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Depictions ofrace in horror films have been the subject of commentary by fans and academics. Critics have discussed the representation ofrace inhorror films in relation to the presence ofracist ideas,stereotypes, andtropes within them. The horror genre has conversely also been used to explore social issues, including race, particularly following the popularization ofsocial thrillers in the 2010s.
Throughout thehistory of the horror film genre, especially in American-produced horror films, racialminorities have not received as much representation aswhite people, often being relegated to lesser roles. Often the people of color who get the least representation are Latinx, Native Americans, Pacific Islanders, and Asian people, with even less representation being given to female racial minorities.[3] For most of the 20th century, minorities were often subject totokenism, being frequently cast as supporting characters orvillains.[4]The representation of race in horror films has undergone a significant transformation over the past century. Early examples, such asSon of Ingagi (1940), one of the first horror films to feature an all-Black cast, challenged the genre’s exclusionary norms and offered a rare space for Black storytelling. In the 1970s, films such asBlacula (1972) andSugar Hill (1974) blended horror withBlaxploitation, presenting Black protagonists who subverted traditional monster tropes while reflecting the sociopolitical tensions of the era. The 1990s introduced more nuanced racial themes into mainstream horror, notably withCandyman (1992), which explored urban legends and racial trauma. These films laid the groundwork for the emergence of Black horror as a distinct subgenre, paving the way for contemporary works that center race as a core thematic element.[5][6][7][8]
"The Brother Always Dies First," coined by film criticRoger Ebert, references the popular misconception that black characters are the first victims in horror films.[9] While it is not true that minority characters are always the first victims, black characters have a significantly high mortality rate in horror films. This includes minor, non-speaking, sometimes nameless roles that might not warrant death within the narrative. In an informal study of nearly one thousand horror movies with at least fifteen hundred appearances of black characters, scholar Robin R. Means Coleman and author Mark H. Harris found the mortality rate was around 45%.[10]
In this,Jurassic Park (1993) may be the most remarkable example, killing off an unnamed Black guard within mere minutes.[11]
This perceived phenomenon is satirized in the 2022 horror-comedyThe Blackening, in which a group of black characters attempt to be the least-black to avoid death.
The consistent killing of black characters was, in part, popularized by a lack of significant roles in early horror films, making them easier to kill in comparison to their white counterparts. Black characters were relegated to the status of largely undeveloped expendable victims.[12] For example,Mantan Moreland's unnamed character inSpider Baby (1967) is killed-off for shock and comedic effect.[10]
Interestingly, one of the greatest of classic horror films,"The Night of the Living Dead" (1968) defies this trend with the sole Black character being the last man standing. The film ends with the character dying not to zombies, but a gunshot to the head by authorities, and is then burned in a pile of corpses.[13]
Much of the attention that minorities get within horror films is through the use of their culture as plot devices and structures to scare or trigger guilt among the white protagonists.[14][unreliable source?] References to such things as the "Indian burial ground" or the "medicine man" are commonly used in the horror genre to create a stereotype of "the other" and frighten white audiences.[14] Many of the themes and plots relate to forcefully taking land from aboriginal peoples and the horrific outcomes that follow.[15]
Horror films often rely on minority cultures and their signifiers being reduced to a mythical standpoint. The films do not portray these minority cultures sufficiently as an active part of the world or in the lives of the main characters. Instead, the cultures are cast as part of the mythological background of the evil that threatens the protagonist's life. American horror films have attacked the substance of bothNative American andAfrican American cultures, using them as devices and ultimately pinning them down as aspects of the past that are no longer a part of the current American culture. The "Indian burial ground" motif, heavily featured in horror film cycles of the 1970s and 1980s, is an example of how mainstream cinema renders Indigenous people as both hyper visible and invisible."[14]
Native Americans are often hyper-visible in North American films [and] at the same time they [are] rendered invisible through plot lines that reinforce the trope of Indigenous people as vanishing or inconsequential. Native Americans stand at the center of the dominant culture's self-definition because Euro-American identity submerged and formed upon the textual and visual culture register of the Indigenous other.[16]
Recently, horror films have started to tackle race in new ways. Movies like Jordan Peele’s Get Out (2017) and the Guatemalan film La Llorona (2019) use horror to explore racism and history from different perspectives.[17][18]
The "Mythical Negro" character is usually an older character who serves as an all-knowing aide to the main characters.[19] The "Mythical Negro" usually informs the protagonists of the realities of the horror they face and guides them along the way. This character is set up to be sentimental and usually dies at some point, giving the main character more cause to defeat the evil. They act as an outlet for exposition, and their death is usually seen as necessary for the plot.[19] Movies likeThe Shining show this trope, with the only black character, Dick Halloran (Scatman Crothers), being the one who understands the protagonist's true powers and the evil surrounding the plotline. However, in line with his trope, he dies in an attempt to rescue the protagonist from the antagonist.[20]
