Boys’ Love, Transmedia Storytelling, and LGBT Awareness in Contemporary Japan

Abstract

With the recent “LGBT Boom,” the media coverage of individuals, activism, the news, and films and dramas related to LGBT people is increasing in Japan. There are several hit movies and TV dramas about so-called LGBT people, where male-male romantic relationships are often depicted, and some are based on Boys’ Love manga (BL). BL is a distinct genre involving the intense descriptions of male-male intimate relations, where both authors and readers are predominantly heterosexual ciswomen. With the market success of these films and TV dramas, BL representations are becoming available to large audiences and are sometimes regarded as a source for the public to learn about LGBT issues, although many authors acknowledge that the representations in BL do not necessarily reflect the actuality of gay people. Some scholars and gay commentators have claimed that the dissemination of unrealistic descriptions by heterosexual female writers is discriminative, which would further marginalize and rhetorically appropriate sexual minorities. This chapter analyzes how BL is located in Japanese society amid the rise of LGBT awareness. It examines the representations of same-sex relationships in BL manga, the recent growth of the genre into forms of transmedia storytelling, and the debates on the representations of same-sex relations. Drawing on these analyses, I will argue that BL transmedia storytelling is a valuable space for creators from diverse media to collaboratively explore new forms of narratives and interpretations; but it could simultaneously disseminate distorted representations of same-sex relationships if they failed to adequately understand the nature of BL.

1 Introduction

With the recent “LGBT Boom,” fueled by the rise of the global LGBTQ+ movement, the media coverage of individuals, activism, the news, and films and dramas related to LGBT people is increasing in Japan (Fotache 2019). There are several hit movies and TV dramas about so-called LGBT people, where male-male romantic relationships are often depicted, and some are based on Boys’ Love manga (BL). BL is a distinctive genre within comics for female readers, highlighting male-male intimate relations. BL is unique in that both authors and readers are predominantly heterosexual ciswomen. It has acquired a wide readership across national borders and has been taken up in forms of transmedia storytelling such as live-action movies and TV dramas. With the market success of these films and TV dramas, BL or “BL-ish” representations are becoming available to large audiences (Hori and Mori 2020, p. 72). They are sometimes regarded as one of the sources for the public to learn about LGBT people and issues, even though many authors acknowledge that the representations in BL do not necessarily reflect the reality of same-sex attracted people.

BL originated in two forerunners, boys’ romantic manga (BRM) and Yaoi fanfiction. BRM that emerged in the 1970s, Yaoi in the 1980s, and BL in the 1990s have all invited scholarly analyses and discussions from diverse viewpoints and theoretical frames including feminist psychoanalysis, queer studies, and fan studies. Bold representations of male-male intimate relations in boys’ romantic/Yaoi/BL manga have been considered a sort of “counter-discourse” against patriarchy, which has the potential to liberate female readers from the suppressive gender structure. Some scholars and gay commentators, on the other hand, have claimed that the dissemination of unrealistic descriptions of male-male relations by heterosexual cisfemale writers is discriminative, which would further marginalize and rhetorically appropriate sexual minorities.

According to Attitudes toward Sexual Minorities in Japan: Report of 2015 National Survey (2016), more than 90% of the respondents believed that there is not one single homosexual person around them. It suggests that most Japanese people see and acquire knowledge about LGBT people not in real life but through media. The respondents are most likely to encounter the images and information about same-sex relations on TV—following news and educational programs (74%) and variety shows (50%); 41.3% of the respondents answered that they saw same-sex relations in films and TV dramas. In comparison, 8.0% saw them in women’s manga and 5.8% in men’s manga. Although many more see and learn about same-sex relations in dramas and films than in manga, research on the representations in BL and BL-ish movies and dramas has not been carried out to any great extent yet.

This chapter analyzes how BL is located in Japanese society amid the rise of LGBT awareness. It examines the representations of same-sex relationships in BRM, Yaoi, and BL manga, following the recent growth of the genre into a form of transmedia storytelling that has attracted a much wider audience, and has generated debates on the representations of same-sex relations in BL and transmedia storytelling. Drawing on these analyses, the chapter argues that BL and BL-ish transmedia storytelling is a valuable space for creators from diverse media to collaboratively explore new forms of narratives and interpretations; however, these sources could simultaneously disseminate distorted representations of same-sex relationships if they failed to adequately understand and scrutinize the nature of BL.

2 BRM/Yaoi/BL as a Counter-Discourse

Feminist scholars have used psychoanalyses in their studies on why female readers are attracted to BRM/Yaoi/BL. Chizuko Ueno (1998 [2015]) argues, based on her analyses of early BRM, that male-male relations are a rhetorical device that helps objectify male bodies and sexuality and, furthermore, contest gender politics. It allows female readers to watch sexual contacts—often violent ones, including rape—from a safe vantage point without real or imaginary pains. Ueno also identifies misogyny enclosed in BL manga. Women are often absent or described derogatorily as competitors who interfere with the male couple alleging legitimacy of heteronormativity and their reproductive ability. While they hate these female rivals, readers strip off their women’s identity and instead identify themselves with effeminate beautiful male protagonists. Ueno further claims that the effeminate beautiful boys are neither male nor female but are the third gender ideal self, particularly for readers who do not want to be contaminated by any “detestable genders” (p. 247). The flipped gaze/gazed relations and the third gender ideal identity uncover and invalidate the patriarchal structures and potentially liberate readers from gendered suppressions. Comparing BL manga with porn where women’s bodies are objectified, Akiko Hori (2020) argues that more equal power relations are found in BL that would, to a certain extent, prevent the objectification of men’s bodies. Readers appreciate the more equal power relations in male-male couples, which resonates with the analysis of Ueno and a comment by Fumi Yoshinaga (2013), a famous BL manga writer, who states that female readers long for the equal relationships described in BL manga that cannot be achieved in heterosexual relations.

