There’s something about this small writing community that draws people together who are loud about changing the world. I first found Cassiopeia through the algorithm, back when the algorithm helped bring people like us together instead of driving us apart. I’ve always admired their wisdom and their praxis and before this interview I already knew that it would come out through their writing. When I put out a call for interviews, I expected that Cath would commit with their head and their heart in a brilliant way, but what I didn’t expect was how much it would push both of us to learn and grow. And I think I speak for both of us when I say that we hope that it pushes you as well.

Interview with Cassiopeia Gatmaitan

Amanda: Hi Cath! Thank you for joining us! I’m so excited to talk to you about processing trauma, especially colonial trauma, through horror. But first, can you introduce yourself and tell us a bit about your writing? 

Cassiopeia Gatmaitan: Hi! Thank you so much for having me. I’m Cassiopeia Gatmaitan, a writer from the Philippines. My main genres are horror and historical fiction, but I dabble with fantasy and romance on the side. My work often focuses on the intersections between haunting and memory, especially through the lens of colonialism and colonial trauma. I write a lot about ghosts, but the hauntings in my stories don’t always have to be literal—sometimes, the hauntings are caused by emotions, someone or something haunting the narrative, or the character’s memories. I usually intend for my writing to blur the lines between the worlds you build in your head from the memories that you have and the circumstances that arise from either running from those memories or facing them head-on. 

Amanda: Since we’re going to dive deeper into the colonialism and colonial trauma aspects today, can you tell us more about writing about these themes? And especially the context in which you write them? 

Cassiopeia: One thing I like to include in my writing are anti-colonial themes and how they tie into intergenerational trauma because colonialism and trauma are things that can be so bound up within family histories that they echo down into a person, shaping them and their ideals. I like to cover these things in my writing because for a lot of people who come from cultural backgrounds that have experienced heavy colonialism, many of their personal traumas are a result of the colonial trauma their ancestors experienced. 

I see this in myself and my grandparents who were children during the Japanese occupation of the Philippines in World War II, and I wanted a space where I could process that trauma and give myself space to explore and grieve its effects on me and my ancestors. Thematically, it plays a huge part in shaping my characters in a more direct way since I write mostly historical fiction. 

Writing historical fiction involves a lot of research in terms of figuring out how they’re affected by experiencing colonial trauma firsthand, with colonialism not only playing a part in their family history but in their lived reality. I suppose I’m drawn to this aspect of historical fiction because it helps me come to terms with what my grandparents experienced and lets me understand how and why the actions that resulted from those experiences shaped my family. I’ve always felt like looking back at history is what ultimately helps us understand the present. 

Amanda: Hearing about how you’re processing the present through family histories and how wonderfully hauntings tie into that, I think we can start to see where your love of horror comes from. But what draws you to horror as a genre? What is it about horror that makes it so appealing to you? 

Cassiopeia: The main thing that draws me to horror is its capacity for transgression. I think that, more so than any other genre, horror allows you to cross lines and break boundaries. To be honest, I think that it doesn’t allow you to transgress so much as it encourages you to do so. And it doesn’t do this with just blood and guts and the taboo, it also encourages you to be as experimental with your writing style and form as you’d like, and it encourages you to go elbow-deep into the weird. If you hold yourself back, that wouldn’t make for good horror. 

For me, letting loose and just spilling every raw emotion out onto the page without caring about making it palatable for anyone is a really big part of why I choose to write in this genre, especially as a writer of color and someone assigned female at birth with all the socio-cultural implications that carries. Writing horror has been a continuous process of unlearning things such as the learned helplessness and emotional repression that often come with being afflicted with generational trauma. 

Personally, horror as a genre allows me to broaden my horizons in terms of writing experiences and emotions. I also think that horror allows a writer to utilize the whole spectrums of both those things because the genre is about immersing the reader in the characters’ experiences, be it in a sensory way or in an emotional way. Horror allows me to color outside the lines and push the limits of what you can make the reader feel. It challenges me to make things come off the page and feel well and truly alive. 

Amanda: I believe that art is a form of care, so I can’t wait to talk to you about this. But I think a critical question is how could horror, of all genres, help us process trauma of any kind?

Cassiopeia: I’m so excited that you asked this question because my whole ethos for writing horror is that it can be used to process trauma. 

A lot of people treat many kinds of trauma as taboo subjects, and like I said previously, horror is a genre that welcomes transgression. While I feel that everyone should be welcome to discuss any kind of trauma in any literary genre, the fact of the matter is that there are still gatekeepers who view these subjects as ‘too much’ for other genres. But horror embraces all of that and provides a space for you to process your grief and your rage. It doesn’t shy away from what some people may view as taboo. 

Personally, I experienced a lot of trauma while growing up, and I think that played a lot into why even as a kid I was an avid horror fan. I’ve always loved horror that pulled no punches in regards to depicting so-called “darker” themes because I experienced some of those things myself and came out the other side wanting validation for my experiences. Reading about those things made me realize that I wasn’t alone in my experiences and that inspired me to write about them later in life in hopes that someone on the other side of the page would see themself and their experiences represented so that maybe, just maybe, they would feel a bit less lonely too. 

Amanda: What are some ways that the horror genre can help us process trauma, especially colonial trauma and generational trauma?

Cassiopeia: In many BIPOC communities, issues of trauma, especially colonial and generational trauma, are not widely discussed because they’re viewed as shameful even though the burden of those experiences should lie with the perpetrators and not the colonized. Even if it sounds like a simple one, I think it’s a radical act to lay those themes out on the page because the very act of writing about them can open up discussions not only within a reader’s circle but also within entire communities. 

