When we’re talking about a concept that is as fluid and as fantastic as the vampire, we really need to define our terms upfront. We’ve already outlined our definition of vampire. For the sake of clarity, here are some more words we use and what we mean by them in this instance.
ADVISORY
An advisory is an announcement with the intent to warn or otherwise make readers aware. When an advisory is posted to this site, it means that there has been sufficient evidence to consider a given situation as a threat.
AUDIENCE
These are the people you want to get yourself across to, whether in writing or another form of media. There really is nothing so valuable as an interested audience.
COMMUNITY
A group of individuals united by a common interest is a community.
CULTURAL ANTHROPOLOGY
This academic field is really what Vampgeist is all about. A fuller definition is here reposted from Wikipedia.
Cultural anthropology is one of four or five fields of anthropology (the holistic study of humanity). It is the branch of anthropology that examines culture as a meaningful scientific concept. Cultural anthropologists study cultural variation among humans, collect observations, usually through participant observation called fieldwork and examine the impact of global economic and political processes on local cultural realities. One of the earliest articulations of the anthropological meaning of the term “culture” came from Sir Edward Tylor who writes on the first page of his 1897 book: “Culture, or civilization, taken in its broad, ethnographic sense, is that complex whole which includes knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, custom, and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society.” The term “civilization” later gave way to definitions by V. Gordon Childe, with culture forming an umbrella term and civilization becoming a particular kind of culture.
The anthropological concept of “culture” reflects in part a reaction against earlier Western discourses based on an opposition between “culture” and “nature“, according to which some human beings lived in a “state of nature”. Anthropologists have argued that culture is “human nature,” and that all people have a capacity to classify experiences, encode classifications symbolically (i.e. inlanguage), and teach such abstractions to others. Since humans acquire culture through the learning processes of enculturation and socialization, people living in different places or different circumstances develop different cultures. Anthropologists have also pointed out that through culture people can adapt to their environment in non-genetic ways, so people living in different environments will often have different cultures. Much of anthropological theory has originated in an appreciation of and interest in the tension between the local (particular cultures) and the global (a universal human nature, or the web of connections between people in distinct places/circumstances).
The rise of cultural anthropology occurred within the context of the late 19th century, when questions regarding which cultures were “primitive” and which were “civilized” occupied the minds of not only Marx and Freud, but many others. Colonialism and its processes increasingly brought European thinkers in contact, directly or indirectly with “primitive others.” The relative status of various humans, some of whom had modern advanced cultures that included engines and telegraphs, while others lacked anything but face-to-face communication techniques and still lived a Paleolithic lifestyle, was of interest to the first generation of cultural anthropologists.
Parallel with the rise of cultural anthropology in the United States, social anthropology, in which sociality is the central concept and which focuses on the study of social statuses and roles, groups, institutions, and the relations among them, developed as an academic discipline in Britain. An umbrella term socio-cultural anthropology makes reference to both cultural and social anthropology traditions.
EDUCATION
The process of attaining knowledge of both a practical and esoteric nature hopefully leads to better awareness and understanding.
MEDIA
For our purposes, a medium is that by which we gather our knowledge of the world around us. The media refers to the relay of information from a source to an individual.
RESOURCE
Hopefully, this would be a trustworthy and honest repository of information that can be accessed by individuals.
SEEKER
We are all seekers. Here, we will use “seeker” to differentiate from “vampire”, the latter being self-described as such.
At the moment we are undertaking an enthusiastic public relations campaign both with vampire groups and sites and with various media outlets (US, soon to go global). We are also interested in showing that real vampirism doesn’t have to be a masquerade and can be based in some very solid philosophy and experience.
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
Introduction to Project Vampgeist
VAMPIRE. It’s a loaded word. The mere whisper of the word conjures up an amazing spectrum of images and human emotions–from fright to passion to curiosity. Understandably, many people are reluctant to accept that there are real vampires wandering about society, and denial turns into a kind of defense. Yet vampires–use defining the word instead of the word defining use–are very much real.
Well, not in the legendary sense. They're not immortal, they don’t shirk away from sunlight, and they don’t only feed on human blood. At the other end of the spectrum we have self-proclaimed vampires claiming to writhe in exquisite agony from a lack of feeding. When people from outside of the community encounter one of these attention vampires, they may dismiss everyone as products of a warped imagination. What’s the fun in a vampire so very dark in emotion drinking soda and eating white bread?
Yet somewhere in between Count Orlock and Lestat de Lioncourt and the Hot Topic pay-to-be-different crowd you will find most of the real vampire community. Not being fabulous creatures certainly hasn’t rendered the community boring.
VAMPGEIST is the brainchild of individuals who are active leaders in and advocates of the real vampire community, but Vampgeist itself exists to serve the community, to serve those outside the community, and to serve people’s endless curiosity about vampires. Vampgeist is its own community, an independent entity that welcomes everyone. There is no one truth that explains away the personal philosophies of everyone who calls themselves vampire, but Vampgeist aims to explore and share a few truths. Vampgeist is not about cosmetic fangs or aesthetic sensationalism, but rather about thought, deed, and experience.
You do not need to count yourself as a real vampire to interact with Vampgeist–in fact, one of Vampgeist’s main purposes is to be accessible to the general public as well as the media.
The age of the vampire is here.
The time to embrace a new reality is now.
Well, not in the legendary sense. They're not immortal, they don’t shirk away from sunlight, and they don’t only feed on human blood. At the other end of the spectrum we have self-proclaimed vampires claiming to writhe in exquisite agony from a lack of feeding. When people from outside of the community encounter one of these attention vampires, they may dismiss everyone as products of a warped imagination. What’s the fun in a vampire so very dark in emotion drinking soda and eating white bread?
Yet somewhere in between Count Orlock and Lestat de Lioncourt and the Hot Topic pay-to-be-different crowd you will find most of the real vampire community. Not being fabulous creatures certainly hasn’t rendered the community boring.
VAMPGEIST is the brainchild of individuals who are active leaders in and advocates of the real vampire community, but Vampgeist itself exists to serve the community, to serve those outside the community, and to serve people’s endless curiosity about vampires. Vampgeist is its own community, an independent entity that welcomes everyone. There is no one truth that explains away the personal philosophies of everyone who calls themselves vampire, but Vampgeist aims to explore and share a few truths. Vampgeist is not about cosmetic fangs or aesthetic sensationalism, but rather about thought, deed, and experience.
You do not need to count yourself as a real vampire to interact with Vampgeist–in fact, one of Vampgeist’s main purposes is to be accessible to the general public as well as the media.
The age of the vampire is here.
The time to embrace a new reality is now.
Marilys and Phobos, Too! Case Studies
You may run into vampires who claim to be 436 years old. They may even claim to be immortal (and as they are currently alive, how can you dispute it?) and witnesses to the great events in history. You’ll find vampires who drive hearses (with eight miles to the gallon mileage, I can’t imagine the expense) and sleep in coffins. There are vampires who have paid $300 and more for dental-quality fangs, and still others have had their own canines filed down into fangs. And yes, you will find vampires who drink blood, although consent is the general rule and precautions are taken to ensure safety.
Marilys Mars is a real vampire in Philadelphia whom I know rather well. As far as she is concerned, she was born in the eighth century, she stopped aging when she was 25, and she has witnessed the flowering of Western civilization. She’s not shunned for her outrageous claims, however, as she is a contributing member of the vampire community and a great source of real wisdom. Marilys has helped countless vampires through their period of awakening.
But there is no getting around what has made Marilys notable—Marilys herself. Of course when someone claiming to be Carolingian offers to share her story, I’m ready to listen. I felt kind of awkward starting out with, “So, been around a while, have you?” Fortunately, Marilys has something of a press release, a quick narrative covering the last twelve hundred years or so. She’s given me express permission to reprint her tale here.
“Vampirism chose me. I didn’t choose it. But however it came about, here I am, out and in the open. This is my story. Whether you believe me or not is your choice. Mine is only to tell you. Do not ask me to make you a vampire. Do not ask me to turn you or to embrace you. Vampires are chosen. If you are meant to be a vampire, then you too will be chosen. Do not force the hand of fate in this matter. You cannot imagine the agonies of the soul you will suffer.
