There’s A Place For Us: Aromanticism and Amatonormativity in Jane Austen’s Emma

by Caitlin Khong

The setting of Jane Austen’s 1815 novel Emma is heavily centered around romance, with the primary goal of many characters being the courtship and marriage of a significant other, but the protagonist Emma Woodhouse appears to be an exception to this romance-riddled world. Emma’s choices and values align her instead with the experiences of an aromantic, someone “whose experience of romance is disconnected from normative societal expectations, commonly due to experiencing little to no romantic attraction” (AUREA 2022b). Reading Emma as aromantic thus codes her arc as that of a queer person who, through overcoming conflict and self-discovery, finds a place where she is loved without being forced to change her nature. Her happy ending in a trusting and intimate partnership beyond customary marital norms subverts the expectations that such attachments must always be romantic, and sets a hopeful precedent for those of us who struggle with the expectations of an amatonormative world today.

Part I: Notes on the Aromantic, the Queerplatonic, and the Amatonormative

I should clarify first that ‘aromantic’ is not a monolithic label. My perception of Emma stems from personal reading as an aromantic, and each individual’s connection to the orientation will differ.1 This subjectivity has caused one person to describe their sense of aromanticism as akin to “chasing smoke” (Bougie 2021, 13). Perspectives vary on what constitutes romantic attraction at all, and while some queer identities are defined by the existence of attraction, the absence of it is not always obvious. Aromantics do not necessarily perceive themselves as lacking romantic attraction because we cannot compare the difference; we do not know what the opposite, to feel romance, is like (3). This makes aromanticism difficult to explain in concrete terms to others.

There are, however, common experiences which bind many of us. These include a general indifference or aversion towards romantic bonds. Subjects of potential affection might be chosen in an overtly logical manner, without emotions to take into account. Crushes form from the mentally constructed ideals of people, with no desire for actual interaction to become reality. If pushed to pursue interests, aromantics might act based on what is deemed appropriate by others and society, rather than instinct (Lang 2018, 45). Our discordance with how the majority of people view intimate relationships is what, in practice, sets aromantics apart.

Absence of romantic attraction does not mean aromantics push away closeness with others. It does not mean we are incapable of love, and we do not want pity, or the assumption that we are broken. We lead our lives, within which we have fulfilling relationships that suit our needs, like everyone else.

Among these non-romantic bonds aromantics prefer may be partner-based ones. A term within queer circles assigned to this dynamic is “queerplatonic”, or “a relationship that transcends the bounds of traditional friendships, yet still allows [one] to have a partner in life, albeit on a platonic level” (Linder 2019, 224). Queerplatonic relationships may be as familiar and entwined as a romantic one, and as committed by agreement or formal ceremony, just not in a romantic fashion. Not every aromantic seeks a queerplatonic partner or relationship.3 But for those who do, their relationships are far “more than ‘just friends’ or ‘best friends’” (224), and should not be misconstrued as such.

The word queerplatonic says much of its meaning: it is a queering of the platonic, differing from its original definition (AUREA 2022b). In the same vein, aromanticism is a queer orientation, part of a group of identities whose existence goes against the social norm. These associations imply subversion of the expected standard. This standard, the conventions for interpersonal bonds encouraged by society, is called amatonormativity. Coined by Elizabeth Brake, amatonormativity is the “disproportionate focus on marital and amorous love relationships as special sites of value, and the assumption that romantic love is a universal goal” (Brake 2012, 88). Amatonormativity glorifies romance as the superior ideal for a relationship (88-9), the perfect form of human intimacy. This notion is apparent in areas like language, where terms such as ‘in a relationship’ and ‘love’ carry romantic connotations before anything else (Granger 2020, 7-8). In the eyes of many, platonic, familial, and other bonds outside of romance must then be lesser by comparison, unworthy of being one’s priority compared to the achievement of finding a lover. The amatonormative mindset declares “amorous relationships should be valued over friendships” (Brake 2012, 98), even at the expense of abandoning friendships or family.

In addition, amatonormativity presumes that everyone desires romance, forcing upon us the need to pursue it “in a way that makes it feel beyond compulsory” (Linder 2019, 221). “Romantic love is considered one of the things that makes us human” (Lang 2018, 71), and society judges people without it to be incomplete, unhappy, immature, or any number of adjectives suggesting an unsatisfactory life. Single individuals are questioned or shamed for their solitude. Even those who respect their status assume it will be temporary, a transitional period to be ended “once they meet the right person.” These pervasive expectations demand conformity, which aromantics, who neither view romance as the pinnacle of interpersonal connection nor tend to concern themselves with it, cannot give. To us, amatonormativity becomes an annoyance at best and an alienating, internalized influence at worst.

