Horror movies are often associated with creepy creatures, haunted houses, masked killers and jump scares, but beneath the fear and suspense, many horror films reflect the political and social issues of their time. Filmmakers have used horror to explore subjects such as racism, economic inequality, gender roles, government distrust and class conflict. From the social anxieties reflected in 1970s horror to the racial commentary of Get Out (2017), the genre demonstrates how real-world political tensions can become sources of fictional terror. Horror is more than blood and gore; it can challenge audiences to examine the problems and power structures that shape society.

The 1970s marked an important period in American horror, as filmmakers increasingly portrayed ordinary people confronting violent, unpredictable worlds. Economic uncertainty, changing social values, and declining trust in traditional institutions provided a context for stories in which familiar sources of safety could no longer be trusted. Instead of relying exclusively on supernatural monsters, filmmakers began presenting human beings, families and communities as sources of terror. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) offers an example of how horror can reflect economic and class tensions. The film follows a group of young people who encounter a violent family in rural Texas. These antagonists include characters whose lives are connected to the decline of traditional slaughterhouse work as automation becomes more common. Their circumstances can be interpreted as reflecting anxieties about economic displacement, industrial change, and the loss of social stability. Rather than presenting the countryside as a peaceful escape from modern life, the film turns it into a place where violence and desperation threaten outsiders. These films helped establish a recurring horror trope: collapse of the systems people depend on for security. When family structures, economic stability, or trusted institutions fail, characters are left vulnerable to dangers they cannot easily control. The political significance of this trope lies in its suggestion that terror does not always come from an unfamiliar monster; sometimes, it emerges from the breakdown of the social structures that are supposed to protect us. 

During the 1980s, slasher films became a defining part of popular American horror. Movies such as Friday the 13th (1980) and A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) popularized stories in which groups of young people faced unpredictable threats. These films frequently used familiar settings, including summer camps, suburban neighborhoods, and schools to turn ordinary environments into places of danger. The slasher genre also developed a recognizable pattern in which characters’ choices, relationships, and behavior could appear connected to their survival. Some films seemed to punish characters who broke social rules, reflecting contemporary debates about teenage independence, sexuality, and changing cultural values. This pattern can be connected to broader conservative concerns about morality and social order during the decade. Under President Ronald Reagan, American political discourse placed renewed emphasis on traditional family values and personal responsibility. Slasher films did not necessarily promote these political positions, but their recurring conflicts sometimes reflected the cultural tensions surrounding them. The masked killer became especially significant within this context. When the killer hides their identity, they often represent an unpredictable threat that cannot be understood through ordinary social categories. The familiar community becomes unsafe, and characters struggle to identify where danger is coming from. 

The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 and the subsequent War on Terror significantly changed American political culture. Public discussion increasingly focused on national security, terrorism, surveillance, and the balance between personal freedom and government authority. These concerns also provide a useful context for understanding horror films that depict institutions as threatening or unreliable. One example is The Mist (2007), directed by Frank Darabont. The film follows a group of people trapped inside a supermarket while dangerous creatures surround them. As fear spreads, the survivors begin to turn against one another. The creatures outside are frightening, but the growing divisions inside the supermarket become equally dangerous. The film can be interpreted as a commentary on how fear changes normal, rational behavior. When people believe their lives are in danger, they may turn toward extreme leaders, accept claims without evidence, or blame other groups for their problems. In The Mist, the inability to understand the threat outside creates an environment in which manipulation and conflict flourish. This is a recurring horror trope: the danger is not limited to an external enemy. Fear itself can weaken a community, making people more willing to surrender their judgment to someone who promises certainty or protection. Its portrayal of panic, authority, and social division illustrates how horror can explore questions that become especially relevant during periods of political uncertainty. When someone feels powerless against a large entity, it’s easier to attack their neighbors than accept their powerlessness.