On the other hand, some critics argue that homophobia is implied in many BRM/Yaoi/BL narratives—especially in early creations—in the frequent depictions of tragic endings with forced separations, fatal diseases, and deaths. It is questionable, however, whether the writers themselves recognize it would spread the impression that same-sex relations cannot last long or they can never become happy in the end, which could be internalized by gay readers themselves (Maekawa 2020). Another sort of homophobia and heteronormativity is observed in prevalent descriptions in BL. One of the male protagonists denies that he is gay and is totally perplexed to find him attracted to a man in front of him. It is a rhetorical device that would underscore how special their relationship is, implying that the person in front of him is the only “exception” he loves regardless of his sexual orientation. However, even if it were just a rhetorical device that helps emphasize how special their relationship is, when such descriptions have been repeated, Naoya Maekawa and Akiko Mizoguchi (2015) argue that it can replicate and underpin heteronormativity that possibly marginalizes same-sex attracted readers.

Lately, scholars have focused on more positive aspects of BL manga, as Junko Kaneda (2007) observes. Yukari Fujimoto (2015) claims that BL can create an alternative space that has allowed readers to flee from patriarchal gender structures and “play with” gender. Mizoguchi (2015) distinguishes some BL manga that more likely incorporates recent social changes and calls them “Transformative BL.” Unlike traditional “Fantasy BL,”¹ in which readers enjoy unrealistic characters and episodes, “Transformative BL” has opened a new horizon where the creators refrain from homophobic depictions and challenge existing gender norms, explore queerness, and even foresee newly emerging alternative sexuality and shifting social climates.² The following sections will be devoted to a chronology and analyses of the development of BRM/Yaoi/BL and transmedia storytelling, focusing on several critical works.

3 The “Birth” of BRM in the 1970s and 1980s

Manga for an adolescent and young adult female readership traditionally consisted of stories with female protagonists with the occasional appearance of cross-dressed handsome women in pieces such as The Rose of Versailles (1972–1973). However, the advent of BRM marked a considerable gender twist and fluidity. In the mid-1970s, a new sort of manga appeared, highlighting intimate relationships between beautiful boys. Thomas no Shinzo (The Heart of Thomas, 1974: Thomas) by Moto Hagio, and Kaze to Ki no Uta (The Song of the Wind and Trees, 1976–1984: Kaze) by Keiko Takemiya were two of the significant creations written at the dawn of BRM. Both narrate romantic relationships between effeminate beautiful boys in European boarding schools. Thomas is a mystery set in a mid-twentieth-century German gymnasium. In the beginning, Thomas commits suicide, leaving a suicide note to Julusmole (Juli), the protagonist of the story; seeking out why Thomas died is the central theme of this intricate narrative. As the story unfolds, readers realize that although Juli is the best student and loved by his classmates and teachers, he has built an emotional wall around himself because of his “sin,” that is, he was raped by an older male student in the past. Although no one knows what happened to Juli, Thomas, who admires him, senses that Juli believes he is not entitled to anyone’s love because he has somehow sinned. Knowing that Juli is mentally a living corpse, Thomas chooses to sacrifice his own life to save Juli, to let him recognize that he deserves love: the death of Thomas would prove that he is loved. At the end of the story, Juli finally understands Thomas’ true message and leaves the gymnasium to attend a theological school where he will regain his own life.

While the physical contacts were restricted in Thomas, Kaze contains more direct depictions of intimate physical encounters between beautiful boys in a nineteenth-century French boarding school, another exotic setting for Japanese readers. Serge, a new student and talented pianist, is roomed with Gilbert, a beautiful but not disciplined boy. Serge tries to accept his roommate based on his belief in fairness and the discrimination he experienced due to his mixed-race background (he is defined as half White and half Gypsy); however, Serge’s kindness only disturbs Gilbert. Ruined by his abusive father, Gilbert is extremely insecure and repeats sexual relations with other boys for short-lived satisfaction and mental relief. While trying hard to win Gilbert’s trust with patience, Serge begins to love him. When Gilbert eventually learns about healthier human relationships not dominated by violence or brainwashing, he and Serge decide to run away from school to escape the pursuit of Gilbert's cruel father. However, shortly after they start their new life in Paris, Gilbert, suffering from keen anxiety and insecurity stemming from his traumatic childhood experiences, becomes addicted to opium and ends up having a tragic death. With his heart broken, Serge returns home as successor to the family title; at home he gradually recovers by playing the piano tunes inspired by Gilbert (Fig. 1).

Fig. 1

(©Keiko Takemiya/Hakusensha)

Kaze to Ki no Uta

Despite their very complicated plots and cultural differences, Thomas and Kaze appealed to teenage girls. In these pieces, the main characters are portrayed as beautiful boys, isolated and marginalized because of their race, ethnicity, class, social status, sexual orientation, and problematic relationships with their families. They appear as distant “Others” for adolescent female readers, but scholars, such as Ueno (1998 [2015]) and James Welker (2006) argue that Japanese teenage girls, who often feel insecure and as if they fit nowhere, project themselves onto the effeminate boys suffering and struggling in isolation. Adolescent girls are likely to face an identity problem with physical growth and sexual maturity and are torn between patriarchal gendered expectations and individual desires. Ueno also contends that readers can relate to hidden misogyny in BRM, with the frequent derogatory representations of women if not total absence of women figures. The beautiful boys embody the liberation from gendered pressures and reproductive obligations inflicted on women within the patriarchal family and social structures. In addition, the stories that describe intimate relationships between effeminate beautiful boys satisfy teenage girls’ curiosity when they are not allowed to express their sexual desire. Gendered repression drives teenage girls to feel guilty about exploring their sexuality. Indeed, Hagio (2022), the author of Thomas, recalls that she once thought of girls as the main characters when she was creating the plot but shifted them from girls to boys as she felt it would make the storytelling more “free.” In this context, it is sensible that teenage girls also perceived that it would be less awkward to read boys’ romantic narratives, where women’s sexuality was not involved. Through the flipped gaze/gazed gendered framework, girls read boys’ romantic stories from a safe distance to envisage their own sexual desire for boys (Ueno 1998 [2015]). The popularity of these BRM and other narratives—including manga and novels published in JUNE, a girls’ magazine of the 1980s—paved the way for the later evolution of Yaoi and BL.