“To begin with–that seems so trite, and yet it’s so fitting–I was born somewhere in the Kingdom of the Franks in the year 778. It was the year of Karlos Magnus’ shame in the southwest mountains. I joined the ranks of the vampires when I was no more than ten years of age. My father had begun speaking on my marriage and I was of no mind to perish in childbirth as my mother had. The vampires offered me a kind of safety in that vampire women could not conceive children. Thus my father offered me up as a barren sacrifice.
“That’s right. I was an unwanted child in an unknown peasant family. Wealth and infamy were not mine by birthright. In fact I had to suffer through three marriages to wrinkled old men who spat on me for my infertility until I turned 25. At that point, I was becoming an old woman even though the vampire strains in me kept me looking youthful. I engaged the vampires around me to perform the Rite of Attainment–that exchange of energies that would fix my age at 25 for all time.
“There was no returning to a normal pastoral existence after that. But I had learned that gold spoke with more power than anything–even sons. If I was going to enjoy immortality, I needed to get some gold. I did have physical beauty and charm in my favor. With luck, I could manage to set myself up in marriage with wealthy, aging men who would be so enamored of me and the great care I took with them that they would bequeath all their goods to me. After a few marriages I was able to purchase my own lands and my own keep.
“Believe me when I tell you that I paid quite a price to amass my riches!
“The world changed around me and I remained the same. I’m no one famous in what you would call history. So far as I remember I had one brush with history in serving (as opposed to serving with) the army under Jeanne la Pucelle. Gilles de Rais still owes me a few gold coins.
“We vampires have needed to lay low in order to survive. When the wars over religion and the bite of the devil were felt all through Europe, our lives became distinctly uncomfortable. Think about it. So many innocent people lost their lives–and we were hardly innocent. I thought about going into the Osmanli Empire and trying to sell myself as a qualified slave–at least I would be safe. I could do a lot worse.
“Eventually I heard about the new land discovered across the ocean, a land wild but for the most part tolerant. Naturally I had a little unease about travelling and settling with Puritans–not that I was religious at all, but I was certainly no Puritan. Then I thought of the opportunities awaiting a creature like myself in a new land. I made my way to England, learned to appear outwardly Puritan, and sailed west.
“It wasn’t long before I was playing old tricks to survive–marrying dying old men for their wealth. The game was simple enough. Generally they kept quiet, but if they had thoughts of exposing me…well, you get the idea.
“I’ve been in Philadelphia since the Constitutional Convention. My friends have come and gone, and still this seems as good a place for a historical relic as any. In the late twentieth and dawning twenty-first centuries it has become relatively easy to be a vampire in the open. I actually fit into the groups I live in now.
“Never in my life have I known love. I have known loyalty, friendship, kindness, pleasure, and affection. But my heart sits in ice. I often wonder whether I am able to experience love.
“This is my tale, such as it is.”
I suppose there are a lot of things I could say. I can’t say I believe it, and yet to say I don’t believe it seems so harsh. What’s important is that Marilys believes it. There’s not a note of insincerity to her, no temper evolved from years of shouting down skeptics. She is at peace with herself. We should all be so fortunate.
“You knew Joan of Arc?” I asked, since she’d mentioned encountering La Pucelle.
A lazy smile lit up her face. “Knew her? No, I don’t think anyone could have actually known her. She was not knowable. She was more of a presence, a motivation.”
“How about the Song of Roland?”
“What is that?”
Dear reader, let me fill you in. The Song of Roland is a French epic poem about Charlemagne’s troubles in the Pyrenees in 778—what Marilys calls “Karlos Magnus’ shame in the southwest mountains”. I explain to Marilys why I drew the connection. “I am unfamiliar,” she tells me. “I haven’t read it.”
“Are you going to offer to turn me?”
Shaking her head, Marilys laughed. “Not you. You’re too much the spirit of your age. You’d be miserable as a vampire. No, you’ve been kind to me, and I like you too much.”
Phobos, on the other hand, is mortal and quite aware of it. Whether he was born with some variety of vampirism in him or if he took in outside influences doesn’t occupy his thoughts. Secure in who he is, Phobos dedicates the time “certain others would waste screaming their immortality” to helping latent vampires understand what they are and are not. As something of a joke, Phobos offers vampires claiming to be immortal the chance to prove it by jumping off the roof of the vampire house where he lives. So far, no one has taken him up on the opportunity.
Marilys Mars is a real vampire in Philadelphia whom I know rather well. As far as she is concerned, she was born in the eighth century, she stopped aging when she was 25, and she has witnessed the flowering of Western civilization. She’s not shunned for her outrageous claims, however, as she is a contributing member of the vampire community and a great source of real wisdom. Marilys has helped countless vampires through their period of awakening.
But there is no getting around what has made Marilys notable—Marilys herself. Of course when someone claiming to be Carolingian offers to share her story, I’m ready to listen. I felt kind of awkward starting out with, “So, been around a while, have you?” Fortunately, Marilys has something of a press release, a quick narrative covering the last twelve hundred years or so. She’s given me express permission to reprint her tale here.
“Vampirism chose me. I didn’t choose it. But however it came about, here I am, out and in the open. This is my story. Whether you believe me or not is your choice. Mine is only to tell you. Do not ask me to make you a vampire. Do not ask me to turn you or to embrace you. Vampires are chosen. If you are meant to be a vampire, then you too will be chosen. Do not force the hand of fate in this matter. You cannot imagine the agonies of the soul you will suffer.
“To begin with–that seems so trite, and yet it’s so fitting–I was born somewhere in the Kingdom of the Franks in the year 778. It was the year of Karlos Magnus’ shame in the southwest mountains. I joined the ranks of the vampires when I was no more than ten years of age. My father had begun speaking on my marriage and I was of no mind to perish in childbirth as my mother had. The vampires offered me a kind of safety in that vampire women could not conceive children. Thus my father offered me up as a barren sacrifice.
“That’s right. I was an unwanted child in an unknown peasant family. Wealth and infamy were not mine by birthright. In fact I had to suffer through three marriages to wrinkled old men who spat on me for my infertility until I turned 25. At that point, I was becoming an old woman even though the vampire strains in me kept me looking youthful. I engaged the vampires around me to perform the Rite of Attainment–that exchange of energies that would fix my age at 25 for all time.
“There was no returning to a normal pastoral existence after that. But I had learned that gold spoke with more power than anything–even sons. If I was going to enjoy immortality, I needed to get some gold. I did have physical beauty and charm in my favor. With luck, I could manage to set myself up in marriage with wealthy, aging men who would be so enamored of me and the great care I took with them that they would bequeath all their goods to me. After a few marriages I was able to purchase my own lands and my own keep.
“Believe me when I tell you that I paid quite a price to amass my riches!
“The world changed around me and I remained the same. I’m no one famous in what you would call history. So far as I remember I had one brush with history in serving (as opposed to serving with) the army under Jeanne la Pucelle. Gilles de Rais still owes me a few gold coins.
“We vampires have needed to lay low in order to survive. When the wars over religion and the bite of the devil were felt all through Europe, our lives became distinctly uncomfortable. Think about it. So many innocent people lost their lives–and we were hardly innocent. I thought about going into the Osmanli Empire and trying to sell myself as a qualified slave–at least I would be safe. I could do a lot worse.
“Eventually I heard about the new land discovered across the ocean, a land wild but for the most part tolerant. Naturally I had a little unease about travelling and settling with Puritans–not that I was religious at all, but I was certainly no Puritan. Then I thought of the opportunities awaiting a creature like myself in a new land. I made my way to England, learned to appear outwardly Puritan, and sailed west.
“It wasn’t long before I was playing old tricks to survive–marrying dying old men for their wealth. The game was simple enough. Generally they kept quiet, but if they had thoughts of exposing me…well, you get the idea.
“I’ve been in Philadelphia since the Constitutional Convention. My friends have come and gone, and still this seems as good a place for a historical relic as any. In the late twentieth and dawning twenty-first centuries it has become relatively easy to be a vampire in the open. I actually fit into the groups I live in now.
“Never in my life have I known love. I have known loyalty, friendship, kindness, pleasure, and affection. But my heart sits in ice. I often wonder whether I am able to experience love.
“This is my tale, such as it is.”
I suppose there are a lot of things I could say. I can’t say I believe it, and yet to say I don’t believe it seems so harsh. What’s important is that Marilys believes it. There’s not a note of insincerity to her, no temper evolved from years of shouting down skeptics. She is at peace with herself. We should all be so fortunate.
