Celebrating Diversity by Teaching and Writing Horror
By Michael J. Berntsen
Horror is for all seasons and for all peoples. Fear and terror are natural unifiers. That’s why public figures and despots have used fear to unite one group against another or inspire people to vote against their own interests.
Whether you’re teaching general education to graduate level courses or major-specific workshops, a horror-themed or horror-included class is a great way to celebrate diversity and create a fun learning environment. Since everyone has had the opportunity to be scared by the screen, students will have multiple contexts for horror, have already internalized genre conventions, and have been familiar with numerous tropes. Even readers with conservative views have witnessed the Left Behind series in some reiteration or Frank Peretti’s This Present Darkness or The Daily Wire’s faith-based home invasion film, Shut In (2022), or Nefarious (2023), the only horror film (so far) with a Glenn Beck cameo. That’s right! Everyone capitalizes on horror’s profitability, which is, perhaps, the greatest unifier.
Teaching horror opens up a wide range of underrepresented voices, which is crucial in the learning process. When teaching classic works like Dracula, Frankenstein, or Dr. Faustus, you could show them the usual adaptations, ranging from the 1930s Universal movies to the modern renditions from Full Moon or Stillking Films. You could, however, explore the Blaxploitation versions of these works like Blacula (1972), Blackenstein (1973), or Petey Wheatstraw, the Devil’s Son-in-Law (1977) to introduce multiple layers of analysis and discussion.
Introducing students to Blaxploitation offers a plethora of topics to discuss: the history of black-led films, the origins of hip-hop culture, racial bias, problematic humor, women battling the patriarchy, interracial gay couples, and so much more. While films of this genre and era range from dangerously problematic to hilariously bad to subtle and sophisticated, these films initiate raw reactions. In comparing Stoker’s Van Helsing with the Blaxploitation version, Dr. Gordon Thomas, students from five film and literature courses were appreciative of how Thalmus Rasulala’s performance reinforced how stoic and intelligent black men could be. Even Rudy Ray Moore’s outlandish Petey Wheastraw highlights how African American writers and directors can transform classical literature into a satirical examination of inner-city crime, political greed, and moral dilemmas. By confronting these films, students take a strong, personal stance in how they feel about the real horrors of society and why discussing racial experiences is crucial. Equally important, they see varying representations of cultures and performers not often seen in Hollywood films.
Expanding from Blaxploitation, when teaching comics, I always use The Tomb of Dracula issues that feature Blade because it invites a discussion about the quandary of white writers creating non-white characters. As they study his clearly mimicked and appropriated “jive” dialogue and stereotypical mannerisms, students still recognize why this character is captivating, especially when they see Norrington’s Blade (1998) with Wesley Snipes. As one African American student commented, “Blade relates really well to the African American man because he is sort of the alpha male type guy, always standing up for African American men they believe in.” Another student remarked how the film “conveys aspects on multiple levels, from immigrants vs. their children, to interracial couples vs their mixed-race children, nouveau riche vs old money, and the way society views the way new and previously excluded races, individuals and perspectives as they begin to encroach on close-minded views.” These rich responses demonstrate how much horror can inspire students to think about these works, produce strong essays, and make connections between fiction and reality.
In fact, I use The Tomb of Dracula comics in my creative writing classes to initiate ongoing discussions as to how writers should think about creating characters of any ethnicity. Many white students want to have this discussion with other writers as to how they should develop characters of varying ethnicities. As one student asked in response to this topic during a workshop session, “As a black female, should I only write about black people? That seems racist.” Her point made everyone think deeper about how we need to create characters with meaning and deal with racial themes with purpose.
I dedicate a section for horror to my creative writing classes for all these reasons. Since it’s a familiar genre, students feel comfortable experimenting with it even if they are simply mimicking Poe or composing a stylized piece driven by “it was a dark and stormy night.” Sharing these works is also less intimidating, which is why I begin with horror. Students understand that horror can be goofy, serious, parodic, terrifying, or any combination of these elements. It is low-stakes for them because if they intend to be frightening, but end up with a more whimsical work, they recognize that they participated in a grand b-movie-like tradition. And that’s still fun.
Arguably, the most fun you can have with teaching horror comes from the horror themed luchador movies. I have taught several, including Santo en el Tesoro de Drácula (1969), which pulls from Stoker’s novel as well as H.G. Well’s Time Machine, Santo y Blue Demon Contra Dr. Frankenstein (1974), and Santo en el Museo de Cera (1963), a clear homage to The House of Wax. These films benefit from cultural context, so history buffs will enjoy the Aztec allusions as well as the blend of Indigenous and Christian motifs. Students find these films fascinating since they are prototypes for contemporary superhero films and allow students to investigate what other countries consider masculine, feminine, heroic, and ethical. You may also find yourself researching why so many Luchador movies prominently feature wrestlers of short stature… which will lead you down so many rabbit holes with even more intriguing nuggets of knowledge.
I tend to use older films for one important logistical reason: they are easy to find. I can link them and schedule virtual movie nights. In general, most students appreciate these films because they see origins of themselves, their families, and their backgrounds. My experience certainly dismantles the myth that younger audiences reject older works. They embrace them so long as you make their relevancy clear, which is easy to do with non-white films.
Horror is best enjoyed with others, which is why I teach it in my courses no matter the subject. Being in a group heightens the imagined terrors and our personal dreads. Students enjoy watching, reading, and writing horror since even bad horror can make money, so there’s really no fear of failure. It also allows us to engage in political, social, and racial discussions that may otherwise be more uncomfortable to initiate. Horror is the mirror of our terrible nature framed in a digestible genre. We can use it as educators and writers to make a positive impact and, like a creeping terror, gradually help students enjoy critically thinking about art and their world.
AUTHOR BIO
Michael J. Berntsen is an associate professor in the English, Theatre, and World Languages department of the University of North Carolina at Pembroke. His greatest accomplishments include completing the Boston Marathon in 4 ½ hours, beating the Outer Banks Rooster Challenge, and teaching his 80 year-old mother how to use streaming services. His works can be found in collections and journals, including The MLA Style Center, Teaching Shakespeare, Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Teaching, The Wider World of Jim Henson, Untoward Magazine, St. Sebastian Review, and Media, Technology, and the Imagination.
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