4 Yaoi: Fanfiction Community in the 1980s

In the 1980s, boys’ romantic stories expanded with their fan engagement. Both professional and amateur manga creators wrote fanfiction, so-called Yaoi manga, and published them privately. Most of the time, amateur writers used the characters and settings of existing manga as a basis for their fanfiction. They paired their favorite characters and created imaginary love stories. Captain Tsubasa and Saint Seiya, comics with elementary school boys as the primary readers, were especially popular among amateur creators. They loved to share their manga in their circles, and many groups of writers sold their fanzines, the collections of their fanfiction, at the Comic Market. In this grassroots market, fanzines of manga, animations, and video games are sold, and more recently, it has become to be known as a primary site where costume play is performed. Though most of the writers were non-professional, some professional manga creators would join these circles since there was no place at that time to commercially publish stories that included the explicit and detailed descriptions of sexual contacts between boys that had been avoided in the forerunner, BRM.

The Yaoi community soon developed distinct tropes, such as seme (aggressive) and uke (passive) pairs. A couple in Yaoi fiction usually consists of a bold seme character who is taller, more masculine, mature, and richer paired up with a passive uke who tends to be shorter, less masculine, and younger. The writers interact discussing their “tastes” in terms of their favorite pairs—including seme-uke relations. The seme-uke associations in Yaoi fanfictions do not necessarily reflect real relationships of gay couples. Instead, as Mizoguchi (2015) makes an astute point, they resemble heterosexual relations that most female readers/creators are more familiar with. The almost universalized seme-uke rule demonstrates how active and close their communications with each other were in the Yaoi community: as Fujimoto (2015) claims, the Yaoi community was a revolutionary space for girls and women to creatively generate their own discourses of gender/sexuality playing with gender. While scholars admit that it is difficult to systematically analyze Yaoi fanfictions since they were privately released and have been mostly lost, a wide variety of stories were included: both happy stories and narratives with couples destined to fail in the end. The Yaoi community was the site where female reader-creators could envision their own sexuality liberated from gender norms, but as the seme-uke combination exemplifies, the discourses they had collaboratively created to a great extent depended on heteronormativity.

5 Commercial Success of BL in the 1990s

In the 1990s, several new women’s magazines specializing in stories on male-male relations were launched; they immediately attained commercial success. The term Boys’ Love (BL) was first used in 1991 on the cover of one of these magazines, Image, and the term took hold in the next several years (Fujimoto 2020). Like BRM in the 1970s and 1980s, unusual settings and dramatic plots with violence, abusive relations, and tragic separations were still found in some pieces. However, emerging BL manga is generally considered lighter in its themes and more entertaining while following the common rules, such as seme-uke relations. As Fujimoto explains, it might be reasonable to assume that publishers attempted to diversify the themes and styles in commercial BL manga to attract a broader readership. Yoshinaga (2013) recalls that she welcomed the publication of these magazines that first recognized girls’ sexual desires that had been long stifled within the texts.

Kizuna (1992–2008) by Kazuma Kodaka is one of the pioneers of BL manga, and the English translation of it was a success in the United States. The story is about college students caught up in a near-fatal accident and Yakuza (Japanese mafia) conflicts, with detailed descriptions of sexual encounters between male characters. When compared to the earlier manga, the lyrical tones disappeared, while dynamic episodes with masculine characters that could be found in action movies were introduced. Kodaka, who started her career as a writer of manga for boys, admits that she had never read earlier BRM before she began to create BL manga. Kodaka and Yoshinaga agree that Kodaka’s manga is written based on the “grammar” of manga for boys (Yoshinaga 2013). Like previous BMR, multiple problems, obstacles, and enemies appear one after another in Kizuna too. Still, unlike these forerunners, the main characters in Kizuna tackle the crises actively and collaboratively, which is often observed in boys’ manga. Although in the beginning, Kizuna included unrealistic descriptions, it began to address issues that gay people are likely to face. The author consistently presents the problems that could and should be solved, and as the story evolves over a long time, the characters build healthier relationships with their partners, family members, and close friends. Kodaka clearly states that she wished to shift the image of BL manga and deliberately continued to write happy-ending stories, not the ones where most of the couples end up in tragic separations. Kodaka and Yoshinaga believe that BL manga informed both hetero- and homosexual readers that same-sex couples could have lasting relations and gain support from people around them (Yoshinaga 2013).

