Introduction
Not quite four years ago, I presented the results of a Global Yuri Fandom Survey here on Okazu. This survey was designed to get a sense of the shape and history of the current state of Yuri fandom around the world. I did this because Yuri fandom did not just appear out of nowhere. It was very much born on the Internet and very much the result of differing needs, something I talk about at length in my book By Your Side: The First 100 Years of Yuri Anime And Manga. Fandom, creators and publishers have each contributed to the shape of Yuri fandom, and all three are subject to fashion, economics and zeitgeist. ^_^
From the late 90s, on Usenet, and then on forums and mailing lists, online Yuri fandom nurtured itself bit by bit. We weren’t hiding, but we weren’t being “seen,” either. It took until 2010’s JManga global manga platform for Yuri to be acknowledged as a genre by any publishing or streaming platform. Since then, Yuri has slowly become more of a regular feature A few years ago, Amazon (after a letter-writing campaign by Okazu friends) added a Yuri category. While you are likely to find a Yuri shelf in a Japanese manga store now, in 2026, Yuri is not recognized as a genre by all anime and manga platforms – although many more of them do every year. To be fair, most of the cataloging on sites like Netflix and Crunchyroll is terrible overall. ^_^
It was 2012 when JManga added a Yuri category to their genre catalog, and 2012 when I saw my first “Yuri” section in a Japanese manga bookstore. If we use that date to mark when Yuri was “born,” as a genre, that means in 2026, Yuri as a recognized genre is about 14 years old. And, like most 14 year-olds, we are loud, annoying and asserting our independence. ^_^ 2026 is the year we’re starting off with a pocket full of examples of the global Yuri fandom’s real-world impact and it’s only going to get louder from here on out. And, this year, Yuri has a clapback for those of us who still remember the days when no one knew the word (and forget that things have moved on.)
The fantasy of a powerful fandom
In the 00s and well into the 2010s, Yuri fandom online and the actual market for Yuri manga were wholly unconnected. Downloads of a scanlation might reach thousands, but actual purchases of a Yuri manga would be smaller by orders of 00s. In that climate, I was trying to publish the first Yuri manga in English. The tipping point for success was, at that time, selling about 4000 copies of a book. Very, very few Yuri manga sold that many. I refer to this as the difference between the Yuri audience and the Yuri market. Several attempts by publishers to start Yuri lines failed in this environment. While ALC Publishing sought to grow the Yuri market, Infinity Studios and Seven Seas both were unable to make a sustainable Yuri imprint. We were all a little ahead of the curve.
Nonetheless, Yuri fandom insisted that it was global, massive and ought, therefore, to be influential. It was, just not in the way it thought it was. By creating demand for Yuri, but no market for it, English-language fandom fed a scanlation culture that was actually detrimental to Yuri series being licensed, as was true with other manga at the time. This, combined with a limited market for Yuri – in 2007, even popular Yuri manga sold in the range of 2000-2500 copies, well below the sales needed to turn a profit – and a global depression, meant Yuri was yet to break through.
Even as Yuri was becoming more mainstream and more available, Yuri fandom was frequently loud and demanding, but not necessarily supportive. Initial attempts at digital manga were met with a derisive demand for print books, because fandom downloaded scanlations for free, and would “only buy books.” This was then not matched by actual sales, rendering online global Yuri fandom’s voice ignorable, for the moment.
As the years passed the Yuri market kept growing, slowly, fueled by popular series. Enough of the Japanese and English publishers saw Yuri as a profitable growth market that by 2019’s 100th anniversary of Yuri, almost every major and many minor companies and most of the major bookstore chains were creating space for Yuri. Yuri titles, we know from Frank Hecker’s research, peaked in 2019. Although I imagine that will change as more Yuri is licensed.
