Images of Love
Searching through Google Images, I was struck by how indicative what we as a people have been shaped to believe is the “right” image of love, romance, sex, and passion. Type in those words and despite the proliferation of hearts and lips and other generic images of “romance” and up pops photographs of white men and women embracing or kissing or caressing one another. I had to use a combination of words (“black” or “African-American” or “African” etc) to find images of black men and women in those same poses, and of course there was a much much smaller quantity of stock images or photographs of a black man and a black woman in intimate position. Unfortunately, much of what did pop up were the hoochie mama poses found in the defunct KING magazine, which poses another question about black sexuality.
One of the reasons I feel AA romance is ignored or avoided by not only non-black readers, but some black readers as well, is the negative images we hold about black sexuality and black love. We are bombarded frequently with images of Barack and Michelle Obama touching one another, kissing, holding hands, and whatnot, and the mainstream media always approaches their physical manifestations of not only their love, but sexual attraction to one another, with awe, and the black media lionizes these images–yet I find that in both cases, the Obama marriage is de-sexed immediately afterward, by the greater number of family photo-ops. Showing the smiles of the nuclear Obama family makes them “safe” and “comfortable,” because black sexuality–a black man and a black woman openly lusting for one another–is scary.
On one hand, we have the hypersexualized image of black men and women, historically, and in the hip-hop culture. The black woman is the temptress, the jezebel, with curves out to there and loose ways which show that she’s “asking for it.” The black man is the predator, the panther on the prowl, an insatiable beast who is both good in bed, yet cannot control his sexual impulses. Black men and black women double back on this image, buying into it over and over again. When I walk through the mall in the summertime, I marvel at the sight of 14 or 15 yr old white teenage girls in spaghetti strap shirts and extremely short shorts (booty cutters, I call them), who sometimes walk nonchalantly alongside their father. When they pass white teenage guys, the get the once-over, but rarely–perhaps never–are they catcalled or “skeed” at. Put a young black teenage girl in the same outfit, in the same arena, and she’s immediately harassed: her butt is too big, her breasts are jiggling all over the place. I can even place the white teenage girl in a predominantly black setting: more than once I’ve noticed black teenage boys checking the white girl out, yet remaining quiet about it, yet the black girl who walks by after her gets grabbed or hooted at.
Because of this, black women are told their entire lives that they need to be “ladies.” Black women are judged more harshly for their sexuality than white women. Black men are not judged as harshly, but their sexuality is treated more like a novelty: I’ve heard middle-aged white women gush over Tyson Beckford or Denzel Washington (another “safe” fantasy, IMO), yet it wouldn’t be for romance or a relationship, but ~illicit~ and ~naughty~ sex. I find this carries over into the romance genre. One of the reasons I enjoy L.A. Banks’s paranormal series, and her romances written under the Leslie Esdaile name, is because she isn’t afraid to let her characters get down and dirty. The prolific erotica author Zane, received a lot of flak from the black community for her fiction, which is extremely adventurous, because blacks have bought into the notion that our sexuality is something “bad” or “sinful.”
It wasn’t until someone over at Dear Author(?) stated they liked reading Kimani Romances because they reminded them of the Harlequin American Romance line that I realized why I didn’t purchase more of them: they are rather mannered and “sweet.” I won’t claim to have read extensively in the AA romance genre, but what authors I have read (a mixture of the biggies like Donna Hill or Brenda Jackson, and lesser-knowns), there is a bit of hesitancy when it comes to describing the sexual emotions and the sexual situations of the hero and heroine. Sometimes, the books can be downright sweet, which disappoints me because I’m looking for contemporary romances that don’t read like Harlequin American Romance!
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I think this ties back to what I said about black review sites not reviewing e-books (or at least my e-books
). E-books are typically more frank about sexuality and I think that maybe the black sites don’t want to deal with that. I buy a lot of black romances and they do tend to skew towards “sweet.” Presumably that’s what the audience prefers. It’s hard to find a monoracial book with more erotic content. My next book from Loose Id is a paranormal historical and both characters are black. It’s my first monoracial book so it’ll be interesting to see how it does. I suspect that black readers in general prefer sweet romances for all the reasons you’ve stated above. Readers of the IR niche have grown accustomed to the racier books simply because they’re only available consistently as epubs which tend to be more erotic. That doesn’t bode well for my February book, but we’ll see.