6 Gay Questioning of Yaoi/BL

Debates that emerged between gay readers and BL writers and commentators included criticism by Sato, a gay commentator, who initiated a dialogue with the rise of the Yaoi community in the mid-1990s. In short, Sato criticized that Yaoi women and manga were full of stereotypes against gay, they objectified gay people and subjugated gay sexuality to forced heteronormativity (Ishida 2007b; Maekawa 2020). Lookism and ageism in BL were also pointed out where only good-looking boys and young men were depicted as the main characters. In his criticism, Sato was likely equating characters in Yaoi/BL with real gays. At the same time, female commentators deemed Yaoi/BL representations fundamentally different from the real-life experiences of gay people. Although the debate did not necessarily reach an agreement or shared views, it helped some Yaoi/BL creators to self-reflect and become aware of their prejudices that could harm society’s impressions about same-sex attracted people. For example, in an interview, Ko Yoneda, a popular BL writer, expresses her concerns about how gay readers would receive her products (Yoshinaga 2013). Mizoguchi (2015) argues that the Yaoi debate opened a dialogue between gays and BL creators and scholars, which, to some extent, inspired the emergence of “Transformative BL” in the 2000s, with increased awareness of gay readership and pursuit of more realistic and respectful representations. On the other hand, Mizoguchi also defends entertaining BL with unrealistic episodes and attitudes, where rape can be regarded as the expression of passionate love. Criticizing the reductionism that equates representation and reality, she carefully divorces rhetorical and real rape and claims that rhetorical rape will never encourage sexual assaults in real life. While Mizoguchi is against placing regulations within BL, she simultaneously expects that the continuous dialogue would further reassure the development of new forms of BL representations. It is still controversial if the genre needs more self-regulation to validate its creative activities.

7 “Transformative BL” and Destigmatization

Since the early 2000s, while BL manga with unrealistic stories continued to be popular, a new type of less dramatic BL manga acquired a wide readership. Mizoguchi (2015) calls them “Transformative BL,” which are located in realistic social contexts and describe the social relations between gay characters and others around them. Doshitemo Furetakunai (Just Don’t Want to Touch You, 2007) by Yoneda narrates an ordinary businessperson’s secret love for his coworker with nuanced descriptions. The Doukyusei (Classmates) series (2008–2020) by Asumiko Nakamura portrays two shy high school boys, Rihito and Hikaru,³ who slowly and timidly build an intimate relationship and patiently win support from their family and friends. The story unfolds with other gay characters, incorporating changes in social climates and hostile systems in relation to the same-sex partnership. At the story’s beginning, Rihito and Hikaru see each other in places where no one is around. It seems they are isolated and believe no one would sympathize with them. However, the latter half of the Doukyusei series contains episodes where the characters have dialogues with their partner about how they could get their family’s understanding. Whether or not one comes out to one’s family is a sensitive issue for LGBT people in the Japanese context, becoming one of the main topics in BL manga in the 2000s-2010s (Fig. 2). One episode in Doukyusei is about an emotional family reunion of a middle-aged teacher. Arisaka, a divorced gay science teacher, who once had a fake marriage, gets a call from his daughter, who is getting married soon, asking to meet him after many years of separation. Arisaka’s coming out at the meeting is received with initial upsets, but his daughter eventually accepts him, which, in turn, allows him to reaffirm his true self. Toward the end of the series, noticing Rihito’s worries about his father’s approval of his “marriage” with Hikaru, Hikaru’s father tells Rihito that nothing is more essential than what Rihito himself wants. Having always been pessimistic and apologetic because he has felt guilty about being gay, Rihito decides, on his wedding day, not to apologize anymore but instead thanks his father for his not yet whole-hearted approval. The story can be read as a bildungsroman of Rihito and Hikaru. Unlike earlier BRM, where the protagonists must grow up through a tragic separation, they accept themselves and live together with the support of their family and friends.

Fig. 2

(©Asumiko Nakamura/Akaneshinsha)

Doukyusei/ Sotsugyousei: Haru

In 2019, Momo to Manji (Momo and Manji, 2017-: Momo) by Sawa Sakura won a Manga division prize at the 22nd Japan Media Arts Festival, sponsored by the Agency for Cultural Affairs, a government organization. The period manga narrates, with detailed descriptions of antique customs and objects, a male couple’s poor but happy life at a corner of downtown Edo. The first issue is devoted to Momo, a former kagema, a boy prostitute, and how he came to serve in a kagemachaya (brothel) and met Manji, his lover and caretaker, after leaving the kagemachaya. On the 22nd Japan Media Arts Festival website, Taro Minamoto, a famous history manga writer, explains why Momo was selected. “BL, sodomy, fujoshi.⁴ It is time to stop using these keywords and eliminate discriminatory mocking prejudices of the past, isn’t it? It is the primary reason I recommended this piece” (Minamoto 2019, translated by the author). He continues by stating that we should accept BL as “valuable” books. Therefore, this comment can be read as an appreciation of this individual piece as well as BL as a genre that constitutes an integral part of Japanese manga culture.

8 Transmedia Storytelling and the First “Gay Boom” of the 1990s

The current LGBT “Boom,” so to speak, is recognized as the second boom following the first “gay boom” of the 1990s when gays and gay culture were frequently featured in the mainstream media. The first “gay boom” coincides with the appearance of BL manga as a newly emerging genre. In the 1990s, gay people were frequently featured in magazines, academic journals, TV programs, films, and TV dramas. It is said that the boom began with a feature article “Gay Renaissance 91” in the February 1991 issue of CREA, a famous women’s magazine, which presents gays as ordinary people living with us and having the same rights as others but simultaneously being stylish with an excellent artistic sense. There is no single common explanation about what fueled the “gay boom,” but various things, including gay lib in the 1970s, HIV/AIDS activism, and the tragic death of famous gay creators due to AIDS in the 1980s, might have made people aware of gay people. In this context, the first Tokyo Lesbian & Gay Parade took place in 1994. According to Takashi Wakamatsu (2018), the “gay boom” occasioned debates on sexual identity, equal rights of sexual minorities, and questioned the ideas about gender and sexuality. However, next to these articles were sometimes sensational reports on gay bars that would satisfy the hollow curiosity of the reader and undermine the dignity of same-sex attracted people. It has also been pointed out that women’s magazines often created and disseminated the discourse that gay people could be good friends of women as they would understand the difficulties women face because of their marginalized positions. After the enforcement of the Equal Employment Opportunity Law (between men and women) in 1986, the number of women who entered the workplaces that had been formerly considered men’s domains increased, and many women faced gender-related problems. Gay people were regarded as standing somewhere between men and women: they would understand men’s business and yet be sympathetic about women’s issues. Against this social backdrop, same-sex attracted people and their stories caught women’s attention (Ishida 2007a).

