White Privilege in A Discovery of Witches, It Isn’t Just for the Living Anymore

Welcome to the first post in a series in which I will be examining vampire fiction — novels, film, and TV shows — through the lens of identity politics. Specifically, I’ll be looking at the concepts of white privilege and racial identity/representation in popular vampire fiction and discussing why certain tropes are problematic. As a woman of color who has been consuming vampire narratives for roughly forty years, I have become aware of certain tropes that have evolved in recent years that differ from classic vampire narratives, and there are noticeable absences in terms of representation and diversity among the cast of characters who inhabit these narratives. I look forward to sharing my thoughts with you, and hope that these posts will spark some interesting discussions.

Typically, when we think of vampires, we think of creatures with superhuman strength, who can fly, compel or mesmerize people into doing their bidding, and move so quickly that they seem to appear out of nowhere. They can get inside your mind and cloud your memory so that you forget or even enjoy the fact that they are drinking your blood to maintain their unnatural longevity. In short, vampires are monsters who have a variety of supernatural abilities that make them excellent predators.

In some of the most popular vampire fiction written in the past twenty to thirty years, including L.J. Smith’s The Vampire Diaries (1991 – 2014), Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter Series (1993 – 2018), Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Saga (2005 -2008), and Deborah Harkness’ All Souls Trilogy (2011 – 2014), vampires can pass for human and some can walk in daylight. You might think that walking in daylight is what makes modern vampires so dangerous, but even Dracula strolled the streets of London in sunlight. No, I would argue that what makes modern vampires truly terrifying is their unadulterated access to white privilege.

A Discovery of Witches, Episode #1.1, IMDb

This installment, “White Privilege in A Discovery of Witches, It Isn’t Just for the Living Anymore,” will focus on the first novel in Harkness’ All Souls Trilogy, and I’ll be making comparisons between the novel and TV adaptation.

Recently, I watched season one of A Discovery of Witches (2018). Twice. And listened to the audiobook for the third time. Don’t judge me. This is research. I swear.

Okay, to be fair, I’m slightly obsessed with vampires. Can you blame me? Vampires have become some of the most attractive and compelling characters in romantic paranormal fiction. They are the epitome of fantasy lovers and partners: handsome, charming, intelligent, well-dressed, sexually potent, financially stable, physically strong, and obsessively protective. Like werewolves, they are the template for paranormal masculinity. But a refined and cultured masculinity. A politically correct masculinity.

On the flip side of this very attractive and ancient coin, is the fact that vampires fixate on, stalk and/or hunt their object of desire. Typically, in paranormal romance, this object of desire is a clueless and romantically inexperienced white woman between the ages of 16 and 40, which leads me to believe that naivete and vulnerability are aphrodisiacs for vampires, who then do everything in their power to make said woman fall hopelessly in love with them while pretending to be disinterested. So, you know, narcissists.

A Discovery of Witches, Episode #1.1, IMDb

In her groundbreaking article, “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack” (1989), Peggy McIntosh discusses how she was taught to ignore white privilege as a cultural norm, much like men are taught to ignore their privilege in society. “I have come to see white privilege as an invisible package of unearned assets which I can count on cashing in each day, but about which I was ‘meant’ to remain oblivious. White privilege is like an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools and blank checks.”

I find this list of cultural artifacts fascinating, because these items allow someone with the right set of assets access to things other people do not have access to — freedom to move about the world without barriers. While non-whites often have access to these items and can move about the world, this is only the case for people who occupy specific identities that grant them access to money, education, and respected jobs. Although, sometimes even those qualifications aren’t enough for non-whites to gain access to the same resources and privileges as whites.

There is also this unspoken belief that if a non-white person has access to these items and can travel freely, they most likely worked very hard to earn that right and have been given permission to do so through accolades, accomplishments, and adherence to rules that grant them white acceptance.

If you are white, specifically a white male, people rarely question how or why you have access to the same rights and privileges non-white people have to earn. It is simply expected. Accepted. And, if you happen to be a white male with access to all the artifacts McIntosh lists, people rarely question whether you belong somewhere. You won’t be detained at the border and if you happen to commit murder, people will be more concerned about the state of your mental health than the fact that you are the product of a society that promotes violence and male dominance.

A Discovery of Witches, Episode #1.5, IMDb

Matthew Clairmont is a textbook example of the perfect romantic lead in a vampire romance. He’s appealing for all the reasons you’d expect him to be: tall, dark, handsome, well-dressed (usually in black), charming, polite, intelligent, emotionally complicated, cultured, speaks with an upper-class accent, fascinated by the arcane, aloof, and incomprehensibly single. However, like many of his vampiric comrades in modern romances, his ability to attract mates and the thing that gives him his power has nothing to do with the supernatural. His greatest vampire superpower is white privilege.

