I left off my last blog post in this series with the question of subtlety in identifying queer characters in fiction. How subtle is too subtle? And how does one show queer identity in a casual but identifiable manner?

It is in this debate that the question of labels surfaces. A label is about the most obvious way possible to plant a flag in your book and say, "THIS CHARACTER IS QUEER!" While not required for education-intending or otherwise obvious representation, it is very common there, as well as in shorter forms of fiction where space is limited and more things need to be told, not shown. The English-speaking queer community has a plethora of labels for different identities: sexual orientations, gender experiences, romantic attractions, and every spectrum or combination thereof. This nuance is, for the most part, something to be celebrated.

From a global and historical perspective, it is also very rare.

Labels are a lot more niche in the grand scheme of things than many people who use them realize. For one, I specified "English-speaking" for a reason—many languages do not have these words, or all the same nuance captured in them. Many languages have their own labels with different nuances that may be broader, narrower, or culturally embedded in a way that's hard to explain to a non-native speaker, or anyone unfamiliar with the culture and its worldview. Many countries oppress queer people so heavily, the language there hasn't even had a chance to develop yet.

Secondly, most English queer-identity labels are a relatively new phenomenon on a historical timescale. Those that did exist in ancient times were often derogatory, or have become so over time. In many parts of the world, many identities simply weren't recognized in the past, or didn't make it into historical records, for reasons as varied as the circumstances queer humans find themselves in today. Colonialism has wiped out historical understandings of identity in many cultures (particularly those that used to be more inclusive than they are today), while evolution of understanding on what is appropriate and what is a slur has taken others.

And thirdly, this isn't just a Contemporary or Historical Fiction problem. Almost any speculative fiction writer can attest to the difficulty of wrangling our-world or anachronistic language in their books, and queer labels are no exception.

There are two major approaches to this. If you're writing spec fic like Sci-Fi or Fantasy (SFF), you have the option to make your own labels. However, this is a complex process, and runs the risk of transposing a lot of our-world bias and bluntness onto a fictional world. The alternative is to write without labels at all. This can be a good thing for many reasons. In contemporary or historical settings where labels are not prevalent, it's just realistic. It can help the author (and readers) steer clear of the boxes our minds put a character in—usually subconsciously—the moment we apply a label to them. This in turn leaves room for nuanced identities, questioning identities, identities that labels have never really done justice to, and identities just a little off from the "norm," all of which need representation.

There's also the question of the need for labels, or lack thereof, in inclusive SFF worlds. I've met many SFF authors who are of the mind that a truly inclusive society won't feel the need to label queer identities at all. There is merit to this. And in any context, time, or place, non-labeling allows queer characters (in Fantasy worlds or otherwise) to simply exist, as humans, without boxes, and concern themselves with more important things. Or, y'know, with the struggles that come with their identity, if someone's writing ownvoices. Non-labeling spans the whole spectrum of this.

So the question, then, becomes the one that this post is titled after: How do you show queer identity in a book without using labels?

Read on!

1. Relationships. I put this one first because it's the first thing most people's minds jump to. The most obvious possible flag for a gay character is who they marry, date, or (especially for bisexual identities) have dated before. This makes it a very clear marker! It's also very efficient, requiring only one mention to establish identity in some cases. The downside is, it's also inapplicable to a large swath of the queer community. It's not useful for asexual characters, bisexual ones who haven't dated much, gay ones who've only dated as society dictates, trans and generally genderqueer identities, anyone who hasn't dated much or at all, anyone who hides their backstory and/or doesn't disclose personal details, or books where romance is not a relevant topic of conversation that can come up organically. In short, it's very easy to use for a specific subset of queer characters and books, and kind of useless everywhere else.

2. Description of romantic experience. This one catches a few more of the situations above. Giving more detail on a character's experience of past or present relationships can open up a window for ace or trans characters in particular, as well as bisexual ones in some contexts. You can elaborate on the character's feelings (or lack thereof) towards a partner, any relationship conflicts that arose, how the relationship helped the character figure out their sexual or gender identity, and more.

3. Attractions. Most (though not all) of the human population experiences sexual and/or romantic attraction towards other human beings. Some like to talk about it. A character can note someone who's hot, either in POV, or as a passing mention. You can also show them trying (subconsciously or otherwise) to flirt and/or catch the attention of someone they find attractive. Characters can mention "types" or preferences in partners. The downsides? Aesthetic attraction exists, any of these behaviors can be faked for camouflage or personal gain, and you don't need to be attracted to someone to identify them as conventionally attractive.

4. Sex jokes. This is actually kind of an easy one for asexual characters, when taken to either extreme. Some sex-repulsed aces will respond negatively to these jokes, and this can be shown in subtle or overt ways. Other aces can (and will) use their de facto immunity to the content of the jokes as armor in their weaponization of innuendos against others. With a more delicate hand, jokes can be used to reveal things about trans identities, as well as many others. Downsides include PG limitations, author comfort level with writing this kind of content into their books, and needing a cast of characters who will actually engage in this kind of banter.

