Fujoshis Had Their Fun, Now It's Himedanshi’s Turn To Go Mainstream

In the afterglow of Heated Rivalry, New York Magazine opened Pandora’s box by breaching anime fandom containment and blasting the word “fujoshi” into the mainstream. It dropped two explainers walking newly awakened American fujos through the phenomenon of why women love watching gay romances (especially if ships get a little messy). But what if I were to tell you there’s a term for men who enjoy watching lesbian romances? It’s called himedanshi, and just like fujoshis, they’ve been around this whole time, minding their business enjoying sapphic romances. 

Just like fujoshi (“rotten girl”) enjoy passing around yaoi, himedanshi (“princess boy”) is a self‑mocking term for men who enjoy yuri. It’s less known than the blanket term “otaku,” partly because of the stigma and partly because fujoshi culture simply has a bigger megaphone. But the dynamic is the same: himedanshi and fujoshi love queer romance stories. And for every Zosan or SasuNaru fujoshi deliberating on their accepted ship name, there’s a yuri pairing getting the same quiet, loyal support from himedanshi. Key among them are NamiVivi from One Piece, Farcille from Delicious in Dungeon, Yoruichi and Soi‑fon in Bleach, and the final boss of himedanshi culture, Nana Komatsu and Nana Osaki from Nana.

Speaking from personal experience, I didn’t realize I was a himedanshi until I watched Nana for the first time at my big age. Like a crab in a barrel, I quickly found myself joining in the chorus of fans whenever they reminisce over the girls in apartment 707: “Damn, these bitches gay. Good for them.” What followed my eureka moment was a Google search, “fujoshi but men for yuri,” to make sense of what’d just been awakened within me. Unlike fujoshi, himedanshi never got that kind of spotlight, even in anime circles. The term barely comes up, so of course I had to dig through the dustiest corners of old forums before I finally stumbled across a wiki page explaining the less-talked-about queer media enjoyer subgroup. But why all the scarcity? Put simply, himedanshi never spread far because it lives in the shadows twice over.

Firstly, himedanshi tend to be a little quieter about waving their freak flags than fujos. Part of that is because men who enjoy lesbian romances are one bad assumption away from being mistaken for being into the kind of flattened sexual objectification that turns your uncle into a horny cartoon wolf at the mere thought of girls kissing. Secondly, himedanshi just aren’t as loud or visible as fujoshi, who became a whole cultural phenomenon in anime and manga circles long before Heated Rivalry was a thing.

The ties that bind fujoshi and himedanshi usually boil down to one simple truth: sometimes the dog is really good at chess. Translation: these ships aren’t canon, but you’re gifted with the sight to suss out a spark of romance between the lines of two characters’ interactions that the creator probably didn’t clock while writing, and you’re in too deep to stop the “fell for it again” award from piefacing you. 

We’ve all been there before: You Google search a ship from a show or manga with “queer” attached to your query only for the Google machine to immediately assume you’re looking for evidence of queerbaiting. This, unfortunately, is the eternal dance both himedanshi and fujoshi are burdened with: experiencing media that seem to be building toward something but never quite saying it out loud. However, those hints are so convincing and deliberate-feeling that you feel compelled to shrug off all words from the creator saying otherwise and treat them as canon anyway. 

Although himedanshi rarely experience the same highs fujoshi have with Heated Rivalry, there’s still something deeply satisfying about discovering a pairing you love, even if it never escapes subtext. It’s kinda like cupping your hand around a lighter in the wind, ignoring the slight pain in your thumb from chafing against the grooves of the little rolly part of said lighter as you coax a flame to life, shielding tiny sparks against the elements. 

So if you’re a male‑identifying reader suddenly realizing there’s a name for that feeling you get when two fictional women share a look that short‑circuits your brain, don’t worry. You’re not the only one. There are dozens of us. Dozens.

Correction 2/4/26, 3:13 pm: A previous version of this story made mention of an alternate term for "himedanshi" that was incorrect. We regret the error.

How Do We Relationship? Is A Brutal Stumble Toward True Love

Once Tamifull’s manga moves beyond its load-bearing yuri-for-straights scaffolding, it blossoms into a remarkable queer romance

AftermathIsaiah Colbert