I started reading romance novels when I was 12 or 13. I remember reading them and thinking they were enjoyable but they weren’t about people like me. Nearly all of the characters were non-disabled, as well as being white, cis and heterosexual, and the few characters that were disabled were villains. When I did finally find romance novels with disabled leads, they were either cured of their disability or their significant other was portrayed as a saint who was willing to look past their disability.
Both of these tropes are so harmful. I was born disabled and I will always be disabled. There’s no option of being cured for me and even if there was, I wouldn’t take it. Being disabled is an intrinsic part of my identity and I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t disabled. I also don’t think being disabled is anything to be ashamed of and the idea that a partner would have to look past my disability in order to love me is incredibly hurtful.
These attitudes, of course, are a reflection on how society views disabled people. I hear stories all the time from other disabled people who have had complete strangers tell their partner that they must be a wonderful person in order to be with a disabled person. This attitude is dehumanising and suggests that being in a relationship with a disabled person is an act of charity. Most disabled people are surrounded by negative opinions on disability from the moment we’re born, it’s impossible not to internalise that and it’s easy to convince ourselves that we aren’t deserving of love or that we have to minimise our disability in order to get our happily ever after. Ableism is a daily reality for most disabled people but for me romance novels are supposed to be an escape from reality, an idealised version of what life can be like with the right person or people. Romance novels are supposed to be emotionally satisfying for the reader and that includes disabled readers.
I wrote my first romance in my early 20s. I intentionally made the characters non-disabled with a vague plan that if I became successful maybe then I could write a disabled character. Even as a voracious romance reader who was craving good disabled representation, it never occurred to me that I should write it. I just assumed that no one would publish it and if they did, no one would want to read it.
JR Ward changed things for me. I bought her first book based on a recommendation from a friend who loves romance as much as I do and there he was, a blind king who not only didn’t end up being cured but actually lost more of his vision as the series progressed. I devoured her books, thrilled at how many disabled characters she had. Disability wasn’t tragic in her novels, her disabled characters didn’t need to be cured to be happy, and for the first time I felt like romance novels could be about people like me.
I think romance novels are powerful, they can change our perception and help to break down stereotypes. I sometimes wonder how many people read Helen Hoang’s The Kiss Quotient and changed the way they view autistic people. I wonder how many people viewed disability as a tragedy and then read Lexi Blake, Talia Hibbert or Alyssa Cole’s disabled romances and realised that disabled people can live happy, fulfilling lives. For disabled people, these positive representations of disabled lives are important, I would go as far as to say that they are life changing. When the dominant narrative is that disability is a tragedy and disabled people are better off dead or institutionalised, positive portrayals of disability are essential.
My first published novel, Bound to the Monarchs, was released earlier this month. It’s a queer, polyamorous (FFM) take on the fated mates trope with a disabled heroine who has fibromyalgia and arthritis. It’s available now on Amazon.
I also have a book of short f/f stories featuring disabled characters available now from most major online retailers. You can find out more at www.BrookeWinters.com/Kneel
Millennia ago, the people of Lencura were split into designations dependent on their abilities. Vitoria is a solviso. Others consider them the weakest of the designations but Vitoria knows she’s stronger than people think. Sure, she can’t fly, shift, or conjure magic but her blood has healing properties that the other designations covet and she knows she can use that to her advantage. She’s aware of the dangers that lurk outside of her region and that the other designations would do just about anything to possess her blood but when her father’s death leaves her homeless she’s willing to take the risk for the chance of a better life.
When Vitoria encounters marauders on her way to start a new life in the northern region of Malita, she’s forced to take a detour. Her van breaks down on the border of the shifter lands and she follows her instinct, venturing into the forbidden shifter territory. Better to take her chances with shifters than marauders. Vitoria is placed under the protection of Queen Matilda and her mate, King Antonio. Matilda and Antonio’s dominance awakens a passion in Vitoria that she never knew she possessed and she wonders if she might be the third mate they’ve been looking for.
When a dignitary from a neighbouring monarchdom kidnaps Vitoria and offers her anything she could ever want in return for her blood, she realises the only thing she wants is to be Matilda and Antonio’s. Her monarchs will do anything to get her back but Vitoria isn’t sure what they really want: her or her blood.