“You knew Joan of Arc?” I asked, since she’d mentioned encountering La Pucelle.
A lazy smile lit up her face. “Knew her? No, I don’t think anyone could have actually known her. She was not knowable. She was more of a presence, a motivation.”
“How about the Song of Roland?”
“What is that?”
Dear reader, let me fill you in. The Song of Roland is a French epic poem about Charlemagne’s troubles in the Pyrenees in 778—what Marilys calls “Karlos Magnus’ shame in the southwest mountains”. I explain to Marilys why I drew the connection. “I am unfamiliar,” she tells me. “I haven’t read it.”
“Are you going to offer to turn me?”
Shaking her head, Marilys laughed. “Not you. You’re too much the spirit of your age. You’d be miserable as a vampire. No, you’ve been kind to me, and I like you too much.”
Phobos, on the other hand, is mortal and quite aware of it. Whether he was born with some variety of vampirism in him or if he took in outside influences doesn’t occupy his thoughts. Secure in who he is, Phobos dedicates the time “certain others would waste screaming their immortality” to helping latent vampires understand what they are and are not. As something of a joke, Phobos offers vampires claiming to be immortal the chance to prove it by jumping off the roof of the vampire house where he lives. So far, no one has taken him up on the opportunity.
Vampire? Say What?
What is a vampire, anyway? There has to be something more than cloaked gentlemen from Creature Double Feature. Time to play my favorite game (isn’t it everyone’s?)—etymology!
The Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary gives a tidy summary. The word “vampire” is of French origin and came from the German Vampir, which in turn came from the Serbo-Croatian vampir. As for the vampir, it can be a reanimated corpse that rises from the grave by night to suck the blood of the sleeping, or simply a creature that exists by preying on others.
This would be a neat definition if it were complete. Historians, linguists, and many other scholars trace “vampire” to Slavic origins. One example is the Lithuanian wempti, meaning to drink. Another possible root is the Turkishuber or witch, the Russian upyr, or the Polish upior. In the end, the term came into English from the French in the Eighteenth Century, which is why we have “vampire” instead of “wempti” or “upior”.
Where does this leave the modern real vampire? They’re not walking corpses and they don’t necessarily prey on others. One connection I see is longing. The vampire of lore is drawn to commit certain acts because of an inner need. Real vampires also have a need, whether it is for emotional soothing, power, awareness, or energy. We could say that real vampires have needs, know they have needs, and do something to satisfy those needs, as opposed to the usual human who may aspire but never attempt. What is a real vampire? Ultimately you may come to your own understanding.
We go from the real to the folkloric entity that binds human societies together. There are hundreds of vampiric creatures in worldwide legend and folklore. It’s my conclusion that there is something in the human psyche wired to explain certain occurrences through vampire-like creatures. In turn, this is a clue as to how the vampire in some form can be found in virtually every world culture. To me, each creature is more colorful than the next. Here’s a brief sampling.
In the Philippines, the aswang is an extraordinarily beautiful woman by day. At night, she turns into a flying monster. Her preferred prey are local children, but sometimes her blood thirst is so strong that she will feed on anyone convenient.
The civatateo of the Aztec Empire were servants of the central god Tezcatlipoca. This status was their afterlife reward for having died in childbirth, which to the Aztecs was as noble as dying in battle. Hideous to look upon, the civatateo were especially fond of feeding on children, perhaps in a kind of revenge for the infants that claimed their own lives. To a mortal, a child would appear to be dying of a wasting illness.
Appearing in many Japanese folktales, the kitsune is a shape-shifter. Most often she takes the form of a wild fox or a beautiful maiden. Sex is her device for feeding from a victim. The kitsune is also a great prankster.
Lamia was once the queen of Libya. As punishment for some affront, the goddess Hera slew Lamia’s children. As revenge, Lamia abandoned her mortal form to drift through the countryside draining the blood of infants. Later, lamia was any child-killing demon.
The rakshasa is an especially powerful vampire in India. Its shape-shifting abilities are unparalleled. At the very least a human can be struck with nausea and vomiting just by passing through the area where a rakshasa has been. A young boy who, for whatever reason, eats human brains will become a rakshasa.
Greece has an especially rich vampire tradition, and the common name for these creatures is vrykolakas. They can be created through improper burial, immorality in life, or dying unbaptized. Everyone who is killed by the vrykolakas will then become vrykolakas.
I can’t leave this subject without mentioning my personal favorite, the Balkan vampire watermelon. Any object left outside on the night of a full moon was believed to become vampiric, so why not watermelons? Of course, vampire watermelons aren’t to be feared. They don’t have teeth, and if they did, they wouldn’t create much horror by biting ankles. More than anything, they are a nuisance, rolling around and growling at people. I bet you’ll never look at a watermelon the same way.
The Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary gives a tidy summary. The word “vampire” is of French origin and came from the German Vampir, which in turn came from the Serbo-Croatian vampir. As for the vampir, it can be a reanimated corpse that rises from the grave by night to suck the blood of the sleeping, or simply a creature that exists by preying on others.
This would be a neat definition if it were complete. Historians, linguists, and many other scholars trace “vampire” to Slavic origins. One example is the Lithuanian wempti, meaning to drink. Another possible root is the Turkishuber or witch, the Russian upyr, or the Polish upior. In the end, the term came into English from the French in the Eighteenth Century, which is why we have “vampire” instead of “wempti” or “upior”.
Where does this leave the modern real vampire? They’re not walking corpses and they don’t necessarily prey on others. One connection I see is longing. The vampire of lore is drawn to commit certain acts because of an inner need. Real vampires also have a need, whether it is for emotional soothing, power, awareness, or energy. We could say that real vampires have needs, know they have needs, and do something to satisfy those needs, as opposed to the usual human who may aspire but never attempt. What is a real vampire? Ultimately you may come to your own understanding.
We go from the real to the folkloric entity that binds human societies together. There are hundreds of vampiric creatures in worldwide legend and folklore. It’s my conclusion that there is something in the human psyche wired to explain certain occurrences through vampire-like creatures. In turn, this is a clue as to how the vampire in some form can be found in virtually every world culture. To me, each creature is more colorful than the next. Here’s a brief sampling.
In the Philippines, the aswang is an extraordinarily beautiful woman by day. At night, she turns into a flying monster. Her preferred prey are local children, but sometimes her blood thirst is so strong that she will feed on anyone convenient.
The civatateo of the Aztec Empire were servants of the central god Tezcatlipoca. This status was their afterlife reward for having died in childbirth, which to the Aztecs was as noble as dying in battle. Hideous to look upon, the civatateo were especially fond of feeding on children, perhaps in a kind of revenge for the infants that claimed their own lives. To a mortal, a child would appear to be dying of a wasting illness.
Appearing in many Japanese folktales, the kitsune is a shape-shifter. Most often she takes the form of a wild fox or a beautiful maiden. Sex is her device for feeding from a victim. The kitsune is also a great prankster.
Lamia was once the queen of Libya. As punishment for some affront, the goddess Hera slew Lamia’s children. As revenge, Lamia abandoned her mortal form to drift through the countryside draining the blood of infants. Later, lamia was any child-killing demon.
The rakshasa is an especially powerful vampire in India. Its shape-shifting abilities are unparalleled. At the very least a human can be struck with nausea and vomiting just by passing through the area where a rakshasa has been. A young boy who, for whatever reason, eats human brains will become a rakshasa.
Greece has an especially rich vampire tradition, and the common name for these creatures is vrykolakas. They can be created through improper burial, immorality in life, or dying unbaptized. Everyone who is killed by the vrykolakas will then become vrykolakas.
I can’t leave this subject without mentioning my personal favorite, the Balkan vampire watermelon. Any object left outside on the night of a full moon was believed to become vampiric, so why not watermelons? Of course, vampire watermelons aren’t to be feared. They don’t have teeth, and if they did, they wouldn’t create much horror by biting ankles. More than anything, they are a nuisance, rolling around and growling at people. I bet you’ll never look at a watermelon the same way.
Who Are The Vampires? A Survey
Who are the vampires?
Good question. A lot like climbing Mount Everest with no gear and with no idea how far away the summit is.
