Exploring the identity, sensuality and asexuality of Jessica Rabbit (yes, I said asexuality)

The character of Jessica Rabbit in the iconic movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit has been bringing people to their knees since 1988. (No? Just me?)

Her alluring appearance and seductive (stage) performance have been a subject of much fascination and discussion.

But beneath the surface of this portrayal lies a deeper exploration of identity, sensuality, and, yes, asexuality.

And I thought we could peel back the curtain and examine the complex layers of Jessica Rabbit’s character, how she challenges conventional perceptions of sexuality, and how her story resonates with individuals who identify as asexual.

The duality of her sensuality.

Jessica Rabbit’s character epitomises sensuality. She effortlessly weaves a web of allure and intrigue around herself.

Her curves, sultry voice, and provocative behaviour create an aura of sexual appeal that is very much in your face. Yet Jessica Rabbit is more than just a sexual fantasy.

Her portrayal as a sexual entity is both a conscious performance and a societal projection.

She may look hyper-sexual, may have every man who lays eyes on her projecting their fantasies onto her, and may even use her looks for her performances (as her job relies on her playing up her sensuality and appearance) but that doesn’t make her an inherently sexual entity.

She’s selling a fantasy, capitalising on her sensuality as a means of entertainment, using her appearance to command attention and captivate her audience.

And by playing on people’s perceptions of her, she makes a living. A very successful one, at that.

Yet this doesn’t mean that her on-stage persona has anything to do with who she is in her personal life.

This duality challenges the notion that sensuality defines inherent sexuality, and she invites us to consider the complex interplay between personal identity and societal expectations or projections.

Jessica Rabbit was a sexual awakening for a lot of elder millennials.

While her image is sexually charged, she doesn’t conform to conventional expectations.

She was a catalyst for my own adolescent introspection, leading me to see how art and media serve as mirrors that reflect and validate my experiences. She really was a conduit for me to understand and embrace my own sexuality as panromantic demisexual (colloquially also known as a “pan-demic”).

The way Jessica Rabbit is perceived underscores how quickly we all succumb to stereotypes and societal prejudices – jumping to conclusions based on appearance alone.

The base-assumption by everyone around her is that because she looks the way she does, she must be sleeping around and having a lot of affairs.

The world at large finds it inconceivable that she’d stay faithful to a husband like Roger, who’s cartoonish facade represents a man that is not attractive by the standards of the male gaze (which is very much attuned to what men find attractive in the first place, not women).

The male gaze scoffs at the idea that a man can “get a woman” by being funny or relatable while being skinny or fat or in any way not “conventionally attractive” (aka fit).

The male gaze insists that the only way to attract the attention of a female mate is to showcase physical prowess; project and image of strength and dominance.

Just look at men’s dating profiles; they are quick to throw up photos of flexing at the gym and highlighting aspects of themselves that other men will appreciate and admire them for, essentially making their dating profiles targeted for men and the male gaze rather than women, and they wonder why they can’t get a date.

This is underscored by the moment when Betty Boop – the first and most famous animated sex icon, known for her distinctive high-pitched voice, flapper-style appearance, and her status as a symbol of the Jazz Age and the Roaring Twenties – confirms for Eddie Valiant that Jessica is Roger’s wife and sighs, “What a lucky gal,” while closing Eddie’s gaping mouth.

Eddie’s disbelief that a woman like Jessica could be with a husband like Roger Rabbit willingly, echoes society’s assumptions.

Not that Eddie, a beer-gutted and balding middle-aged man, has a leg to stand on by those same standards. But maybe seeing Jessica playing patty cake with Acme gives him hope? A false hope, since she’s loyal to Roger and potentially asexual.

Jessica’s line to Eddie, “You don’t know how hard it is being a woman looking the way I do,” is trying to tell us that living with the preconceived notions of others, and society at large, is a heavy burden.

Their interaction serves as a poignant commentary on the real-world tendency to judge individuals based on appearances alone, even if most people tend to agree with Eddie and see things more from his point-of-view.

But later when Eddie asks Jessica what she could possibly see in someone like Roger Rabbit, she tells him that Roger makes her laugh. Her love of Roger has nothing to do with sex or sexual virility, but the only thing people can think of in relation to Jessica is sex, not even once considering that she bases her relationship on something else.

