Eating the Girls Up: Is Cannibalism the Hot, New Trope?

written by lauren mallett

art by natália oprzadek-vodilková

I think it would be fair to say that most of us remember the groundbreaking controversy from a few years ago, when it was outed that actor Armie Hammer, best known for Call Me By Your Name and The Lone Ranger, was allegedly into cannibalism. The internet exploded at these rumors, with social media users rushing to cancel the actor and expressing their immense disgust at the accusations. However, with a multitude of media pieces in recent years centralizing cannibalism as a plot point, I dare to ask an emboldened question: Do we, as consumers, find cannibalism sexy?

Anyone who is even remotely active online has probably read something about the show Yellowjackets, which is currently taking over the internet with the conclusion of its third season. The psychological drama follows a girls’ high-school soccer team as they struggle to survive in the Canadian wilderness following the crash of their plane en route to nationals. Spoiler warning: the girls turn to cannibalizing their dead teammates when the harsh winter weather destroys their hunting regimen. The first case of cannibalism evokes extreme shame and disgust, with the girls struggling with the moral and ethical consequences of their dire actions. However, as the show progresses, so do the girls’ feelings on this moral dilemma. The girls turn to cannibalism wholeheartedly, treating their cannibalism as a ritual, making sacrifices to the wilderness, and preparing their peers’ corpses as feasts.

In a similar notion, the 2022 film Bones and All, starring the internet’s favorite white boy Timothée Chalamet, revolves around a young couple—Maren and Lee—who are both cannibals, romanticizing not only their relationship, but their less-than-savory eating habits as well. As we follow their journey, we as viewers find ourselves rooting for these characters, cheering them on as they eat old ladies, carnival workers, and eventually each other, culminating in Maren’s final act of love for Lee: eating him, bones and all. Their identity as “eaters,” as they are called in the film, is directly intertwined with their relationship, and as viewers root for their romance, they root for them to survive by eating the flesh of their fellow humans.

While I do not, for reasons I hope are obvious, condone cannibalism in real life, I do find that I enjoy the use of it as a trope in the media. Some of my favorite books that I’ve read in recent years have involved cannibalism as a major plot point, such as “A Certain Hunger” by Chelsea G. Summers or “Tender is the Flesh” by Agustina Bazterrica. Both of these stories are centered around the consumption of human flesh, yet they have both become incredibly popular in their own rights.

Even the music industry has seen cannibalism become a topic of interest, most notably with Kesha’s 2010 hit “Cannibal.” The song details Kesha’s attraction to an unnamed person, using the metaphor of cannibalism to emphasize the extreme nature of the attraction. With descriptions of how she would eat the subject, and references to notorious serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer, this song is a clear-cut example of how media portrayals of cannibalism can become popular. The song is certified platinum in the United States, and its long-standing popularity saw it reenter Top 40 charts over a decade after its release.

“Carnivore, animal, I am a cannibal. I eat boys up, you better run.”

— Kesha

Why is it that we, as a culture, have come to enjoy seeing this corrupt habit portrayed on our screens? Is it that we enjoy the discomfort it evokes, the fear of the taboo, or could it be deeper than that: Do we find cannibalism intriguing, powerful, even sexy? A great number of cannibalist media focuses on how women (and the female body) relate to the act itself. Whether it's watching teenage girls devolve to such desperate attempts at survival, a famed food critic killing and eating her lovers, or women being bred as cattle to turn into meat for consumption, we often see women at the focal point of our cannibalistic stories. With this predator versus prey mentality, there’s no doubt that consumers are drawn to women engaging in this morally corrupt act.

Cannibalism has become, in a twisted way, a metaphor for sexuality. Women eat their lovers, overwhelmed by an insatiable desire, their arousal confused for hunger. They cook their victims into gourmet meals, devouring them sensually. They consume every last bit of flesh, down to the bones, licking their lips and fingers, their eyes glazed over in a physical show of pleasure. These acts feed into a representation of the extreme nature of a woman’s sexuality, the moment that a woman experiences her so-called awakening, realizing not only her attraction to others, but the power she holds in the way she is perceived. There is nothing more powerful than a woman who knows how men fall around her, and power leads to hunger, an appetite that can’t be satiated by anything less than complete control. And so we see women eat. We see them consume those around them, striving to relinquish control over themselves and others, only growing more powerful with every drop of blood they spill. These women know what they want and take it, ripping any obstacles limb from limb.

We long for the violence, we crave these desperate acts on our screens—how else do you explain the popularity of shows like Hannibal, movies like Fresh and Jennifer’s Body? The inherent intimacy of cannibalism is not unlike that of sex. After all, how different are they, the mouths on flesh, the transfer of fluids? Cannibalistic media blurs the lines of desire, blending our most intimate forms of connection with those that are most violent. So next time you watch a woman consume human flesh on your television, consider this: are you turned on right now?