor come from? Thoughtful writing? Don’t be absurd.
And yet, this change sticks. It’s one of the few times Sherlock outright admits he was wrong, and makes an actual change in his behavior as a result. He recognizes that this is one of his blind spots, and it’s making the mistake of recognizing Molly’s attraction that helps him spot Irene’s attraction later on in the same episode and Save The Day (your interpretation may vary).
This rings far more true to me, and I’d say most ace people, than the naive-childlike-innocent trope that’s often pushed on us. Adults and even teenagers are aware of not just what sex is, but some of the nuances of sexual attraction (sexy looks, lingering touches, etc.). What tends to trip up, repel, or even scare many ace people, is applying that in practice to themselves, not the information itself.
So watching Sherlock (seemingly) navigate his feelings for John, a man who’s clearly all about sex, and have those feelings (seemingly) be returned, was amazing to watch. The story I saw, without even realizing it, was a story of an ace person who managed to find romantic love, on their terms, with a non-ace person. Is it any wonder I clung to that story when I was first inching out of the closet?
Watching Sherlock duck and weave effortlessly around ever having sex while still being treated as an equal both in his work and personal life was, I think, a big piece of the key that unlocked my closet door. Or, more accurately, it flipped on the light and showed me I was in a closet in the first place.
Now, as I mentioned, queer headcanons tend to make people upset, even though it admits right in the name that it’s just an idea in your own head that doesn’t affect anyone. But then again, when has “this doesn’t affect you in any way so stop hating me for it” ever gone over well with The Cishets, right? I’m used to trolls on the internet getting disproportionately mad about queer headcanons. You know who I’m not used to seeing react like that?
The actual, professional writers of the show.
Good Lord, Moffat cannot accept that some people think there’s anything queer about his show. We unfortunately don’t have time to go into everything, so I’ll link to the full article here but just show you the relevant bit below:
“But how did Moffat and Gatiss solve the most vexing mystery, Sherlock’s sex life? “There’s no indication in the original stories that he was asexual or gay. He actually says he declines the attention of women because he doesn’t want the distraction. What does that tell you about him? Straightforward deduction. He wouldn’t be living with a man if he thought men were interesting.”
Moffat is not saying that Sherlock, like Austin Powers, misplaced his mojo. “It’s the choice of a monk, not the choice of an asexual. If he was asexual, there would be no tension in that, no fun in that — it’s someone who abstains who’s interesting. There’s no guarantee that he’ll stay that way in the end — maybe he marries Mrs Hudson. I don’t know!”
Aside from his weird Hudsonlock fanfic at the end there, Moffat’s complete buffoonery does unfortunately and accidentally bring up a good point: Far too many people don’t know how to write queer characters unless their queerness is basically their only personality trait. They seem unable to comprehend that we just want fun, awesome, well-rounded characters who are also queer.
And headcanons help prove that point. It’s a bunch of people looking at a character, pointing to them, and saying, “If you had them come out as ace next week I’d completely believe and and love that.” And if Bojack Horseman proves anything, it’s that doing so won’t lose you viewers. Quite the opposite, actually — I had no interest in the show before, and am now desperately trying to catch up.
Headcanons, like fanfic and Rule 63 before it, aren’t tools to try and rip apart canon, but to expand it, to open it up and show its greater potential. Good media criticism means asking “Why?”, but it also means asking “Why not?”.
Because if you don’t expand your horizons, especially as a storyteller, your audience will get bored, and they will leave.