The concept of zombies has roots inslavery in Haiti. Zombies are seen as lifeless and live a life of constant despair, similar to the lives of slaves who were subjected to cruel environments and treatment, making them live a life of misery.[21] Suicide was common during slavery, but it was believed that if one died, their spirit would be released back to Africa, though if one were to take their own life, this would not be. Because of this, zombies were a metaphor for being trapped in ones' body until death as committing suicide would mean that ones’ soul would not be released back toIan guineé.[22] However, a zombie might be more than a metaphor. In the early 1980s, ethnobotanistWade Davis discoveredzombification was a real punishment delivered by abokor. This punishment is delivered in the form of a powerful toxin - a mixture oftetrodotoxin andDatura. After rubbing it onto the victim’s skin, the victim appears to be clinically dead, only to revive in the morgue (or their grave) days later. After recovering enough to walk, they live without a will and work as slaves in Haiti.[23]
Cannibalism as a trope, can be traced back to ancient Greek myths and writings, such as the African tribes ofCynocephaly. Where in Homer'sOdyssey, Odysseus' ships get destroyed by a tribe of giant cannibals hurling boulders down at them.[24] The depiction of cannibalsitic tribes living in rainforests, however, traces its roots back toNew Guinea, where the anthropologistFrancis Edgar Williams published a study on cannibalism on the island in the 1930s.[24] Cannibalism in horror frequently operates as a metaphor for colonial and racial anxieties, where the figure of the cannibal becomes a projection of Western fear and othering. For example, van der Zaag argues that the cannibal “has been variously imagined as non-white, non-Western, male and, more recently, as gay,” indicating the trope’s strong ties to constructions of racial and cultural difference.[25]
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There are a handful of directors attempting to address issues of race and sexuality,[27][28] and the exploitative power that horror movies have. Many Native American and African American directors/screenwriters and actors have begun to use the horror genre to bring issues ofracism and violence to audiences.[15][28]
DirectorRyan Coogler's filmSinners takes place in theMississippi Delta in theJim Crow South and highlights perspectives of Black, Indigenous, and Asian individuals during that time.
In the 2010s, Jordan Peele's filmography exemplified social commentary in horror. In 2017, his breakout filmGet Out which critiqued the notion that racism only exists in overt, right-wing forms, instead showing how even ostensibly progressive, liberal white people can harbor deep-seated prejudices and engage in racist behaviors. In the film, the Armitage family's interest in Black people is not about true equality, but about a desire to possess their physical vitality, athletic prowess, and artistic talents, which they believe are superior to their own.[29]
In 2019, Peele delivered another Black-forward social commentary in his filmUs. However, this time he focused less on that of issues raised from racial biases, but that of an exploration of American privilege, class division, and the idea that the "monster" often lies within ourselves and our society. The film's Tethered, subterranean doppelgangers, symbolize the forgotten and marginalized Americans whose suffering is overlooked by the privileged "halves" above. The story's central twist reveals that the protagonist, Adelaide, is actually a Tethered who switched places with her surface-dwelling counterpart, highlighting how privilege can be gained through the suffering of others and the way one's identity can be shaped by circumstance.[30]
Perhaps unsurprisingly, many horror movies focus on white protagonists, white families, and white fears. Minority characters, especially Black ones, often serve as sacrificial lambs, dying early in the action. (See “The Brother Always Dies First” above.) Otherwise, these films (reflecting their directors and producers) center the white experience.
The classic franchises of the 1980s,Friday the 13th andNightmare on Elm Street, both present white teens (generally privileged white teens) endangered by working class villains (Freddy Krueger – a custodian, andJason Voorhees – son of the cook.) In these examples, horror reflects both racial (centering a white experience) and class-based perspectives.
The Obama presidency was a historic event for the nation. For over 200 years, the presidency had been reserved for white males, and for the vast majority of that time, this fact was unquestioned by large segments of the population. While the election of the nation’s first Black president was widely celebrated by many Americans of all races, it was simultaneously deeply unsettling to some.
The economic recession which began with the collapse of the housing market in 2006-2007 was ongoing. Some saw Obama administration policies as unfairly prioritizing immigrants and people of color, at the expense of whites (a narrative eagerly promoted by some conservative pundits.) Together, these factors created a sense of unease about the state of white people, and white families. In some cases, this expended to a sense of victimization.
Meanwhile some on the left struggled with guilt over both past injustices, as well as the prosperity which built from these. Issues like redlining highlighted where people of color had been systematically excluded from opportunities for wealth-building. Some while some white Americans feared losing their home and status to minorities, other Americans were recognizing that their very possession of it in the first place was influenced by inequalities and injustices.
This made the home, specifically the white family home, a center battle zone for both perspectives. Accordingly, there was a dramatic increase in films featuring haunted houses as a significant theme. From 1980 – 2007, there was an average of less than one such film a year. That jumped to 3 ½ a year from 2008 to 2016. There was a similar, but smaller, increase in home invasion themed horror movies. This all spoke to a central fear – did we own our homes, and could we hold onto them? Concern over the future of white families was also apparent. There was an increase in movies with a “horrific child” theme. Children are, of course, the future. The classic American dream has always included not just the house and picket fence, but also the perfect 2.5 children. The theme of evil or demonic children asks whether that dream is still alive.
Finally, while much of the country looked forward, a notable section also looked back, often wistfully, on the “better days” behind us, to a time when we were “great.” This nostalgic feeling would be expressed in an ever-increasing number of re-makes of classic horror films, allowing for audiences uncomfortable with the ‘now’ to escape back into the ‘before.’
Art reflects life and the horror movies of the Obama era express some of the feelings, and reservations, some Americans (specifically white Americans) had during this era.[31]
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