Hmmm…I hadn’t thought of mainstream AA romance as “sweet”–but I do see your point. Part of what I see going on these books (and part of what fascinates me as an academic writing about them) is that even the “sweet” romances provide one of the only spaces where you can even have non-toxic, non-abusive, non-violent black (male or female) sexuality. Look at all the press surrounding the Push movie–with those images of black sexuality being so widespread, so much so that many people will only ever think of black sexuality in those terms, the hesitancy of AA romance as it tries to create a safer place for black sexuality doesn’t bother me.
I hadn’t thought of the Kimani lines as being like Harlequin American romances, although admittedly we don’t get the HA romances in the UK, so I don’t know that line very well. Brenda Jackson writes for the Harlequin Desire line as well as Kimani, so I thought some of the Kimani books (particularly the ones with characters with high-flying careers/luxury lifestyles) were maybe a bit like the Desire line. Others feature more everyday people who aren’t so rich, but they tend to be more explicit than the Harlequin Romance line. And then there are some which seem to be about people with more realistic, gritty problems, so they seem to me more like the Harlequin Superromances.
“part of what fascinates me as an academic writing about them”
That sounds interesting. Are you going to be publishing anything soon? And are you the Conseula who’s the last person to have signed up the IASPR forums? Sorry, I’m very nosy and interested in research going on into romance.
Huh. I’m trying to wrap my mind around the Harlequin American/Kimani comparison and I’m not really seeing it. Of the Kimani’s I’ve read, I’ve found the sensuality level to be somewhere in the ballpark of PG-13/R. Depending on author and storyline of course. A bit spicier than say a SuperRomance or American but not quite to the level of say Blaze.
That being said, the situations and language in the Kimani’s I’ve read are nowhere near what one will find in erotica and erotic-romance.
I find Roslyn’s comment very interesting. I was reviewing for one of the bigger sites back when erotic romance started to emerge, and there was definite resistance from readers and reviewers for a while (I was one of the few reviewers open to reading it!) – but eventually that started to change. Certainly the resistance is still there in some corners, but not nearly like in “the old days.” Could the same happen among black readers? Maybe? Over time?
Interesting post. It’s so great to see a conversation about race and romance that I feel like contributing to… I have two observations/questions (I tend to mix the two. So, I apologize ahead of time).
First, I’m not sure I would agree that the Obama family photos necessarily de-sex them. I don’t see it as dichotomous or that one circulating image counteracts the other. I think the images of the President and First Lady together are showing many Americans for the first time an image of a healthy, loving, sexy black relationship. And the images of the family together are showing many Americans for the first time an image of a healthy, loving black family. I think we can have both images circulating at the same time and not take away from either of the images. But I’d love to hear more about why you think this is the case.
Second, how are you defining “sweet?” When I think of a “sweet” romance I’m thinking of a romance novel with no sex, or closed door sex. While I might use that description to describe a couple of Kimani authors, I’m not sure I would place Brenda Jackson or Donna Hill in the “sweet” category. But that could be because I have a different definition of sweet running around in my head. The thing that I would say about African American romance is that at the end of the day it is “romance.” So if you’re looking for gritty and raw sexuality you probably won’t find it because it is not typical of the genre. Period. And just like all of the Black authors who have made arguments in the past about why white readers shouldn’t be afraid of black romance novels because they are just romance novels with a little culture, flavor, etc… Black romance is romance. I’m pretty sure Black writers who are writing erotica or erotic romance get a little bit more raw. But genre fiction is a genre for a reason. When I read Black romances, I don’t sense any more hesitancy to describe sex or sexual emotions that I sense when I read any other romance novels. I do get the same kinds of romance images, tropes and metaphors of sex that are typical of the genre. But I think what it sounds like you’re saying is you expect Black romance to be somehow different in ways that would frankly make them no longer romances. So then I would want to ask about the resistance to these particular kinds of images of black love and sexuality that are just pretty much “normal and regular” images of love and sexuality. Is the resistance because people want to see some kind of pathological hot monkey love and they are just getting two people in love and the everydayness of that love?
I don’t mean “sweet” to wholly define just the sexual content–I would also say the tone is “sweet,” as in the conflict between the hero and heroine isn’t a deep as I would like it to be. It doesn’t mean I don’t want “romance” and wish for erotic romance with black couples (though that would be nice). For example, I gave an A grade to Ann Christopher’s Road to Seduction because it was a really good romance, but I still wanted a bit…more from the protagonists. And the other Kimani Romances I’ve read have been a bit superficial about the characters as well. Perhaps this is my own reading preferences speaking, but I’m drawn to darker, deeper stories, stories about two flawed people falling into love.
