female sexuality in horror cinema

the horror isn't the sex, it's the punishment

hi hi ! some background— i wrote this during my first semester of college and, considering how much i miss my schedule of posting written works, i thought i’d start back up with this. please, as always, feel free to share your thoughts below! all the love, del <3

(and share your favorite movies featuring delightfully unhinged women, too!)

Though deeply flawed in its origin, horror remains one of the most honest genres of media that reflect our opinions and state as a society. Even in an unconscious manner, horror films can reliably demonstrate what we are afraid of to larger-scale audiences. This phenomenon can be a positive to some in terms of making them feel less alone in their fears but overall has taken on a more negative impact by further stigmatizing marginalized communities. A considerable portion of said stigma has been inflicted upon women; specifically, women and their sexualities. Within the sphere of horror cinema, numerous tropes capitalize off of perpetuating harmful stereotypes about the sex lives of women, therefore altering how this topic is viewed and breached in real-world settings. Horror cinema, though still valuable, does often fall into a habit of fulfilling misogynist stereotypes. 

Not only does the horror genre historically rely on cheap and shallow portrayals of women, but it absolutely has evolved in such a way that these ideas have passed down through fan communities, where they have come to be held with affection. The average, modern-day horror fan cannot proceed without knowing precisely what the typical ‘slut’ archetype is, or without at least three examples of the ‘virginity rule’ springing to mind. On women’s virginity in horror, seasoned audiences foresee that purity can be a lifesaver. The untouched, virginal, inherently ‘pure’ girl will be seen surviving until the end, possibly into the sequel, while the one who has ‘lost it’ or who is dubbed the ‘slut’ is graphically wiped away for the watcher’s amusement. The picture this paints, the rhetoric it reinforces, is that female sexuality is a danger. Not only is it a danger to society, but it is a danger to womanhood itself. The death of it, even. We villainize female sexuality because we cannot understand its nuances, so destroying it is easier. Destroying it is necessary. These roots spring from a blatant refusal to see women as untamed and complete as men, a refusal to view women as people who possess agency over their bodies, and who use their bodies in ways we disagree with. In the world we live in today, women still don’t even have full authority over their bodies. Men have had agency over their bodies and the big screen since the beginning, with 71.8% of filmmakers being men and only seven women ever having been nominated for Best Director. The Ithacan proposes a change in Salzeman’s article, titled Horror Genre Has Relied On Female Sexuality, and says that “women can be the victim for their sexuality,” but “who’s to say they can’t be the villain for the same reason?” And without doing anything actually villainous, women have become insidious simply by wanting to touch and feel in the same way men do, free of the stigma that has breathed down their necks for centuries. For being unapologetic about our sexualities, we have been further stamped down in one of the most influential genres—reduced to a blood spatter, all for daring to do what we should be allowed to. The article continues, with the facts that male villains in the classics—Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Halloween, A Nightmare On Elm Street— are scary “because they have weapons and no restraint to kill,” but “female villains are scary because they’re women.” Our society knows how to confront a frightening man; with sympathy towards the contents of his character and with sorrow because boys will be boys even toward fatal ends. When a woman does something unpredictable like have sex or love another woman, god forbid even carry a different appearance and pride in it, we’re at a loss. We know how to villainize, how to oppress, because it’s what’s always been done to those who dare to push the boundaries so strictly in place on womanhood, so another script is written and more promising women characters are slaughtered. Real women are slaughtered— their pride and their lives and their faith alike. The pattern continues. 

Black Christmas, directed in 1974 by Bob Clark, presents a set of female characters and scenarios that exemplify and challenge these claims all at once. This movie opens a discussion of “nuanced female sexuality,” says Mary Beth McAndrews of Dread Central. Significant character Barb, a woman who is unusually open about her sexuality and sex life, unknowingly is set up for dying by the time the credits roll. It’s difficult not to feel as if her death was earned by her “refusal to conform.” After all, her pushing the typical standards of female sexuality “leads to her violent and horrific demise at the hands of the deranged killer.” To further push this, she is also commonly thought of by fans as a bisexual woman, creating not only further conflict over the fact that she is a woman who enjoys sex, but also a woman who enjoys sex with other women. In horror, as seen by stacks of notable classics, we are given the supposedly tireless image of women enjoying themselves in so-called sin, and then paying for it because we—the writers, directors, waters, general population, and such— are unable to fathom how to handle women when they aren’t put on a platter for us to understand, dissect, and enjoy. So we kill them. Or, we let them become the villain. Pearl, directed in 2022 by Ti West and assisted by lead-actress Mia Goth, follows aspiring dancer Pearl as she repeatedly attempts to escape her bleak life on an isolated farm. Throughout the film, she discovers that her needs surpass that of performing, but include that of being known intimately and being loved. Overall, a review on Nerdist attests that it “deals a lot with female sexuality,” what is ‘right’ for women to want, and where that line becomes a dangerous one to step over. An article reviewing the movie as a companion to its counterpart, X, agrees that its “horror comes not from a body count or jump scares but in the slow but steady deflation” of a “young woman’s hope for a brighter future.” Hoping for a brighter future shouldn’t necessarily become bloody and horrific, but as we are taken along on a journey with Pearl, it’s a challenge not to sympathize with her persistent feelings of loneliness as she longs to feel accepted within the society she is trapped in. Though just a few examples, horror as a genre presents many vivid narratives of women who are silenced through death or infamy for the crime of wanting more for themselves.

Many will argue that this is the beloved ‘classic formula’ to horror and thus should be treasured. The group of troublesome, meddling kids exploring bodies and bloodshed, with the female characters undergoing growth until they’ve become ‘too much’ to digest for traditional audiences. There isn’t any need for this loveable combo to change or evolve because it, tropes and all, is doing just fine in terms of gaining followers in a contemporary context. Randy Meeks of Scream claims that in Halloween, Jamie Lee Curtis’ character is able to outsmart Michael Myers because of “powers associated with her virginity and purity.” Being the audience surrogate for the nerd, film geek, and renowned horror fanatic, his word is rich with ethos as he represents our perception of horror cinema. The revelation becomes clear to audiences “that in many movies the difference between a damsel in distress and a final girl is simply how she has been sexualized throughout the film.” These words from Stockton’s article in Creepy Catalog titled The Reason Why There’s So Much Sex In Slasher Movies go a long way in pointing out that a woman’s sexuality determines not only how watchers will receive the contents of her character, but also the fate of said character; whether or not she makes it until the end without having sex, dying a brutal death, or both. 

It’s remarkably easy to dismiss all of this with the common, dry excuse of ‘they’re just movies,’ but it’s still important to allow criticisms of the media because it does, at a certain point, affect reality in tangible ways. Dealing with femininity in forms not embraced by wider audiences is essential to eliminating misogyny towards women inside and outside the bedroom. Movies impact how we see the world, and when most of them are put out into the world by male directors, we lose a lot of perspective in consuming films ruled by only one group. Relearning how we confront sex and sexuality in women’s lives can prove valuable and starting with how we approach the movies we watch in our free time is an exceptional start.

one more small note— i’ve been struggling financially a lot this summer and if you’d be so kind as to support me going into my next semester of college, that would be highly appreciated. if not, sharing, subscribing, and commenting also goes a very long way.

:)