My unexpected Pride icon: as a bullied teenager, I found safety in slasher films

Watching mild-mannered schoolgirls overcome serial killers such as Freddy Krueger and emerge as survivors spoke to my younger self in a way no other films could

I have always been morbidly obsessed with the horror film genre. As a small child, I’d gaze up at the posters of Freddy Krueger or Pinhead in our local video rental shop with a curious mix of fear and desire. I wanted to be scared, and I also did not. I was 11 when Channel 4 screened A Nightmare on Elm Street. My poor mum, assuming it couldn’t be that bad if it was on TV, let me record it. I watched through my fingers, drunk on anxiety, the anticipation of the kills almost unbearable. There is, I would argue, something quite queer about this complicated urge. Horror is titillating.

The golden age of the slasher movie was the 1970s and 80s. I’m sure film-makers were inspired by the cultural austerity of the Reagan era, the Moral Majority and the unfolding Aids crisis. But, as a child, I was blissfully unaware of those things or my burgeoning queerness. I just knew I wanted to watch these films.