The Erotic for Gay Men

Erotic fantasy has always been more than mere escape for gay people—it has been a lifeline, a mirror, and sometimes a weapon. In a world that too often insists queer desire is deviant, fantasy becomes a private rebellion. “Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality,” wrote Lewis Carroll, and for queer people, this weapon has been forged in longing, secrecy, and fire. Before many could safely live or love openly, they dreamed. And in those dreams, they first saw themselves not as broken, but as whole.

For many, erotic fantasy is the first safe place to explore identity. The writer Audre Lorde called the erotic “a measure between the beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings.” In fantasy, a trans man might imagine being touched with reverence, a gay teen might dream of a lover who sees him as beautiful, or a nonbinary person might experience desire untethered from gendered expectation. These fantasies are not indulgences—they are acts of self-recognition. Jeanette Winterson once wrote, “What you risk reveals what you value,” and queer people often risk everything to fantasize freely, because it affirms their deepest truths.

Erotic fantasy also serves as healing, especially for those burdened by shame. “Shame is a soul-eating emotion,” warned Carl Jung, and for many gay people, shame is taught early—by churches, schools, or family. But fantasy gives back what shame steals. It says: You are allowed pleasure. You are worthy of desire. The poet Essex Hemphill declared, “I stand at the edge of myself and see who I have been and who I will become.” In fantasy, queer people can reshape themselves not as society sees them—but as they truly are.

Erotic fantasy has long been a form of resistance. From the homoerotic art of Tom of Finland to the raw queer desire in James Baldwin’s novels, gay people have used fantasy to fight back against erasure. “I want to live in a world where the erotic is acknowledged and respected,” said bell hooks. Fantasy allows the creation of that world, even if just for a moment. It is an assertion of presence in a culture that often denies queer people space. Samuel R. Delany observed, “Pornography is a place where the sexual imagination is allowed to run riot”—and for many queer writers and readers, that riot is revolutionary.

Above all, erotic fantasy connects. It weaves people into a lineage of queer joy, struggle, and vision. Whether shared through fiction, artwork, film, or whispered confessions, it builds community. It whispers, You are not alone. As Tony Kushner wrote in Angels in America, “The world only spins forward.” Erotic fantasy helps turn that wheel—boldly, defiantly, with desire as fuel and freedom as destination. Erotic fantasy plays a vital and multifaceted role in gay life—emotionally, psychologically, politically, and culturally. Its importance can be understood through several key lenses: