A towering man revs a chainsaw, menacingly threatening a barely clothed teenage girl trapped in a cage. She shakes the bars, pleading for someone to release her. Nearby, a zombie shuffles forward, its face decaying and discolored, yet with a disturbing focus on exposing cleavage. It’s another typical Friday night at a haunted house in Ohio, where Abberley Sorg observes from the shadows, taking mental notes on the scenes unfolding before them.
“I’ve been fascinated by haunted houses my entire life,” says Sorg, a doctoral candidate at Wayne State University in Detroit. Choosing to focus on haunted houses for their dissertation allowed Sorg to delve beyond theoretical analysis and gather qualitative data by engaging directly with people in these eerie environments.
As Sorg navigates through haunted houses, they focus on the interplay of gender dynamics among the characters. One trope that often stands out to Sorg is the caged woman, helplessly awaiting rescue. “Is this a scenario where you ever see men?” Sorg questions. “And if not, why is that?”
These gendered character roles are not just a quirk of the haunted house industry; they reflect a broader cultural pattern. Erika Kvistad, a professor at the University of South-Eastern Norway who specializes in horror literature, explains that horror has long depicted women primarily as victims. Kvistad references film scholar Linda Williams, who argues that horror films often use female victims to provoke emotional reactions from audiences. Society tends to accept women expressing fear more readily than men, and the sight of a man in severe distress might disturb viewers more deeply than seeing a woman in similar circumstances. “We’re simply more accustomed to seeing women as objects of suffering,” Kvistad remarks.
Even when women assume the role of monsters rather than victims, traditional expectations of femininity and attractiveness often persist. “Female monsters are frequently portrayed in relation to sexuality,” Kvistad notes. While male zombies are depicted as mere zombies, female zombies are often hypersexualized as “sexy zombies.”
This phenomenon isn’t exclusive to Western horror. It’s also seen in cultural myths such as the Malay langsuir, the South Asian churel, and the pontianak, a figure in Indonesian and Singaporean folklore. “She is stunningly beautiful—until she disembowels you,” writes horror author Wen-yi Lee about the pontianak.
These deep-rooted fears and established roles are prominently displayed in the commercial haunted house industry, providing a rich field for Sorg’s sociological research. Sorg approaches haunted houses as any other visitor would, purchasing a ticket and entering with a friend who acts as a research partner. “We blend in with the crowd,” Sorg explains.
Inside the haunted house, Sorg keeps a low profile, making audio recordings of their observations. “We discuss what we’re seeing as it happens,” Sorg says, with a particular focus on aspects relevant to their research questions, such as how characters conform to traditional gender roles and how they are sexualized. Despite the terrifying surroundings, Sorg maintains their composure. “I don’t think I’ve ever been truly scared in a haunted house,” they admit, except for one located in an old prison, which felt genuinely haunted.
After each visit, Sorg meticulously analyzes the data, categorizing their observations into various tropes. “I use a series of codes to break down the data qualitatively,” Sorg explains. They track elements like “desirability, sexual embodiment, gender presentation, gender roles, sexism, sexual harassment, and assault.”
In addition to on-site observations, Sorg conducts interviews with haunted house actors, connecting with performers through social media groups. Some revelations were unexpected. For example, many women work in haunted houses alongside their children, and some shared stories about shielding their kids from inappropriate behavior by both patrons and colleagues.
The interviews also shed light on the roles actors play and the degree of control they have over their characters and costumes. One discovery is that most frightening masks aren’t available in sizes that fit women, which leads many female actors to rely on makeup instead. The sexualization of female characters is something that many in the industry actively resist, yet societal pressures to be attractive in public spaces persist, Sorg observes.
One individual pushing back against these gender norms in the haunted house industry is Angie Hansen. Although not involved in Sorg’s research, Hansen’s experience echoes many of the same observations. With 20 years in the industry—starting as an actor, then as a creative director, and now as a consultant—Hansen has witnessed the gender dynamics at play.
“I started in this industry at 14,” Hansen recalls. “My first role was as a victim, the stereotypical bloody girl in a revealing outfit, running from the big scary monsters.” While Hansen has seen some progress over the years, she acknowledges that the overall pattern has remained largely unchanged. She believes the male dominance in haunt ownership is a significant factor. “Most haunted houses are owned by men. That’s the bottom line,” she states. “I know very few haunts owned by women, but I’m working to change that.”
In her current role at Blood Manor in New York City, Hansen strives to challenge traditional gender roles by giving female actors the opportunity to play characters typically reserved for men. As an actor, Hansen relished the chance to play a serial killer, stepping out of the usual victim role. “It was the best experience,” she recalls. Playing a powerful, proactive character, even if deranged, boosted her confidence and allowed her to express herself more fully, both on and off the stage. Portraying a bold, unapologetic villain provided a rare opportunity for Hansen to be “open and overt” rather than demure.
Hansen’s enthusiasm and confidence highlight one of the key goals of Sorg’s research: understanding how the narratives created for scares in haunted houses influence individuals and shape cultural perceptions long after the haunted house closes its doors.
“This industry isn’t just a seasonal hobby,” Sorg says. “It’s a world where people dedicate their entire lives.”
