[Pride 2021] How Horror Can Be Used As A Coping Mechanism

I’m honored to be working again for this incredible group effort of talented LGBTQ+ writers to do some genuine good for our community. With this important mission at the front of my mind, I think it’s crucial to talk about the tools that horror as a genre can provide us. 

Horror is as layered as any other film genre, while also often being misinterpreted by many. A sense of arrogance is often framed around a dislike of the genre when it comes to the unfair framing of it as pure empty entertainment. Those who refuse to see the art in horror have never really looked at it and given it a thought as to why it has remained a consistent genre to this day. When I first participated in this pride event in 2019 I wrote about my own personal connections to the genre and how my struggle with hiding my own gender identity as a Trans Woman has led me to understanding the fear that is often reflected in the art. I feel like that was a great deconstruction of why I related so much and why others might as well, but one aspect I never exactly touched upon that I see now is how horror can be used by many as a tool. In that article I reflected upon my own fears and insecurities in the films I ended up using as specific examples.

I never took the time to analyze it specifically as a tool that could be used for coping with the trauma of hiding my true self. Horror as I’ve come to realize is an excellent Coping Mechanism for not only myself, but for many in the LGBTQ+ community and that should be addressed. 

What makes horror uniquely suited as a particular emotional aid is in the ways it is often a manifestation of the negative emotions we hold on to. The best horror films use their monsters to reflect upon greater social issues in addition to being examples of emotional challenges. I think back to a lot of the most famous films featuring serial killers and how that specifically came out of the rise in serial killers during the 1970s and 80s. I also think back to how films like Hostel felt particularly brutal because that film was released in the middle of the “War On Terror,” where the US was engaging in tortue techniques on prisoners.

There is always a connection to what is going on in the world and that connection comes from the filmmakers own internal perspective taking hold. That artistic reflection is as present in horror as it is in any other genre, even if it is mostly layered under metaphorical representation as opposed to wholly literal reproductions of real world pain. This real world pain connects to so many individuals that everyone’s reaction to it would certainly be personal, but why do we in the LGBTQ+ community particularly love the genre?

It’s because of how we understand pain.

My journey isn’t all that different from many other people in our shared community. Cis Heteronormative society views anything outside of its strict guidelines as worthy of being shunned. This often most comes to fruition in the form of rampant bigotry. We all have dealt with our fair share of this whether it be in the ways that we have been treated or in the ways that are more subtle and more insidious. I deal with an immense amount of backlash to my own identity from greater social conditioning. I have hated my truth for so long because I was utterly terrified of being cast out and abused like so many before us. In horror I found a tool that could temporarily help me process these feelings in a focused and much more healthy manner. I could channel the overwhelming pain to something entertaining. It helped me to cope when I could barely see any light at the end of the road.

My own experiences have led me to analyze time and time again why I drift back to horror. It is a genre that is not tethered by a need to stay grounded. It is allowed to go anywhere and be anything from the biggest spectacle possible all the way down to a more thoughtful expression. The constant factor is that it taps into your soul and reflects your feelings back to you. When you can see how you’re feeling reflected in a different way it allows you to direct your emotional energy at something other than what is normally bothering you and to process those feelings without taking it out on yourself or the people you care for. 

When you’re LGBTQ+ you feel this weight of seemingly inescapable oppression, but you can’t bury your feelings. That will lead to greater harm. You absolutely need some sort of outlet and while most films can do this, horror can take a unique approach to providing that. Horror succeeds because it might be the most honest of film genres. I love “feel good” films as much as anyone else, but it isn’t always real. There is something cathartic about coping through a piece of art in which your problems can physically manifest into something else. The best example of this phenomenon is in the movie, The Babadook. That film creates a literal monster from a storybook that becomes a massive visual metaphor for the pain of grief and how ignoring one’s own trauma can lead to more mental instability.

As someone who has lost people I know this pain all too well. It hits home and because it has its foot firmly planted in the horror genre it does a better job for me at highlighting the overwhelming negative emotions that come from living with grief. While other genres may be more literal, horror can hit the same beats with more metaphorical means. A horror film is allowed to be specific in its message, but also needs to serve in scaring the audience. It's a genre that uses symbolism to great effect, which is why it is able to so deeply connect with its fans. 

I’m certain that most horror fans have their own reasoning for why they love the genre. Whether it be the intense thrills or exciting monsters, they love it with an intense passion. If you dig even deeper, though, you will find many of the fans live for the genre. They have used horror films to cope with loss, oppression, bigotry, and any other emotional issues that may spring forward in their lives. Queer horror fans love the genre because for once we aren’t the targets of abuse, hatred, and pain. We get to channel our feelings on to this fictional piece of work. It’s an incredibly powerful tool used to better our lives.

As a Trans woman I’ve learned a lot about our shared community and I have found that horror is extremely present in our spaces. We identify with the characters, but we also identify with the monsters because of the way that society frames us. It’s incredible to see how people react under this sort of societal pressure and how we have learned to find emotional release in a genre that is often looked down upon. I’m extremely grateful that horror exists. I’m grateful for the times in which it has helped me cope with my own issues without judgement. That is something powerful and should be celebrated just like Trans people should. 

Currently we are dealing with a scary situation for the Trans community. Over 30 states have pushed forward Anti-Trans legislation this year. Some of this is even going forward and being approved into law. We are under attack right now and while it may be utterly tiring we must stick together. We must rise above it and push back constantly. I’m grateful to once again be participating in this. We need to celebrate our lives and be loved for who we are. Not by what bigots paint us as. If you are as disgusted as I am now is the time to make your voices heard. Change is made when people refuse to back down on progress. We will keep fighting and Horror will be there for us when we need it most. I love my LGBTQ+ Family, my Trans family and I love horror. 

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