Lycanthropy as Feminist Body Horror: Puberty, Sexuality and the Gynaehorror in Ginger Snaps

Shane Morin follows up on NIGHTBITCH and interrogates the use of lycanthropy in Ginger Snaps, and argues for a more updated feminist take on werewolves.

Traditional werewolf tropes we encounter within Western cinema has often been presented as a male-dominated role, complete with the violation of women’s bodies after the male werewolf transforms into a beast to be hunted and eradicated. However, what happens to the mythos when Karen Walton rewrites the script? What occurs when the stereotypical imagery of male-led violence, masked as a hairy wolf-like creature, is discarded and reimagined, from a feminist perspective? What happens when the metaphor for mental illness is replaced with the occurrence of menstruation in women?

In Ginger Snaps, sisters Ginger & Brigitte Fitzgerald are at the cusp of adolescence, albeit late in comparison to other characters in the film. Situated in a stereotypical small-town setting, complete with a stereotypical high school and the cool girls who ostracize the sisters, Ginger Snaps explores the taboo topic of menstruation in a visceral, elegant manner. I’ve read a few blog commentaries on this topic, where Walton leverages lycanthropy as a trope for a woman’s first period, and the consensus is that “Ginger Snaps is a film that revitalized and brought to wider social cognizance the female lycanthropy genre, treating it with sincerity,” according to Nishtha Banavalikar of Farrago Magazine. 

Strange Horizons’ article, written by Octavia Cade, analyzes the concept of “Gynaehorror,” providing a working definition by Erin Harrington as “horror that deals with all aspects of female reproductive horror, from the reproductive and sexual organs, to virginity and first sex, through to pregnancy, birth and motherhood, and finally to menopause and post-menopause.” Pulling from this definition, Ginger Snaps can most certainly be categorized as Gynaehorror, particularly due to the use of lycanthropy as a metaphor for the aspect of “female reproductive horror.” Walton herself notes of the typical werewolf trope, that “I didn’t want to get involved in writing a horror movie at all. I generally find them very disappointing as stories and pretty predictable and frustrating in terms of the depiction of females.”

However, as a response to this poor depiction of women in horror overall, she reveals: “”Ginger Snaps presented an opportunity to make something sophisticated – to create real characters with real problems, characters that are human beings whose struggles are based on relationships. [I found the] horror element in the nightmare of trying to figure out who you are and who it is that you love. That was attractive to me, the opportunity to put a twist on the subject matter.” Thus, Ginger Snaps is born, upended the misogynistic themes usually associated with werewolves, and redefines feminist lycanthropy as commentary on male avoidance of menstruation.

Ginger, going through her first menstrual cycle while simultaneously experiencing the transformation into a werewolf herself, seemingly goes encounters primal changes. Finding herself at first repulsed by Jason’s advances, Ginger’s awakened sexuality provides two unique alterations to her core identity. The primary alteration is her sexual openness towards Jason, as depicted in their first sexual encounter. Jason, presenting as not only a cis-male, but as a representation of traditional gender role fulfillment, finds himself beyond his sexual control when Ginger reverses roles. Jason, at first on top, says “Take it easy, we got all night. Just lie back and relax.” In turn, Ginger forces him under her, demanding, “You lie back and relax!” Jokingly, he asks, “Who’s the guy here?” Frustrated, she takes complete sexual control, parroting the question back, adding, “You’re fucking hilarious, cave boy.”

Her secondary alteration is lycanthropic, of course. The further she matures as a woman, the further her lycanthropic transformation, providing additional commentary on the perceived horror of young women’s empowerment. Noting that her sister, Brigitte, has still yet to experience menstruation, Brigitte provides an empathetic balance to Ginger’s journey into womanhood, seeking to ease her symptoms via the use of monkshood, a variation of wolfsbane, as well as preventing Ginger on numerous occasions from self-mutilation. I recall vividly that Ginger was experiencing body shame, as she was growing a vestigial tail. Brigitte broke into the bathroom and stopped the self-mutilation, providing a sense of normalcy to an otherwise horrifying experience.

In the end, Ginger is a fully mature werewolf, however she is still Ginger, in that she never attempts to harm her sister. As a result, in a sheer tragic plot twist, Ginger lunges on top of her sister, while her sister accidentally stabs Ginger in the ribs. Having the intent to cure her sister with monkshood, Brigitte eased her suffering via (wo)manslaughter instead. This effort to “cure” the curse of menstruation and lycanthropy ends in the death of Ginger, who was encountering frightening body horror, such as menstrual cramping, hormonal changes, and awakened sexuality.

I, at first, thought that Ginger Snaps ended poorly, however I was wrong. In allowing Ginger to die in the form of a werewolf, Walton cleverly points out that this “accidental killing” is a acknowledgement that patriarchal forces are always hard at work to silence any open discussion of menstruation, including the difficulties of heavy flows, abdominal pain, or even how the process of shedding the uterine lining works. In acknowledging this ongoing problem, Walton redefines the werewolf trope to represent the acceptance of female body horror, in the form of Gynaehorror. In facing the realities that all women face during their first menstrual cycle, and the implications of maturing women, the lycanthropic trope is revitalized as a liberating aspect of feminist horror, rather than one of oppression.

Shane Morin is an urban poet living in Dover, New Hampshire. After a loss of parental time due to divorce, he began writing as a grief process.. Since then, he has honed his craft to blend post-modernity with speculative concepts and topics of contemporary horror. Shane identifies as a cis-gender male feminist and LGBTQIA++ ally. He is currently completing his Master’s in Literature at UNH, and hopes to earn a PhD. In his spare time, Shane binges Farscape and anything Star Trek.