Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Mo Moshaty. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Mo, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.
Researching and lecturing on women’s trauma in horror cinema isn’t just an academic pursuit for me: it’s a mission, a love letter, and occasionally, a bit of an exorcism. Horror has always been the one genre that refuses to politely look away from the ugly truths of our world, and when it comes to women’s trauma, it has been both a mirror and a battlefield. From the final girls who claw their way to survival to the monstrous women who refuse to be contained, horror is where the unspeakable is spoken, loudly, bloodily, and often with a kitchen knife in hand.
As someone who straddles multiple worlds: author, filmmaker, Cognitive Behavioral Therapist, and lifelong horror obsessive, I approach this subject with both analytical interest and a personal sense of duty. I know firsthand the catharsis horror can offer, the way it externalizes fears we’re told to keep quiet about, and how it forces the world to sit down and deal with women’s rage, grief, and survival on our terms. Through From Inside the House Podcast and my international lectures, I explore how horror, while sometimes reflecting real-world traumas in unsettling ways, also provides a space where these experiences can be examined, confronted, and even reclaimed; offering catharsis, agency, and deeper understanding rather than mere spectacle.”
And let’s talk about representation. Because if I have to sit through one more movie where a woman’s trauma is just a plot device for a male protagonist to grow, I might actually start throwing popcorn at the screen. The horror genre has come a long way, but we’re still fighting to see stories where women aren’t just victims, but survivors, avengers, and complex beings whose pain isn’t their only defining trait. That’s where my work with NightTide Magazine and Mourning Manor Media comes in, creating spaces that amplify these stories, support diverse creators, and challenge the genre to do better.
Horror isn’t just about scaring us, it’s about revealing the truth in the most visceral, unforgettable way possible. And if we’re going to keep telling stories about women’s trauma, then by all means, let’s do it with depth, authenticity, and maybe even a little righteous fury.
As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?
I often joke that I was raised by horror, that somewhere between the creaking floorboards of my childhood home and the flickering glow of late-night creature features, I found my calling. Horror wasn’t just entertainment for me, it was a language, a way to make sense of the world. Before I had the words for it, I understood that horror was about survival, about resilience, and about the unspoken fears and truths that exist just beneath the surface. What began as fascination quickly became a lifelong exploration of the genre, leading me to where I am today: a writer, producer, lecturer, and advocate for the transformative power of horror.
Horror at its core has always been a mirror reflecting society’s anxieties and for me. That mirror has always revealed something deeper about the experiences of marginalized voices, especially women. Growing up, I didn’t always see my story of the OR the stories of those around me reflected in the mainstream. But horror? Horror was honest. It showed the darkness that we navigate, the fears that we live in, and most importantly, the strength that we summoned to fight back. That truth, that authenticity, is what drew me in and will continue to fuel my passion for the genre.
As a horror author, I craft stories that explore the depths of fear, resilience, and the unseen forces that shape our lives. My work delves into the psychological and supernatural, blending raw emotion with the eerie unknown to challenge and unsettle. Horror, to me, is not just about terror; it’s about truth, transformation, and the power of confronting the darkness.
I wear many hats as a horror writer, filmmaker, script editor, lecturer, producer, and cognitive behavioral therapist. Not because I can’t decide on a path, but because all of these roles intersect in ways that are impossible to separate for me. My work is deeply rooted in understanding the psychology of fear, trauma, and resilience, and horror provides a uniquely powerful medium to explore those themes. As a cognitive behavioral therapist, I’ve spent years working to understand others’ trauma as well as my own, and not just in a clinical sense, but in the way it shapes narratives, identities, and art. Horror as a genre is one of the few spaces that doesn’t shy away from trauma. It forces us to look at the things we try to ignore and in doing so offers a catharsis, empowerment, and sometimes even healing.
Through my work with NightTide Magazine and Morning Manor Media, I strive to amplify the voices of those who have been historically underrepresented in horror: Women, people of color, LGBTQIA+ creatives, individuals with disabilities, neurodivergent experiences, and those whose perspectives are challenging the industry’s status quo. Horror should be for everyone, and that means making space for stories that reflect the full spectrum of human experience. NightTide Magazine isn’t just about celebrating horror; it’s about reshaping it, ensuring that the next generation of horror fans and creators see themselves fully represented in the genre that they love.
My passion for women’s trauma and horror cinema stems from the same drive to examine the ways in which horror has long been both a reflection of and a response to the lived experiences of women through From Inside the House podcast and my lectures at institutions like the University of Sheffield, Prairie View, Texas A&M, Miskatonic Institute of Horror Studies, Cine-Excess and the Final Girls Berlin Film Festival, I’ve dedicated my career to unpacking how horror grapples with themes of trauma, survival, and agency. It’s not just about identifying tropes or critiquing the genre. It’s about understanding why these narratives persist, what they reveal about our collective fears, and how they can evolve to serve as a source of empowerment rather than exploitation.
