Emily Zinnikas on Befriending Our Monsters

The monster under the bed isn’t most people’s ideal candidate for a friend. The phrase typically evokes fear, claustrophobia, and the feeling of being too young to fully understand the world. Willa, a lonely child in the flashback that opens I Am the Monster Under the Bed, looks around her dark bedroom, considers the quiet murmuring coming from beneath her bed, and sees an opportunity that most of us would not: the chance to make a friend.

If a monster becomes a friend, is it still a monster? Must a monster to one person be a monster to all? I would argue that what we perceive as a monster changes depending on time, place, and life experience. Our monsters can be fears, people, or even thoughts. The common childhood fear of the monster under the bed matures into a fear of heights, or violence, or loved ones becoming ill. But there is always a common truth: We live in fear of our monsters, or we learn to coexist with them.

For some, befriending their monsters looks like tackling a fear of public speaking or going rock climbing despite a fear of heights. Several years ago, I almost always had a true crime podcast playing in the background while I wrote or cooked or even while I was falling asleep. Between episodes of My Favorite Murder, I found myself wondering what I would have done in the life-or-death situations the hosts had described. What could I learn from consuming this type of content beyond the storytelling? As an unintended byproduct of this interest, I learned to coexist, at least in the lightest sense, with monsters. They followed me, in audio format, throughout my daily routines. I also learned that most monsters are human.

The very first piece of horror media I remember consuming as a child was Courage the Cowardly Dog, a fever dream of a cartoon about an anxious dog facing down the monster of the week to protect his family. While Courage was always terrified by the bizarre creatures he faced, he never gave up. These monsters, which initially seemed so frightening, sometimes turned out to be just misunderstood. Watching this little pink dog push through despite his terror was unlike anything I’d seen before. The show was deeply unsettling, but I couldn’t look away. That feeling was similar to how I felt listening to those true crime podcasts as an adult years later. While the interest stayed the same, by spending time with our monsters, I have to wonder – how can we not change too?

In I Am the Monster Under the Bed, Willa is forced to confront her painful past to save her future. Acknowledging the monsters she left behind isn’t enough – Willa must become something frightening herself.

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