The 2010s saw a rise in horror films that directly addressed contemporary political and social issues. Rather than simply using social conflict as background, filmmakers increasingly placed inequality, racism, and institutional power at the center of their stories. Jordan Peele’s debut film Get Out (2017) is one of the clearest examples. The film follows Chris, a Black man who visits the family of his white girlfriend and gradually discovers that their apparent friendliness conceals horrifying intentions. At first, the family seems welcoming and progressive, if prone to seemingly accidental microaggressions. As the story develops, their behavior reveals a desire to control and exploit Black bodies. The film challenges the idea that racism only exists through open hostility or obvious prejudice. The family members often present themselves as accepting and enlightened, yet their actions reveal a deeper form of racial domination. This makes the horror especially unsettling since the threat comes from people who claim to respect the protagonist rather than from people who openly identify themselves as his enemies. The film transforms social experiences that are sometimes dismissed or overlooked into an unmistakable source of terror. One of the film’s most memorable concepts is the Sunken Place, a state in which Chris loses control while remaining conscious of what is happening to him. Politically, it can be interpreted as a symbol of powerlessness: a person can understand the forces controlling their life while still struggling to resist them. The concept makes an abstract issue, the denial of individual autonomy, into something audiences can experience through the language of horror.

Peele continued exploring social inequality in Us (2019). The film follows a family confronted by mysterious doubles of themselves. These doubles can be interpreted as representing the people society leaves behind while others enjoy comfort and security. The film’s underground population raises questions about class divisions, exclusion, and the hidden costs of prosperity. Although the meaning of Us remains open to interpretation, ts use of doubles and underground spaces can be interpreted as an allegory for inequality and injustice in American society. Together, Get Out and Us demonstrate how horror can transform political structures into physical threats. Racism becomes a form of bodily control, and class inequality becomes a conflict between people whose lives are connected but whose experiences are radically different.

In the 2020s, horror continued to explore political questions surrounding race, inequality, institutional power, and the historical consequences of discrimination. These themes have become particularly visible in films that revisit familiar horror stories from new perspectives. Candyman (2021), for example, revisits the mythology of the original 1992 film through a contemporary story about art, racial history, and violence in Chicago. The film connects its supernatural elements to the continuing legacy of racial injustice and challenges the idea that a community can simply move beyond its traumatic past without confronting it. This approach reflects a broader horror trope: the return of something that society has tried to bury. A ghost, monster, or curse can represent unresolved historical violence. The supernatural threat becomes a reminder that past injustices continue to shape the present, even when people would rather forget them.

Another example is the continuing Purge franchise, which began with The Purge in 2013 and developed further throughout the 2010s and into the 2020s. The series imagines a fictional United States in which most crimes are temporarily permitted during an annual period of violence. The government presents the event as a way to strengthen society, but the films repeatedly raise questions about who benefits from the system and who is left vulnerable. The premise turns political inequality into a literal survival scenario; wealthier characters can purchase security, while poorer and marginalized people are left exposed. Political authority is not simply absent; it actively creates the conditions that allow some people to indulge their darkest urges. The franchise demonstrates how horror can question the assumption that laws and government institutions always protect the public equally. By imagining an extreme political system, the films encourage audiences to consider how access to safety, resources, and protection can be distributed unequally in the real world.

Over the past fifty years, horror has developed into a genre capable of exploring some of society’s most difficult political questions. The economic anxiety reflected in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, the racial and urban tensions explored in Candyman, the social panic of The Mist, and the critiques of racism and inequality in Get Out, Us, and The Purge demonstrate how horror tropes change alongside cultural concerns. The monster, the haunted house, the masked killer, and the invasion of a seemingly safe home are not simply tools for frightening audiences. Depending on the film, they can represent economic insecurity, racial oppression, institutional failure, or the fear of losing control over one’s own life. These meanings are not always intentional or universally agreed upon, and horror films can reflect the prejudices of their time as well as challenge them. Politics influences horror because the genre gives filmmakers a way to turn invisible social problems into visible threats. Inequality becomes a monster, prejudice becomes a trap, and distrust becomes a physical, tangible threat. By exaggerating the dangers that exist within society, horror encourages audiences to question what they consider normal, whom they trust, and which problems they have learned to ignore. The genre’s greatest source of fear is not the supernatural world itself, but the possibility that the real world already contains the conditions that make its nightmares believable.

