29
Aug
In 1992, I begged my father to take me to see Candyman. He had already turned me into a horror fanatic so he needed to follow through and take me. After the film was over, I was terrified for weeks. My brain would manifest Candyman in the shadows of my room while I slept. As an adult, I don’t fancy the film as much, but I realized the allure of Candyman was that he was a terror specific to the Black community despite the circumstances of his death. I knew as a child that housing was an issue for poor…