For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be a vampire. As a child, I would pretend my fruit punch juice was blood and use my blankets as capes as I stalked the halls of my home, living my little fantasy. As I grew older, my interest for reading grew, as well as my interest in the supernatural. Although I haven’t been able to read most of the classics, I’ve seen the movies, watched video essays on the topics, and read a few journal articles, which have quelled my appetite until I’m able to get my hands on the real thing.
Women in vampire media, as well as gothic media, are often relegated to the sidelines. Simply, damsels in distress, and rarely ever the heroines of their own stories. If they do have agency, they are villainized, even more so when they are the antagonists. Here, I’ll talk about these women, specifically, three characters who have compelled me and opened up interesting discussions online.
- Carmilla from Carmilla 1872
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Retrieved from: The Victorian Web
While many credit Bram Stoker for writing the first ever vampire novel with Dracula in 1897, it was actually John William Polidori with The Vampyre in 1819. Also predating Stoker’s work is Carmilla, written by Joseph Sheridan le Fanu. It’s about 100 pages, considered one of the first modern vampire novels, especially in the themes it explores, and an interesting read.
The story takes place in the small village of Styria, where Laura is visited by a strange girl named Carmilla. The circumstances of her arrival are unusual, featuring a carriage crash and a “mother” who seems to want nothing more than to leave her daughter and continue on with her journey, which she does. From the jump, we can see that Carmilla is odd; she only leaves her room after midday, sleeps with her door locked, does not join the family at their private chapel, and has dramatic mood swings, chalked up to her poor physical health. In fact, one of the oddest moments in the novel comes when Carmilla’s mother states that, until she comes back, Carmilla won’t discuss her family, who she is, or where they come from. She also emphasizes that her daughter is entirely sane, for no reason.
Despite all this, Laura and Carmilla form a strong bond that verges on romantic. Before reading the novel, all I saw online was that the queerness was only in subtext, but after reading, I don’t see how the implicit romance and attraction shared between them can ever be subtext. Carmilla constantly kisses and hugs Laura, stating how much she loves her. And if you’re thinking, well, maybe they’re just best friends? I wouldn’t be so sure. Carmilla explicitly states that she has never been in love, and if she ever were to be, she would only fall in love with Laura. Not to mention, Laura and Carmilla have met before, in a strange nightmare Laura had where a woman who looked like Carmilla was in her room and proceeded to sink her teeth into her.
Soon after Carmilla’s arrival, some villagers, especially women, begin to die of a strange sickness. They often have nightmares, their physical health begins to decline rapidly, and, after a few days, they are dead. The same is beginning to occur to Laura. She often sees a strange creature at the foot of her bed, before she feels her chest being punctured by two needles. From here, suspicion rises. Centuries-old portraits of a woman who bears a striking resemblance to Carmilla arrive. Later, an old friend, who was supposed to visit before the events of the novel, tells them of a girl who arrived at his house in the same strange circumstances as Carmilla and engaged in the same behaviors. The only difference being that his niece’s life was taken. Carmilla’s vampirism is eventually revealed, and she is murdered, putting an end to her evil. Within Carmilla, we can see some of the first depictions of vampires as sexualized and attractive creatures. Prior to this, vampires, especially in Eastern Europe, were depicted as literal rotting corpses who sprang from their graves at night in search of blood, which gave rise to the tradition of staking corpses, cutting their heads, and laying them to rest upside down. However, Carmilla is described as a beautiful, yet vain, woman, who cares little for others, wanting nothing more than to suck the life from her victims. It’s also here that we see queerness being villainized through the myth of the vampire. Although Laura is often repulsed by Carmilla’s overt advances, part of her likes what is going on, so there’s a constant push and pull. Queerness is presented as being predatory, since it was one of Carmilla’s many traps to lure her victims in.
- Claudia from Interview with the Vampire (2022)
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Retrieved from: CBR
Claudia’s story is tragic from the start. It is important to note that she was written as a way for Anne Rice, author of Interview with the Vampire, to cope and come to terms with the death of her young daughter. This fact drives Claudia’s story in the way that she was never meant to live long, she would burn out quickly, like a star. Her story, however short, is central to the plot and continues to drive the story forward, even when she is gone.
AMC’s 2022 adaptation of Interview with the Vampire has a few key changes to the original text, such as making Louis a creole black man in the 20th century instead of a white 18th-century slave owner, and Claudia a 14-year-old black girl instead of a 5-year-old. I found these changes to be tasteful and added more nuance to the story, especially when combined with the central themes.
Claudia is turned after Louis finds her almost burning to death in a fire following a race riot in the black part of Storyville. Louis, feeling responsible for the events, takes her to his maker and companion, Lestat, begging and pleading for her to be turned, against the latter’s advice. This scene is burned into my mind; the way Louis drags her on the floor like a doll, calling her his daughter despite not even knowing who she is, is haunting, and sets the tone for the rest of the story. From the beginning, Claudia is the couple’s doll, dressed in the latest fashions, pampered, and spoiled. However, being a vampire means you never age, and for Claudia, that means her body will never grow; she will always physically be a child.
The happy family is quickly interrupted as the years go by, and Claudia yearns to grow up and find a companion. So much so that she spirals, inflicting burns on herself, trying to turn people, and killing them in the process because of her lack of restraint, and becoming disenchanted with her new life. Everything comes to a head when she accidentally kills Charlie, a boy she likes, and is forced by Lestat to watch his body burn, fully showcasing the elder’s abusive tendencies. This is the beginning of the end for Claudia.