Part II: Emma Woodhouse, Aromanticism, and the Amatonormative World

The setting of Emma is sculpted by amatonormativity. As a romance and an Austen novel, in Beatrice Marie’s succinct words, within the story “it is the business of the female characters to find husbands and the business of their male counterparts to serve as partners” (Marie 1985, 1). Emma’s slate of young characters is destined to pair up romantically, with the mystery lying in what configuration. Social events are primed for the characters’ getting together, whether they be frequent romance gossip-filled dinners or a ball (Austen 1815, 250). The plot should resolve once everyone has found their significant other (Marie 1985, 2), and indeed, Emma is bookended by weddings. The novel begins with Miss Taylor’s marriage to Mr. Weston (Austen 1815, 5), and the last chapters detail two unions, excluding Emma’s: Harriet Smith and Robert Martin, and Frank Churchill to Jane Fairfax. These marriages, and implied romance contained within, are depicted as “[proof the characters] ended up happily ever after (…) because marriage is viewed as the pinnacle of happiness, the point in which all people strive towards” (Granger 2020, 9). Romance is the end goal of Emma. Chasing it is the supposed desire of all the characters, and willingly or unwillingly, everyone is swept up in its amatonormative current.

Emma Woodhouse appears to be incongruous with this romantic world, instead retaining rather aromantic opinions. The established mistress of the Woodhouse estate by age twenty-one (Austen 1815, 6), Emma has “very little intention of ever marrying at all” (68), declaring she could never be “so always first and always right in any man’s eyes as [she] is in [her] father’s” (68). As for “objects of affections” (69), Emma is confident her nephews and nieces shall “suit [her] ideas better” (69) than leading a larger household herself. The house at Hartfield has many visitors for Emma’s social interactions, among them on different occasions being Emma’s former governess and her husband, the Westons (154), the Bates family (17), and Emma’s friend Harriet Smith (19). Finding satisfaction with the company of Mr. Woodhouse, her sister’s family, and other residents of Highbury village, Emma is content to carry on with her life without seeking other companionship.

In attempting to evaluate the realm of romance, Emma also falls short of understanding others’ motivations, leading to unforeseen consequences. While other characters act with their hearts, such as Harriet, who against reason is smitten with Mr. Martin despite his low wealth and being “not at all handsome” (23), Emma relies on logic alone to determine good romantic pairings. When trying to match Harriet with Mr. Elton, she praises the latter’s virtues merely with a laundry list of positive traits— “good-humoured, cheerful, obliging, and gentle (…) well-mannered, respectable” (28)— and factors in social connections and property possession as advantages over loving chemistry (28). Emma’s failing to grasp the emotional aspect of romance blinds her to Elton’s true aim, and eventually results in the inverse of her intention: Elton confesses his love to her rather than Harriet (103).

One queer reader suggests that “Emma is incapable of thinking of herself in romantic terms, and therefore it is impossible for her to assume Elton [is] in love with her” (baegin-ace-blog 2017). This blatant miscalculation causes Emma to respond negatively to Elton’s confession, as she is forcibly made a subject of romance without prior buildup. Aside from hoping he would fall for Harriet, Emma is “far, very far, from gratified in being the object of such professions” (Austen 1815, 104), and is made so uncomfortable by Elton’s view of her that she cannot ascertain “which of all her unpleasant sensations was uppermost” (104). Her rejection is swift and immediate. Confronting the prospects of romance for both others and herself highlights Emma’s misconceptions of it, and how foreign it seems to her, compared to her peers.

Throughout various facets of her interpersonal life, Emma Woodhouse’s decisions, thoughts, and reactions mirror those of an aromantic. Her assertion of “[Never being] in love; it is not [her] way, or [her] nature; and [she] does not think [she] ever shall” (68) rings true.

Although Emma’s aromanticism manifests itself early on in her narrative, her behaviour is still influenced by amatonormativity, creating discrepancies between her actions and her true feelings. Emma’s preoccupation with the love lives of those in Highbury is driven by the need to uphold the ideals of the status quo. One reason she gives for pushing Mr. Elton toward a courtship with Harriet is because “it would be a shame to have him single any longer” (12), as Emma deems it sad that someone should be without a significant other. Upon gaining Harriet’s friendship, Emma is fixated on finding her a suitable lover as soon as possible, with near-immediate plans to introduce Harriet to Elton (28). This game of affections Emma plays is in direct contradiction with her own disinclination to marriage and romance. Her manipulation of Harriet’s relationships provides “a buffer for the awareness of her own sexuality” (Preus 1991, 200), allowing Emma to involve herself in romantic dealings presumably without fear of capturing someone’s affections. The single-minded focus on others lets Emma avoid examining her own distance from romance, a rebellion against amatonormativity kept chained by the need to fit into society. Emma promotes marriage as the lifelong ideal because that is what her upbringing taught her, but she is inwardly conflicted, and remains reluctant to partake in it herself.