The real answer is that there is no real answer and there cannot be a real answer. At the very least, there can’t be only one answer. I can say with conviction that the real vampire community is a fluid and organic entity. There is always change and there is always room for change.
Ask ten vampires, get twenty answers.
“Vampires are the next step on the evolutionary ladder.”
“Vampires manipulate energy.”
“Vampires have suffered an acute loss.”
“Vampires drain life force from other beings.”
“Vampires are humans with heightened senses.”
“Vampires need to drink blood.”
“Vampires are supremely powerful leaders.”
“Vampires drain mental energy without being aware they are doing it.”
“Vampires are initiated members of certain groups.”
“Vampires worship ancient and immortal gods.”
“Vampires are the children of vampires.”
It’s a simple enough question and a good beginning, at least as a matter of facts and figures. Yet after stepping into the vampire community I soon understood that it’s a question with an almost impossible complex answer.
All right, then. I decided to tackle the question from two perspectives. On the one side, I would collect data through a carefully crafted survey to be collected from individuals describing themselves as real vampires. The other side would be more subjective and reflect my personal conversations and relationships with real vampires. My hope is that putting both sides together will present a multifaceted and multidimensional existence of the real vampire.
In truth, there is no real answer. I would not recommend trying to capture the essence of the real vampire in simple words. Rather than taking this as any kind of absolute fact, use it to tickle your imagination, as a starting point in your own explorations of the vampire community and of any subculture.
When I began my research I had already taken and administered enough surveys to know that quantitative research would suit my purposes. My goal was to present the real vampire using more routine data such as age and politics in order to show that real vampires exist much like anyone else.
Where to start? I made a list of what I wanted to know about real vampires. Where do they live? How do they vote? How is family life? The survey would present simple questions in order to draw more complex conclusions. I structured the questions to be neither too broad nor too particular—asking about the political spectrum rather than specific party affiliations, for example.
I was hesitant to leave anyone out of the final compilations, but I knew I needed to work a galaxy of information into a form I could handle. Originally the survey was open to anyone eighteen years old or older. I decided that my concentration group would fall between the ages of 25 and 50, which is based upon my finding that most of the respondents to the survey were in this bracket. After a lot of deliberation, I decided to narrow the pool to real vampires living in the United States, as this is where I live and is where I have had most of my vampiric adventures.
After this basic trimming, survey replies were chosen as randomly as possible until I had one thousand bits of data. I chose to use a thousand because I felt it was sweeping enough and yet would work neatly in breaking down percentages.
The process took me two years, hundreds of contacts, and a lot of shuffling papers, but in the end I had my statistical vampire. I could only reach one conclusion. Vampires cannot be put into such dry and empirical terms!
All the same, let me share the results of my vampire survey with you. Keep in mind that the vampire community is a fluid entity. Any information given here is an honest result of my statistics carnival, but may or may not reflect actual vampires you may meet.
Real vampires are everywhere. At least a small population of self-described vampires can be found in all fifty states. The heaviest concentration exists in the Northeast Corridor, between Washington DC and Boston, while the Los Angeles area is a close second. Other significant populations can be found in Central Florida (Tampa and Orlando), Austin, Texas, Seattle, Washington, and Chicago, Illinois. Some surprise hotbeds of vampire activity are Spartanburg, South Carolina, St. Louis, Missouri, Akron, Ohio, Madison, Wisconsin, Dothan, Alabama, Athens, Georgia, Nashville, Tennessee,
Naturally, existence as a real vampire is a little more difficult in some areas. 71% of respondents indicated this as a concern to some degree. Even respondents living in the areas of greatest vampire concentration are still concerned about their place in their greater community. Fortunately, only 3% reported any violent incidents as a direct result of being a vampire—which is still 3% too many.
84% indicated that silence is the best safety measure in any community. Vampires are open about their vampirism with other vampires and like-minded people, but keep it quiet among untried groups. Of that 84%, 42% resent having to mask who they really are.
My sample group members were between 25 and 50 years of age, as I’ve said. Within this group, the largest swell occurred between 28 and 32.
In my own experiences the gender break among vampires is fairly even, but the survey revealed that 63% of respondents were male and 37% were female. How many of these are actually transgender is unknown.
I asked a number of questions about politically important issues. The vampires were predominantly conservative in the sense of favoring a smaller government and keeping government interference out of their lives.
Spirituality and religion are complex subjects in the vampire community. With this in mind, I asked responders to choose from a wide variety of concepts and affiliations, with the option to make as few or as many choices as desired. Thus I discovered Evangelist Shamanics and Neo-Pagan Qabalists.
Only a handful of respondents said that they have lost employment for reasons they believe relate to their vampirism. This is survey data, but my conversations with vampires tell a different story. The statistic here is most likely not an accurate reflection—the numbers are probably much higher.
When asked about religion and spirituality, the most popular response was “unaffiliated but spiritual.”
Good question. A lot like climbing Mount Everest with no gear and with no idea how far away the summit is.
The real answer is that there is no real answer and there cannot be a real answer. At the very least, there can’t be only one answer. I can say with conviction that the real vampire community is a fluid and organic entity. There is always change and there is always room for change.
Ask ten vampires, get twenty answers.
“Vampires are the next step on the evolutionary ladder.”
“Vampires manipulate energy.”
“Vampires have suffered an acute loss.”
“Vampires drain life force from other beings.”
“Vampires are humans with heightened senses.”
“Vampires need to drink blood.”
“Vampires are supremely powerful leaders.”
“Vampires drain mental energy without being aware they are doing it.”
“Vampires are initiated members of certain groups.”
“Vampires worship ancient and immortal gods.”
“Vampires are the children of vampires.”
It’s a simple enough question and a good beginning, at least as a matter of facts and figures. Yet after stepping into the vampire community I soon understood that it’s a question with an almost impossible complex answer.
All right, then. I decided to tackle the question from two perspectives. On the one side, I would collect data through a carefully crafted survey to be collected from individuals describing themselves as real vampires. The other side would be more subjective and reflect my personal conversations and relationships with real vampires. My hope is that putting both sides together will present a multifaceted and multidimensional existence of the real vampire.
In truth, there is no real answer. I would not recommend trying to capture the essence of the real vampire in simple words. Rather than taking this as any kind of absolute fact, use it to tickle your imagination, as a starting point in your own explorations of the vampire community and of any subculture.
When I began my research I had already taken and administered enough surveys to know that quantitative research would suit my purposes. My goal was to present the real vampire using more routine data such as age and politics in order to show that real vampires exist much like anyone else.
Where to start? I made a list of what I wanted to know about real vampires. Where do they live? How do they vote? How is family life? The survey would present simple questions in order to draw more complex conclusions. I structured the questions to be neither too broad nor too particular—asking about the political spectrum rather than specific party affiliations, for example.
I was hesitant to leave anyone out of the final compilations, but I knew I needed to work a galaxy of information into a form I could handle. Originally the survey was open to anyone eighteen years old or older. I decided that my concentration group would fall between the ages of 25 and 50, which is based upon my finding that most of the respondents to the survey were in this bracket. After a lot of deliberation, I decided to narrow the pool to real vampires living in the United States, as this is where I live and is where I have had most of my vampiric adventures.
After this basic trimming, survey replies were chosen as randomly as possible until I had one thousand bits of data. I chose to use a thousand because I felt it was sweeping enough and yet would work neatly in breaking down percentages.
The process took me two years, hundreds of contacts, and a lot of shuffling papers, but in the end I had my statistical vampire. I could only reach one conclusion. Vampires cannot be put into such dry and empirical terms!
All the same, let me share the results of my vampire survey with you. Keep in mind that the vampire community is a fluid entity. Any information given here is an honest result of my statistics carnival, but may or may not reflect actual vampires you may meet.
Real vampires are everywhere. At least a small population of self-described vampires can be found in all fifty states. The heaviest concentration exists in the Northeast Corridor, between Washington DC and Boston, while the Los Angeles area is a close second. Other significant populations can be found in Central Florida (Tampa and Orlando), Austin, Texas, Seattle, Washington, and Chicago, Illinois. Some surprise hotbeds of vampire activity are Spartanburg, South Carolina, St. Louis, Missouri, Akron, Ohio, Madison, Wisconsin, Dothan, Alabama, Athens, Georgia, Nashville, Tennessee,
Naturally, existence as a real vampire is a little more difficult in some areas. 71% of respondents indicated this as a concern to some degree. Even respondents living in the areas of greatest vampire concentration are still concerned about their place in their greater community. Fortunately, only 3% reported any violent incidents as a direct result of being a vampire—which is still 3% too many.
