So, let’s talk about something that’s been lurking in the shadows of supernatural fiction for what feels like forever (or at least, like, since Buffy staked her first vampire) — the connection between LGBTQ+ identities and coming-of-age stories drenched in the vibe of the supernatural. Honestly, it’s spooky how these two things are basically besties. You start with a kid who’s figuring themselves out, pop in some werewolves, witches, rickety old houses, et voilà, you’ve got yourself a metaphor for queer identity that slaps harder than a ghost on Halloween.
I mean, think about it. These supernatural coming-of-age stories already live in this weird middle zone between reality and fantasy, and honestly, so does the process of understanding your own identity when you’re queer. You’re going through the motions, trying to figure out if you’re a changeling or if you’re just, you know, a regular goblin like everyone else. It’s not that different from the confusion and eventual ohhh moment of coming out. You’ve got hidden powers, secret lives, things going bump in the metaphorical closet. Classic stuff.
And I gotta say, it’s also about transformation. A good ol’ werewolf story? Chef’s kiss …I mean, like, amazing. . But seriously, werewolf transformations are often this very uncomfortable but powerful metaphor for puberty and self-realization. But let’s go deeper—because when you think about it, shapeshifting and “becoming something else” toys with the idea of queerness so well. It’s about not matching what people expect you to be versus what you actually are, even if it’s terrifying or misunderstood at first. There’s a reason so many LGBTQ+ folks identify with the X-Men too—those wild mutants have ‘episode one’ coming out moments baked right into their lore. Literal superpowers awaken while someone’s figuring out their identity. Coincidence? I think not.
Speaking of metaphors in magical identity stories: let’s talk about hiding who you are—like how many witches or vampires have to slink through the daytime pretending to be normal? Or how many have to “pass” as humans so they don’t attract attention? Now, take that and relate it to anyone who’s ever been closeted or had to hide an aspect of their LGBTQ+ identity, and boom. We see you, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and we raise you Harry Potter questioning whether he fits in with wizard society. Voilà. Magic meets queerness—again.
Okay, it’s not even subtle sometimes either. Remember Willow from Buffy? Her witchcraft storyline basically paralleled her coming out as queer, and it was so on the nose that I half-expected Giles to give her a pamphlet that said, “Yes, You’re Magical & Queer: It’s a Vibe.” (Get on that, Giles.) Even in modern shows like The Owl House (source: [nerd central], look it up), you’ve got these really heartfelt stories wrapped in witchy, magical bow-ties. Luz’s journey discovering her magic powers easily mirrors her exploration of her own identity. And, oh yeah, she’s bi. But same principle: you discover parts of yourself that were always there, but society might not be too cool with you going full wizard on them.
Supernatural stories create a perfect playground for those real-life moments where someone says, “Maybe I’m not who others think I am,” or “What if I’m something… more?” And it’s not just about moments of self-realization. It’s also about the “chosen family” trope that hits differently when you’re LGBTQ+. You have these “ragtag groups” of witches, outcast ghosts, or even a team of misfit young superheroes who come together and form their own tight-knit family. The feeling of belonging is so important—especially when the “real world” isn’t exactly throwing parades in your honor (yet). Found family is such a key theme, and queer folks living in a world that doesn’t always understand them? They feel that deep.
Some of this might be more on the nose than we give authors credit for. Supernatural powers = identity. Discovering you’re a witch, werewolf, or ghost = coming out. Fighting against societal norms = overcoming oppression. Like, hello? It makes sense that these stories resonate so hard within LGBTQ+ communities. They’re dramatic, symbolic, and cathartic—all key ingredients for coming-of-age stories. Plus, monsters and magic are way more interesting than your average high school drama.
Well, this ran on a bit, so I’ll stop before I start breaking down Twilight as some queer reawakening story (though… Bella could’ve achieved her bi-potential, just saying). Okay, no hate. Anyway, the melding of the supernatural and LGBTQ+ identity? Totally iconic and honestly, the perfect allegory for anyone who’s ever felt ‘other’ in the world.