Horror isn’t just our favorite genre at Star Hopper—it’s our life-affirming, boundary-breaking playground. It’s where chaos reigns, rules are gleefully shredded, and the status quo doesn’t stand a chance. And yes, The Housemaids, our own little darling of feminist psychological horror, lives squarely in this tradition.
When it premiered, the mainstream dubbed it “niche.” Fast-forward to 2024, and suddenly everyone’s trying to figure out how to bottle its essence. Funny how time—and a growing audience hungry for queer, feminist narratives—changes things.
The Housemaids: Horror Without the Ghosts
The Housemaids drew its inspiration from Jean Genet’s The Maids, turning the quiet confines of domestic servitude into a claustrophobic stage for power struggles, class critique, and identity exploration. Instead of haunted houses or supernatural scares, the film leaned into the horrors of oppressive structures—subtle, pervasive, and as suffocating as the walls of the Madame’s home.
It’s a film that unsettles not through jump scares but by holding up a mirror to the systems that govern our lives. We didn’t just want to scare; we wanted to provoke, to prod, to make the invisible visible. This is horror in its most grounded, human form—the kind that lingers long after the credits roll.
Why Horror?
Horror is the genre that sneaks into your subconscious, rearranges the furniture, and leaves the lights flickering. It’s a genre that laughs in the face of decorum, daring us to confront the grotesque realities of patriarchy, heteronormativity, and systemic oppression.
For marginalized filmmakers, horror is freedom. It’s where the underdog gets to wield the chainsaw, where the monster has the microphone, and where the victim flips the script. Whether it’s a single mother battling grief in The Babadook or queer rage unleashed in Knife+Heart, horror thrives on challenging expectations.
As feminist filmmaker Julia Ducournau (Raw) said, “Horror is political by nature.” It doesn’t just entertain; it excavates. It forces us to confront our fears—personal, societal, and existential.
Intersectionality in Horror Cinema
Horror thrives on tension: between the known and the unknown, the acceptable and the abject, the self and the other. For feminist and queer filmmakers, it becomes a medium to explore those tensions and dismantle them.
Feminist Horror: The Babadook (2014) transforms a children’s book monster into a haunting metaphor for grief and single motherhood. It’s not about jump scares but the realization that the call is coming from inside the house—and it’s your unresolved trauma on the line.
Queer Horror: A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge (1985) is often hailed as the “gayest horror movie ever made.” It’s campy, subversive, and brimming with repressed desire—a queer allegory wrapped in a slasher’s embrace.
Intersectional Narratives: Tigers Are Not Afraid (2017) weaves horror and social commentary to confront the real-life violence of drug cartels, showing that sometimes the scariest monsters don’t need CGI.
The Underground Horror Movement
Horror has always thrived on the fringes, and underground horror is where it shines brightest. Filmmakers like Maya Deren (Meshes of the Afternoon, 1943) and Barbara Hammer (Dyketactics, 1974) used the visual language of horror to explore identity, trauma, and queerness.
While films like Daisies (1966) by Věra Chytilová may not fit the conventional definition of horror, their avant-garde, feminist defiance has inspired countless genre-bending works. More recent entries, like The Stylist (2020) by Jill Gevargizian, take the slasher trope and turn it into an intimate exploration of beauty, identity, and obsession.
Horror is more than a genre; it’s a battleground.
Subversion of Power Dynamics: Horror allows filmmakers to invert societal hierarchies, portraying marginalized identities as survivors or avengers, not victims.
Catharsis and Agency: For creators and audiences alike, horror provides a space to confront fears head-on, reclaim agency, and find empowerment.
A Space for Experimentation: Horror thrives on rule-breaking, making it a fertile ground for innovation and pushing boundaries.
Reflection of Society: The best horror doesn’t just scare—it exposes. It’s a mirror held up to society’s ugliest truths, daring us to look closer.
So, now you see why horror is more than just a genre for us—it’s a revolution. It’s where fear becomes fuel, screams become defiance, and the monsters we create tell the truths we’re too afraid to say out loud.
Essential Horror Films for Feminist and Queer Audiences
The Babadook (2014, Jennifer Kent) A feminist allegory that transforms grief and motherhood into a chilling narrative, redefining what it means to confront inner demons.
Raw (2016, Julia Ducournau) A visceral exploration of desire, femininity, and identity, this body horror masterpiece is as unforgettable as it is unsettling.
Titane (2021, Julia Ducournau) Winner of the Palme d’Or, this audacious and genre-defying body horror film explores transformation, gender fluidity, and familial bonds.
Knife+Heart (2018, Yann Gonzalez) A visually lush queer slasher set in the 1970s gay porn industry, blending celebration and terror with a subversive edge.
Tigers Are Not Afraid (2017, Issa López) A haunting and poetic tale that blends magical realism with social horror, centered on resilience amidst violence.
Jennifer’s Body (2009, Karyn Kusama) A feminist horror classic that reclaims the “hot girl” trope, spotlighting female rage and the complexities of friendship.
Stranger by the Lake (2013, Alain Guiraudie) A tense, erotic psychological thriller that explores queer desire and danger with atmospheric brilliance.
A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (2014, Ana Lily Amirpour) An Iranian vampire western that combines feminist themes with a striking visual style, offering a fresh take on the vampire genre.
The Craft (1996, Andrew Fleming) A cult favorite that celebrates sisterhood and witchcraft while interrogating power dynamics, still beloved for its queer undertones.
Huesera: The Bone Woman (2023, Michelle Garza Cervera) A chilling tale of motherhood and identity, exploring cultural and supernatural forces with a queer feminist edge.
Under the Shadow (2016, Babak Anvari) Set in 1980s Tehran during the Iran-Iraq War, this film explores the intersection of supernatural horror and societal oppression through the lens of a mother and daughter haunted by a mysterious presence.
Thelma (2017, Joachim Trier) A Norwegian supernatural thriller about a young woman discovering her suppressed desires and terrifying powers, blending queer themes with psychological horror.
Fear Street Trilogy (2021, Leigh Janiak) This trilogy spans centuries, blending classic slasher elements with an overarching queer love story, offering a modern and inclusive take on the genre.
Next Time You Hear a Scream…
Don’t turn away. Lean in. Because every horror story is a challenge: to see what’s lurking beneath the surface, to confront what scares us most, and to find power in the places we least expect it.
Disclaimer:
All images used in this post are sourced from the internet and used solely for educational and commentary purposes. They remain the property of their rightful owners. The opinions? Purely ours. And shared to inspire thoughtful conversation.