Claudia is a masterful depiction of a child in an abusive household. Old enough to understand, not old enough or strong enough to defend herself. The burden of comforting Louis is placed on her, especially after the incident in which Lestat beats Louis, nearly killing him. She becomes Louis’ driving force, to the point where she suppresses her desires in order to be there for him. When she does leave, she’s constantly either re-victimized or dragged back home. She yearns to be a woman because she yearns for freedom; she yearns for companionship because she is alone. Lestat resents her, and Louis constantly pushes her aside for him. Not even after the murder of Lestat is she free because, after traveling to Paris, she is once again subject to the same abuse and ridicule. Here, however, she gains freedom and becomes her own heroine when she meets Madeline, even though this freedom is short-lived.
Claudia’s race adds a special nuance to her story. Historically, black women have been regarded as lesser women or not even real women. Our femininity and womanhood are constantly brought into question, and this feeds Claudia’s arc of trying to become and feel like a woman, especially in the first seasons of the show. In the second season, we see her queerness come into play when she meets Madeline, the second person she allows herself to love after Charlie. Madeline is an unexpected reprieve for Claudia, the first relationship where she doesn’t have to hide or sacrifice who she truly is, the first time she shows restraint.
Claudia’s story, while tragic, is a driving force in the narrative. The first glimpses we get into the story come from her diary, and she is ever-present in the story, alive or dead. She is a mirror to her parents and also their complete opposite. She embraces her vampirism, her monstrosity, and becomes the heroine of her story, however short it may have been.
- Ellen Hutter from Nosferatu (2024)
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Retrieved from: Screen Rant
If you haven’t watched the recent Robert Eggers adaptation of Nosferatu… What are you doing? I have not been able to stop thinking about it, and the numerous TikTok memes don’t help either. It has truly captivated me and partially quenched my thirst for more vampire-related media, until the release of Interview with the Vampire season 3.
The original Nosferatu is an unauthorized adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. It follows a similar plot with some key changes. Firstly, it takes place in Germany instead of England. Jonathan Harker is now Thomas Hutter, Mina Harker is Ellen Hutter, and Count Dracula is now the gigantic and horrifying Count Orlok. Another key difference is that instead of being a handsome and elusive Count, Orlok is more akin to the traditional vampire appearance of a rotting corpse, at least in the 2024 film. Despite being an adaptation, I see Ellen as being given more agency over her story than her Dracula counterpart.
Nosferatu manifests himself within Ellen’s dreams, not unlike Carmilla, as a way to get closer to Ellen. He is revealed to have been doing this since she was a “young girl.” Whether this means she was a child or a young teen is unknown, but it is clear he has been preying on Ellen for years. It is interesting how Ellen recounts that this creature has been haunting her ever since she desired companionship, for an “angel,” and that it all stopped once she married Thomas. But now that he is being sent away to sell an estate to a mysterious count, these nightmares return.
We can once again see the sexualization of the vampiric figure in Ellen’s nightmares. They come on suddenly, causing her to writhe and rock in her sleep, with the only sound being small, pained moans. The vision of Ellen being a perfect 19th-century German woman breaks down here, especially with the way the situation disrupts the life of the family friends’ housing while Thomas is away. Ellen constantly steps out of the line of being a refined, acceptable woman, and she is punished for it. She is held down, tied to the bed, and drugged into submission, into normality, not unlike how women from the time were treated, even if exaggerated. She is constantly misunderstood and taken for a liar, when she speaks of a creature haunting her. It is not until her husband is himself victimized by Orlok, and when a doctor specializing in the occult comes to see Ellen, that she is taken seriously. But it is too late. Thomas has inadvertently signed her over, and Orlok is on his way.
Tragedy strikes the town fast, and we can see the vampire as a metaphor for disease, because once Orlok’s boat lands, the town is infected by thousands of disease-carrying rats, which may also be influenced by xenophobic narratives about Eastern Europeans at the time. Orlok gives Ellen a false choice: if she doesn’t turn herself over to him, her loved ones will die, and he makes good on that promise. This leads Ellen to take matters into her own hands. She lets her husband go off to hunt the creature while she stays back, preparing to sacrifice herself. She becomes Orlok’s bride and invites him into her home, where he feasts upon her body until sunrise. It is this very sun that kills him. By the time her husband figures out the real plan, it is too late, he arrives back home to see Ellen lying in bed, taking her last breaths with a somewhat proud look on her face.
From the narrative, it’s very clear that Orlok groomed Ellen. However, we can also gather that he is a manifestation of her deepest desires, evidenced by Ellen’s question, “Does evil come from within us, or from beyond?” She fears that the very thing she hoped for has now twisted into the source of her haunting. I also find it interesting that she isn’t believed until men step in to verify her story; otherwise, she would’ve continued to be chalked up as irrational, and her punishment wouldn’t have stopped. It is only through her sacrifice that she becomes the heroine of the story.
Women in vampire media and gothic media at large have always been relegated to the sidelines and viewed through extremely misogynistic lenses. However, these three characters break these structures by taking the narratives into their own hands. Whether it be as the villains or the unlikely heroes, they take front and center in their own stories.