In literature and visual arts, the commercial success of British films in the 1980s, such as Another Country (1984) and Maurice (1987), might also have made same-sex attracted people more visible. Since the late 1980s, young Japanese writers have written stories with queer characters that could shake established gender norms. Hisao Hiruma’s novel YES: YES: YES about male prostitutes working in Shinjuku Nichome won Bungei-prize in 1989, an award deemed a gateway to success for new writers. In Kitchen (1988) by Banana Yoshimoto, the heroine stays with her male friend and his MtF mother working at a gay bar. Kaori Ekuni’s Kirakira Hikaru (Twinkle, 1991: Kirakira) is a story about the awkward and delicate relationship between an alcoholic wife, her gay husband, and his young boyfriend. Rieko Matsuura wrote a lesbian love story in Natural Woman (1987) and a woman whose big toe turns into a penis in Oyayubi P no Shugyo Jidai (The Apprenticeship of Big Toe P, 1993: Oyayubi).

Around the same time, films and TV dramas on male-male relations were also created. Hatachi no Binetsu (A Touch of Fever) and Nagisa no Shindobaddo (Like Grains of Sand), two of Ryosuke Hashiguchi’s films on isolated teenage gay boys’ love and friendship, were released in 1993 and 1995, respectively. Ekuni’s novel, Kirakira, which was made into a movie in 1992, won several awards, and an original film about the friendship between a young woman and a middle-aged gay couple, Okoge (Fag Hag), was screened at the second Tokyo International Lesbian and Gay Film Festival in 1992. A couple of TV dramas aired in the prime time, such as Asunaro Hakusho (Hiba Arborvitae White Paper, 1993), based on Fumi Saimon’s manga, in which a gay character dies prematurely, and Dosokai (Alumni Reunion, 1993). The central theme of Dosokai is the anguish and painful struggle of a straight wife and her gay husband to build their relationship. Like in Kirakira, the heroine with a childhood trauma attempts to seek emotional stability by constructing a weak bond with her gay husband and his boyfriend, which causes her loneliness and dissatisfaction. The story is filled with homo- and transphobia, violence, rape, a tragic death, and the distress and resistance of men and women who cannot accept their own or partners’ sexuality. The camerawork describes Shinjuku Nichome, a town lined with gay bars, as a dubious place. The story, full of stigma against same-sex relations, ends with an abrupt series of conversations and monologues by the main characters about gender and sexual diversity. The defensive and out-of-place accounts leave the audience with an impression that the creators received mixed reactions from the audience. And yet, they did not have the appropriate vocabulary to incorporate all their responses into the story.

It should be noted that these creations were independent of Yaoi/BL; that is, none of these pieces were based on BL manga. As described above, in the early 1990s, BL manga was still in the process of forming the newly emerging genre and had not been established in the mainstream media. Yet, it is interesting that many of these creations in the mainstream media also involved female authors or protagonists. Except for Hiruma’s novel and the movies directed by Hashiguchi, who comes out that he is gay, many of the above stories are narrated from women’s points of view. It shows a sharp contrast with films produced in other countries, such as Another Country (1985), Maurice (1987), My Own Private Idaho (1991), and The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994) that do not involve a straight woman’s perspective. It might be no exaggeration to assume that at least some of the works depicted from a heroine’s point of view conceived with women as the primary audiences to be widely accepted. By looking through the heroine’s viewpoint, the audience would sympathize with her anguish more easily than that of her gay husband or friend, who occasionally troubles her. It is likely to give the impression that same-sex relations are, in nature, problematic for people around them. The end result would be diluted—if not distorted or completely erased—voices of gay people.

Creations and coverages of gay motifs flourished across the media, but the “boom” has passed its peak quickly. Some directors, such as Hashiguchi, continued to create films focusing on gay characters. However, movies and dramas on same-sex relations and queer sexuality rapidly declined, at least in the mainstream media. Although these pieces left vivid impressions on the audiences, they did not stir serious debates or raise awareness of the rights of sexual minorities. Similarly, in the case of Oyayubi, it sold well and was frequently featured in media, but the central theme of which, a denial of phallicism and an interrogation of an established view of sexuality, was not widely discussed. Instead, what was found in talk shows were many beautiful cross-dressers complimented on their female-like appearances; they were asked disrespectful questions about their bodies and sexual orientation, or treated discriminatorily. A few of them had a chance to win their own shows, but for the most part, many of these cross-dressers appeared on media for a short period to satisfy the audience’s curiosity. Such misrepresentations would only reiterate the prejudice against same-sex attracted people: many audiences erroneously equated gay people with cross-dressers. Despite some serious attempts to recognize them as ordinary people living among us, as Wakamatsu (2018) concludes, the majority of the mainstream media represented gays as “different,” and the biased image was consumed to satisfy viewers’ curiosity.