84% indicated that silence is the best safety measure in any community. Vampires are open about their vampirism with other vampires and like-minded people, but keep it quiet among untried groups. Of that 84%, 42% resent having to mask who they really are.
My sample group members were between 25 and 50 years of age, as I’ve said. Within this group, the largest swell occurred between 28 and 32.
In my own experiences the gender break among vampires is fairly even, but the survey revealed that 63% of respondents were male and 37% were female. How many of these are actually transgender is unknown.
I asked a number of questions about politically important issues. The vampires were predominantly conservative in the sense of favoring a smaller government and keeping government interference out of their lives.
Spirituality and religion are complex subjects in the vampire community. With this in mind, I asked responders to choose from a wide variety of concepts and affiliations, with the option to make as few or as many choices as desired. Thus I discovered Evangelist Shamanics and Neo-Pagan Qabalists.
Only a handful of respondents said that they have lost employment for reasons they believe relate to their vampirism. This is survey data, but my conversations with vampires tell a different story. The statistic here is most likely not an accurate reflection—the numbers are probably much higher.
When asked about religion and spirituality, the most popular response was “unaffiliated but spiritual.”
Girls Gone Vampire
Have you ever gone shopping for a corset?
Soon after I’d started poking around in the Orlando vampire community, I received an invitation to a vampire ball called “A Midsummer Night’s Scream” from a fellow who called himself BlackSwamp. Like everything else in the Orlando area (Disneyworld, Universal Studios) the vampire community did things in a big way. This event would be held in the downtown area on a July evening and proposed the most confusing dress code I’d ever seen.
“Let the flowers of the night be in full bloom,” the invitation said. “Let Elizabethan gowns and hose mingle with the tight vinyl of the now. Let great gods and goddesses dance with mortals shivering in the thrill of subjugation. Come in Victorian bondage and Medieval fury. Show your whole flesh or a peek of wrists and ankles. Be your fetish and fantasy on this night of nights.”
I began to suspect that sweatpants and sports bras weren’t an option. Undaunted, I called BlackSwamp for some advice.
He chuckled. “Go get a corset,” he told me. “The rest will come naturally from there.”
A corset? Like those horrible whalebone things that crushed ribs to get a waist with the circumference of a broom handle? I was dubious, but I dutifully wrote down the name and address of Night Rod, “the best place for vampire gear around”.
“And tell them BlackSwamp sent you,” he added. “They’ll give you the royal newbie treatment.”
I’d dragged my best friend Violet into many an adventure before this. She was especially excited to explore the vampire universe, and as she’d be going to the ball with me, she wanted to find out about this corset thing.
“That’s one of those things that pushes your boobs together and up, right?”
“Actually I think it goes around your waist.”
Violet grimaced and said, “What’s the fun in that?”
Night Rod proclaimed itself as the premier boutique for imaginative fetishwear and voluptuous costuming in Central Florida, a Target for the theatric. I’d never expected to see an actual farthingale anywhere but in sixteenth century portraits and historical films, but there they were, designed for all shapes and sizes and every one of them intended to make the wearer look like a ship under sail. A rainbow of Elizabethan gowns offered the chance to dress in the full regalia of a royal court or as a simple slops wench looking for a tumble in a hayloft.
Apparently the art of making chain mail isn’t as dead as I’d thought, at least in certain circles. The full body suit of endless metal loops made me cringe, but the sleeveless and low-cut shirts that covered anything from the entire torso to the bosom only had potential. Violet nudged me and pointed at the display of codpieces. “For the dashing knights who want to protect their jewels,” she said.
I’d just begun to look over the grand selection of all things black when a salesman straight out of some gothic abyss swooped down on us. Where he wasn’t covered by black leather, he was pierced. But don’t think he was just another darkling pressed in the mold. He had the most ebullient smile I’d ever seen on anyone—a masterpiece of paradox. He introduced himself as Christo and I gave him BlackSwamp’s tidings.
“So you’re friends of the dark lord,” he said, half-jesting. “Do you already have something in mind?”
“BlackSwamp said something about corsets,” I said.
“Excellent. PVC, leather, rubber, or vinyl?”
Violet and I looked at each other. “Are we buying clothing or tires?” she asked.
Well, Christo seemed like an accommodating sort, so I could ask him my stupid questions. “Look, we’re out of our depth here. What would you recommend? What’s most comfortable?”
“Comfortable?” He let a giggle slip. “You don’t wear a corset for comfort. You wear it for looks.”
“I thought it was underwear,” Violet said.
“In the Dark Ages, maybe. Today you wear a corset for it to be seen.”
Violet raised an eyebrow at me. “Underwear as outerwear with no obvious purpose?”
“It’s the aesthetic,” Christos said. “Vampire aesthetic. Goth aesthetic. Whatever.”
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” I said, appreciating the discreet and polite way Christos was estimating our respective sizes.
After a few minutes Christos reappeared with a bough of black fabrics over his arm. “I don’t think what you’re looking for is an actual corset,” he said, laying out the garments. “Corsets by definition are designed to mold and shape the body into a predetermined form. But you’re going for a look, not a shape.”
“You mean we’re too fleshy,” Violet said.
“I mean you want to be able to dance, don’t you?” Christos raised a black velvet and purple satin creation. “See how the careful lacing up the front is a creative mimic of a historical corset. The purple area narrows at the waist, an optical illusion to make your waist look as if it’s actually constrained. In the bust, the cups support and display the bosom. This is a cheat, I grant you, but it’s a woman’s best friend.”
Christos had brought out about two dozen of these best friends, all of them black with some kind of jewel-toned relief. I’d never worn vinyl or rubber before, and neither seemed to me to be good choices to wear right next to my skin. “Let’s assume I manage to get this down over myself,” I said. “How am I going to get it off again? You said yourself the lacing is for show.”
“Talcum powder,” he said. “People usually coat themselves in talcum powder before getting dressed. It prevents chafing and makes the faux corset slide off more easily.”
“Do you think BlackSwamp would kill us if we just came in black t-shirts?” Violet asked.
“That Elizabethan farthingale is looking better and better,” I added.
Christo laughed again, a paragon of patience. “Well, BlackSwamp suggested corsets, but really there is no limit to what you can or can’t wear to a vampire ball. No one’s going to turn you away because you’re not wearing corsets. So why not look around and see what appeals to you?”
This is a great metaphor for the vampire community as a whole. I tried a corset, but I found it too constricting. But that was fine. I could find something else that did fit my body and my personality and be no less welcome for it.
With Christo’s help, Violet and I began looking to outfit ourselves in a vampire manner that suited us. I found a black t-shirt with red calligraphy, something about having been the one-armed Nosferatu at the grassy knoll (a nosferatu is a Romanian species of vampire) which I could wear with faded jeans and black boots and call it a vampire’s night out. Christo helped me select some accessories: a silver necklace with a crystal-crusted ankh, a pair of handcuffs to be worn as bracelets (or whatever, I suppose), and a chain link belt straight from the auto body shop. Most importantly in Christo’s opinion, I needed special makeup—something that “hinted at the undead without destroying the natural glow of being alive”. He picked out a bottle of white cosmetic foundation that to my relief did not look like white face paint on my skin, and really did look remarkable with the black eyeliner and lipstick he also chose for me.
If I were to be the modern vampire, Violet chose to dress as her Renaissance counterpart. She’d really been taken with the idea of the slops wench. “No one would ever expect her to be a vampire,” Violet said, eyeing a gown finely made to look tattered and worn. “And once she got somebody into her hayloft, it would be dinner and a show!”
Christo rang up our choices. I realized we’d spent a lot less than we’d expected, but fortunately Christo didn’t work on commission. All of his extra effort for us was just part of the kind of guy he was. “I’ll see you two at the Scream,” he said as we were leaving, his smile never wavering. “It’s always astounding.”