And certainly they would never believe she was asexual, even when nothing about her (not even her facade) points to her even enjoying the way she has to behave for work.

It’s society’s assumption that extremely attractive people should only want to be with other extremely attractive people. This is what makes Jessica’s relationship unfathomable for most people, and causes them to constantly question both her and it.

As cartoons she’s a second class citizen, which is what makes her and Roger vulnerable in the first place, she doesn’t have much of a choice in her line of work, and maybe little to no say in what kind of performances she has to put on at the club.

As a member of an oppressed class (remember that line with Dumbo outside the window, “The best part is, they work for peanuts!”?) she must feel like she has very little agency in her day-to-day life to begin with.

Not to mention, how people perceive and exploit her as a woman.

So, leaning into expectations, she uses her physical appearance to distract people from looking too closely at her true self.

Her looks are a shield to avoid showing her true vulnerability.

Why don’t you do right?

When we first meet Jessica, she’s singing at the club.

The lyrics of the song she performs Why Don’t You Do Right? provide insight into the character’s motivations and the significance of her performance.

The song touches on heartache and longing. This mirrors Jessica’s emotional complexity, telling us that her outward appearance and performance aren’t the whole story.

The song’s lyrics convey frustration, disappointment, and assertiveness, which can be interpreted in relation to Jessica’s own situation and the perceptions others have of her.

“You had plenty money 1922 / You let other women make a fool of you / Why don’t you do right?”

This sentiment could be seen as mirroring Jessica’s own feelings of frustration and disappointment in the way she is often perceived or treated due to her appearance. It’s placing her in a position of power, making it seem like the man she’s singing to has come crawling back to her after initially leaving.

Her performance is assertive and how she handles the audience members is downright dismissive – which only makes her more unattainable and therefore (paradoxically) more desirable to them.

This makes me feel like she’s repulsed by them and, at the very least, their objectification of her, so it’s a kind of micro-rebellion for her to lure them in with what they want, and then draw a line and tell them they can’t have it (or possibly asserting that their fantasy of her doesn’t, in fact, even exist).

The first guy in the audience, literally hanging on the stage, she kicks in the jaw.

Then she floats along the elevated stage that puts her physically and metaphorically above everyone else in the room, and pushes the next eager beaver down by the face.

Acme, she treats as harmless, playing with his things and pinching him by the cheeks as you would a child. She even starts undressing Eddie before smacking his own hat back in his face.

This dismissive attitude is reinforced by her repeatedly singing, “Get out of here,” (sometimes in conjunction with her actions), making an even stronger case for this only being a performance, nothing more.

Her self-reliant attitude and refusal to be treated poorly again can be taken as a reflection of her own determination to assert control over her life and choices, even if this performance is one of the few ways she can do so in public (because it isn’t taken seriously, rather seen as a way for her to play coy and toy with her male admirers).

The lyrics convey a sense of confidence and control as Jessica addresses her partner’s shortcomings and calls for him to step up: “Why don’t you do right / Like some other men do”.

This parallels Jessica’s attempt to challenge stereotypes and assert her own agency, even if it means defying expectations.

By singing as a woman demanding more from her partner, she subtly conveys her desire for respect, understanding, and recognition beyond her outward appearance – directly addressing Eddie as well.

The performance is a deliberate expression of her character’s complexity and inner struggles.

Her choice to sing this particular song adds depth and nuance to her portrayal, inviting her audience (including us) to consider the person behind the seductive image, though few do.

Jessica Rabbit’s character draws a line between her personal life and her on-stage persona.

This differentiation underscores the idea that using sensuality as a performance does not necessarily reflect your personal desires or relationships.

This is evident in how many people, like everyone else in the movie, don’t understand the relationship of Jessica and Roger, yet it’s a very wholesome relationship that most people would like to have.

Jessica’s ability to capitalise on societal expectations while maintaining her own boundaries challenges the binary understanding of sexuality.

This nuance suggests that personal and performative aspects of sensuality can coexist without conflating into a singular identity.

Though she’s not typically seen as such, Jessica Rabbit is a multi-dimensional representation that transcends the conventional categorisations of sexuality.

Jessica Rabbit’s enduring legacy lies not only in her captivating allure, but also in her ability to spark important conversations about the interplay between personal identity, performative femininity, and the spectrum of human sexuality.

That, and the fact that she’s just so fucking cool.

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