Like I said before, horror provides a venue to discuss and dissect many forms of trauma, which helps us process. And thanks to the nature of the genre, it highlights how horrible those events and experiences really are. In order to be able to fight something, you must be able to give it a name, so to speak, and horror can do that with colonial and generational trauma. It can help people see it for what it is and call it what it is, because a lot of the time, these things are minimized and forcefully forgotten by our communities because they’re seen as so shameful. 

In my experience, elders who’ve experienced colonial atrocities firsthand are the first to downplay the role of those atrocities in their trauma because it’s a coping mechanism in the face of those horrible experiences, and that downplaying and refusal to face trauma for what it is facilitates future generations’ inheritance of it. To conclude, writing and reading about colonial and generational trauma gives us the power to name the horrors our elders couldn’t or can’t. It allows us to honor all that they’ve lost and all that they’ve fought for so that together, we can finally heal. 

Amanda: Do you feel that naming the horror in this manner is common within the genre? Or do you feel that it is evolving in that direction? How has the genre evolved since you started reading and writing it? 

Cassiopeia: To be honest, I’ve only been writing horror for a year or two, but as I mentioned previously, I’ve been a lifelong fan. Based on my observation, at least in the context of the horror I’ve consumed which mostly takes the form of local Philippine literature and movies, horror does seem to be moving towards naming the terrors which once consumed us and which affect us still in regards to colonialism and colonial trauma. I think that on a more global scale, horror, especially horror created by BIPOC communities, is also making significant strides towards naming and conquering the fears which once sought to conquer us. It’s becoming a tool to effectively name and shame colonialism, which I very much love to see. 

All in all, I feel like naming horror in this manner is becoming more and more common as people become more aware of the damages that colonialism and resulting generational trauma wreak upon not only their communities, but their personal lives as well. 

Amanda: What are some positive impacts you’ve seen in your own life that come from writing? 

Cassiopeia: My writing journey’s actually been a very difficult one. I started writing when I was seven years old in order to process the trauma I experienced in childhood, and that eventually evolved into me experimenting with different genres (I started writing fantasy, poetry, and historical fiction very early). Like many writers I know, I set a deadline for myself to be published before I turned eighteen, which, looking back, was very unrealistic. 

Writing has caused a lot of self-doubt and self-flagellation, mostly stemming from things such as a complete lack of self-confidence. I spent years slaving away at manuscripts that ultimately went nowhere, and I never finished writing anything, ever. The most recent of these manuscripts was a novel-in-verse about the Philippine Revolution. I ended up finishing that one, finally, but I decided to not publish it because several of the central themes no longer align with my worldview, though I might revise it in the future. 

And then I got into writing short stories and got back into writing poetry. I finished and published a few of those but they still barely did anything for my self-worth or self-esteem. But they did help me find community. Writing helped me find some loving friends who are there for me when I can’t be there for myself, and though I struggle with thoughts of giving up writing a lot, I can count on these relationships to still be there for me no matter what. I’ve met some of my very best friends through the writing community; I’ve attended their weddings, flown thousands of miles to be with them, and they’ve been there for me in turn. 

Also, if anything, I learned to identify problems within myself through their manifestation in my writing habits. I know that I have lots of issues in regards to self-confidence because I never view my writing as good enough, and now that I’ve named that particular problem, I can work towards solving it. 

Another thing is that I learned that I’m very hard-headed and tenacious. I might say I’m giving up on writing, but I stubbornly never do. I have a manuscript I’ve been working on for over half my life and I still haven’t put it down, and that taught me that very few things can make me back down from a challenge. 

My future with regards to writing is still very much up in the air right now because I don’t yet have a finished manuscript I’m satisfied with. I’ve been at this for so long yet I don’t have an agent or a book deal, but despite that, I’ve proven to be very resilient and I don’t let the lack of those things define my worth because I know that things will happen in their own time, and if they’re meant for me, they’re meant for me. 

Amanda: What would you say to writers who are thinking about writing horror or just starting their own writing journey into horror? 

Cassiopeia: Never be afraid to get weird with it! Find your voice by experimenting with everything you want to mess around with. Don’t feel bound to a specific subgenre or a specific set of tropes or aspects. Read a lot of horror! Watch a lot of horror! There are so many weird and horrifyingly wonderful things out there—let them help you broaden your horizons. 

There’s so much you can do and so much you can say with horror, so never limit yourself. Don’t just find something you’re comfortable with, find something that you are decidedly uncomfortable with and make it your own! Horror is all about coloring outside of the lines and transgressing so don’t let yourself be limited by audience expectations, social norms, and the like. Horror may seem intimidating but I promise you that you already have the tools to write it buried within yourself, you just have to let them shine. 

Amanda: Before you go, is there anything else you’d like to share with our Bookish Brews readers? 

Cassiopeia: First, I just wanted to say thanks for having me on Bookish Brews, and thank you to the readers for reading through my admittedly wordy answers. Never let it be said that I do not love to yap. If any of you want to talk about horror or writing in general, or see more of my chaotic musings, you’re very much welcome to follow me on Twitter (I will never call it X), @lagunabayfables. 

Second, if you’d like to check out some of my writing, I do have one short story out and another forthcoming. The first is a middle grade fantasy about one girl’s search for her mother, featuring mermaids, the sea, and grief. It’s called In The Deep, We Find The Stars and it’s out now on Uncharted Magazine. The second is a horror story set in US-occupied Philippines, set in the world of one of my works-in-progress. It’s about an artist who traps his muse in a cycle of murder and rebirth and it is forthcoming from the Death In the Mouth anthology, Volume 2. Preorders are currently closed but you can follow along on Death In the Mouth’s website for updates.

Thanks again for having me and I hope everyone learned something new! I certainly did! Stay safe, be kind to each other, and thank you for our wonderful time together.