The COVID pandemic caused a contraction in new titles being launched, as companies reserved their resources for big, popular, profitable titles. Yuri creators took to online tools in a way that they had been avoiding up to that point. Not able to rely on publishers, Yuri moved to social media platforms. Kabi Nagata, inori., Piero Karasu, and many other creators had already found success there. Web novelists, manga artists and even animators were bypassing traditional lines of distribution and just putting their work out directly…a situation that has continued, even as these creators have become able to have their work released by more conventional methods. Self-publishing by doujinshi and now on platforms like Amazon and Bookwalker, sold on Booth and by Kickstarter have allowed Yuri artists to continue to work, and their work to be seen, read, supported on and commented on, on crowdfunding platforms, even if their work was not being serialized in a magazine.
The wider availability of Yuri directly from the creators has personalized Yuri fandom. If inori.-sensei, releases a story in 4 languages, fan translated with her permission, readers of her work get exactly what they want – Yuri in their language for free – and they also get a chance to support that creator directly with their money. Of course we all know that buying a book helps a writer, but when the writer looks you in the eyes and asks you – as a fan – to help them, it becomes even more compelling to not only support the creator but to also exhort other people to offer their support. In the 2020s we have seen this in the global Yuri fandom become a point of fannish pride.
From “I want what I want, for free, right now,” Yuri fandom has grown and now says “Let’s get this great work licensed, buy it and support the creator!”
Supporting creators, manifesting manga
Just before the global pandemic inori.’s Watashi no Oshi ha Akuyaku Reijou. (私の推しは悪役令嬢。) was initially published as a webnovel on Shousetsu ni Narou, a webnovel website that has launched quite a number of popular light novel franchises, the most famous of which is probably That Time I Was Reincarnated As A Slime by Fuse and Mitz Vah.
I discovered the series in Japanese just at the time it was about to come out in English in the early 2020s and was absolutely blown away by the candor with which the series addressed issues of queerness, homophobia and transphobia, income inequity and social issues. After decades of Yuri that focused on first loves and school lives and, even when the characters were adults, they rarely identified themselves as LGBTQ+, it was a refreshing to see a story that said the words and had the conversations we all had. There were other series that were doing this – Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna (作りたい女と食べたい女), by Yuzaki Sakomi hit about the same time – but inori.-sensei, having risen from webnovels where readers were interacting right from the beginning with her work, put herself out there, as well. With Youtube chat sessions, a Pixiv Fanbox newsletter, responsive accounts on social media, inori.-sensei was, from the beginning talking with her readers, not just posting at them. Online popularity lifted inori.’s works, bringing in fans from other countries who offered to translate her work for other fans and, unusually, inori. agreed, allowing for her work to appear in multiple languages, which then became print licenses in those countries, before it ever made it to print in Japanese.
Breaking the Merchandise Ceiling
One of the biggest unspoken barriers for Yuri series was mainstream marketing. Yes, a series might be picked up and released in a dozen countries and yes, there could be bonus illustrations for purchases made at specific store chains – maybe even an acrylic standee, an extra that became popular in the mi 2020s.
But when one visits a manga store, whether in Japan or (with some few exceptions) outside, one might see a ton of merchandise for popular series, from figurines to clothing tie-ins. Even a cursory look at online anime and manga stores will provide a dizzying array of merchandise from baseball hats to shot glasses. But, as many Yuri fans had noticed…where was the Yuri?
Just as the Yuri fandom had to grow large enough to convince publishers that there a market for Yuri series, and because popular Yuri series so often are centered around relationships, they did not appear to make an ideal selling ground. The presumed audience of young men is always favored, despite all research done on shopping pointing towards women as economic drivers. Japanese manga stores had the occasional Yuri pop-up, which is why I own two Ichigo Mashimaro t-shirts; one that pairs Miu and Chika with a heart over their heads. Other global publishers had been creating extras for book releases, some of them exceptionally attractive.
The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn’t A Guy At All began life as an online comic. With a distinctive color scheme, fans always knew when a new release came across their page. A mixture of gags and serious high school drama, with a huge helping of gender and sexuality, wrapped in a delightful mix of grunge and rock music designed to re-capture the joy of discovery and creation was the right series at the right time.
