I am woman, hear me roar: exploring alluring animalism
Hey, horror hottie.
There’s an animalistic sex appeal in a woman who has broken the shackles of patriarchy. In horror, ‘monster women’ like vampires, succubi, and mermaids are often portrayed as dangerous sex objects. We want them despite the danger (and sometimes, because of it). But why? Honey, let’s get into it…
Inside the cage of patriarchal femininity
As with many of the character tropes we exhume in this newsletter, stories about monster women represent fears and anxieties around female sexuality. And it goes way back.
In her book Woman's Lore: 4000 Years of Sirens, Serpents and Succubi, Sarah Clegg says:
“Spanning four thousand years, the demons described in this book represent one of the longest-surviving—and farthest-reaching—traditions of mankind, appearing in ancient Mesopotamia, in classical Greece and Rome, in Judaism, Christianity and (to some extent) Islam […]
[…] In creatures like the alluring, deadly Lamia and Lilith, not to mention the murderous mermaids, we can clearly see men using our monsters to confront their fears of seductive women and their own anxieties around sex. These monsters were used to define womanhood in the negative, and to brand as demonic any woman who behaved in a manner deemed insufficiently feminine.”
For women, gendered social conditioning means learning the art of restraint and placidity. Showing vulgarity, sexuality, or a desire for power is as good as signing your own death warrant.
Historically, women couldn't earn money, get an education, or own land — a good marriage could literally be the difference between a comfortable life and one of toil. And to secure a match, you'd need to fit the social definition of 'wife material'. You'd need to play by the rules. And if you so much as thought about misbehaving after your nuptials, your husband could have you dragged off to an asylum.
Women who embrace their sexuality, confidence, or power could find themselves with a target on their backs. Society longs to take them down a peg, put them back in their place, or violate them (because they're 'asking for it'). Being deemed monstrous is to invite danger.
Under that lens, it's easy to see why women, femmes, and AFAB non-binary folk fantasise about monster women. To be a monster means having the power to do as you please without fear of retribution. You could prowl the woods at night, stroll down a dark alleyway, or pick up a stranger in a bar, all without fear.
Stepping into the fantasy role of ‘monster woman’ can also be a way to experience role reversal. Rather than living as the prey, you step into the shoes of the predator in a kind of ‘good for her’ revenge narrative. The dreamer regains power at a time when their hard-won human rights are being stripped away.
For men, the fantasy of the untamed monster woman is twofold: experiencing the thrill of feral female sexuality and in the potential to tame the animal using masculine brutality. The monster woman’s devotion becomes a trophy of true masculine power. In these fantasies, men get to enjoy being dominated but also have the potential to dominate what no one else can.
Let’s sample a few flavours of monster women and what they show us about our own desires, anxieties, and fears…
Demonic dames
When I think of demonic women, I think of Jennifer’s Body. The titular Jennifer is possessed by a demon after being mistakenly sacrificed as a virgin by a boyband looking to trade her life for fame as part of a demonic ritual. After rising from the dead, she starts to feed liberally on boys from her school, approaching them with a wanton forwardness usually reserved for p*rn films and sexual fantasies.
We, the audience, know Jennifer uses her face card to dangle the bait and catch her prey. But her victims are utterly in thrall to the YouP*rn fantasy playing out in front of them. In this sense, Jennifer becomes an allegory for the dangers of sexually liberated women. If she looks too good to be true, she’ll probably eat your soul.
From the female perspective, Jennifer’s demonic possession allows her to break through her own internalised homophobia and begin to explore her feelings for Needy, her best friend. Their toxic and complicated dynamic is the true love story at the film's heart. It holds the majority of the sexual tension. Jennifer chooses victims close to Needy as a way to assert control over her and—potentially—as a way to fuck (or cuck?) her by association. ‘Scuse my French.
Werewolf women
The image of the ‘werewolf’ usually conjures the image of a man — The Wolf Man or American Werewolf in London being some of the most popular films in that genre. But, in my humble opinion, people who menstruate are a neater fit.
Like the werewolf, we menstruators run on a 28-day cycle that determines our mood and physical state. And Ginger Snaps is a great example of this.
Ginger, a death-obsessed teen, is bitten by a werewolf who is attracted to her thanks to an ill-timed first period (girl, been there). At first, Ginger and her sister/bestie try to find a cure for the bite, but as the transformation begins to take her, Ginger loses hope and surrenders to her wolfish instincts.
Ginger Snaps draws heavily on themes of sisterhood/pack loyalty, coming of age, and the primal desire to mate. The latter rife with social stigma and danger for teen girls — people rarely see a teen dad as trashy or slutty. ‘Gingerwolf’ is a creative imagining of a teen girl loaded with power and free from social constraints. She embodies the female desire (and male fear!) of role reversal — a teen girl posing a sexual and physical threat to boys.
Vampire vixens
There are tons of vampire vixens to choose from in horror cinema’s history, especially in the ‘70s when cinema was rife with exploitative ‘girls gone wild’ content dressed as vampire horror. Many of these films were released during the second wave of feminism, so moral panic was rife.
One of my favourite vampire vixens is Queen of the Damned herself, Akasha. She’s awoken from her long slumber by the vampire Lestat (of The Interview with a Vampire fame) and takes him for her consort as she attempts to drain humans and walk the Earth openly.
Akasha isn’t just a vampire; she’s a deity. She comes with promises of power, status, and excess. Submit to her and you can have the world at your feet. She is cold, merciless, and sexually uninhibited — a woman you wouldn’t dare reject. In this sense, she becomes a warning to men who might be drawn to powerful, high-status women.
Author Anne Rice first published The Queen of the Damned in the late eighties, in the wake of second-wave feminism and the midst of feminist backlash. Viewed through that lens, Akasha becomes an avatar for women who tried to ‘have it all’, and she’s taken down by her peers—and her lover—for doing so.
Monster women can play an incredibly empowering role for horror fans. Monsters like the mermaid, Medusa, and Lilith have been reclaimed as symbols of power for trans women, abuse survivors, and feminists, respectively. These ‘monsters’ are free, powerful, and totally emancipated from society and patriarchy. And we love them for it.