Carrie: A Classic Horror Novel and Queer Icon Turns 50

Brant Lewi,s writing for Slay Away in his piece "They’re All Going to Laugh at You – Exploring the Queer and Trans Lens of CARRIE," points to many of the book's (and excellent 1976 film) themes and events and characterizations that highlight Carrie as a queer characterization, if not specifically queer herself. She is a tormented outsider, picked on for a difference the others sense, but even she doesn't understand. She is a victim of an abusive mother who uses religion as her weapon of choice, demanding that Carrie stamp out the sin of her special power, her telekinesis. She literally forces Carrie into a closet to pray the (gay) telekinesis away. It is this power that makes Carrie special, and so deeply misunderstood both to her classmates and to herself. You can basically exchange "telekinetic" for "gay" and you have most of our stories right there.

Her powers kick into high gear with her first menstruation, an event that unfortunately unfolds in front of her gym class in a public shower. It's an event that Carrie herself has no understanding of due to her mother's negligence, so much like us gay kids, when we discovered we were different, we had no language to describe what we were feeling, and no one to turn to for help. We flailed and cried and did our best to keep it to ourselves. Lewis includes the idea of looking at Carrie through a trans lens, of being completely uncomfortable in the body she was given, a body she doesn't understand.

What a movie pic.twitter.com/2OT54TEYB6

— slowmotion guy X (@alo_vato) October 30, 2018

Then, as Carrie does, we sought out the information on our own. She hides in the library, researching her power, searching for the words and an answer, staying hidden from prying eyes. How many times as kids, before the internet, did we seek out answers to who we were, but were deathly afraid anyone would find out? Because, like Carrie, we felt we were the only ones. And when we did find out there was a language for what we were feeling, that it was "normal," that's when we felt a bit more powerful.

In the novel and original film, Carrie begins to grow into herself, gaining just a smidge of confidence, enough to challenge her mother and accept that date to the prom. She's practiced her powers, snuck in moments of small revenge (that kid on the bike calling her "Creepy Carrie!"), and allowed herself the idea that she could be normal like everyone else. Unfortunately, she was the victim of what Jason Shawn says is "the lesson of Carrie (which is) not that they’ll get theirs, but that you have to suppress the instinct that tells you to trust others. You have to look out for yourself." She arrives at the prom and "everyone is bowled over. 'Oh wow,' the crowd responds, 'you’re pretty and worthy of the dignity we denied you because we were lazy and didn’t feel like going against the powerful people who decided we should hate you.'" So Carrie, feeling proud and powerful and angry, looks out for herself in the biggest way possible.

Here's where I most saw Carrie as a dream queer. She had a power I wanted to exact revenge. A power we all wanted. Unfortunately, we're not telekinetic, so we have to learn where to trust and not trust and watch out for ourselves in more meaningful ways. But damn, what queer kid doesn't cheer her on in that prom scene, with every table flip that decapitates, every slammed door that crushes, and later, every car that explodes.

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