To be honest, I feel a bit of the “double consciousness” when I read black romance novels: as though the writers are hyper-aware of needing to present a positive image of black men and women to black readers, while at the same time, remaining “inoffensive” to possible white readers. The characters are ostensibly black, and believe me, I’ve gotten the “you’re a white girl” for most of my life so I don’t believe there is one way to write black people, but I don’t feel these characters are unselfconsciously black. Another example could be Dara Girard’s A Gentleman’s Offer: supposedly taking place amongst black high society, yet it was all very vague and “white”.
I just don’t feel like black writers want to “go there”–revealing black people in all walks of life in all facets–warts and all. There’s a superficial quality that can make me feel disconnected from the books, which I seek to read about people who may not necessarily live the way I do, but do look like me. I don’t want to read a black version of Susan Elizabeth Phillips or a black version of Nora Roberts, and many times (forgive me if I’m talking in circles) I feel as though black romance writers play it safe by using romance tropes, but they don’t make them inherently personal to any type of black experience for fear of doubling back on the notion that black people are “different.”
Re: the Obamas, I stand by my opinion that Michelle and Barack are a bit de-sexed–particularly because of that “double consciousness” I mentioned above. I may be in the minority, but I don’t particularly need to see a positive image of blacks. IMO, all the emphasis on positive images is to impress non-blacks. Yes, I do believe in revising the images we have seen of black Americans, but much of it isn’t organic; it’s too self-conscious of white people watching. Michelle may be put on a pedestal as desirable to Barack, but that image is rarely produced for others to consider her desirable as well. Sure, Laura Bush and past First Ladies haven’t been bastions of sexual attractiveness, but for the media to push Barack and Michelle’s kissing and hugging into the forefront, they rarely push Michelle as an attractive, alluring, sensual black woman the way the media did with Obama (remember the jeans on the airplane incident?).
I understand what you’re saying, I guess where we differ is that where you see it as a problem specific to Black romance novels, I see it as a genre problem in general that has a few specific nuances when it comes to black romance novels. What I mean by that is, just about every romance line I have ever read or heard of has the requirement that the hero and heroine be upstanding, good, positive, likable people. Some lines get around this with the “jerk-alpha-hero-who-is-redeemed-by-love” character, but for the most part positive characters live and die in romance novels. That’s where we find the bulk of them. The genre itself has very few spaces for dark and flawed. That is not to say that we don’t find them there. It is to say that when we do find them, they stand out because they are not the norm. Black romance writers writing in the romance genre are writing to this romance norm. However, and this is where I agree with your point, they are also writing to specific writer guidelines that state that the characters should be positive upstanding people. This has been in the submission guidelines for just about every black line since the 90s. But I don’t think they are there for white readers, but because of the ever pervasive push toward positive images that has been a mission in the community since emancipation. So, while agree with you that they are creating “positive” minimally flawed characters, I would also say it is because of multiple factors, not just a desire to create positive black characters and not offend white people. (Honestly, I’m not sure that many black writers writing today write with a white reader in mind. Maybe writers back in the early 90s wrote with hopes that white readers would embrace their novels and wrote with them in mind. But given the current state, I’m just not sure many people write with a desire to woo white readers. I could be wrong, I haven’t taken a survey or anything like that….)
I’ve read a lot of black romance novels and a lot of white romance novels and I have to say that at the end of the day, there really isn’t a lot of difference between two people falling in love in a romance novel. I’ve also read some urban drama-filled relationship books that could be romance novels if these kinds of characters were allowed to grace romance novels’ happily-ever-after doors. But they aren’t romance novels even though they follow a man and a woman struggle with the in-and-outs of love and in the end they live happily ever after. The sex is usually grittier and raw. The men are usually drug dealers or thugs. The are urban tales of love, but the aren’t romance novels. When I want to read something different from a romance, I pick up something different. I guess this is my long-winded way of saying that the problems you see in black romance are problems of the romance genre.