When Emma does take a perceived liking to someone, it is to conform to the approval and predictions of her friends, having no romantic feelings of her own to guide her. Mr. Weston’s son, Frank Churchill, is a “[boast] of Highbury” (Austen 1815, 14), and Emma is sure the Westons have envisioned him as a romantic match for her (94). Before their first meeting, Emma is convinced that if she were to marry, Frank is indeed “the very person to suit her in age, character and condition” (94). It is specifically “the idea of Mr. Frank Churchill” (94) which fascinates Emma, and “a sort of pleasure in the idea of their being coupled in their friends’ imaginations” (94). Her feelings are scaffolded upon the image of Frank conjured from others’ words, and the expectations for herself Emma draws from them.

As their acquaintance develops, Frank and Emma stray into a realm “no English word but flirtation could very well describe” (289), but she mistakenly believes him “more in love with her than [she] had supposed” (204). Finding it the proper and fitting reaction, Emma concludes in turn “she must be a little in love with him, in spite of every previous determination against it” (205). Her train of thought mirrors that of one aromantic, who would “skip past the process of recognizing [their] feelings (…) and instead jump directly into whatever the situation [was]” (Lang 2018, 45) to adapt to their circumstances. Rather than stopping to dwell on her emotions, Emma second-guesses her previous mindset to convince herself she loves Frank, as this is what she has deduced as the appropriate progression of their dynamic. Every response Emma has to Frank Churchill is simply that: a response to outside opinion, devoid of the instinct to start a romance of her own initiative.

While Emma’s direction of outside courtships was a product of internalized amatonormativity, inflicted on others, her fabricated infatuation with Frank Churchill centers him as the object of Emma’s personal attempt to conform to an amatonormative world. He is the embodiment of society’s romance-obsessed influence on Emma, overpowering her aromantic nature. Despite bucking against the novel’s standards for romance and marriage, Emma is trapped by amatonormativity, and is tugged into following its thinking by pressuring Harriet and herself to pursue romantic relationships.

Frank Churchill, interestingly enough, is the point of both despair and hope for Emma’s aromanticism. Though she believes herself to have fallen for Frank, her certainty in it is brief, and shortly thereafter Emma abandons this reasoning entirely. Before, Emma had already indicated she had no desire to follow through and marry Frank (Austen 1815, 196). Her later contemplations reveal that Frank “is not really necessary to [Emma’s] happiness” (207), and in “every imaginary declaration on his side (…) she refused him” (206). Consequently, Emma resolves to “not persuade [herself] to feel more than [she does]” (207), and any delusion of romance she had entertained quickly fades. Enjoying Frank’s attention as friendship instead (289), Emma comes to prefer Frank “not too much in love” (261) with her. She continues to act flirtatiously with him, but only to maintain social appearances (289), now fully conscious of her thoughts and feelings regarding romance. This realization is crucial for Emma. If Frank signifies the amatonormative attitude in Emma’s relationships, her giving up of their entanglement also represents relinquishment of the imposed need to pursue romance. Frank’s role in her life initially misled Emma’s feelings, but his continued presence permitted her to understand and identify her actual stance. Once extricated from the romantic obligations caging her perspective, Emma finds herself “glad [she has] done being in love with [Frank]” (286), and moves on free from the chokehold of amatonormativity.

Part III: A Light from The KnightHouse

The romantically eligible men Emma encounters, like Mr. Elton and Frank Churchill, are strangers and outsiders who treat her as an object of courtship from their first meetings, placing Emma in an unwilling position. George Knightley, on the other hand, is “a very old and intimate friend of the family” (8) whom Emma has an established platonic rapport with, due to his connection as Emma’s brother-in-law by way of her sister Isabella’s marriage. Their bond is largely one of friendly debate. Emma and Mr. Knightley discuss mysteries (179-80) and social matters together (259-60), and to Emma he is both a confidant and social parallel: she is adamant Mr. Knightley too would rather live in solitude on his estate at Donwell Abbey than marry (176). In conversation Emma does not hesitate to compliment him, with an “air (…) so remarkably good (…) You might not see one in a hundred with gentleman so plainly written as in Mr. Knightley” (27). She further describes him as “good natured, useful, considerate, or benevolent; (…) not a gallant man, but a very humane one” (176), worthy of high praise.