5. Responses to flirtation. This is different from the initiation of flirting mentioned above. If your character gets hit on or approached in a flirtatious manner, how do they respond? This situation is moderated by a number of factors. Where the flirtation takes place, how openly queer (or any) flirtation can occur in a society, knowledge of subtler codes between closeted queers, and how practiced your character is at faking straightness (if required) are just a few of these considerations, all of which can become queer flags if used with tact. Binary-trans characters, likewise, can gauge how well they do or don't pass based on who's approaching them, regardless of how accepting a society is.

6. Expectations of partnership. This is a huge one in settings (contemporary, historical, or non-inclusive spec fic) where heterosexuality is still enforced as a norm. Your character may live in a society that expects them to marry straight. They may have family pressing them for marriage and/or kids. It's safe to say that every single queer identity is going to chafe against such expectations somehow. Even those capable of flying under the radar—like bi or ace characters in straight-passing relationships—will at least recognize this as a limitation on their lives, and will probably be thankful for the invisibility their identity and/or present relationship provides them. If you are writing an inclusive SFF world, on the other hand, this point will not work for you. True inclusivity means no assumptions, and no assumptions implies no expectations. No expectations, no problem.

7. Consideration of children. Children are a common social expectation, topic of conversation, and general consideration among human adults. Adoption is also a long, intense, and emotionally fraught process that takes years of planning. Kids are a more uncommon topic to bring up in a book, but if your characters are in their mid-20s to mid-30s in particular, people all around them will be pairing off and having children. There are opportunities to leverage that if your character's feelings or goals around progeny are in any way linked to their queer identity. If they are cis, straight-passing, and want kids, meanwhile, or are any identity and don't want kids in a world that doesn't care, this won't work for you.

8. Response to gender norms. Moving out of relationship territory and associated topics, let's talk about gender! While implicated in all points above, gender generally requires its own flags separate from sexuality—especially in inclusive SFF settings where the two are not conflated. Trans and genderqueer characters will feel any gender norms in a way cis characters can go their whole lives hardly thinking about. Norms can include appearance and clothing, hobbies and activities, professions, skills expectations, invitation to single-gender spaces, and more. This does not need to be negative. After all, most of the human population is cis. You can have an inclusive world that still has norms, so long as trans and genderqueer characters have the option to use and/or break norms to find their place in society.

Both gender dysphoria and gender euphoria upon being treated a certain way or faced with certain social norms can be used in a book. Be careful, though: This can very quickly get into ownvoices territory, as friction with gender norms requires there to... actually be gender norms, which often (though again, not always) implies non-inclusive spaces. Other downsides include the fact that most gender norms in a non-inclusive society don't suit all cis people, either, so it's not just queer characters who will struggle with them. In a label-free book, this is a potential source of confusion to be aware of.

9. Relationship to body. This is also closely connected to many points above, and can be woven through any of them. A trans or genderqueer character's relationship to their body does not have to be negative. Many celebrate theirs, or don't care, or have truces that allow them to make peace with dissonance when or where it occurs. Many factors go into this. Clothing is a huge element of gender presentation, as are hair, jewelry, accessories, and most forms of body decoration. Characters may deliberately play with gender norms, or deliberately align with them to be perceived a certain way. Dysphoria is very touchy territory if you are not yourself trans, but gender euphoria is much easier: just a warm little glow at gender-affirming things, whatever form they come in.

Note that a lot (though not all) of these things will remain relevant in an inclusive world. Gender is an experience, and one that is more than socially constructed. I'll repeat that real quick: Gender is not just a social construct. This is a common pitfall I notice even queer writers falling into. While the most accepting, structurally trans-friendly society imaginable will indeed take a massive burden off trans and genderqueer characters, and allow many to live their lives struggle-free, it will not solve all problems for all of them. This is especially the case for any binary or non-binary trans characters who experience dissonance with their bodies. Write these characters accordingly.

10. Habits and rituals. This point encompasses a few things within the trans and genderqueer umbrella. If a trans character has medically transitioned, HRT is a lifelong process that requires weekly (or at most biweekly) upkeep. Genderfluid characters might have visual cues to tell people how they identify that day. Other characters may have grooming or dressing habits that correspond to their identity, and can be shown to indicate that identity's existence without giving it a name.

11. Appearance. If your world has gender norms relating to appearance, a character who plays with those can flag their own identity to queer readers. Appearance is also often used within the queer community to identify one another using pre-established cues and codes of. However, BE CAREFUL WITH THIS ONE. Stereotypes around appearance are some of the most common and insidious in media representation of queer identities. It's often used as a shorthand for conveying identity, with less-than-ideal results. Harmful stereotypes, like the masculinization of trans women, also revolve around appearance. It can be used to great effect, especially in contemporary and historical settings, but use it with research and care.

12. Meeting other people like them. The gaydar is a thing, and queers tend to travel in packs. Like many minority identities, there's often a sense of kinship and mutual identifiability between queer individuals, which is another thing that I suspect would persist regardless of the inclusivity of the world in question. They can spot each other in a crowd based on very subtle cues in behavior, appearance, interaction, or sometimes just a really good hunch. This can be leveraged in a book to show your character's identity as contextualized against someone else. They might spot a more or less obviously queer character and think, they're like me. Multiple layers of coding can make this a very subtle way of showing identity, but it can be a great touch of authenticity either way!