You mentioned L. A. Banks in the post and I think the way that she gets around a lot of the strict guidelines of the genre is that her paranormal series is not romance. I’ve read all of her romance novels and all of her Vampire Huntress Novels and Crimson Moon Novels, and while the characters in the paranormal series are flawed and dark, the romance characters aren’t very different from the characters that I find in just about any contemporary romance novel. I find that in Black romance novels, just like among black people in general, I can find black folk from all walks of life, just about. Some authors focus on the rich and elite. Some focus on the everyday folk. I wouldn’t say that there is some monolithic blackness being represented in black romance novels. I’ve seen too many different kinds of blackness represented to say that. I get a different kind of flavor reading Adrianne Byrd than I get reading Ann Christopher than I get reading A. C. Arthur or Brenda Jackson.
I guess for me, the issue is not so much that black writers are playing it safe or navigating double consciousness, the issue is that they are writing in a genre that has certain genre expectations. To write outside of the genre guidelines and expectations would be the equivalent of a black mystery writer deciding to stray from the guidelines of that genre in order to stand out in some way (by not having us find out who-done-it at the end or something like that.) That book would no longer be a mystery novel, right? So, why are we expecting black romance writers to write something other than romance?
Okay, sorry to get all long-winded on your blog. But I feel invested in this discussion and I’m really interested in the exchange. LOL.
But I promise, not to ramble on your blog anymore. If I feel the need to say more, I’ll just write a blog post. Thanks for writing a post that sparked an interest in me. It’s been a minute since that’s happened for me in blogland…
I think we’re somewhat speaking at cross-purposes. I don’t intend to say that what I desire from black romance will push black romance writers out of the genre. What I mean is that these characters rarely feel “black” to me–whether they be upper class, lower class, middle class, working class, DJs, teachers, footballers, dog-walkers, millionaires, et al. Yes, we are all of different shades, backgrounds and life experiences, and black Americans are not the “Other,” but there are certain commonalities within the black American culture. Race and racism does not book-end our lives, but it has shaped our culture, and a black CEO is not going to have the same outlook on life as a white CEO, nor will a black teacher in the middle of New York City have the same experience as her white counterpart, or even her Asian or Hispanic counterpart. It sounds harsh, but black characters in romance can read pretty sanitized, scrubbed clean of anything that screams too “black” (whatever that means), in their portrayal.
The romance genre does have its tropes, but I feel that they can and should be played with, morphed, and modified to fit non-WASP norms, rather than the characters of color and ethnic backgrounds stuffed into the tropes which are shaped largely by traditional white (“Anglo-Saxon”) American norms. The most glaring example of this I can think of is the The Princess and the Frog–rather than Disney culling from the rich African traditional tales, be they Afro-American, Afro-Latin, etc in origin, for a fairy tale, they take a traditional European tale and put black characters into it. Even as enjoyable as Mulan and Pocahontas were, they were “fairy tales” based on historical events rather than the writers browsing through Powhatan tales or Chinese folklore. I just feel that to take the tropes inherent to the romance genre at face value once more makes the European-American roots the “norm.” As much as street lit is deplored and though I do agree that it glorifies the thug life, I can see that black readers may flock to it because its narrative values speak directly to them, as opposed to reading a book with a boss and his lovelorn secretary, who happen to be black, but whose basic narrative value would be no different than if the characters were white.
Okay, I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on these because I do feel that writers can write inside of any genre and have their characters still be true to their race, ethnicity and culture whether that genre be mystery, science fiction or even romance. And our experiences reading black romances clearly have been totally different. The reason I read so many black romance novels is because the characters “read” very black to me. They “read” black, but I still get to experience the escape that I crave when I read a romance. But this blog post has got me thinking about the whole “what is black and what is black enough” question. In a lot of ways it is a throwback to the Black Arts and Black Power Movements. But some times you need the throwback questions. This conversation almost has me feeling like blogging again…almost. Thanks, Angela!
I may be in the minority, but I don’t particularly need to see a positive image of blacks. IMO, all the emphasis on positive images is to impress non-blacks.
I have to disagree, I think non-blacks do need to see positive images of blacks, to counter-balance the many negative images of us that are out there.
Also, I think the more black role models that we can point to, the better.
Good discussion. Angela, unfortunately I think a lot of people don’t realize that all AAs aren’t from the hood or lived the life of what goes on in the hood. The life shown in street lit is not everyone’s reality. Most of my friends can relate more to the life shown in AA romance novels than in the street lit genre. Now don’t get me wrong, as an avid reader, I love reading not only contemporary romance, but urban or street lit or mysteries, etc. I like to be taken out of my reality when I read some books.