About Brooke Winters
Brooke is a disabled, autistic author who writes romance novels with disabled characters. You can find her on twitter @BrookeWinters33 or on her website www.BrookeWinters.com
Impenitent social media enthusiast. Relational trend spotter. Enjoys both carpe diem and the fish of the day.
Thank you for sharing! I just re-read Harvard Hottie which has a quadriplegic hero. I love reading because I feel like a good book lets me “live” a little slice of another life, so the more diversity in my reading, the more I grow as a person.
The first book in Penny Reid’s Smartypants Romance universe – Baking Me Crazy – features a heroine in a wheelchair. It’s written by Karla Sorensen and it’s very well done.
Love this post! I started writing a heroine who’s legally blind because of my beloved grandmother, also legally blind. I love her and have written three mysteries about her so far; a fourth comes out next April. If you like historical mysteries, let me blatantly self-promote them. Meet Perdita in THE VANISHED CHILD, a New York Times Notable Book. Thanks again, Brooke!
Oh, that book has been on my wish list! Oh lovely to hear its backstory.
The wonderful thing about the romance side of the publishing industry is that it is continually expanding to embrace EVERYONE’s life of the heart.
Wow! I can’t believe this fascinating, informative guest blog post doesn’t have more comments. Well done, Ms. Winters.
I really thought curing disabled characters by the end of the story was passé. Well, except for infertile women who magically get pregnant in the epilogue. That’s the big, annoying cop out a lot of romance readers have mentioned lately. And yet the cliché continues…
Getting disability “right” can definitely be tough. For one thing, as many have said, no two people are exactly alike! But I agree certain clichés can get annoying- especially the idea of “true love” curing an ailment, whether physical or psychological. But at least a lot of romance books today are more flexible about allowing disabled characters to have an HEA or HFN without making them walk again/get pregnant/regain their sight/lose their PTSD/insert difference here. And kudos to authors who make both disabled characters and their partner(s) well rounded rather than insufferable saints while still being sympathetic.
Not sure how to articulate this well. But this was a great article.
It felt like a nice letter from a nervous neighbor.
I want to accredit a Guest Reviewer on Dear Author for showing me disability protagonist titles. It was a neat walking spot for book titles.
I do appreciate the tag system. Keep it up.
The current terminology for teaching kids is books as “windows” and “mirrors.” There are books which, like windows, give you a view into another experience, and there are books which, like mirrors, reflect your own experience back at you, and everyone needs both kinds of books.
I would like to highlight AAR resources for those of you looking to read books with disabled protagonists:
First, we had a two-part AAR Loves column on disability and chronic illness (including mental illness) in romance: https://allaboutromance.com/aar-loves-representation-of-disability-and-chronic-illness-in-romance-part-one/ and https://allaboutromance.com/aar-loves-representation-of-disability-and-chronic-illness-in-romance-part-two/
Second, we have a disability tag in our db now!
https://allaboutromance.com/review-tag/disability/
I hope to keep adding tags for specific disabilities and illnesses, but for now that’s not ready for launch.
There is also the old Special Title Listing for disability.
https://allaboutromance.com/special-title-listing-disabilities-in-romance/
This list does include some books with representation people don’t feel is authentic.
I think I mentioned Julie Kriss’s CRASHED before when there was a request for romances with disability representation, but it’s worth mentioning again for several reasons. The hero has been in a wheelchair for seven years since an automobile accident left him paralyzed from the hips down. He was not the driver of the car—he was a passenger—but both he and the driver were intoxicated at the time of the accident; so this is not someone who is in disabled because of a genetic condition or something beyond his control. The heroine is a new neighbor who has experienced trauma in her past too (although she is not physically disabled). Kriss (a very underrated writer, imho) does a good job of bringing the h&h together: no miraculous recovery here either. I would add that, although CRASHED is technically a standalone novel, it really helps if you read SPITE CLUB first (the heroes of the two books are brothers). Highly recommended.
