Every year, Halloween rolls around and a bunch of people in the queer community call it “Gay Christmas,” but what the heck does that even mean?
The nickname can be traced as far back as the ’50s, so the practice is nothing new. Christmas is considered the highest holy day for a lot of people, especially in North America, where Christianity has been the predominant practice of those controlling stat holidays for a long time. The translation of holiness, of importance to a particular group, is the key here, and Halloween is important.
For as long as any living person can remember, to be queer is to be taboo, even in relatively safe and accepting societies. You grow up immersed in the assumption that you will be straight, that you will fit broadly into the gender category that you’ve been assigned, that you will be a certain type of person with certain types of desires and presentations. Any part of you that deviates from that standard is something you’ll have to defend. Oftentimes this deviation is visible, so you find yourself at the defence table a lot.
Halloween is different. It’s a season where you’re invited to shuck your normal presentation and try on something entirely new, with a serious decrease in the shame you’d face for doing that on any other day. Who you are becomes a form of play, which briefly makes the world a safer place for those who play with their self-expression year-round.
Even just among my friend group I know a lot of people who have discovered themselves as a result of this annual freedom. Playfulness can unlock a joy that we might resonate with more than we thought we would.
It’s also a time of embracing darkness. Being queer is not itself dark, but it has historically been banished to the shadows, our identities and desires called sinful, dirty, something to bury and hide in order to stay safe. We’ve been cast as the demons and villains in stories for so long that it makes sense we would feel a little more relaxed when what has been demonized is invited to the party. Maybe we’re not so monstrous after all. Maybe we’re lovable and worthy of inclusion. That revelation, to me, is reason enough to grant holiness to any occasion.
Since Halloween has such a history of making spaces for queer themes, my media suggestion this issue is less of a singular title and more a collection of my favourites. If you’re looking for some campy fun, here are four spooky movies that are beloved by the queer community: Elvira: Mistress of the Dark (1988); The Craft (1996); The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975); Clue (1985).