9 Transmedia Storytelling and the Second “LGBT Boom” of the 2010s and Onward

Some 20 years after the first “gay boom,” LGBT rights and activism began to be reported in the mainstream media, presumably motivated by the global LGBTQ+ movement. According to Junko Mitsuhashi, the second “LGBT boom” started around 2012 with the articles in Weekly Diamond and Toyo Keizai, and the term came to be used broadly in 2015 (Yasuda 2017). This time, the media coverage engaged with legal and political recognition of LGBT people in relation to human rights and justice. In this second boom, many films and TV dramas apparently featuring LGBT people were again produced. Miho Suzuki (2019) calls the phenomenon the “LGBT drama boom.” In the same article, Takehiko Yoshioka, a professor at Saga University, analyzes the visibility of LGBT activism, and the introduction of the certificate for same-sex partnership attracted people’s attention to LGBT issues and encouraged the creation of stories related to such motifs. On the other hand, Takashi Kimura, a TV drama critic, thinks that viewers who faced the hardness of everyday life might sympathize with the difficulties that LGBT people would experience—seeking mutual understanding and empathy (Suzuki 2019). It indicates that the viewers perceive LGBT people as ordinary, socialized, and facing difficulties that everyone can relate to, rather than exotic or distanced. Unlike films and dramas in the 1990s, that did not involve BL manga, several favorably received TV dramas and movies on the themes of same-sex relations have been created based on BL manga.

Some commentators are strict about the distinction between BL and BL-ish pieces. Mizoguchi (2015) determines that only the pieces released in one of the magazines specializing in BL should be called BL. Fujimoto’s (2019) position, instead, seems to be more relaxed when discussing the impacts of Ossan’s Love (Middle-aged Man’s Love, 2018: Ossan), a TV drama independent from BL in an anthology about BL. While Mizoguchi’s standpoint seems straightforward and reasonable, there is, at the same time, an ambiguity that remains with categorization. Setona Mizushiro’s Kyuso wa Cheese no Yume wo Miru (The Cornered Mouse Dreams of Cheese, 2006; 2020: Kyuso), with close descriptions of male-male intimate contacts, was published in a non-BL magazine, but it was ranked first in BL manga ranking in 2010. Yoshinaga, the author of BL-ish Kinou Nani Tabeta? (What Did You Eat? 2007–: Kinou), states that although Kinou was published in a comic magazine for young men, she wished to publish it in one of the BL magazines (Mizoguchi 2017). She states that even if it had been published in one of the BL magazines, she would have written the story in the same way, assumingly without heavy sexual descriptions.⁵ Bearing categorization ambiguity in mind, this chapter then takes a more relaxed position and analyzes both BL and BL-ish transmedia storytelling.

From the mid-2010s to early 2020s, there have been hit films and TV dramas about male-male relations or MtF transgender. Karera ga Honki de Amutokiwa (Close-Knit: Karera) is a social problem film , released in 2017, about a girl living with a man and a transgender woman, dealing with LGBT, familial relations, and child neglect issues with sensitive character descriptions. The first series of Ossan was aired in 2018 as a midnight drama and it won the Tokyo Drama Award 2018. The second series was broadcast in 2019 and then made into a movie in the same year. Also in 2019, a TV drama Kinou based on Yoshinaga’s manga was made into a smash hit as a midnight drama and also into a live-action film in 2021 that was ranked third when it was released (Asahi Shinbun 2021). In 2020, Kyuso became a live-action film directed by Isao Yukisada, a multi-awarded filmmaker, starring two famous male actors.

As in the 1990s, female creators played central roles in these creations again.⁶ Karera was written and directed by Naoko Ogiue, a female movie director, and the producers of the Ossan series were women. The drama series and the movie of Kinou were scripted by Naoko Adachi, one of the most celebrated female scriptwriters, awarded by the Agency for Cultural Affairs in 2021. And the original manga Kyuso was written by Mizushiro, a popular girls’ manga writer.⁷

The success of these films and dramas could be attributed to the ways same-sex relations are represented and the marketing strategy that focuses on women as the primary viewers. Unlike the movies and dramas created in the 1990s, same-sex ties tend to be depicted as less stigmatized in the new films and dramas. First, a rhetorical device, where the audience sees the dramas through a cisfemale heroine’s eyes, disappeared: instead, same-sex attracted characters become the protagonists. Accordingly, fake marriage and the conflicts and distress between the heroine and her gay husband also disappeared. Without the heroine’s viewpoints, the stories become more straightforward and allow the audience to sympathize with the main male characters. Other motifs disappearing from the recent films and dramas are gloomy elements long (incorrectly) associated with homosexuality—prostitution, traumas, and violence. Instead, same-sex relations are situated in everyday lives in the same way as heterosexual relations. Focusing on the everyday experiences of the main characters, very common emotions and feelings emerge, such as struggles to understand one’s partner, regrets for uttering the words that one should not have said, or remorse for remaining silent. The audience is reminded that cemotions are universal. In an interview, Koji Tokuo, the scriptwriter of Ossan, says: “The starting point was to make a drama about what it means to love the person in front of you” (Minato and Yada 2018, translated by the author).

Yukisada, the director of Kyuso, recalls that to refrain from sensationalism, they removed terms like LGBT or BL from their proposal but simply highlighted a love story that anyone can relate to. The tale of Kyuso progresses with the entangled emotional turmoil of the couple—Imagase and Kyoichi. At the same time, male-male sex scenes are shown as a part of the natural development of their relationship. As a heterosexual male director, Yukisada admits that he strived to understand the protagonists. After shooting the movie, he hoped it would reach the audience—regardless of their sexual orientation—and help them understand and sympathize with the characters (Tatsuta 2021). Large audiences have watched Kyuso’s film because it is available online. Yukisada welcomes the comments of male viewers, who hesitated to go to the movie theater but watched it online to find it unmistakably a love story. The intricate and painful relationship between Kyoichi and Imagase reminds the audience of the happiness and pains they themselves had in their romantic relations (Figs. 3 and 4).