That’s the thing about horror. It’s never just about the monster, It’s about what the monster represents. Whether it’s the supernatural entity that refuses to be ignored or the final girl who reclaims her power in the face of violence, horror is always saying, something. My job in all the roles I take on is to listen to those messages, to analyze them, to challenge them when necessary, and to contribute to creating new ones that push the genre forward.
The work I do isn’t just about storytelling; it’s about community building. I believe in the power of horror to connect us, and to start conversations that might otherwise never happen. That’s why I founded Morning Manor Media to create a platform where horror creatives, especially those from marginalized backgrounds, can come together, collaborate, and find opportunities that might otherwise be out of reach. I’ve dedicated myself to supporting indie horror, to championing the stories that might not get the Hollywood treatment but deserve to be seen and heard as much. I’ve also dedicated my work to reshaping the discourse around accessibility for creatives and journalists of color in horror cinema. The disparity is undeniable, the numbers speak for themselves. Creatives and journalists of color are often overlooked or denied the same opportunities as our white counterparts, not for lack of talent, but due to systemic barriers that persist within the industry.
I’ve had the incredible opportunity to work with platforms like Shudder and Stowe Story Labs, to write for anthologies that celebrate horror’s diversity, and to contribute to conversations that challenge the genre to be better, more inclusive, and more reflective of the real horrors and triumphs that shape our world. And while I am beyond grateful for every milestone, every publication, every film or book festival panel, I know the work isn’t done. Horror is an ever-evolving space, and my role within it continues to push forward, asking difficult questions and creating spaces where new voices can rise.
At the heart of everything that I do, whether it’s writing, filmmaking, lecturing, or editing, there’s one driving force: the belief that horror matters. It’s not just entertainment; it’s culture, it’s history, it’s rebellion. It’s a way to process grief, to reclaim agency, and to make sense of a chaotic world. And as long as there are stories to be told, as long as there are voices waiting to be heard, I continue wearing as many hats as it takes to make sure horror remains a space where everyone can find themselves, fight their monsters, and ultimately, survive.
Do you think there is something that non-creatives might struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can shed some light?
I’ve often had people ask why I immerse myself in such a devastating and depressive topic as trauma. The truth is, it’s not about dwelling in darkness; it’s about confronting it head-on and transforming it. Horror, for me, is a space where I can explore the complexities of human suffering, but also how we fight back, reclaim agency, and heal. It’s a way of making sense of the world and empowering others to do the same.
For example, when I write horror or produce films, I’m not just focused on crafting a chilling story or scare. I’m digging into the layers of trauma, resilience, and personal growth that often lurk beneath the surface of the genre. Horror can be cathartic. It allows me to examine societal issues like gender, race, and mental health in ways that are both visceral and intellectually stimulating.
Additionally, the process of bringing a creative project to life isn’t as linear or glamorous as it may seem. Behind every finished piece is a series of difficult decisions, revisions, and compromises, often happening across multiple projects at once. Balancing writing, lecturing, producing, and community-building requires a level of focus and adaptability that isn’t always visible to the outside world. For me, it’s all about weaving together diverse elements, from theory to practice, from personal insight to cultural exploration, in ways that elevate both the genre and the voices involved.
Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?
I’ve worn many hats in my career: writer, producer, lecturer, therapist, and community builder, and with each one, I’ve faced a challenge that many might not see. Despite the successes and recognition, there’s still a recurring theme I encounter: to some folks, I’m still just a jack-of-all-trades. It’s as if the sheer variety of roles I play somehow diminishes their value, or at least doesn’t quite fit into the neat little boxes others want to put me in. I’ve been told countless times that I should focus on just one thing, as though this career trajectory is a “phase” or an “experimental stage.”
But here’s the thing: carving your own path isn’t about choosing one lane and staying in it, it’s about building a road that reflects who you truly are. The journey hasn’t been linear, and, honestly, it’s been messy at times. There have been moments when I doubted whether wearing so many hats would ever be recognized as more than “too much” or a “hapless polymath.” But through it all, I’ve realized that resilience isn’t just about pushing through, it’s about embracing the chaos and the contradictions. It’s about knowing that the paths you carve for yourself don’t need to fit anyone else’s expectations. When you’re writing your own story, the chapters aren’t always predictable, and that’s the beauty of it.
I’ve learned to trust that my journey is valid, even if it doesn’t always look like what others envision. Because in the end, building your own career, your own identity, means acknowledging the unique combination of strengths and experiences that make you who you are. It may not be easy to explain to everyone, but it’s my path—and that’s what gives it power.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://momoshaty.com
- Instagram: @momoshaty
- Other: BlueSky: https://bsky.app/profile/momoshaty.bsky.social