My husband has an “invisible” disability – he’s has about 75% hearing loss. It’s a difficult situation for deaf people because unless others spot a hearing aid (and these days they are tiny and very discreet) they don’t know and even when they do, often don’t know how to deal with it. Sometimes I am just as bad as the others after I have had to repeat myself 3-4 times for my husband to fully take in what I have said. Or I have to climb the stairs to our study yet again to tell him dinner is on the table because he can'[t hear me shout it out from the kitchen. One must remember to speak facing straight on, often slowly, enunciate carefully, etc. It’s a situation that couples with one who is disabled must share the problem.
I do enjoy reading stories with a disabled H or h and particularly appreciate those in which the disability does not magically disappear. And I don’t like the old nurse/patient relationships so if I see a precis that a physiotherapist is moving in with a rich disabled man and ultimately “cures” him, I am immediately turned off. Well written, this sub-genre can proved interesting, thought-provoking and satisfying reads.
I can empathize with your husband. My hearing started to degrade in my early 30s. People on my mother’s side of the family seem to be susceptible to nerve damage and two of my siblings also experienced hearing loss relatively young. I had to get hearing aids by my mid-40s. I was making too many mistakes guessing what people were saying because I only heard about every 3rd word clearly. It’s actually very disorienting trying to parse in your head what you’ve heard while people around you are looking at you for an instant response and like you’re not paying attention to them or are stupid. I’m in my mid-50s now and still working, but current work styles (open cube environments with lots of people talking at once, e.g.) are problematic for me. I also work in an office with a global work force where people travel a lot, so there aren’t many opportunities to get to know most of them very well. Accents are difficult for me. I can only ask someone to repeat themselves so many times. People responding by speaking louder often doesn’t help all that much. It’s usually the speed at which they talk, how clearly they enunciate, and the pitch of their voice. I don’t think it is something someone can fully understand until they’ve experienced it for themselves or they’re dealing with someone on a daily basis that has severe hearing loss. Most people are very lazy in their speech habits. Even I am guilty of this, and I’m more cognizant of it than the average person. Speaking clearly is a real skill, and most people, IMO, don’t have great enunciation, especially in informal social situations. I am also an introvert. The hearing loss has definitely contributed to my desire to be left alone but also contradictorily feeling isolated and left behind in most social situations where others can more easily pick up on what people are saying.
When reading about any disability, I always remind myself that every experience is different. What seems right for one person may not seem right for another, and so on. However, I do often roll my eyes when authors give people with hearing loss the sudden ability to lip read as though this is a skill easily acquired and once mastered gives the person the ability to understand all conversation at near 100 percent accuracy level in all kinds of situations (this isn’t even true for people with normal hearing, especially in our modern, distracted environments). As a good, realistic example, I really liked the nuanced way that Deeanne Gist dealt with the subject in It Happened at the Fair.
Eggletina, your comment about hearing-impaired characters in novels magically learning to lip-read always gets me, too. A related pet peeve is when the hearing characters magically learn pretty competent ASL in just a few weeks (or at most, 2-3 months).
Wonderful blog post! Reading is escapism, and I see reader posts frequently about how important it is to escape and fantasize, but as you have indicated here, reading is also anti-escapism too in that it asks us to see life through the lens of many different people and to empathize with all sorts of characters. As a non-disabled person, I find it important to be aware of and sensitive to how disabled people experience the world. Probably the keenest example I have in my life is that my sister has MS and her disease has progressed such that she is now permanently in a wheelchair. The saddest thing she told me is how invisible she often feels in her encounters with people, and how much society still constructs an able-bodied world for her to try to navigate. Going out with her in public is always such an eye-opener: public doors her wheelchair can’t get through, buildings with only stairs for access, public transportation with only stairs for entry, etc. Also, as a teacher, I’m required to do a certain amount of professional development each year on accommodations for students with learning disabilities and mental health issues, and I think in general, teachers are a group who are well aware that there is not a generic, normative student, and we cannot teach with a one-size fits all approach. And yet, even in the field of education, I still see violations of ADA taking place. Our society is getting better but we have a long way to go.
I welcome the representation of disabilities in fiction, as I think all readers should engage intellectually with ideas that ask us to view difference as simply difference rather than as something inferior. And in romances, it’s important, as you’ve stated, to have positive depictions of disabled characters finding love. This seems like an area where romance authors are stepping up and addressing the issue head on, and that definitely feels like progress.