While Emma and Mr. Knightley’s opinions come into conflict occasionally— Mr. Knightley notably criticizes Emma over her motivations with Harriet (47-53) and her sharp-tongued remarks about Miss Bates (294-5)— their bond is never irreparably damaged. Later, Mr. Knightley admits he has “blamed [Emma], and lectured [her]” (338), and Emma recognizes his berating concerning Miss Bates was not brought upon by “any feeling softer than upright justice and clear-sighted good will” (326). Whether in agreement or opposition, neither Emma or Mr. Knightley talks over the other, and they always speak with respect. Though Mr. Knightley holds his own love for Emma throughout the novel, the dynamic they already share is a naturally cultivated one of equality, built upon genuine trust, shared history, and interpersonal chemistry. Emma feels comfortable in their existing relationship even before Mr. Knightley confesses to her, and she is never pictured through such an openly romantic lens by Mr. Knightley the way she is beheld by past would-be suitors.

During the pair’s following progression to marriage, few aspects of it turn markedly romantic, with Emma given the space to express her aromanticism after having had the change in thinking to do so. In Emma’s realization of her sentiment for Mr. Knightley, nowhere does the notion of being in love occur to her. The word “love” is never set down in reference to her feelings. Emma freely uses it to denote Mr. Knightley’s intentions with her (340, 352), and even utilized it where Frank Churchill was concerned (baegin-ace-blog 2017), but for her own part the desire Emma actually voices is simply “being first with Mr. Knightley, first in interest and affection” (Austen 1815, 326). Throughout Mr. Knightley’s confession to Emma (337-8), her thoughts are primarily of Mr. Knightley and Harriet, and are scarcely directed at her own feelings at all. All we are told of Emma’s response to Mr. Knightley’s proposal is that “She said enough to show there need not be despair” (339).

After Emma’s engagement there is also little change in bond between herself and Mr. Knightley: less so the image of Emma falling in love than falling in step with an understanding of his feelings. They make plans for their lives ahead, in Hartfield by mutual agreement (352-3), but beyond a general “exquisite flutter of happiness” (340) Emma betrays no more strongly-felt emotions at the prospect of marriage. Mr. Knightley is not addressed as her fiancé. The title of “husband” is never brought up in conjunction with his name. Rather, Emma’s joy is in anticipating “a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness (…) a partner in (…) duties and cares” (353). These relationship yearnings are not coded as romantic, expressed with more neutral terms than standard language. Mr. Knightley apparently demands no change in Emma’s values, asks for no affection beyond the sort Emma can show him. His unconditional embracing removes the obligatory romance from their marriage, uncoupling amatonormativity from the concept, and proves Emma’s vow against marriage to be an evasion of the romance associated with such a union rather than marriage itself. Behind that determination was Emma’s aromanticism, but her partner and her life ahead do not demand she somehow “fix” or obscure her identity.

Emma and Mr. Knightley’s wedding is not a romantic union. It is the twining of futures to spend a life as one, yes. It is a promise to be loyal. Between these two lie every attribute you would think to see: familiarity, dedication, warmth. They are as intimate as people in a romantic relationship could be, though that should not mean all these qualities must add up to romance. Emma’s story does not neatly check off that category. What Emma has with Mr. Knightley is a bond entirely their own, and she cares for him in a way not amorous but no less emotionally intense. For her, their marriage is a social function which implies committed attachment yet not necessarily romance, and it should not have to.

Perhaps Emma’s dynamic with Mr. Knightley could be called queerplatonic, if someone wished to put a label to it (certainly what they have falls within its scope), and at least one aromantic in a QPR has seen their partnership reflected in the novel (Ridge 2019). But at the same time, a human connection does not need a name to simply exist, to be meaningful and recognized by others. We will never have the language for all of our experiences in life. Attempting to strictly define each one will shut our eyes to the possibilities. What matters for Emma and Mr. Knightley is that within their relationship Emma is free to be herself, and know her aromanticism is accepted, despite and in defiance of the amatonormative world around her.