For me, the AA romance books are true to life and that’s why I love reading them.
Sheila, I have to agree with you. I am a 36 year old woman from East Orange, NJ and although I come from an urban setting, what I saw as romance growing up and what I have now is more along the line of AA romance. I too am an avid reader and read all genre’s so I can appreciate erotica, urban lit, chick lit, paranormal, etc. I think if you pick up a romance, knowing it is a romance novel you will not be disappointed. There are so many genres to write under that saying AA romance is flawed for what a reader wants is wrong. Finding the right genre for what you want is the key.
I also think that postive role models in life or books is needed. I know that I do not want my daughter thinking that she can not have happy ever after, it does happen and it does exist. Drama filled romance is not the norm for all AA’s.
Love this post. Can’t believe I’m just discovering this blog. I find black women en masse or in general tend to be somewhat conservative–thus the sweetness of Kimani. The flip side is the street lit relationship drama. There might be foul language, drugs, and thugs, but check it out–it tends to run to the moralistic or conservative as far as the underlying message. Gospel themes are always popular in black literature, no matter how naughty the churchified folk may be.
I think Roslyn is right on about e-books and their tendency for more sexually raw, IR, or paranormal content isn’t what suits the average black romance reader.
I think books for specialized markets can be maintained–thus the street lit, the gospel stuff and even the sweeter conservative black woman romance–but to cross over into mainstream there needs to be an author who writes something that appeals to most of them across the board and is thus adopted as universal. Not sure what she’ll write–but it would have to be absolutely awesome.
The conservative thing is actually funny–L.A. Banks writes some of the most erotic love scenes in her books and readers beg for more, and ZANE is the go-to author for black erotica. But perhaps the issue is that the romance genre skews older and more middle-class than sf/f (L.A. Banks) or erotica (Zane)?
When I look at what black authors have crossed over, their subject matter is either drama-filled (Eric Jerome Dickey, Terry MacMillan, Kimberla Lawson Roby, et al) -or downtrodden, “Precious” type stuff (Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, etc).
I’m waiting as well for that black writer who can cross over. But how would she? Where would she be published?
Blacks eat up hot IR, even when paranormal and in e-book format no less, I hear. There is obviously a market out there for hot. Zane is as nasty as hell (and I love her) and she sold. Why not a passel of copycats as usual? That’s what I’m wondering. They give us soap opera, but are light on the nasty.
I think a problem is that publishing over thinks what blacks are supposed to like and try hard to dish that up with the object of sales and getting paid. That’s what keeps their paychecks coming, after all.
I think a breakout black author would be published by a mainstream publisher with a lot of hype. I see her as writing mainstream romance–don’t know if traditional romance readers can go with black characters for their usual romance fix–especially a black hero.
I see an edgy, up to the minute, popular premise, something really fresh with appealing writing. Such as Time Traveler’s Wife, but even more readable and accessible. For her to break out of the black niche, it would have to be out of the box–not downtrodden soap opera. Definitely with a diverse cast racially. Something like that to kick her to the top and she’s able to keep producing consistently and can ease into more romantic themes too.
Oh Monica, I would ADORE a black Time Traveler’s Wife — I’m not going to write it, but I would eat that right up. But you’ve touched on something I’ve been longing for for awhile now. Something different, something that appeals, but also doesn’t cater to the same ole same ole. I have this same problem with rap. It’s like, “Really? Another song about money and hos?” I mean I love working out to rap music, but I’ve been longing for somebody different (I mean other than Kanye) for awhile now. And when I say different, I mean appealing beats along with awesome content. If I hear one more intelligent-but-boring rap song, I just might scream. Why can’t we have both?
As for the sexuality issue, it’s funny, b/c I never really think about it for my stories. I love a hot sex scene, but I’m more concerned with the plot and the writing, which is why a lot of erotica and street lit frustrates me. If the writing is good, I don’t care how the sex is, I’m there.
As for IRL sexuality, I would suggest that black woman own their sexuality and be as happy with it as they can w/o worrying what others think of them. Though, I know that easier said than done. Nowanddays I look at pictures of myself from high school and college and think, “Oh why, oh why didn’t I wear more miniskirts?” Next lifetime.
Keep up the good work! Look forward to reading more from you in the future. I think it will be also nice if you add “send to email” tool so people can forward the articles to their friends easily.