On a normal sultry evening the venue for the vampire ball served the local gothic and punk communities with music and mayhem. That night, “A Midsummer Night’s Scream” transformed the place into a sensory carnival, a mix of the Roman Saturnalia with Mardi Gras shaken up and added to a phosphorescent cocktail of Rube Goldberg, Edward Bosch, and Medieval danse macabre wood cuttings. I’d never guessed that so many people in our area had the vampire community as a common denominator and yet there we all were, from all walks of existence and of all flavors, dancing and chatting and reveling as if we’d known each other for decades. Well, maybe a few would say centuries.
Violet and I nabbed a small table in the corner and set up to observe. I don’t mean in a Jane Goodall kind of way. We needed to ground and center just to take in everything exploding around us. People we’d never seen before and had never met greeted us with real warmth, a warmth that was easy to return. Christo from Night Rod stopped at our table for a few moments before returning to a hunt of his own—hot pursuit of a red-headed contortionist from Kissimmee.
Settling in, we ordered two Bathory Bubbly cocktails—a ruby red mix of raspberry ginger ale and grenadine syrup, served in breast-shaped glasses on a mirrored tray and named for the infamous Blood Countess whose vanity drove her to murder. At the Scream, great pains had been taken to accommodate guests avoiding alcohol. This concern was half health consciousness and half the knowledge that many real vampires believed alcohol seriously interfered with their vampiric gift.
At last our host BlackSwamp appeared. Now I’d been expecting something straight out of a dark fetish fashion magazine, and his black leather tuxedo did not disappoint. But while he completed the look in a black top hat and tails, he wore nothing under his jacket, leaving his suntanned pecs to be envied and admired.
“Clever,” I said to him as I stood to give him a kiss in greeting. “You’d be the prom date from hell for a lot of parents.”
“Been there, done that.” He leaned over to kiss Violet’s cheek. “May I say you both look in sanguine glory tonight?”
I might have been new to the community, but I wasn’t slow to thank him for what was meant as a compliment.
“Be warned that the trolls are here in force tonight,” he said.
“Trolls?” How many legends could fit inside one club?
BlackSwamp rolled his eyes. “Basically they want to be vampires, so they show up looking for someone to drink their blood and turn them.”
“You told me it’s not done like that,” I said.
“It isn’t. But try explaining that to a troll.” He started laughing. “You’ll see, I’m sure. You two look approachable.”
Violet frowned and said, “Maybe we should be meaner?”
BlackSwamp shook his head. “Close yourselves to some and you might close yourselves to all. There are plenty of interesting folks here tonight you’ll want to meet.”
The more people I talked with, the more people I wanted to get to know, and I was thoroughly fascinated by the real vampire—trolls notwithstanding.
One young woman accepted an invitation we hadn’t offered and sat with us for a few minutes. Eventually she asked, “Are you two feeding partners?”
I knew what she meant. She was asking if Violet and I drank each other’s blood. But before I could say anything, Violet giggled. “Sure,” she answered. “We go out for pie all the time.”
Another young woman seemed trapped somewhere between old enough to vote but too young to order a legal beer. Kind of dancing, kind of staggering, she came up to me. I could barely stand the aura of heavy smoker about her, but at least she had chosen clove cigarettes. If I shut my eyes and imagined myself in a dark room with some blues playing I might be able to pretend the scent was incense. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, displaying a smile perfected by the addition of gleaming white faux fangs.
“I can’t believe I’m here either,” I muttered to myself.
“You’re one of them.” She drew closer. “I know it. You’re one of them.”
In her current state this young woman could have thought I was anything, from Snow White to Sasquatch. I should have just turned around and walked away, but my curiosity is a fierce beast. “One of whom?”
At this she made some hand gesture I did not recognize. She touched her forehead, her lips, and the area over her heart with her index finger, and then crossed both arms over her chest. “You are one of the ancients and I salute you,” she whispered.
Biting her lip, Violet looked at me, her eyes sprightly and impish. I’d gotten myself in good this time, I thought. “Look, whatever you think I am, I’m not. I’m just enjoying a good party like everyone else.”
The young woman broke into a smile of epiphany. “Now I know you’re one of the ancients,” she squealed. “Only a true ancient would deny being an ancient.”
“Or someone who actually wasn’t an ancient,” I said, but she was awash in a deluge of conviction.
“Tell me everything. Tell me what it’s like to never die and to always live. Tell me about what you’ve seen and what you’ve experienced.”
“It gets old after a while,” I said.
BlackSwamp reappeared. “Kara, darling.” In a brotherly movement he swung his arm around her thin shoulders. “What have I told you about bothering strangers?”
“Don’t do it,” she said, looking up at him. “But Black, these two won’t hurt me. They’re ancients. Didn’t you know?”
He shot us an exasperated smile that said, “I told you so.”
With great care he turned her away from us by her shoulders and pointed her in the direction of a knot of Greek deities. “Who was she?” Violet asked.
“A liability waiting to happen.” BlackSwamp waved his hand toward the crowd. “There are dozens of them here. They just don’t get it, no matter how patient we are in explaining things to them. Kara has been at every vampire ball and event since we began holding them. This can be dangerous. You don’t just go around offering your blood to anybody. Who knows what some creep might have in mind?”
All right, I’m a bit of a true crime buff, I admit it. I knew what BlackSwamp was alluding to—that delusions of what the real vampire community was all about could lead to some bad choices and physical harm. “But this ball was by invitation only. Couldn’t you have checked everybody out before you invited them?”
Looking a little abashed, BlackSwamp shrugged. “We have over five hundred people in here tonight, and I can personally vouch for most of them. But I don’t know the background and purpose of every single person that comes through that door. I’m sure there are predators just looking for someone like Kara to use and discard.”
“Must make it tough to appear a respectable subculture,” I said.
“In general I don’t think we much care how we appear to the rest of society. However, when you bring in the potentially dangerous and illegal, even we have our red flags.”
Then BlackSwamp said something that has become my statement of purpose, the reason to move deeper into the community and enrich my own life for the experience.
“Vampire society is something of a secret society, but it is an open secret. We are open to anyone with enough genuine interest and determination to find us and come to know us. New awareness is the foundation of our future.”
Soon after I’d started poking around in the Orlando vampire community, I received an invitation to a vampire ball called “A Midsummer Night’s Scream” from a fellow who called himself BlackSwamp. Like everything else in the Orlando area (Disneyworld, Universal Studios) the vampire community did things in a big way. This event would be held in the downtown area on a July evening and proposed the most confusing dress code I’d ever seen.
“Let the flowers of the night be in full bloom,” the invitation said. “Let Elizabethan gowns and hose mingle with the tight vinyl of the now. Let great gods and goddesses dance with mortals shivering in the thrill of subjugation. Come in Victorian bondage and Medieval fury. Show your whole flesh or a peek of wrists and ankles. Be your fetish and fantasy on this night of nights.”
I began to suspect that sweatpants and sports bras weren’t an option. Undaunted, I called BlackSwamp for some advice.
He chuckled. “Go get a corset,” he told me. “The rest will come naturally from there.”
A corset? Like those horrible whalebone things that crushed ribs to get a waist with the circumference of a broom handle? I was dubious, but I dutifully wrote down the name and address of Night Rod, “the best place for vampire gear around”.
“And tell them BlackSwamp sent you,” he added. “They’ll give you the royal newbie treatment.”
I’d dragged my best friend Violet into many an adventure before this. She was especially excited to explore the vampire universe, and as she’d be going to the ball with me, she wanted to find out about this corset thing.
“That’s one of those things that pushes your boobs together and up, right?”
“Actually I think it goes around your waist.”
Violet grimaced and said, “What’s the fun in that?”
Night Rod proclaimed itself as the premier boutique for imaginative fetishwear and voluptuous costuming in Central Florida, a Target for the theatric. I’d never expected to see an actual farthingale anywhere but in sixteenth century portraits and historical films, but there they were, designed for all shapes and sizes and every one of them intended to make the wearer look like a ship under sail. A rainbow of Elizabethan gowns offered the chance to dress in the full regalia of a royal court or as a simple slops wench looking for a tumble in a hayloft.
Apparently the art of making chain mail isn’t as dead as I’d thought, at least in certain circles. The full body suit of endless metal loops made me cringe, but the sleeveless and low-cut shirts that covered anything from the entire torso to the bosom only had potential. Violet nudged me and pointed at the display of codpieces. “For the dashing knights who want to protect their jewels,” she said.