Congratulations, you’ve survived the first few weeks of college! You got lost on the way to class, you forgot that one important thing at home and you slowly started to figure things out. Your first year of college is so special, and what you do during this crucial time can set the tone for the rest of your college career. As a senior, allow me to give you some advice that will help you live a fun and fulfilling four years at William Jewell.

1. Build good habits early. The best college experience is one built on balance.  College gives you a lot more freedom than high school, which is great until you realize that no one is going to remind you to do your homework. You have to learn how to manage your time, get enough sleep, keep up with assignments and still have a life outside of school. The habits you build during your freshman year will follow you for the rest of college, so you might as well start good ones now. Set aside study time so that you aren’t neglecting your grades, but try to keep at least one day of your week open for social activities. Set alarms, set up a calendar, whatever works for you. You don’t need to have your entire life figured out, but learning how to balance work and fun will make everything much easier.
2. Make friends with other freshmen. Your freshman year is one of the easiest times to make friends because everyone is in the exact same boat. You are all new, you are all trying to figure out where your classes are and desperately trying to remember everyone’s names. Take advantage of that! Talk to the people sitting next to you in class and introduce yourself to people at events, even if it seems scary. You don’t have to become best friends with everyone you meet, but sometimes a simple “Hey, do you want to get food?” can turn into a friendship that lasts all four years. Don’t be afraid to make the first move. Chances are, the other person is just as nervous as you are.
3. Take advantage of counseling services. College can be a lot, and there is absolutely no shame in admitting that you are struggling. William Jewell has resources available to students for a reason, so use them! Simply open your Brightspace, click “WJC Resources,” then find “Counseling Services” in the drop-down to see hours, location and who is available. You don’t have to wait until you are having a complete crisis to talk to someone about stress, homesickness, friendships, classes or anything else that is bothering you. Think of counseling like academic tutoring, except instead of helping you with calculus, it is helping you sort through the other messes that come with being a college student. Asking for help does not make you weak or incapable. If anything, knowing when you need help is a very important part of growing up. There is no secret rule that says you have to figure everything out by yourself. College is a learning experience in more ways than one, and part of learning how to be an adult is learning when to ask someone for a little assistance.
4. Telehealth is your friend. Sometimes the idea of walking across campus and sitting in an office to get help feels like way too much work. This is where telehealth can be incredibly useful. Being able to talk to someone from the comfort of your room makes getting support much more convenient. College is already busy enough, so take advantage of resources that make your life easier. Whether you’re working on your mental health or another aspect of your well-being, don’t ignore a problem just because getting help feels inconvenient. Your health is more important than whatever reason you have for avoiding the appointment.
5. Most importantly, go to as many events as possible, especially on the weekends. You will probably receive an absurd number of emails about campus events, and after a while you may start deleting them without even reading them. I know it can be tempting to go home on the weekends, especially if you live close by. Don’t. Go to the weird event. Go to the sporting event. Go to the movie night. Go to the event that you think sounds completely boring. You have four years to decide what you like, and freshman year is the perfect time to try things without worrying too much about whether they are “your thing.” Some of your best college memories will probably come from things you almost decided not to attend. You might meet someone new, discover a new interest or simply end up with a funny story to tell later. You can always go back to your room after it’s over, but you can’t recreate a night that you decided to skip.

At the end of the day, your freshman year is about figuring things out. You are going to make mistakes, miss assignments, get homesick, meet people you love, meet people you probably should have avoided and have days where you wonder what you were thinking when you decided to go to college. That is all part of it. You don’t have to have the perfect freshman year. Just put yourself out there, take care of yourself, ask for help when you need it and say yes to experiences whenever you can. Four years sounds like a long time right now, but trust me, it goes by much faster than you think.