Halloween, Trauma Scars, and Stories we Wear

What happens when someone's Halloween costume looks like your everyday reality?

"Your special effects makeup is amazing!"

I looked at the teenager standing in front of me, smiled, and thought for a moment.

Special effects makeup?

Nope. This is actually how I look.

I was sitting outside handing out Halloween candy when this comment caught me off guard. It's a comment I've heard before. An expression I've seen countless times. And something that, years ago, would have completely unraveled my entire day.

But this year, my response was different.

As I sat outside that evening, I started noticing something. I counted approximately 20 young people who came to get candy wearing costumes that incorporated scars, wounds, or physical trauma. There were werewolf scratches across faces, knife marks, and zombie makeup designed to make skin look like it was falling apart.

And I couldn't help but think about how differently we can experience the very same holiday.

For some, Halloween is a night of creativity. A chance to become someone or something different for an evening. A chance to paint on wounds, create frightening effects, and pretend to be something scary.

But for others, those same wounds aren't pretend.

They're permanent.

They're part of a body they've spent years learning to live in. They're reminders of hospital rooms, accidents, abuse, surgeries, trauma, and battles nobody else knows about. They're things that don't wash off at the end of the night.

And sometimes, Halloween can be a painful reminder of that difference.

When Your Everyday Reality Becomes Someone Else's Costume

For many burn survivors and people living with visible scars, Halloween is a holiday they dread.

They hate seeing people dress up with scars, burns, wounds, and disfigurements as part of a costume. They feel mocked. They feel like something that has caused them years of physical and emotional pain is being turned into entertainment.

And honestly? I understand.

Because I used to be that survivor.

I remember dressing up as a princess or a doctor for Halloween, only to have people comment that my makeup made me look like a zombie or some kind of monster.

Think about that for a moment.

I wanted to be a princess. I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to be a kid enjoying Halloween.

Instead, I was reminded that the very thing I couldn't take off was something other people associated with monsters.

My scars, the things that would follow me long after October 31, were apparently the same things people were trying to recreate to look frightening.

What a wonderful feeling, right?

There is a particular kind of hurt that comes when something you have spent your entire life learning to accept becomes something another person uses to scare someone else.

Because you don't get to take your costume off.

You don't get to wash away the scars, put your real face back on, and return to normal when the night is over.

This is your normal.

And sometimes, that's the part people forget.

When Hollywood Makes Scars the face Evil...

But I think this conversation goes beyond Halloween costumes.

I think we need to look at something else, too: the movies, television shows, and entertainment we consume.

Think about some of the most recognizable villains in movie history.

Scar in *The Lion King*. Freddy Krueger in *A Nightmare on Elm Street*. Darth Vader in *Star Wars*. The Joker in *The Dark Knight*.

These are very different characters, with very different stories. But they offer an opportunity to examine something we see repeatedly in entertainment: physical scars, burns, facial differences, and disfigurements are often incorporated into the visual identity of frightening or villainous characters.

Sometimes, before a character even speaks, their appearance has already been used to communicate how the audience should feel about them.

And this isn't just something I've noticed.

A study published in JAMA Dermatology examined the physical characteristics of some of America's most recognizable movie heroes and villains. Researchers found that 60% of the ten villains examined displayed notable dermatological characteristics, compared with none of the ten heroes. Facial scars were among the recurring characteristics used to distinguish villains.

Think about that.

What message might we unintentionally reinforce when the people who look different are so often the people we are supposed to fear?

I'm not suggesting that filmmakers should never create a villain with scars. I'm not suggesting that every character with a physical difference needs to be a hero, or that we should stop enjoying horror movies.

That's not the point.

The point is that when we repeatedly associate physical differences with evil, danger, ugliness, and monstrosity, we have to consider what that communicates beyond the screen.

Because someone watching that movie might look exactly like the character everyone else is afraid of.

A child with burn scars might see a villain and recognize their own reflection.

A teenager with facial differences might hear an audience laugh or gasp at an appearance that resembles their own.

An adult who has spent years learning to accept their body might be reminded, once again, that society often associates looking different with being frightening.

And what happens when those same people step outside the movie theater and into the real world?

Do we really want someone to look at a person with scars and instinctively associate them with a monster?

A scar is not a personality trait. A burn injury is not a reflection of someone's character. And a person's appearance is not an indication of whether they are good, bad, dangerous, or worthy of love.

Perhaps it's time we told more stories where scars are simply part of someone's appearance. Where physical differences aren't the defining characteristic of a character. Where people who look different get to be the princess, the hero, the doctor, the friend, and the main character.

Not every scar needs a tragic backstory. Not every physical difference needs to be explained. And not every person who looks different needs to be portrayed as someone to fear.

Sometimes, a scar is just a scar.

And the person carrying it is just a person.

But Something Has Changed!

This Halloween, when that teenager looked at me and complimented my "special effects makeup," I had a choice.

I could have become upset. I could have withdrawn. I could have gone inside and spent the rest of the evening wondering why people couldn't understand.

Instead, I simply responded:

"Actually, those are scars from a burn injury I had when I was younger."

And her response?

"Wow, that's even cooler!"

