I remember spending most of my late teens/early 20s feeling rather flummoxed and more than a little annoyed at this all-consuming obsession with sex that everyone around me seemed to revel in, quite loudly, if I may add. Not a lot unlike young Isaac (Tobie Donovan), a high schooler from the very queer, very loved up Heartstopper gang that has been all over everyone’s social media feeds since the second season released on August 3rd, instantly becoming a global fan favourite, just like the first time around. The kids love it, and they’re shouting it from the rooftops of the interwebs, not unlike Nick at the beach last season.
And why wouldn’t they? How many fictional portrayals of queerness have we seen where we get to witness queer joy effortlessly co-existing with the quintessential queer struggle that is usually the sole focus of most LGBTQ+ stories? Watching a bunch of teenagers simply go about their everyday lives, owning their queerness (with obvious hurdles, of course; it’s not all rainbows and sunshine) and most importantly, laughing with and holding each other through their journeys with unbridled empathy—oof, that is quite the treat for sore, jaded hearts, as one of the older gay characters in the show points out in a poignant, wistful scene.
However, just like real world queer culture, the manifestation of queerness in the show is largely rooted in their romantic and sexual lives, with Charlie (Joe Locke) and Nick (Kit Connor) as the infuriatingly sweet boyfriends, Tao (William Gao) and Ellie (Yasmin Finney) exploring their newfound friends-to-lovers spark and Tara (Corinna Brown) and Darcy (Kizzy Edgell) being their lovely chaotic lesbian selves. All the while, a mildly bemused Isaac casts them equal parts endeared and exasperated glances as he makes his steady way through an entire library rack worth of books, most of them delightfully queer titles. He even suggests a bookstore meetcute when Tao is hunting for perfect date ideas, mirroring my own dream date aspirations after years of being on a steady diet of romcoms and cheesy fanfiction. There’s a scene where Isaac wants to know how Charlie realised that he liked Nick like that, which brought up many a conversation I’ve had with my friends about this seemingly obvious, universally known difference between platonic and romantic attraction that continues to evade me still. But when it is finally Isaac’s time to step into the shiny pink spotlight of teenage romance and animated fireworks à la Heartstopper’s other leads, Isaac has no idea what he’s supposed to feel and why his heart just doesn’t seem to be in it. While hiding in a hotel corridor after escaping an overwhelmingly couple-yTM party (been there), Isaac shares a short kiss with his fellow bookworm and potential crush (or so he hopes), James (Bradley Riches), who definitely likes him like that. But Isaac ends up walking away, even more confused and anxious about his feelings (or lack thereof). All I wanted to do was walk right into the screen to give our boy a tight hug and say, I know, babe. It really, really sucks when everyone around you is caught up in their own private bubbles of coupledom due to which friendship ends up taking a backseat, even with the best of intentions. Somehow, Isaac’s closest friends never really seem to ask him about what’s going on with his life, engrossed as they are in their own romances.
Later, Isaac and James aptly meet in the gorgeous bookstore where James works and Isaac confesses that his beloved books never quite taught him what it actually feels like to be “in love”, so perhaps, there’s something wrong with him. James promptly reassures him that that is most certainly not the case and he probably just hasn’t met “the right person” yet. Another conversation that felt like an extract from the lives of everyone I know who is on the asexual-aromantic spectrum (aspec), and the number of times that people have told us the exact same things, often even going as far as to kindly suggest that there might indeed be something wrong with us. A closer look at this scene reveals Heartstopper creator Alice Oseman’s aroace novel Loveless placed just behind the boys in a subtle ode to Oseman’s own ace-queerness.
So when the very next scene sets the premise for Isaac’s queer awakening through an art installation by an aroace creator who introduces this reality to him, my own little aspec heart flooded with relief and mourning all at once. While I was immensely thankful that at least this fictitious 15 year-old would not have to spend his foreseeable future struggling with a largely invisibilized identity crisis, I also felt a piercing grief for the many, many aspec teenagers who do not have access to this vocabulary and struggle to find words for their reality in a world that revolves around sex and romance as the very foundations of human communion. In the final episode, Isaac finds a copy of Ace by Angela Chen in the library, hugs it to his chest with a soft smile and is surrounded by the show’s signature graphic leaves, this time soaring to celebrate his own budding journey of self-exploration and acceptance, a love story of its own.
I’ve spent the better part of the last two days scrolling through reviews of this season, and surprise, surprise, while they all applaud the show’s brilliant queer representation, very few of them mention Isaac and his quiet liberation. Even on the show, Isaac’s story is more or less sidelined, and his own friends simply assume that he’s into James. As Isaac himself says in an outburst that never gets addressed later, his lovestruck queer besties do not find his life interesting unless there is some “romantic drama” going on. Quoting Oseman, “If you don’t have [sex and romance], you feel like you haven’t achieved something that’s really important.” The alienation of aroace folks within the queer community, a reality that has saddened and enraged my aspec friends and me to no end, is thus reflected in this show, as well as a hundred other queer stories that don’t even acknowledge our existence, let alone celebrate it. According to GLAAD’s 2021-22 Where We Are On TV report, out of 637 queer characters, only 2 identified as asexual. Art imitates reality, clearly.
I do have hope, though. Twitter is overflowing with flocks of my overjoyed aspec brethren talking about how they finally feel seen and how Isaac’s journey gives them the courage to embrace theirs. I truly hope that the next season builds on the wonders of platonic love and found family that the show already portrays, and extends that beautiful support to our boy Isaac, to make him feel part of the main gang’s queer euphoria even if he doesn’t adhere to their ideas of romance and sexual attraction. I hope they write a story for Isaac that goes beyond merely his love for books and tells us more about what it’s like to be a queer teenager who doesn’t want to live the same life that his found family does, but has a lot of love of his own to share nonetheless.
I’m 26 now, and I wish I had an ace character to make me feel less alone when I was growing up and didn’t quite know why I felt differently, or never really wanted these “crucial” teenage experiences that most people around me seemed to crave and enjoy. Someone I found in my books, who’d say, hey, you’re okay, there’s a lot of us out here, and all our experiences are valid and wonderful! Representation may not be the end all of queer liberation, but when done honestly, it can be all sorts of life-altering. Isaac is going to be remembered and cherished by many aspec folks, young and old alike, on our own queer journeys that can otherwise be incredibly lonely and confusing when even our own community hasn’t fully taken us in.
Of course, there’s no singular way of being asexual and/or aromantic, and we have an entire constellation of unique stories to share with the world. Stories of joy, grief, friendship, freedom and so much love, because contrary to popular belief, love and intimacy exist infinitely beyond the boundaries of romance and sex. And I hope you’re all ready to witness our lives and loves in their full glory, purple-green hearts blazing.
