Content warning: this article mentions fictional depictions of rape, and harmful stereotypes about rape victim-survivors.
It’s no secret that I’m a big fan of lesfic. I spent a lot of time – and more money than I’m prepared to admit – on lesbian books. It doesn’t matter what’s going on in my life; every care melts away when I open a lesbian romance novel. But there’s a dark side to the genre. We need to talk about ‘dubcon’.
For those of you living in blissful ignorance, ‘dubcon’ means dubious consent. The term comes from fanfiction writers looking to explore the “gray area” between rape and consensual sex. And this trope has spread from the corners of an online subculture to the pages of published novels.
On Goodreads, there’s a list of more than 1,000 ‘dubcon’ books. Here are some of the most popular titles. There’s Willing Victim, a “rape role-play” story which echoes the worst sort of victim-blaming; Corrupt Idol, a book that glamourizes a man raping his younger step-sister; The Wife Breaker, about a man who degrades women for the pleasure of their abusive cartel husbands. Just reading these blurbs makes me want to throw my laptop out the window. But you get the idea.
‘Dubcon’ romanticizes exploitation, abuse, and even sexual assault. Most of these books are about straight characters. But there’s a growing number of lesbian ‘dubcon’ titles too. And our community needs to address this problem.
I first found out about ‘dubcon’ in a Facebook group for lesfic readers. Mostly it’s a wholesome space where women swap book recommendations, talk about the stories we’ve enjoyed, and let each other know about lesbian books in Kindle or Audible sales. Every year, Jae – one of the lesfic community’s most popular authors – hosts a reading challenge. And lots of us are doing her Sapphic Book Bingo. Categories include books with a butch character, books by new authors, and “a book outside your comfort zone.”
To be clear, Jae has in no way endorsed ‘dubcon.’ Her characters treat each other with love and respect, and consent is always firmly established in their sex scenes. You should definitely read Jae’s work, if you haven’t already. And “outside your comfort zone” could mean a detective novel, if that’s not your usual thing, or an author you’d previously written off. But some women interpreted it as ‘dubcon’ and shared recommendations.
Not realizing what ‘dubcon’ meant, I bought one of the suggested books: Captive in the Underworld, by Lianyu Tan. I chose this book for two reasons. 1) Greek mythology has always appealed to me, and it’s a lesbian retelling of Persephone becoming Queen of the Underworld. 2) I want to support the work of other women of color, because we’re underrepresented in pretty much every genre – including lesfic.
Tan’s writing is beautiful, and pulled me into the story. But then – a third of the way into her novel – came a graphic rape scene. As a survivor myself, it was horrific to read. And upsetting to find rape being framed as romance.
‘Dubcon’ means dubious consent. But there was nothing dubious about Persephone’s lack of consent – either to Hades, or the reader. Being touched by Hades disgusts her. And when Hades assaults her, Persephone dissociates – a common survival strategy for enduring sexual assault.
The whole thing is messed up. Especially since Persephone falls in love with Hades. And all of the abuse – including torture – is reframed as character building. Reading this book left me wanting to scrub my Kindle with bleach. And it raised a lot of questions.
Why are lesbian writers romanticizing abuse? And why on earth are we importing the very worst of straight culture into our stories? When the lesfic genre began, back in the 1970s, writers took pride in modeling relationships free from domination and control; in showing women that they could and should expect to be treated with dignity by our romantic partners. Half a century later and it feels like we’re going backwards.
We already live in a world where a third of all women will experience violence in her lifetime. Rape and domestic abuse have blighted countless lives. Why would any writer fetishize that grim reality?
It’s 2022. Readers are no longer so starved for lesbian representation that we must accept every crumb, regardless of its taste. Every year – thanks to brilliant publishers such as Ylva and Bold Strokes, and the hard work of authors – there are more lesbian books. And we don’t have to put up with abuse masquerading as romance.