Fig. 3

(© Setona Mizushiro/Shogakukan)

Kyuso wa Cheese no Yume wo Miru

Fig. 4

(©水城せとな・小学館/映画『窮鼠はチーズの夢を見る』製作委員会)

Kyuso wa Cheese no Yume wo Miru

Kinou was particularly successful with its focus on portraying a middle-aged same-sex couple’s everyday conversations at dinner, for instance, on recipes for home-cooked meals. The topic gained the interest of middle-aged women. Several recipe books were also published with images and interviews of the actors who played the main characters. The drama shows selected episodes from the original manga, where the events related to their jobs fade away. On the other hand, with an explicit denial of ageism, their family issues, such as aging parents’ care and worries about their own lives after retirement, are highlighted, allowing middle-aged female viewers to relate to the characters. Of course, the relationship with parents might seem different between same-sex and heterosexual couples. Same-sex attracted people usually start with uncovering their sexual orientation, which, in many cases, upsets their parents. In addition, it is generally more challenging to get approval and support from their family for their conjugation. Both manga and drama versions of Kinou patiently locate same-sex love within the social network of the people around them. They describe the long trajectory of Shiro, the protagonist, in detail as he strives to have his old parents understand his sexual orientation and relationship with his partner. Another interesting observation is that a character called Wataru is given the nickname Gilbert, one of the main characters of Kaze and prototype of an early BRM character. Like the original Gilbert, Wataru makes unreasonable demands and troubles his partner. Reciting a passage about strawberry shortcake and unconditional love from Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami, Wataru seeks his partner’s full attention and pressures him to fulfill his unpredictable and burgeoning demands. His behavior resembles that of Gilbert, who ends up having a premature tragic death; however, Wataru is a day trader in his thirties who knows the meaning of his odd behavior and is given a safe space where he can comfortably live with his partner. Depicting Wataru as an homage and parody of an early tragic BRM prototype, Kinou embraces Wataru/Gilbert in their gentle, peaceful world and casts off the old spell (Figs. 5 and 6).

Fig. 5

(©Fumi Yoshinaga/Kodansha)

Kinou Nani Tabeta?

Fig. 6

(©“What Did You Eat Yesterday?” Film Partners)

Kinou Nani Tabeta?

While many characters support same-sex relations and transgender in recent hit films and dramas, not everyone understands them, as is shown in Kinou and Kyuso. There is also emotional turmoil in accepting their sexual orientation and in gaining the understanding of their family and friends. Furthermore, some characters leave their hetero- or bisexual boyfriend since they hope for their partners to have a happy “ordinary” life—to have a heterosexual relationship and become a father. BL manga might have helped female readers escape patriarchal expectations that impose family and reproductive obligations onto women, but since the dawn of BRM, the creators have been sharp enough to portray male characters equally trapped in the patriarchal structure. The characters are caught in their familial obligation and business (including Yakuza), religion, and nation-state. More recently, some writers, such as Yoshinaga (2007–) and Nakamura (2008–2020), have incorporated episodes related to the discriminative legal system that does not recognize same-sex marriage. The Civil Code that controls citizens’ conjugation and reproduction might be a supreme form of a patriarchal structure. These stories critique the existing discriminative legal and political system, and they envision the possibility of same-sex couples enjoying equal rights with heterosexual couples.

10 Issues Concerning Representation

As discussed above, some BL writers, such as Nakamura, Yoneda, and Yoshinaga, have reflected on their creations and attempted to incorporate views and criticism from gay people into their products. Nonetheless, Ishida (2007b) maintains that many BL creators/readers’ attitudes toward the Yaoi debate responded to the gay community of the 1990s and included such comments as: “leave us alone because our imaginary characters are different from real gay people” (translated by the author). As BL writers and readers remark, same-sex relations with a sense of taboo and numerous obstacles can increase the “pureness” of the love story and tingling sensations among readers. Ishida points out the problems with their arguments, claiming that the literary device and descriptions of male-male relations adopted in Yaoi/BL manga are essentially representational appropriation of the “Other.” Many BL writers and readers would believe their “gay” characters are separable from real gay people and continue to portray same-sex relations in the same pattern, for example, seme-uke relations and rape as a representation of passionate affection, which does not reflect the actuality of living gay people. Ishida interrogates the writers' discourse by questioning if it is possible and viable to divorce represented/real gays.⁸ As numerous scholars in critical media studies and media literacy, such as Robert M. Entman (1994), Thomas E. Ford (1997) and Dana Mastro (2015) have shown, the stereotyped (mis)representations would lead to a “false cognitions within audiences” (Entman 1994 p. 509) and a mix-up of represented/real people especially from minority groups. Furthermore, Srividya Ramasubramanian’s research (2011) revealed that exposure to stereotypical or counter-stereotypical representations of a group of people in entertainment genres could yield certain beliefs and attitudes among viewers—either prejudiced or supportive—towards those people. As long as there are people who resemble the ones depicted in the manga, films, or other popular culture forms, it can confuse and, thereby, marginalize the group of people by disseminating erroneous images.

Such confusion is already found among creators and scholars new to the genre. Yoshioka attributes Kinou’s success to their strategy, stating, “The drama did not focus too much on LGBT issues, but rather depicted their relationship regarding diversity, which probably resonated with viewers. The word LGBT tends to be discussed with a heavy focus and a furrowed brow, but this drama, set in everyday life around a dining table, made us find love can be depicted in such a lighthearted way” (Suzuki 2019, translated by the author). Yoshioka’s analysis sounds persuasive in the part where he mentions that the audiences might have favored the drama in a not too severe but relatively carefree tone without addressing the power relations and structural inequality that involve all viewers. Still, a question arises about the extent to which we should relate a piece like Kinou to LGBT issues in the first place.