I smiled.

Not because I suddenly needed her approval. Not because her response erased years of uncomfortable experiences. And certainly not because every comment made about my appearance has been harmless.

But because, in that moment, I was reminded of something.

Not everyone is trying to hurt you.

Sometimes people genuinely don't know. Sometimes they have never met someone with visible scars. Sometimes they make assumptions because they have never been given a reason to think differently.

And sometimes, what sounds hurtful to someone who has lived through something is simply an uninformed comment from someone who hasn't.

There is a difference between someone intentionally mocking your trauma and someone who has never understood the story behind what they are seeing.

We have to leave room for that difference.

Now, let me be clear. Survivors do not owe anyone an explanation. We do not have to turn every uncomfortable encounter into a teaching moment. We do not have to smile through comments that hurt us, and we certainly don't have to tolerate cruelty just to make someone else comfortable.

But sometimes, we can choose to respond with an opportunity for understanding rather than allowing an assumption to dictate the rest of our day.

That is what I chose to do.

And perhaps that teenager walked away thinking a little differently about scars than she did before.

Perhaps that's where change begins.

The Scars We See, and the Stories We Don't

Here is what I wish more people understood.

Scars are not costumes.

Behind some of the scars you see are years of recovery. Behind others are stories of survival, loss, resilience, and circumstances that changed someone's life forever.

Some people have scars from burns. Others from surgeries, accidents, medical conditions, self-harm, or experiences they may never feel comfortable discussing.

Some scars are visible. Others are tucked beneath clothing, hidden behind smiles, or carried in places nobody else can see.

And not everyone who has a scar wants to talk about it.

Not everyone wants to educate you.

Not everyone has reached a place where they can laugh about it, embrace it, or even look at it without remembering what happened.

We have to make room for all of those experiences.

Because the goal isn't to tell people how to feel about their scars.

The goal is to create a world where they don't have to feel ashamed of them.

I have spent a good portion of my life learning that my scars do not make me less beautiful, less worthy, less capable, or less human.

They don't make me a monster.

They don't make me a costume.

They don't make me something to be afraid of.

They are part of my story. A story I didn't choose. A story that has included more hospital rooms and surgeries than I could ever count. A story with chapters I would never have chosen to write.

But it is still my story.

And I refuse to let someone else's perception of my scars determine how I see myself.

Perhap the Conversation Needs to Change.

I don't believe the answer is necessarily to ban every Halloween costume that incorporates scars or wounds.

I do believe we need to have more conversations about how we portray people whose everyday realities are being used as fictional entertainment.

There is a difference between dressing up as a fictional character with a wound and deliberately mocking someone for having a physical difference.

There is a difference between creativity and cruelty.

And there is a difference between making something look frightening and making an actual person feel like they are something to be frightened of.

We can have fun on Halloween while still being mindful of the people around us.

We can teach our children that scars aren't something to laugh at when they see them in real life.

We can remind teenagers that the person standing in front of them might actually look like the character they are pretending to be.

We can teach curiosity without judgment, kindness without assumptions, and compassion without requiring someone to explain their entire life story.

Most importantly, we can stop making people feel like they need to apologize for looking different.

This Halloween, I want you to remember something...

If you're dressing up with scars, wounds, burns, or other special effects makeup this year, I'm not asking you to stop having fun.

I'm asking you to remember that someone, somewhere, might look like that every single day.

Someone might have spent years trying to accept the very appearance you're trying to recreate for one evening.

Someone might be sitting at home wondering if they should even go out because they don't want to be mistaken for a costume.

Someone might have spent their entire childhood being called a monster, a zombie, or something else simply because their body looks different.

And they deserve to enjoy Halloween, too.

If you're a survivor who struggles with this holiday, I see you.

If the costumes make you uncomfortable, your feelings are valid.

If you've reached a place where you can laugh, educate, and embrace these moments, that's wonderful, too.

But wherever you are in your journey, please don't let someone else's temporary costume make you feel ashamed of your permanent story.

And if you're someone who has never thought twice about these costumes, perhaps this is an opportunity to look a little deeper.

Because we cannot always change the scars we carry. We cannot rewrite every experience that brought us to where we are today. And we certainly cannot control every comment, stare, or assumption that comes our way.

But we can change the conversations we have.

We can change the way we teach the next generation to see people who look different.

We can change the stories we tell and the characters we celebrate.

We can change how we respond to the things we don't understand.

And we can change how the world sees scars.

I used to spend Halloween wishing people wouldn't notice mine.

Now, I spend it hoping that when they do, perhaps they'll see something different.

Not a monster.

Not a costume.

Not a frightening face.

A person.

A survivor.

A story.

A life.

And maybe, just maybe, that's where changing the world begins.

Don't just look at the scars. Look at the person who lives behind them.

Because scars are not the whole story. And the people who carry them deserve to be seen as so much more than what happened to them.

Happy Halloween. ❤️

— Kelsay Parrott

*Healing a Burned Soul*

Further Reading

For those interested in the research behind the portrayal of visible skin differences in entertainment:

- *Dermatologic Features of Classic Movie Villains*, published in JAMA Dermatology.