The mid 2020s has seen the impossible happen. And, once again, it was a global phenomenon, fueled by overseas fandom as well capitalism. In 2024, Bookstore chain Kinokuniya has partnered with publishers in Japan and outside for what became the hammer that broke through the merchandise ceiling. The chain launched a global pop-up shop, even wrapping their midtown NYC location in “Green Yuri” promotional window dressing. The ceiling shattered like sugar glass, as publishers around the globe and Kinokuniya worked on merch from standees, to keychains, exclusive covers, signed shikishi, and more. Other series have followed…but not every publisher is willing to invest in series – even ones that have been proven to be consistent sellers. On the one hand, it’s disappointing when a series that has terrific extras available in other countries, but doesn’t get any merch here. On the other hand, how much capitalism can we participate in, realistically? Buying and shipping complications have also factored into these differences, as well…but that is a whole different essay. ^_^
Suffice to say that, now that the merchandise ceiling is broken, some publishers will invest in extras and merchandise, but not all…even when it exists in Japan. Sales will, ultimately, make some change and pressure from fans might create the pressure needed to get the “stuff” we want.
Crowdfunding Means We’re All Part Of The Project
There is no doubt in my mind that, regardless of the professional/political/social landscape, creators are going to create. If anything, adverse political and social circumstances are a breeding ground for art. So, even though globally, LGBTQ+ rights are stagnant or sliding backwards, fueled by anti-trans movements, (with a clear desire to kill same-sex marriage and other rights and, eventually, predictably, work their way to limiting women’s rights,) queer art thrives.
Even with the growth of Yuri /GL and BL around the globe, queer creators cannot always find the professional support they need. Some creators want to create their work without the kind of editorial foot on the neck they experience when they publish through traditional companies.
In the 2010s, crowdfunding in the US for queer works became a popular and successful method of find an audience interested in queer work and willing to contribute to the making of it. It would take almost another decade before we saw crowdfunding really opening up in Japan. Creators opened their own self-funding accounts on platforms like Pixiv Fanbox or Fantia in Japan. As platforms shifted priorities and policies, some took to platforms outside Japan to reach fans with accounts on Patreon or projects on Kickstarter.
Creators like Mutsumi Natsuo, Aneido, Yorita Miyuki, and Hanakage Alt developed Kickstarters for their work in translated editions, as well as in the Japanese. These creators were able to keep creative and editorial control of the projects. The downside of crowdfunding is, of course, that one has to handle promotion and distribution as well. But through these successful crowdfunding projects some of these creators were able to secure distribution and even licensing through Japanese and overseas publishers. Fans were able to support the creators they loved, help bring projects they were interested in to fruition and see those creators and project reach a much bigger audience.
Galette magazine began life in Japan as a crowdfunded magazine that took to Kickstarter to fund 7 English-language collections. Each collection has been more successful than the last, as word spreads of the campaign.
Crowdfunding is not a simple answer to the complicated international publishing landscape, but there can be no doubt that it is an impactful way to reach a global audience and for a global audience to directly support – and communicate with – a Yuri creator.
Cultural Shifts
In 2012, I wrote up a Guide to Shopping For Yuri in Tokyo here on Okazu. That year, for the first time, I saw the word 「百合」being used in Japanese manga stores. This was followed by an April Fool’s Day joke in 2017 that became a reality a year later, several large anime/manga store chains in Japan created “Yuri Clubs” 「百合部」for sections in their stores that feature Yuri media.
For Japanese stores (and overseas affiliates) to recognize Yuri was a huge cultural shift. It had been 15 years since I and a number of Yuri creators agreed upon the term Yuri to describe this genre and here, at last, bookstores were acknowledging what fans already knew – Yuri was a genre in its own right.
I’ve been dithering over this article for literal years. Since I started to write this up, quite a number of things have changed significantly, but this week something happened that really made me want to get this out.
On October 21, 2026, Merriam-Webster added Yuri to its slang dictionary. Along with yokai, and sushi and other Japanese words that have become commonly used in English, Yuri is now part of our shared linguistic heritage. There is no doubt in my mind that this is another sign of the impact of global fandom. Yuri fandom has been “seen” at last and Yuri can show the world that it is a genre acknowledged by cultures all around the world.
I’m very pleased to see what an impact global fandom has had on Yuri and even more excited to see where Yuri goes next!
