MOUTH ONLY BloodyWomen_Logo_Primary_Colour.png

Bloody Women

Bloody Women is a horror film journal committed to platforming viewpoints on horror cinema, TV and culture by women and non-binary writers.

The Horrifying Weight of Motherhood

 

By Billie Walker

Mother’s Day is, for some, a chance to honour the mothers who have raised, loved and supported them. Children make messy fingerpaint cards that take pride of place on the fridge, adults return home to give thanks on mothering Sunday. Social media and supermarkets pressure us all to show love to the “Best Mother Ever.” Scrolling Instagram inundates us with images of adults hugging their mothers on pristine lawns of childhood homes, throwback pictures of mother’s days past and tiles upon tiles of beautifully arranged bouquets to compliment the perfect family image.  For those of us who did not experience the doting mother the cards present to us it is not a joyous day, but rather a day that invites horror. These perfect scenes and proud parents remind us of something that is lacking, perhaps due to a tenuous relationship, or a severed family connection or a childhood filled with shame and trauma where love was meant to be. 

Narcissistic mothers haunt the horror genre and the therapist’s practice. In psychiatry the narcissistic mother seeks the fulfilment they were deprived in childhood through their own offspring. In horror, as in life, this collection of trauma, insecurity and emotional deprivation is passed down from mother to daughter. The narcissistic mother is not just damaged in herself but a wretched succubus to be feared and defeated.

The blood, piss, shit and sick that appals is central to motherhood, from creation and expulsion to rearing. As Barbara Creed states “when a woman is presented as monstrous it is almost always in relation to her mothering and reproductive functions.” Even when the intentions are not to create horror it can inadvertently be created through a manipulative maternal figure. Mommie Dearest (1981) the film which depicts the relationship between Christina and her adoptive mother Joan Crawford, was intended as a biographical drama. But the camp portrayal of the withering Golden age star, accented with shoulder pads (even in her towel robe), blocked in eyebrows and Faye Dunaway’s exaggerated performance, makes the film appear more of a camp-horror classic than a sombre retelling of childhood abuse. Even in her story Christina is outshined by a theatrical mother, long since dead. 

My therapist offers to me a simple summation that the relationship with the self follows on from the relationship with the mother. A lifetime of being demeaned and critiqued has left me grown and picking myself apart, quaking with imposter syndrome and self-doubt. Much like Annie (Toni Colette) from Hereditary (2018), even in her mother’s absence, is left flinching and on guard as the mother’s presence haunts the family home. Years of manipulation has left Annie reeling from the pressure of a woman she is now, supposedly, free from. Annie faces pressure from her dead mother, an unknown supernatural element and her family to mother in the ways that they desire. All whilst she grieves the loss of her daughter and her mother which includes an inherited lifelong trauma.

All people with a womb feel the societal pressure of motherhood. Those not yet mothers, those not able to be mothers, those with complex mother issues and those who may experience dysphoria in relation to their reproductive organs. Motherhood, especially around Mother’s Day is thrust down all our throats. A capitalist call to the biological production line hangs above our heads. If you, like me, severed the umbilical cord to a toxic mother figure this day leaves a bitterness in the throat, as the guilt of not serenading a woman who gave me life rings out in every advert and billboard. Society applies the pressure.

In an age of growing gender non-conformity and a climate crisis that the next generation will bear the brunt of the consequences, the hallmark holidays that profit off biological parenthood feel increasingly archaic. And yet the pressure of maternity lives on. 

Throughout horror and life maternity is thrust upon us. Ripley, throughout the Alien franchise, constantly has maternity thrust upon her. First, she unintentionally adopts Newt who is lost to her before the third film begins and then she is unknowingly used as the surrogate to an alien-human hybrid. Ripley battles both her inner maternity and the horrific mother of the aliens that hunt her. Her ability to mother is a constant factor in plot and character.

More recently Indonesian horror Impetigore (2019),  highlighted the issue of women’s social mobility in Indonesia. Maya returns to her family’s village to know more about the parents who abandoned her, and in the hopes of inheriting any land left behind. She is met instead by a curse that kills all new-borns and a village full of grieving parents desperate for a vessel to place their blame and break the curse. Without the lifelong purpose of parenthood, the villagers have resorted to murder.

Maya may have inherited a large house but she has also inherited the burden of this curse, she is as the original title dubbed her, Woman of the Damned Land. Unbeknownst to Maya, a girl who never knew her mother and has no memory of ever living in Harjosari, she now fears for her life as the villagers hope that killing her will break the curse. 

Joko Anwar created this piece to highlight the horrors of traditional and religious fundamentalist forces that control the Indonesian Government, thereby commenting on a struggle for women’s rights. As well as its national horrors and culture focus through ancient shadow puppetry, Wayang, it highlights an international pressure on all those who carry a womb. The film is littered with societal pressure to reproduce, and the health of all the babies is placed on a woman who up until recently didn’t even know the village existed. The maternal pressure is so great that when under attack women in this film bring knives to their own throats rather than brandishing it at their attacker. Not because the women’s lives are sacred, but because their ability to reproduce is. 

The pressure to become mothers and Mother’s day itself can be triggering for those that cannot and those who will not. Mother’s day’s marketing campaign still hinges on biological womanhood, and ostracises trans, non-binary people and queer families. Biological motherhood is so ingrained in our society that it leaves no room for a much-needed conversation, one which views parenting as a choice that should not be made lightly. The mentality of “we got to an age where everyone was having kids,” should not be anyone’s deciding factor. Choosing to create a family due to valuing love and support is a much healthier option than a heteronormative pressure to conform to parenthood. 

Not all those with fertile ovaries should be mothers. Little Joe (2019), the British plant horror, is a rare and much appreciated example of a woman who decides she is not fit for motherhood. Although some may see it as tragic, her choice to give Joe’s father full custody at the film’s end is a beautiful moment. Demonstrating that the right decision isn’t always for you to take care of your child. Parenthood isn’t for everyone and too many children have learnt this lesson at the expense of their own childhood. 

This is not to say that no parent should be thanked for the child rearing, but that there should be no pressure to do so. For those that feel more hurt than love, this day and its pressures can be detrimental. If your maternal figure resembles a deranged Joan Crawford or a possessive Mrs Bates, you are under no obligation to recognise Mother’s Day or any guilt bestowed on you for being birthed. This is for the motherless, the childless and the traumatised  that deserved the love they missed out on. Societal coercion be damned, you are under no obligation, switch off and shed the weight of motherhood.

Billie Walker is a London based writer and host of the horror film podcast No Humans Involved on Repeater Radio. She is often found chasing the sun round her garden with a campari based drink, a bucket of olives and a bad book. 

We've been going independently for years now, and so far have self-financed every single project. In order to do more work, and continue supporting amazing filmmakers in the genre space, we've launched a Patreon.

If you are able to support us and the work we do on Patreon, we'd truly and deeply appreciate it. 


 
Olivia Howe