I’d just begun to look over the grand selection of all things black when a salesman straight out of some gothic abyss swooped down on us. Where he wasn’t covered by black leather, he was pierced. But don’t think he was just another darkling pressed in the mold. He had the most ebullient smile I’d ever seen on anyone—a masterpiece of paradox. He introduced himself as Christo and I gave him BlackSwamp’s tidings.
“So you’re friends of the dark lord,” he said, half-jesting. “Do you already have something in mind?”
“BlackSwamp said something about corsets,” I said.
“Excellent. PVC, leather, rubber, or vinyl?”
Violet and I looked at each other. “Are we buying clothing or tires?” she asked.
Well, Christo seemed like an accommodating sort, so I could ask him my stupid questions. “Look, we’re out of our depth here. What would you recommend? What’s most comfortable?”
“Comfortable?” He let a giggle slip. “You don’t wear a corset for comfort. You wear it for looks.”
“I thought it was underwear,” Violet said.
“In the Dark Ages, maybe. Today you wear a corset for it to be seen.”
Violet raised an eyebrow at me. “Underwear as outerwear with no obvious purpose?”
“It’s the aesthetic,” Christos said. “Vampire aesthetic. Goth aesthetic. Whatever.”
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” I said, appreciating the discreet and polite way Christos was estimating our respective sizes.
After a few minutes Christos reappeared with a bough of black fabrics over his arm. “I don’t think what you’re looking for is an actual corset,” he said, laying out the garments. “Corsets by definition are designed to mold and shape the body into a predetermined form. But you’re going for a look, not a shape.”
“You mean we’re too fleshy,” Violet said.
“I mean you want to be able to dance, don’t you?” Christos raised a black velvet and purple satin creation. “See how the careful lacing up the front is a creative mimic of a historical corset. The purple area narrows at the waist, an optical illusion to make your waist look as if it’s actually constrained. In the bust, the cups support and display the bosom. This is a cheat, I grant you, but it’s a woman’s best friend.”
Christos had brought out about two dozen of these best friends, all of them black with some kind of jewel-toned relief. I’d never worn vinyl or rubber before, and neither seemed to me to be good choices to wear right next to my skin. “Let’s assume I manage to get this down over myself,” I said. “How am I going to get it off again? You said yourself the lacing is for show.”
“Talcum powder,” he said. “People usually coat themselves in talcum powder before getting dressed. It prevents chafing and makes the faux corset slide off more easily.”
“Do you think BlackSwamp would kill us if we just came in black t-shirts?” Violet asked.
“That Elizabethan farthingale is looking better and better,” I added.
Christo laughed again, a paragon of patience. “Well, BlackSwamp suggested corsets, but really there is no limit to what you can or can’t wear to a vampire ball. No one’s going to turn you away because you’re not wearing corsets. So why not look around and see what appeals to you?”
This is a great metaphor for the vampire community as a whole. I tried a corset, but I found it too constricting. But that was fine. I could find something else that did fit my body and my personality and be no less welcome for it.
With Christo’s help, Violet and I began looking to outfit ourselves in a vampire manner that suited us. I found a black t-shirt with red calligraphy, something about having been the one-armed Nosferatu at the grassy knoll (a nosferatu is a Romanian species of vampire) which I could wear with faded jeans and black boots and call it a vampire’s night out. Christo helped me select some accessories: a silver necklace with a crystal-crusted ankh, a pair of handcuffs to be worn as bracelets (or whatever, I suppose), and a chain link belt straight from the auto body shop. Most importantly in Christo’s opinion, I needed special makeup—something that “hinted at the undead without destroying the natural glow of being alive”. He picked out a bottle of white cosmetic foundation that to my relief did not look like white face paint on my skin, and really did look remarkable with the black eyeliner and lipstick he also chose for me.
If I were to be the modern vampire, Violet chose to dress as her Renaissance counterpart. She’d really been taken with the idea of the slops wench. “No one would ever expect her to be a vampire,” Violet said, eyeing a gown finely made to look tattered and worn. “And once she got somebody into her hayloft, it would be dinner and a show!”
Christo rang up our choices. I realized we’d spent a lot less than we’d expected, but fortunately Christo didn’t work on commission. All of his extra effort for us was just part of the kind of guy he was. “I’ll see you two at the Scream,” he said as we were leaving, his smile never wavering. “It’s always astounding.”
On a normal sultry evening the venue for the vampire ball served the local gothic and punk communities with music and mayhem. That night, “A Midsummer Night’s Scream” transformed the place into a sensory carnival, a mix of the Roman Saturnalia with Mardi Gras shaken up and added to a phosphorescent cocktail of Rube Goldberg, Edward Bosch, and Medieval danse macabre wood cuttings. I’d never guessed that so many people in our area had the vampire community as a common denominator and yet there we all were, from all walks of existence and of all flavors, dancing and chatting and reveling as if we’d known each other for decades. Well, maybe a few would say centuries.
Violet and I nabbed a small table in the corner and set up to observe. I don’t mean in a Jane Goodall kind of way. We needed to ground and center just to take in everything exploding around us. People we’d never seen before and had never met greeted us with real warmth, a warmth that was easy to return. Christo from Night Rod stopped at our table for a few moments before returning to a hunt of his own—hot pursuit of a red-headed contortionist from Kissimmee.
Settling in, we ordered two Bathory Bubbly cocktails—a ruby red mix of raspberry ginger ale and grenadine syrup, served in breast-shaped glasses on a mirrored tray and named for the infamous Blood Countess whose vanity drove her to murder. At the Scream, great pains had been taken to accommodate guests avoiding alcohol. This concern was half health consciousness and half the knowledge that many real vampires believed alcohol seriously interfered with their vampiric gift.
At last our host BlackSwamp appeared. Now I’d been expecting something straight out of a dark fetish fashion magazine, and his black leather tuxedo did not disappoint. But while he completed the look in a black top hat and tails, he wore nothing under his jacket, leaving his suntanned pecs to be envied and admired.
“Clever,” I said to him as I stood to give him a kiss in greeting. “You’d be the prom date from hell for a lot of parents.”
“Been there, done that.” He leaned over to kiss Violet’s cheek. “May I say you both look in sanguine glory tonight?”
I might have been new to the community, but I wasn’t slow to thank him for what was meant as a compliment.
“Be warned that the trolls are here in force tonight,” he said.
“Trolls?” How many legends could fit inside one club?
BlackSwamp rolled his eyes. “Basically they want to be vampires, so they show up looking for someone to drink their blood and turn them.”
“You told me it’s not done like that,” I said.
“It isn’t. But try explaining that to a troll.” He started laughing. “You’ll see, I’m sure. You two look approachable.”
Violet frowned and said, “Maybe we should be meaner?”
BlackSwamp shook his head. “Close yourselves to some and you might close yourselves to all. There are plenty of interesting folks here tonight you’ll want to meet.”
The more people I talked with, the more people I wanted to get to know, and I was thoroughly fascinated by the real vampire—trolls notwithstanding.
One young woman accepted an invitation we hadn’t offered and sat with us for a few minutes. Eventually she asked, “Are you two feeding partners?”
I knew what she meant. She was asking if Violet and I drank each other’s blood. But before I could say anything, Violet giggled. “Sure,” she answered. “We go out for pie all the time.”
Another young woman seemed trapped somewhere between old enough to vote but too young to order a legal beer. Kind of dancing, kind of staggering, she came up to me. I could barely stand the aura of heavy smoker about her, but at least she had chosen clove cigarettes. If I shut my eyes and imagined myself in a dark room with some blues playing I might be able to pretend the scent was incense. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, displaying a smile perfected by the addition of gleaming white faux fangs.
“I can’t believe I’m here either,” I muttered to myself.
“You’re one of them.” She drew closer. “I know it. You’re one of them.”
In her current state this young woman could have thought I was anything, from Snow White to Sasquatch. I should have just turned around and walked away, but my curiosity is a fierce beast. “One of whom?”
At this she made some hand gesture I did not recognize. She touched her forehead, her lips, and the area over her heart with her index finger, and then crossed both arms over her chest. “You are one of the ancients and I salute you,” she whispered.
Biting her lip, Violet looked at me, her eyes sprightly and impish. I’d gotten myself in good this time, I thought. “Look, whatever you think I am, I’m not. I’m just enjoying a good party like everyone else.”