Part IV: The Legacy

Emma Woodhouse’s world is contained within fiction, but art imitates life, and amatonormativity has only continued to permeate society since the time Emma was written. It is inherent in the themes of films, songs, and other media (Granger 2020, 3); in the legal system affording more rights to married or amorous couples (Lang 2019, 64-5); and in academia, which has left discussions of topics like aromanticism to the wayside until very recently (Bougie 2021, 18-20). Our world is one discontented with those who see no need for romance in their lives, and even when we do have a diversity of satisfying relationships, we are fair game for criticism if we do not constantly prioritize romance as first and foremost among them. People who experience equal satisfaction with non-amorous relationships live knowing they are the outliers within a society which leaves little tolerance for their existence. Emma’s journey, however, shows us how we can navigate our amatonormative surroundings. Even as the protagonist of a romance novel, she could find a relationship where romance was irrelevant, and surely if Emma had a happy ending then we today have hope for one as well.

Reading Emma as aromantic reveals an inspiring example, and what she shows us is this: reject amatonormativity. Intimacy does not equal romance, and partnership does not equal romance. Reject the notion that romance is absolutely necessary for one’s happiness. Reject the idea that romance must be the most important bond. Relationships do not have to conform, and they do not have to tick boxes to pass society’s judgment, because the emotions we feel and the ties we have with others cannot be contained within them. The meaningfulness of interpersonal relationships are not and should not be decided by others; its significance is between you and the other person alone. The sooner you can recognize and name these chains that bind you the sooner you can free yourself.

This is what Emma Woodhouse has taught us. It is now up to us to follow in her footsteps, if we so choose, and forge our own unique relationships independent of amatonormativity.

Notes

1 Aromanticism exists on a spectrum, on which there are microlabels denoting more specific identities under the aromantic category. For example, some people experience romantic attraction only rarely (gray-romantic) or only after forging a deep emotional connection with someone (demi-romantic) (AUREA 2022a). For the purposes of this paper, I am using ‘aromantic’ to discuss Emma Woodhouse as a complete aromantic who feels no romantic attraction at all.

2 A metaphor that might prove useful to understand this point is to think of us aromantics as fish, which cannot perceive the sensation of being wet because they have never known what it is like to be dry.

3 Referred to in abbreviated forms as “QPP” and “QPR”, respectively (AVENWiki 2022).

 

Works Cited 

Aromantic-Spectrum Union for Recognition, Education, and Advocacy (AUREA). 2022a. Basic Aromantic Terms, viewed 19 April 2022, https://www.aromanticism.org/en/basic-terms.

Aromantic-Spectrum Union for Recognition, Education, and Advocacy (AUREA). 2022bl. FAQ, viewed 19 April 2022, https://www.aromanticism.org/en/faq.

AVENWiki. 2022. Queerplatonic, viewed 21 April 2022, http://wiki.asexuality.org/Queerplatonic.

Austen, J. 1815. Emma. Reprint, London: Oxford University Press, 2003.

baegin-ace-blog. 2017. ‘An Aro/Ace analysis of Jane Austen’s Emma’, An Asexual’s Guide to Sex, Love, and Life. Web log post, 18 March (viewed 18 2022): https://baegin-ace-blog.tumblr.com/post/158549941541/an-aroace-analysis-of-jane-austens-emma.

Brake, E. 2012. Minimizing Marriage: Marriage, Morality, and the Law (Studies in Feminist Philosophy). New York: Oxford University Press.

Bougie, C. 2021. Composing Aromanticism. Masters thesis, University of Missouri-Columbia, Missouri (viewed 19 April 2022): https://mospace.umsystem.edu/xmlui/bitstream/handle/10355/85832/BougieConstanceResearch.pdf.

Granger, R. 2020. Amatonormativity, Aromanticism, and What Defines a Relationship. Honours thesis, Bridgewater State University, Massachusetts (viewed 18 April 2022): https://vc.bridgew.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1330&context=honors_proj.

Lang, C. 2018. Intimacy and Desire Through the Lens of of an Aro-Ace Woman of Color. Honours thesis, Bates College, Maine (viewed 19 April 2022): https://scarab.bates.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1283&context=honorstheses.

Linder, K. 2019. ‘Queering the Nuclear Family: Navigating Familial Living as an Asexual (Personal Reflection)’, in BL Simula, JE Sumerau and A Miller (eds.), Expanding the Rainbow: Exploring the Relationships of Bi+, Polyamorous, Kinky, Ace, Intersex, and Trans People (Leiden: Brill) 221-227.

Marie, B. 1985. ‘Emma and the Democracy of Desire’, Studies in the Novel, vol. 17, no. 1, pp. 1-13.

Preus, N. 1991. ‘Sexuality in Emma: A Case History’, Studies in the Novel, vol. 23, no. 2, pp. 196-216.

Ridge, J. 2019. ‘Is Emma Woodhouse Aromantic?’, iamawriteriswear. Web log post, 3 June (viewed 18 April 2022): https://iamawriteriswear.wordpress.com/2019/06/03/85/.