When I was a kid, I was afraid of the dark, as kids frequently are. My father sneered at this fear and refused to give me a nightlight. “There’s nothing there in the dark that isn’t there in the light,” he declared, insisting this ended the discussion. I asked him to prove this; he did so by turning on the light. The disjunction there apparently never occurred to him.
Back in 2019, short-story writer Amber Sparks wrote an engaging essay about the recent rise in credence given to magical thinking, particularly among women. If astrology, divination, and Wicca aren’t more popular lately, they’re certainly more talked about. To Sparks, scientistic thinking is an outreach arm of the patriarchy. Magical thinking may not necessarily be “true,” but to Sparks, it empowers the chronically disenfranchised, and that’s what matters.
Thinking about fear of darkness, I see a more literal manifestation of this exact premise. Fear of darkness is common among those who lack power in our society. This may mean metaphorical power: children and the poor, for whom being out of sight of others makes them vulnerable to abuse. I’ve also seen paralyzing fear of darkness among well-off adults who’ve been subject to violence, especially relationship violence.
But absence of power can be more literal, too. Without electric light, the night swarms with forces eager to kill you, or anyway cause you harm. Ordinary able-bodied humans receive the largest fraction of information about the world through our eyes, which don’t work in the dark. Without light, the night could be riddled with wolves, bats, bears, and more. Campfires aren’t only for warmth; they keep predators away, too.
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| Amber Sparks (see also) |
Think about it: fear of darkness is most aggressively sneered at by people with access to light. Adults subject ourselves to degrading work conditions to keep the electric bill paid. City dwellers flood every corner of their communities with light. We frown-ups punish children for being afraid of the dark, but permit darkness into our lives only under controlled circumstances; I can’t rise to pee at midnight without turning numerous lights on.
Amber Sparks notes accurately that, for most people, most of the time, scientific truths don’t matter much. “Knowing about how a hand moves doesn’t stop it from covering your mouth.” The same applies to darkness. I know, intellectually, that darkness doesn’t invite monsters into my closet. But only shining light into dark corners proves that definitively. My father turned on the light to prove darkness wasn’t scary, apparently without irony.
Because, seriously, maybe there’s nothing present in the darkness that isn’t there when you turn the light on. But without light, how would you know? Even inside my own house, with modern central climate control and light, I’ve ventured out without turning the light on and stepped on prickly burs, cat barf, and a garter snake that got inside somehow. Darkness didn’t put them there, but it caused me to find them with my feet.
Modernist thinking tells us that science, reason, and limitless electric light have banished fears of darkness, fears they call superstition. Neither the wolves of the primordial forest, nor the demons of medieval folklore, can withstand modernity and its intellect. If we simply swallow our base animal fears, and live in the glorious light of modernity, we have nothing to fear. Wisdom, reason, and manmade light rebound everywhere.
Except we know that modernity’s benefits haven’t been distributed equally. Modernism has traveled hand-in-glove with patriarchy, racism, and war. The German pogroms in Poland, and Soviet pogroms in Ukraine, demonstrate how those who think of themselves as thoroughly hip and modern are willing to inflict massive devastation on poor and powerless peoples in order to continue propagating their diseased vision of modernity.
Nearly three years ago, I spent one night trapped in darkness and cold beside a rural Nebraska highway. Afterward, I waxed rhapsodic about my various insights, because I had nothing but my brain for company. But then, I returned to modernity, to electric light and central heat, and within days, forgot nearly everything I’d learned. I resumed abasing myself before my boss, to avoid spending another night in the dark.
My message being: fear of darkness is natural, even good. Just as Amber Sparks claims magical thinking empowers women amid patriarchy, fear of darkness empowers the poor. Those who would chastise your fear, are the same people who’d demand your subservience to capitalist hierarchies, and that isn’t coincidental. Fear is your source of power; don’t let “them” steal it.
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