The young woman broke into a smile of epiphany. “Now I know you’re one of the ancients,” she squealed. “Only a true ancient would deny being an ancient.”
“Or someone who actually wasn’t an ancient,” I said, but she was awash in a deluge of conviction.
“Tell me everything. Tell me what it’s like to never die and to always live. Tell me about what you’ve seen and what you’ve experienced.”
“It gets old after a while,” I said.
BlackSwamp reappeared. “Kara, darling.” In a brotherly movement he swung his arm around her thin shoulders. “What have I told you about bothering strangers?”
“Don’t do it,” she said, looking up at him. “But Black, these two won’t hurt me. They’re ancients. Didn’t you know?”
He shot us an exasperated smile that said, “I told you so.”
With great care he turned her away from us by her shoulders and pointed her in the direction of a knot of Greek deities. “Who was she?” Violet asked.
“A liability waiting to happen.” BlackSwamp waved his hand toward the crowd. “There are dozens of them here. They just don’t get it, no matter how patient we are in explaining things to them. Kara has been at every vampire ball and event since we began holding them. This can be dangerous. You don’t just go around offering your blood to anybody. Who knows what some creep might have in mind?”
All right, I’m a bit of a true crime buff, I admit it. I knew what BlackSwamp was alluding to—that delusions of what the real vampire community was all about could lead to some bad choices and physical harm. “But this ball was by invitation only. Couldn’t you have checked everybody out before you invited them?”
Looking a little abashed, BlackSwamp shrugged. “We have over five hundred people in here tonight, and I can personally vouch for most of them. But I don’t know the background and purpose of every single person that comes through that door. I’m sure there are predators just looking for someone like Kara to use and discard.”
“Must make it tough to appear a respectable subculture,” I said.
“In general I don’t think we much care how we appear to the rest of society. However, when you bring in the potentially dangerous and illegal, even we have our red flags.”
Then BlackSwamp said something that has become my statement of purpose, the reason to move deeper into the community and enrich my own life for the experience.
“Vampire society is something of a secret society, but it is an open secret. We are open to anyone with enough genuine interest and determination to find us and come to know us. New awareness is the foundation of our future.”
Why Vampires? Why Me?
How did a nice girl like me get involved with real vampires? Just how does a mild-mannered historian find herself researching vampires? And what is a vampire, anyway?
The most interesting bits of history are about people. Who are we? Where did we come from? What have we done? All of these are questions that help us better understand an even greater question—where are we going? When we question the past, we are in a sense bringing it into the present. Through discussion and reflection, we bring the people of history to life.
This is how—in the course of academic research and study—I have become a cultural anthropologist as well as a historian. The biggest difference is that in history I don’t have the actual people in front of me doing what they did and being what they were. In today’s world we have such a variety of societies and cultures that even the most avid cultural anthropologist can only touch on a few in a lifetime. But the field is rich and beckoning for anyone who dares.
All of this is great academic grounding. I never set out to be a removed observer of the vampire community. My journey began with an epiphany—the idea that there was something much more to being a real vampire than popular beliefs would have us think. For my own education, I needed to get right into the heart of things, to gain the insight of someone in the community. As a result, I’ve earned trust. I have made good friends and have come to know many fascinating people. I’ve had experiences that someone on the outside might never know. Most importantly, I have made my own contributions to the community and to the cause of social tolerance.
I am not betraying that trust in this work. Instead, I seek to share my experience in the vampire community. I seek to share because I have found something beautiful and wonderful in the people who call themselves vampires and in their thoughts. The average person might hear “vampire” and dismiss the whole community as a gaggle of kooks. Here my task is to present “vampire” as a term in transition, to encourage the reader to look beyond the word and see that words are really what we define them to be.
Great, you may be thinking. But why vampires?
The day I understood that use determines meaning liberated me. In all honesty, I had never thought of vampires as anything beyond the seductive characters from a Saturday night double feature. Then I met my first real vampires and listened to everything they shared with me. I was kind of embarrassed that I hadn’t expanded on the idea in my mind previously. But when I got it, when I understood how vampires could be real and how there was a thriving community, I felt as if the universe had opened up to me.
In the world of the vampire, there is no beginning and no end. Reality is a fluid state that each of us determines with our own minds. There’s something good going on here that’s difficult to define. We have a subculture that encourages individuals to be in touch with themselves, to be themselves instead of a cookie cutter of everyone else. We have a subculture that elevates the importance of reaching beyond ourselves out into the greater mysteries of the universe. We have a subculture where bonds between individuals are strong. As odd as it might seem at first, the vampire community is doing a lot right.
Am I blind to the uglier side of the vampire community? I’ve had a few encounters that have been less than pleasant. However, these have been the exception to the rule. As in any group, the vampire community has its troublemakers and its malcontents, and sometimes they have a valid point to make. There are vampires who seek to hold power over other vampires, but I suspect that most realize that the only real power comes from within. The real conflict is the vampire community coming up against the rest of society, a society that is not very tolerant and not willing to listen to any explanations. In order to survive, the vampire community needs more unity than discord.
My goal is to share something I have found to be fascinating and beneficial. No one needs to become a vampire. If you read through and pick up little treasures to use in your own life, they are yours to use as you see fit. But if you ever run into a real vampire, you might want to thank them. Whoever they are, they are a part of the living energy.
The most interesting bits of history are about people. Who are we? Where did we come from? What have we done? All of these are questions that help us better understand an even greater question—where are we going? When we question the past, we are in a sense bringing it into the present. Through discussion and reflection, we bring the people of history to life.
This is how—in the course of academic research and study—I have become a cultural anthropologist as well as a historian. The biggest difference is that in history I don’t have the actual people in front of me doing what they did and being what they were. In today’s world we have such a variety of societies and cultures that even the most avid cultural anthropologist can only touch on a few in a lifetime. But the field is rich and beckoning for anyone who dares.
All of this is great academic grounding. I never set out to be a removed observer of the vampire community. My journey began with an epiphany—the idea that there was something much more to being a real vampire than popular beliefs would have us think. For my own education, I needed to get right into the heart of things, to gain the insight of someone in the community. As a result, I’ve earned trust. I have made good friends and have come to know many fascinating people. I’ve had experiences that someone on the outside might never know. Most importantly, I have made my own contributions to the community and to the cause of social tolerance.
I am not betraying that trust in this work. Instead, I seek to share my experience in the vampire community. I seek to share because I have found something beautiful and wonderful in the people who call themselves vampires and in their thoughts. The average person might hear “vampire” and dismiss the whole community as a gaggle of kooks. Here my task is to present “vampire” as a term in transition, to encourage the reader to look beyond the word and see that words are really what we define them to be.
Great, you may be thinking. But why vampires?
The day I understood that use determines meaning liberated me. In all honesty, I had never thought of vampires as anything beyond the seductive characters from a Saturday night double feature. Then I met my first real vampires and listened to everything they shared with me. I was kind of embarrassed that I hadn’t expanded on the idea in my mind previously. But when I got it, when I understood how vampires could be real and how there was a thriving community, I felt as if the universe had opened up to me.
In the world of the vampire, there is no beginning and no end. Reality is a fluid state that each of us determines with our own minds. There’s something good going on here that’s difficult to define. We have a subculture that encourages individuals to be in touch with themselves, to be themselves instead of a cookie cutter of everyone else. We have a subculture that elevates the importance of reaching beyond ourselves out into the greater mysteries of the universe. We have a subculture where bonds between individuals are strong. As odd as it might seem at first, the vampire community is doing a lot right.
Am I blind to the uglier side of the vampire community? I’ve had a few encounters that have been less than pleasant. However, these have been the exception to the rule. As in any group, the vampire community has its troublemakers and its malcontents, and sometimes they have a valid point to make. There are vampires who seek to hold power over other vampires, but I suspect that most realize that the only real power comes from within. The real conflict is the vampire community coming up against the rest of society, a society that is not very tolerant and not willing to listen to any explanations. In order to survive, the vampire community needs more unity than discord.
My goal is to share something I have found to be fascinating and beneficial. No one needs to become a vampire. If you read through and pick up little treasures to use in your own life, they are yours to use as you see fit. But if you ever run into a real vampire, you might want to thank them. Whoever they are, they are a part of the living energy.
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