The science fiction horror film Alien, directed by Ridley Scott and based on the screenplay by Dan O’Bannon, explores themes of sex, gender, the creation of life, and absolute isolation. Ellen Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) represents a strong, sensitive female lead that isn’t hyper-sexual and whose androgynous nature cements the character as a genderqueer icon and non-binary heroine. She, the crew of the Nostromo, and the three iterations of the alien creature reject traditional gender binaries.
Embracing My Genderqueer Identity Through Alien
In my adolescence, I didn’t define myself as a girl. I was often referred to as a tomboy. According to my mother, I wanted to rough house with my brothers and their friends, play with their toys, and didn’t dress as a girl should. I tried but never assimilated into society’s expectations of my gender. I bloomed late in many respects. It would be over a decade before I would learn about the umbrella of genderqueer identities and identify as both Queer and Non-Binary.
While I attempted to come out in my twenties, my mother’s reaction firmly pushed me back into the closet for several years. In my thirties, truly on my own for the first time after moving to Los Angeles, I finally had the agency to discover who I was and embrace my sexuality and gender unhindered by the opinions of others. It was around this time that I became reacquainted with Alien. I’d seen the film before, but I was viewing the film through a queer lens for the first time. I recognized myself in Ellen Ripley and the Alien.
Ellen Ripley: A Genderqueer Icon Defying Feminine Norms
In Michaela Barton’s essay, “How ‘Alien’ (1979) Queered the Binaries of Traditional Gender,” she states, “If we regard the Alien as a twisted representation of femininity, then Ripley’s prolonged fight against this creature can represent their continued refusal to assimilate into this supposed binary.” Ripley challenges societally prescribed feminine qualities, and I continue to find comfort in rejecting or lacking interest in what is traditionally considered feminine, like products targeted to women. Tamar Freundlich’s article, “Marketing to women: What we can learn from the past century,” notes that marketers used the ideal woman to drive their advertising, “This tactic was used to motivate women to purchase a product or service in order to close the gap between them and the perfect women that society expected.”
These ideals are detrimental to women’s mental health and well-being, but growing up, I was worried that not liking Barbie dolls, makeup, and the color pink meant something was wrong with me. I understand now that the things we like aren’t relevant to our gender identity. Barton notes that throughout Alien, Ripley fights against the “impending threat of being reduced down to biology.” My ongoing resistance to the traditionally feminine isn’t a character flaw. Like Ripley, I simply refuse to be defined by my sex organs.
Queer Sexuality and Violence in Alien
Sexuality is one of the queer motifs explored in Alien. After a confrontation with Ripley, Ash (Ian Holm) flies into an uncharacteristic rage, assuming the binary of a man as he attempts to suffocate Ripley with a pornographic magazine. Barton notes, “The use of a pornographic magazine as a means of suffocation could be seen as heteronormative sexuality and performance being forced onto Ripley.” The rolled-up magazine is phallic in appearance, and the act itself is disturbingly representative of corrective rape meant to force Ripley to assume the role of a sexual object and a cishet woman.
In his book, Beautiful Monsters: The Unofficial and Unauthorized Guide to the Alien and Predator Films, author David McIntee describes Alien as a rape film about sex and reproduction by non-consensual means. Ridley and O’Bannon intentionally exploit the sexual fears of men and women by exploring the sexuality and gender identity of their characters. In a revised version of the script that was edited for the theatrical release of the film, when discussing how to drive the Alien to the airlock, Ash states, “According to Mother, he’s a primitive form of encephlepod,” to which Lambert replies, “How come it’s a he?” Ash explains, “Just a phrase. As a matter of fact, he’s both bisexual or hermaphrodite, to be precise.” The explanation was cut from the film, leaving the creature’s gender up for audience interpretation, but it further solidifies the intentional rejection of traditional gender binaries. The creature experiences a sort of gender metamorphosis — evolving from the impregnating facehugger to the phallic chestburster and, finally, the amalgamation of all genders with the Xenomorph.
Genderqueer Representation in Horror
Alien is one of the unique instances in which the film’s heroine and villain represent genderqueer identities. The film also holds up a mirror to men of the horrors that women experience by inflicting that horror back on them through the Xenomorph. In his academic essay, “The Disruption of Hegemonic Discourses Through 70s Horror Films,” Robert Kelley notes that “Ripley plays a pivotal role in [female] representation and moving away from male-dominated science fiction and female over-sexualization…The xenomorph, also female, acts as the epitomal emasculation tool…The xenomorph controls the power to inseminate men with her children and effectively end their lives.” This reversal of power and break with traditional gender roles further proves the film’s queered sexual overtones and, ultimately, feminist subtext.
Ripley is a uniquely strong genderqueer symbol and an essential representation of non-binary and transgender individuals. She lives freely and fiercely, without restrictions that police sexuality, gender expression, and gender-affirming care. As someone whose gender identity is continually evolving and difficult to define with the numerous terms available, Ripley and the Xenomorph are one of the few instances in cinema where my gender is validated. Alien’s genderfluid motifs cement it as a queer horror film close to my heart and drastically ahead of its time.