Yukisada, the director of Kyuso film, states in an interview that while acknowledging heterosexual couples would follow a similar emotional trajectory, the male-male love story in Kyuso became more alluring, and their relations came to seem “purer” than that of heterosexual couples (Tatsuta 2021). It is highlighted in the scene where Kyoichi’s ex-girlfriend pressed him to choose between Imagase and herself. To convince him to make a choice that aligns with the “norm,” she resorts to man/woman and homo/heterosexual dichotomy. It contrasts with Imagase’s attitude described throughout the story that Kyoichi is the only person he has been seeking for. Yukisada believes that the essence of love could be more crystalized in same-sex relations. Interestingly, his remarks resonate with Yaoi/BL creators/readers. Despite their earlier avoidance of sensationalism evoked by such terms as LGBT or BL, the director still shares the same sentiments with many Yaoi/BL creators/readers that same-sex romance is somehow different and purer than the dull, ordinary heterosexual relationships.

An interesting “twist” cannot be overlooked between the original Kyuso manga and the film. When asked about his thought on the visibility of LGBT and diversity in contemporary filmmaking, Yukisada answered that creating a movie means understanding the issue. Drawing on Nagisa Oshima, he claims that the director’s beliefs and perceptions manifest in the process of creation itself. In other words, how to produce it and what motivates the filmmaking represent the creator’s commitment. It attests to how his beliefs and perceptions endorsed his filmmaking. Yukisada states that when he shot Go, a multi-award-winning film based on Kazuki Kaneshiro’s semi-autobiographical novel, he decided to be committed and he paralleled that experience with the one he had when creating Kyuso (Tatsuta 2021). Again, it would be debatable whether the creation of Go and Kyuso can be considered comparable in terms of the representations of “minorities.” In the case of Go, where the family tensions and a complicated identity of a young Korean man living in Japan are autobiographically narrated, we could easily presume that the filmmaking should have required the director’s commitment. However, the original manga Kyuso is about imaginary male-male associations written by a female writer to entertain predominantly heterosexual female readers. Mizushiro (2020) mentions that when planning the story, she, as a heterosexual woman, pictured how she would react if an attractive woman approached her. Then she incorporated the emotions and feelings she had in her past heterosexual romantic relations. If we suppose that the purpose of the original manga is not to precisely describe the feelings and situations gay people have in their lives or convey a sort of message, in that case, it remains ambiguous to whom and how the movie creators can address LGBT issues. It should be underscored that Mizushiro, Yoshinaga, and Yukisada are all indisputably talented creators who have been producing numerous great human dramas: Kyuso weaves a tense, charming story that deliberately describes the joys and sorrows of love and Yoshinaga is known for including what she has learned from gay communities and cautiously presenting realistic descriptions with social contexts (Yoshinaga 2013). In addition, it is futile to automatically reject fiction written by authors who are not in the same position as the main characters. Many authors have created masterpieces even though they share nothing with the protagonists. While disagreeing with the simplistic dichotomy, we should still be careful not to naively parallel what is depicted in BL and the emotions and experiences that same-sex attracted people have in real life. There is a vast difference between making use of same-sex relations as a rhetorical device to increase the pureness and value of love from presenting LGBT issues with the recognition of the existing power relations associated with the representation of others.

Recently, many live-action movies and dramas based on manga have been created in Japan. BL and BL-ish manga is not an exception. With the expansion of transmedia storytelling, BL extends where various people are engaged, and the audience size is now incomparable. Moreover, numerous e-books, films, and dramas with dubbing technologies have been available online across national borders. As shown in the survey mentioned above, a more significant number of people see and hear about same-sex relations in films and TV dramas than in manga. It indicates that the majority of people who encounter movies and dramas based on BL do not share the rules and claims of many BL writers about represented/real gays being considered unrelated. Most viewers should understand that representation and reality are not the same. However, as the comment by Yukisada reveals, even though the BL community takes it for granted that representation and reality are dissociated, the growing transmedia storytelling would easily bring about confusion and misrepresentation among both creators and audiences, which could have an unfavorable impact on the social impressions about living same-sex attracted people.

11 Conclusion

This chapter has reviewed the evolution of BRM/Yaoi/BL as a distinct genre, as well as the recent proliferating transmedia storytelling and the discourse with regard to the rising LGBT awareness. Creators across media boundaries take advantage of the potential of BL to produce new forms of narratives. It is unpredictable to what extent BL can become a shared space where people from various fields can pursue alternative gender/sexuality and work together to produce new representations without exploiting and dominating a group of people. The participation of creators from diverse fields might give occasion to positive and productive outcomes. On the other hand, there is also a considerable risk of misrepresentation if creators simply equate representations in BL with realities of gay people and as related to LGBT issues. It does not mean, however, that BL manga always fails to address LGBT issues. With the diverse standpoints of the authors, the extent to which each piece reflects the voices and experiences of gay people varies. Yet, it should be underscored that transmedia storytelling based on BL requires careful scrutiny to identify whether an individual work represents a sheer imaginary story or the actuality of living gay people, which would shape the way creators commit to the work and the kinds of representations.

As the earlier Yaoi community demonstrated, the flipped gaze/gazed relation along gender lines and close communications between readers/creators empowered and encouraged teenage girls to actively participate in the creation of their own discourses on gender/sexuality. Open and continued dialogue among creators and with communities represented in the creations may contribute to the further exploration of new representations that could help liberate both creators and those who are represented.