Hello!
My name is Marisa de la Peña, and I am a researcher and artist. The subjects I primarily focus on are decolonial horror and their settler colonial histories in visual art and media. I will explain soon what exactly decolonial horror is, but for right now I want to outline how I approach the genre.
My work has greatly changed since the pandemic, and I am extremely grateful for that. Since reentering academia in 2020, I have been introduced to frameworks that have forever changed how I approach my research. Specifically, work about damage and desire from academic Eve Tuck created a huge shift in how I use and garner research. In the 2009 article Suspending Damage: A Letter to Communities, Tuck explains the pitfalls of focusing on damage when working with marginalized communities, rather than centering their desire which supports self-determination. But what do damage and desire entail?
To focus on damage is to focus only on the past transgressions and histories of settler colonialism and not the present-day individuals and community needs. Damage builds an uneven space where it paints the other as “broken”. This is seen as a successful tool to leverage power back to said communities when it’s just exploitative. There is no power back, only pandering to a past that doesn’t recognize present-day agency and joy. It keeps people and their narratives to being attached to the past, it creates invisibility. Also, it’s a great way for those who do this work to capitalize and profit from others’ pain. Damage is gross and this approach is still very popular, especially on social media.
To focus on desire as a researcher is giving power back to communities, by prioritizing present-day needs. This can be focusing on projects and spaces that promote joy and agency. To recenter and home in on desire creates sustainable equity. In my work this looks like supporting present day creators and their approaches on making work around damage and desire. It’s choosing to see the present as the vehicle and driving force for wanting to fix damage, not through guilt and dehumanization tactics. This of course is not the bypass the pain caused by damage, just a new approach that puts power back into those who have been affected the most by colonialism.
When applying this framework to my research I can see works of the past in a more objective manner, along with present-day pieces that feed into nostalgic tropes. It basically allows me to enter spaces and engage with materials with confidence. It has created a boundary between me and the subject matter.
If there is anything I have learned since the beginning of 2020, it’s that I don’t believe my work can thrive through shame tactics. Here is a short list of what my work is about and what it isn’t:
I am not here to be the metaphorical chancla that tells you colonialism is bad, because we already know that.
I am not here to build a case of equivocation based on historical trauma for you to see my humanity and others. No oppression Olympics here.
I am not here to tell you can’t enjoy something of the past because it doesn’t meet an unobtainable moral hierarchy based on present-day views. I am also not here to tell you can’t enjoy contemporary work because it doesn’t meet XYZ. So, if you’re expecting lists and breakdowns of why something should be “canceled”, you might want to go elsewhere.
I am not here to implement neocolonial tactics or criteria disguised as social justice. I am not here to gatekeep or police.
I am not here to tell you how to be anti-racist. That’s your own labor.
I am here to share my work and the work of others I feel are changing the genre of horror. Also, how you can support it!
I am here to talk about how horror has historically otherized while illuminating real policies that were implemented when some of your favorite horror classics were made. I am here to break down the histories, tropes, and why I believe decolonial horror is a powerful subversive tool worth supporting. We can learn, critique, and hold space for nuance here.
I am here to create a space that encourages curiosity and fallibility.
So, won’t you stay a bit and learn about decolonial horror with me?
My ghost is waiting.