I knew Our Dreams at Dusk: Shimanami Tasogare would be the series that got me back into manga as soon as I saw a cover image. The fourth volume features two women in wedding dresses, clearly getting married to each other. There were no pretenses; it wasn’t open to interpretation. This was a queer manga and I loved that the cover didn’t hide it.
“Purity” is most commonly used as a shorthand for chastity or sexlessness, and generally refers to stories that don’t engage with sex at all. Though Yamada’s sincerity and innocence is part of Kase-san‘s appeal, the way it engages with the girls’ sexuality is just as important. Sex does exist in Kase-san, and while the series focuses primarily on Kase and Yamada’s emotional relationship, it also explores their physical relationship and sexual attraction to each other from the very first chapter.
Queerness opened up a new world, one in which male and female were no longer black-and-white concepts. Gender became this beautiful shade of gray that I didn’t want nor need to be boxed into. The gateway for this freedom was in the queer bodies of Thomas.
Inevitably, when I do any kind of public talk about Yuri or LGBTQ comics, someone will express dissatisfaction at mild school life romances or I’ll be asked for recommendations for manga about “real” lesbians. As we move through the 100th anniversary of the Yuri genre, it seems time to address this issue—not once and for all, as the genre is changing as rapidly as the languages that describe it, but for now.
Media presents a certain set of common tropes that informs much of our idea about love and what it “should” look like. Bloom Into You interrogates these tropes, making it a story that provides important queer representation in fiction while also talking about representation in fiction within the story itself.
The last few years have seen a boom in the English-language yuri market, with more and more manga about queer romance between women making it to shelves. But with all these choices, where does a curious reader start?
Kingdom Hearts is mostly known for two key reasons: the increasingly convoluted mess of a timeline, and the LGBTQ-skewing elements of the characters and their relationships. Kingdom Hearts is really gay, and the fans definitely seem to know it.
Accepting that you’re not what’s considered “normal” by society is never easy. For me, it was accepting myself as a man romantically attracted to other men. Surrounded by a culture hostile to anybody that didn’t fit the cishet norm, I discovered myself through something very unlikely: otoge, or otome games.
Sound! Euphonium drew an audience of sapphic women due to the heavily implied romantic relationship between its two leads, but the show ultimately failed to deliver. Years later, however, the spin-off film Liz and the Blue Bird, centered around side characters Nozomi and Mizore, provides audiences with the explicit queer representation many Euphonium viewers found themselves lacking.
Osamu Tezuka is considered one of the most influential artists in the manga and comic industry. But who inspired Tezuka? It’s common knowledge that he was a huge Walt Disney fan, but there’s an influence on Tezuka that isn’t as well known: the Takarazuka Revue.
What truly sold me on Scum’s Wish was that it was a romance that didn’t play by the rules. The series promises sex drama instead of sex comedy, a romance where people are flawed, ugly, disappointing creatures rather than glossy cartoon stereotypes.
Soubi Yamamoto is a wunderkind who could fit right in as an anime protagonist. Premiering as a director at just 20 years old, Yamamoto hit the ground running and hasn’t let up, becoming well-loved among fans of indie BL for her This Boy… series of OVAs.
Rutaro Hina, 21, is a newcomer manga artist from Tokyo whose recent work focuses on trans issues in Japan. This interview is in both English and Japanese. このインタビューは英語、日本語両方でご覧になれます。
The Future Diary comes with a laundry list of caveats, especially regarding how it depicts women, LGBTQ+ characters, and sexual violence… but there’s just something about its over-the-top camp aesthetic and murderous heroine that really appeals to me.
Seldom is gay manga as wholesome as Go For It, Nakamura!, but this eleven-chapter manga is as soft and sweet as it gets. The comical hijinks and silly conflicts resemble the older romances of the ‘90s anime scene, becoming a window into what could have been if LGBTQIA entertainment had become more mainstream way earlier.
No video game has ever hit me quite as hard as Persona 4 did. From Chie Satonaka’s very first moment on-screen, I related to everything about her.
Ladykiller in a Bind struck me on a very personal level. I’m a trans woman who is butch enough and scared enough that, while I am out in every other part of my life, I am not out at my workplace. Even coming out to my friends took incredible effort.
This musical, magical, swashbuckling school story comes together in an ending that packs a wonderfully metatextual and rebellious punch, serving as a commentary on—and rejection of—the “Bury Your Gays” trope and the historical convention of sad endings for queer characters.
While I may reject the concept of wedding dresses both as a feminist and an individual, as a transgender woman I feel differently. Within the form of that gown I see the ideal womanhood of my sister, my mother, and my grandmother that I’ve been denied since my birth. It’s a womanhood I desperately wish to be a part of.
Back when I could barely read and was living in the skin of my anime heroes, sexist tropes in anime never really crossed my mind. It was possibly that childish thinking that convinced me Dragon Ball was made for me.
