'Main Character Energy'

"We are the weirdos, mister"

Queer Identity and the Horror Genre

As the days darken and the nights grow longer, I find myself contemplating my fascination with the horror genre. Of course, the endless fantastical possibilities that the genre provides (along with a natural inclination towards everything macabre) piques my interest in the topic, but there must be something else that keeps me coming back for more. Horror must offer something altogether more crucial than a quick scare or an opportunity for escapism that makes these films appeal to an overwhelmingly LGBTQ+ identified audience, something that resonates on a profound level and keeps us invested in the genre as both filmmakers and spectators alike. Why is it that horror stories hold so many queer people entranced? To determine why horror means so much to me, I’ll cycle back to where it all began. My enduring interest in the horror genre stretches back to an afternoon in my preteen years, when I was first introduced to Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of Stephen King’s 1977 novel ‘The Shining’ by a family member. I was captivated. The film changed the way I viewed cinema and formed a lifelong love of the medium that I carry with me to this day, but, arguably most importantly, it changed the way I viewed myself and my identity. During these formative years, as is the case in many LGBTQ+ people’s lives, I first began to question and try to understand my sexuality. As a barely-out-of-the-closet lesbian, working to unpack what my identity meant in relation to my life within heteronormative society was, to say the least, a challenge. Throughout my teenage years my tastes within the horror genre quickly turned towards the Gothic, as I developed an appreciation for vampires and spectres and ghoulish characters whose stories I didn’t just visually and thematically enjoy, but connected to on a deeper level than I could with characters in other genres. This is largely due to the fact that queer identity, placed in relation to heterosexuality, is fundamentally ‘other’. In order to understand the depiction of queer ‘monstrosity’ in the horror genre, we must look to the literary canon. Within literature, the vampire is innately tied to queer identity - the titular character of Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’, published in 1897, is heavily queer-coded, with numerous references to the vampire’s erotic pursuit of protagonist Johnathan Harker. This, reputedly, echoes the experiences of Stoker himself, who is commonly believed to have been a closeted gay man. Predating Dracula is Sheridan Le Fanu’s ‘Carmilla’, a Gothic tale of love and obsession that is widely acknowledged to be the originator of the ‘lesbian vampire’ trope. This trope, which is widely used to this day, is a double-edged sword - although the queering of the vampire has given queer authors the freedom to explore their identities in eras heavily affected by censorship, the trope has been used as an effective way to hasten the spread of anti-gay propaganda. The queer vampire character in both film and literature often plays upon the predatory nature of vampirism to push the narrative that queer people intend to corrupt the unsuspecting heterosexual populace. This prejudice undoubtedly still lingers today, however to many modern LGBTQ+ viewers tropes such as this one are prime opportunities for reclamation. Power and affirmation of identity is found time and time again within tropes which were previously seen as purely detrimental to public perceptions of the community. Perhaps unique to the horror genre is the subculture that is attached to it, one that includes a large percentage of its viewership. Many fans view horror as a lifestyle and channel their love for the genre through, for example, their clothing and musical preferences, with close ties to subcultures such as punk and goth. By embracing counterculture in this way, horror fans echo the beginnings of what we now recognise as the LGBTQ+ community; LGBTQ+ identified people have historically gravitated towards counterculture to survive within heterosexual society, and the horror community’s penchant for the alternative is simply another avenue where this is made possible. The future of horror looks bright, and this is due in no small part to the contributions of queer people in the film industry and their audiences who, with their passion for the genre, keep it thriving. Recent releases such as Netflix’s ‘Fear Street’ Trilogy and the Syfy/USA Network tv series ‘Chucky’ alongside multiple releases from independent filmmakers are prime examples of the genre’s staying power and inherent ties to queer identity. The queer experience is an integral part of the horror genre - we’re here to stay, to find connection and community in the tales of outcasts, monsters and fiends. Use these stories to aid you in the exploration of your identity, and continue the tradition of finding solace within the horror genre - it’s time for queer horror to thrive.

C h l o e Reynolds THE FUTURE OF FASHION

A c e l y a O n a l

Fashion can make up a large part of our identities. It can be a creative outlet and an expression of who we are. It can have a role to play in the first impressions we make on people - whether that’s on a date or in a job interview. So much of our focus with the clothes we wear is on how they make us feel – but what about the people behind the garments we wear? Shein is a brand which many young consumers are familiar with due to its trendy designs and the free marketing provided by teenagers and young adults on TikTok. It is undoubtedly an example of an incredibly unethical brand, even by fast fashion standards. According to Channel 4’s Untold: Inside the Shein Machine, workers are paid three pence per item and work up to eighteen-hour days. Nearly ten years after the Dhaka garment factory collapse in Bangladesh, where 1,134 workers died, you may think that workers’ conditions would have improved, however with the popularity of fast fashion brands like Shein, there doesn’t seem to be much incentive for brands to take accountability for their unethical practices. Not all hope is lost, though. Discourse surrounding the unsustainability and immorality of fast fashion companies has been increasing on social media sites like TikTok and Twitter. There are more and more options available for the consciously minded fashion lover to ensure that they are consuming fashion as ethically as possible. One example of an ethical brand, which doesn’t compromise style for sustainability, is Girlfriend Collective. Good On You, an informative source for sustainability ratings, reassures that Girlfriend Collective’s factory is certified by Social Accountability International. Not only this, but the brand uses sustainable, recycled materials, and once you feel as if you’ve gotten all the wear out of your clothes, you can use the brand’s ReGirlfriend program to upcycle your garments to avoid sending them to landfill. Another more affordable option is buying second hand. Whether this is done through online marketplaces like Depop, eBay or Vinted, or through looking in charity shops, buying second hand is a great way to get creative with your style while saving some money and ensuring that you give a garment a second life. Regardless of if you choose to buy new through sustainable brands or buy second hand, lowering our consumption of fast fashion is paramount to ensuring a cleaner planet and fairer conditions for workers. So why not spend your next weekend checking out some local charity shops with friends – you may be surprised by some of the gems you find!