Until Garbage released their single “Queer” in 1995, I had no clue the word existed. In recent years, I’ve grown a bit attached to the word, especially when it serves as an umbrella of sorts when discussing anything LGBTQAI+ related. Or even things that are usually “Othered” by mainstream society. Being “queer” or “Othered” goes hand in hand, especially when it comes to the horror genre, which itself should be a great unifier of Queer and Othered folks. But unfortunately, that’s not the case.
Why Are Y’all Like This?
How can one be Othered within a community that is already seen as less than by film snobs and anyone else who deems horror “deplorable,” “violent,” and a stain on society as a whole? You would think that in the year 2024, the average horror fan would understand what it’s like to be “othered” for celebrating Halloween over Christmas. For being excited for movies like Terrifier 3. Or preferring to be the killer while playing a match in Dead by Daylight. You’d think that the entire horror community would understand what it’s like to be shamed for being who they are, what they love, and even HOW they love or show their love. Horror-themed engagement photos and weddings, anyone…
But, le sigh, here we are.
Before I claimed my queerness, I was “Othered” mainly because of the cruel politics of high school. Also, because all things scary were my bag. Talking horror gained me the proverbial ‘raised eyebrow,’ from classmates and family members alike. Where I came from, Black people didn’t do horror. I was loving it a bit too much for everyone’s liking. The gag is that horror became a stealthy guide to understanding my budding Queerness and being Othered, an intersectional trifecta that remains the foundation of not just my being, but for many others in the horror fandom. But being Black, Queer, and Othered is a whole other experience in itself, especially within the horror realm.
They Even Ruined Woke
Before it was hijacked to all hell by right-wing media and racists alike, the word “woke” was about being enlightened and understanding the underlying injustices within the societal thread of the world. Then somewhere along the line, the word became a slur and dog whistle for the angry cisgender trolls. The ones who bemoan anything that doesn’t center a white male narrative (not always white cisgendered men, but still) and claim it is destroying the fabric of society. It is their way to be racist without, in their eyes, being accused of racism. This logic has permeated every aspect of pop culture and is louder within horror and sci-fi fandoms. Loud and wrong as hell.
What You Can Expect
So this space is for the Queer, Othered, Black, POC, Women, Allies, and all those in between. I will be regularly sharing my thoughts on horror, of all types, from my unapologetically Black Queer Othered lens. Because our voices deserve to be heard in the current social climate. We’re not going back into the shadows of the horror genre, which we helped create, curate, and sustain since the beginning. Expect profiles of Black Queer characters, of Black Horror characters, and any queer horror topic that may arise. You can also look forward to franchise retrospectives, reviews, and thoughts on other aspects of the genre as a whole. I will keep it real with you as long as you keep it real and respectful with me.
So, here’s to a Black queer column that is a part of many across the horror landscape. It is time to listen up and learn while healing a community that has been Othered and Queer for decades.
The Queer Horror Blerd: The Queerest of the Queer
Until Garbage released their single “Queer” in 1995, I had no clue the word existed. In recent years, I’ve grown a bit attached to the word, especially when it serves as an umbrella of sorts when discussing anything LGBTQAI+ related. Or even things that are usually “Othered” by mainstream society. Being “queer” or “Othered” goes hand in hand, especially when it comes to the horror genre, which itself should be a great unifier of Queer and Othered folks. But unfortunately, that’s not the case.
Why Are Y’all Like This?
How can one be Othered within a community that is already seen as less than by film snobs and anyone else who deems horror “deplorable,” “violent,” and a stain on society as a whole? You would think that in the year 2024, the average horror fan would understand what it’s like to be “othered” for celebrating Halloween over Christmas. For being excited for movies like Terrifier 3. Or preferring to be the killer while playing a match in Dead by Daylight. You’d think that the entire horror community would understand what it’s like to be shamed for being who they are, what they love, and even HOW they love or show their love. Horror-themed engagement photos and weddings, anyone…
But, le sigh, here we are.
Before I claimed my queerness, I was “Othered” mainly because of the cruel politics of high school. Also, because all things scary were my bag. Talking horror gained me the proverbial ‘raised eyebrow,’ from classmates and family members alike. Where I came from, Black people didn’t do horror. I was loving it a bit too much for everyone’s liking. The gag is that horror became a stealthy guide to understanding my budding Queerness and being Othered, an intersectional trifecta that remains the foundation of not just my being, but for many others in the horror fandom. But being Black, Queer, and Othered is a whole other experience in itself, especially within the horror realm.
They Even Ruined Woke
Before it was hijacked to all hell by right-wing media and racists alike, the word “woke” was about being enlightened and understanding the underlying injustices within the societal thread of the world. Then somewhere along the line, the word became a slur and dog whistle for the angry cisgender trolls. The ones who bemoan anything that doesn’t center a white male narrative (not always white cisgendered men, but still) and claim it is destroying the fabric of society. It is their way to be racist without, in their eyes, being accused of racism. This logic has permeated every aspect of pop culture and is louder within horror and sci-fi fandoms. Loud and wrong as hell.
What You Can Expect
So this space is for the Queer, Othered, Black, POC, Women, Allies, and all those in between. I will be regularly sharing my thoughts on horror, of all types, from my unapologetically Black Queer Othered lens. Because our voices deserve to be heard in the current social climate. We’re not going back into the shadows of the horror genre, which we helped create, curate, and sustain since the beginning. Expect profiles of Black Queer characters, of Black Horror characters, and any queer horror topic that may arise. You can also look forward to franchise retrospectives, reviews, and thoughts on other aspects of the genre as a whole. I will keep it real with you as long as you keep it real and respectful with me.
So, here’s to a Black queer column that is a part of many across the horror landscape. It is time to listen up and learn while healing a community that has been Othered and Queer for decades.
Mark O. Estes
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