In fact, Matthew Clairmont is practically the Rosetta Stone for white privilege. Born into a family of craftsmen in the year 500 in France, he believed in God, fell in love, married and had a son of his own. He was happy and successful until his wife and child died from a fever. Consumed by grief, he attempted to take his own life and made it look like an accident by falling from a ledge in a church he was constructing.

The female head of the local vampire family, Ysabeau de Clermont, took pity on him, and made him a vampire. She adopted him and groomed him to be one of the most formidable, envied, and feared vampires in the world.

A Discovery of Witches, Episode #1.7, IMDb

He fought in wars with his vampire kin, joined the Knights of Templar, became a spy for Elizabeth Tudor, was friends with Christopher Marlowe, and even knew Shakespeare. The de Clermont family home is a castle with seven towers in France. Nothing says white privilege like belonging to a powerful European family with access to unimaginable wealth, with connections to royalty and having enough influence to determine the outcomes of wars, as well as political elections.

Matthew Clairmont is the literal embodiment of white privilege, based not only on his pale skin and access to wealth, but he also has the potential to live forever and never give up his claim on all of his possessions, including land, real estate, priceless artwork, and other artifacts of antiquity. With dual citizenship in France and England, this highly educated, clever, respected, and feared man can do whatever he likes, and has even gotten away with murder. Multiple times. In fact, he suffers from a rare disorder among vampires that sends him into a blood rage. Coupled with the extremely territorial nature of vampires, Matthew’s blood rage can be just as dangerous to the people he cares about as it is to anyone who threatens to harm them.

He continually dispels the accepted myths about vampires: he walks in daylight, eats food beyond blood, can enter your home without a formal invitation, continues to worship God and enter churches, and he doesn’t sleep in a coffin. How can you protect yourself from a monster who can pass for human so effortlessly? Well, it helps if you’re a witch like Diana Bishop, Matthew’s object of desire.

A Discovery of Witches, Episode #1.1, IMBd

Even though he stalks and hunts Diana, who will eventually become his romantic partner, Matthew’s actions are considered romantic. A form of courtship. When he tells Diana that he’s killed two of his previous lovers, AFTER they’ve started a sexual relationship, she feels sorry for him because of the guilt he feels. To comfort him, or possibly to delude herself, she tells him that he won’t hurt her. Why won’t he hurt her? Well, because she’s special, and he REALLY loves her.

He keeps warning her that he can’t always be trusted even though he’s taken it upon himself to be her bodyguard and convinces her that he’s the only one who can keep her safe. Like an overprotective or jealous boyfriend, he sits in the library where she’s doing research every day to keep other people from approaching her. Short of pissing on her leg, he makes it clear to the other creatures in the library — vampires, witches, and demons — that Diana Bishop is essentially his property and that he’ll kill anyone who tries to approach, speak to, or touch her. Despite his good manners, he’s a very dangerous vampire with a history of unpredictable mood swings and volatile emotions. He is known for his violence, which is why very few creatures even consider challenging his authority.

An authority established and supported by his hyper-masculinity, access to wealth and knowledge, and the fact that he has the power to summon an army comprised of members of a secret society he controls. Now, if that doesn’t smack of white privilege, I don’t know what does. And, to top it all off, he’s a research biochemist who is studying the DNA of other species to unlock the secrets of his own origins.

A Discovery of Witches, Episode #1.3, IMDb

Even though it is clear he has feelings for Diana, it sometimes seems like he strategically chooses her as a mate because of her ability to conjure a lost manuscript and decipher its meaning. By ignoring the laws that govern his society, one of which being that interspecies (interracial) relationships between vampires, witches, and demons are forbidden, he risks losing everything, including his life. However, Matthew’s white privilege allows him to believe that this rule doesn’t affect him, or at the very least, he sees the restriction as outdated and inconvenient now that he’s involved with Diana. Throughout the narrative we get hints at the fact that Matthew loves Diana, but this love develops after she willingly accepts the fact that his desire for her stems from his craving for her witch blood.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with enjoying modern romantic vampire fiction. I have zero intention of giving up one of my favorite forms of escapism. However, I think it’s important to understand what these characters represent and how they function in fiction. Vampires have become a symbol for ideal partners in romantic fiction, which is understandably flawed because they are essentially serial killers. But they are ideal because they mirror what is considered ideal in most of mainstream society — successful white males with money, power, and influence.