(host) Her hair is long and black, her nails, sharp. She thirsts for blood. Once vibrant, alive, and pregnant, she's none of those things anymore. The Pontianak are Southeast Asia's infamous vampiric mothers. A staple of Malay folklore thriving even today, they share their name with the city in Indonesia. In fact, the city was actually named after the monster. There are a lot of female monsters who use femininity as a weapon, but this one is the first I've seen who's monstrous nature is directly associated with pregnancy and childbirth. But why does this gruesomely powerful vampiric specter of maternity gone awry haunt the jungle? What is her story, and why is there a need for this sort of monster?

(Describer) A huge orange eye opens.

I'm Dr. Emily Zarka, and this is Monstrum. The ghost of a woman who died tragically while pregnant or during childbirth, the Pontianak seeks revenge against those who were involved in her death. Known alternatively as the Kuntilanak, this type of vengeful maternal specter haunts a vast region, including modern-day Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore, Brunei, all the way down to the southern regions of the Philippines and Thailand, which means a lot of people share the stories of this monster. Both Pontianak and Kuntilanak end in the Malay word meaning "child," emphasizing they are literally named and defined by their connection to children and childbirth. Nourished by human blood and organs, especially from children, the Pontianak live in trees. And if you dare go out walking alone at night, you might see them stalking prey from the branches above. The favorite habitat of the Pontianak is also part of its name. It's said that the "poni" in Pontianak originates from the Malay phrase for "tall tree," or "tall trees." Although these monsters manifest as vampiric ghosts, the Pontianak can disguise herself in the physical form of a beautiful young woman who seems fragile and delicate-- a facade she uses to lure her victims in. In both human and ghost form, the long, flowing, black hair of the creature creates a stark contrast against its white robes. When in their spectral form, they are vicious and gruesome. You can hear them swooshing or making a rustling sound like leaves crackling as they glide through the sky, followed by a loud shrieking sound right before attacking and drinking the blood of the victim. They may use their long fingernails or fangs to create a wound from which they suck the blood of their prey. Some say these ghosts' hair covers a hole in the back of their necks. The last thing you will see as you succumb to an attack is the scars of a snarling, scowling face as she goes in for the kill. The Pontianak is a tortured female body, in part because it is trapped between the warring influences of Islam and traditional Malay culture and religious practices. Islam arrived in Southeast Asia as early as the 9th century through Arabic traders. But the religion did not have a dramatic influence in this part of the world until the 12th century CE. Muslim settlements arose as the trade routes were solidified, and eventually led to the conversion of various monarchies to Islam and the first sultans of the region. Of course, any time you introduce a religion and new rulers, you get tension with existing beliefs, often manifesting in conflict between perceived modernity and indigenous culture. The Pontianak is one such example. In Islamic ideals, the female body is heteropatriarchal, in deep contrast with the more egalitarian Malay indigenous gender traditions. But the very thing that defines the identity of a woman in both cultures, motherhood, is what enables the supernatural existence of these ghosts. The Pontianak is both seductive and repulsive, a creature to desire and fear. She is monstrously feminine. Not all women who die during childbirth or while pregnant become a Pontianak-- only those who suffer at the hands of men. That is one of the defining aspects of this monster. The unhappy death in the Pontianak stories is the defining aspect of the monster, and is brought on by sexual or physical violence during pregnancy, or outright murder. So this tormented ghost woman embodies two of the most defining features in much of women's history-- patriarchal violence and the dangers of childbirth. In their ghostly form, Pontianak are strong, scale tall trees, and fly. A nail or stake driven into the back of the neck subdues the monster, forcing it into its true form and making it the slave of the assailant, often with a transformation into a dutiful, quiet mother and wife. Removing the nail allows her to turn back into her ghost form, but she cannot do this herself. Not just a representation of women's status in the Malay and Islamic cultures out of which it arose, Pontianak play a part in the history of the various civilizations of the people who share its story. The city of Pontianak, in what is now Indonesia, founded in 1771, is said to have been the direct result of a sultan expelling the monsters that gave the place its name. According to the legend, the first inhabitants of the land were the Pontianak. A nobleman of Arab descent traveled to the area in the late 18th century to settle the land after receiving it as a gift, making him its first sultan. The native Pontianak did not appreciate this intrusion to their homelands, and harassed the group of settlers in an effort to scare them off. The sultan retaliated by firing a cannon, and the loud noise drove away the ghosts. To make sure they would not return, the sultan cut down the tall trees the Pontianak called home, and used the wood to build a mosque and his palace. To some people, this story is an allegory of the trial settlers faced attempting to tame the dense jungle and its animal inhabitants. But it seems a truer parallel comes from another source of traditional folklore-- pirates. What would become the city of Pontianak was located at the delta of the Kapuas River, a crucial point of trade for the island of Borneo. The establishment of the settlement there to deter pirates was the official narrative given for the sultan's appearance. The gang of unruly ghosts was an added bonus deterrent. This founding myth of Pontianak emphasizes the continuing tension between the spiritual practices of the peoples of Southeast Asia, like Buddhism, Hinduism, and Animism, before Islam became the dominant faith. Animism undoubtedly played a role in the formation of the Pontianak legend. Animism is essentially the belief that all things, living and not living, have a spirit, and that the material and spiritual worlds are not distinct. That idea is so ingrained in Malay culture that, even now, regardless of religion, the Pontianak is not just a monster story, but for some people, it is an actual monster. The influence of interactions between humans and non-human beings continues to hold deep cultural sway, which helps explain why the Pontianak has existed for so long. Not only does she have staying power as a cultural and historical figure, the symbolism of the Pontianak and the importance of storytelling in Malaysian culture meant that the monster's transition from oral folklore to film was inevitable. The horror genre has been an important facet of the Malaysian film industry since the 1950s. Films that feature spirits in the horror genre are called "Hantu" films, and the Pontianak made an early appearance in these movies. However, when Singapore separated from Malaysia in 1965, urbanization and modern advancement made the older traditions, like belief in the Pontianak, seem antiquated and out of touch. Then government censorship policies in the late 1960s banned the horror genre in its entirety, and Pontianak films became scarce. They emerged again in the 1990s, but largely as direct-to-video films. And then in 2004 came the release of "The Pontianak of the Tuber Rose." The film marked not just the return of the Pontianak to the big screen, but the return of the Malaysian blockbuster horror film itself after the relaxation of the horror film restrictions. Mirroring many of the previous legends of the monster, the film alternates between 1949 and the present day, showing the Pontianak in both colonial and modern periods. As in all Pontianak lore, the titular character, Miriam, is pregnant when her scorned lover arranges for her to be attacked, robbed, and murdered. Justice personified, the dead mother returns to exact revenge on him and his family. While brutal, the film is also poignant. Even in the 21st century, we see how women's power is often confined and constrained to the very specific and limited spheres of motherhood, victimhood, sexuality, male relationships, and vengeance. As more and more horror films and novels featuring the Pontianak are made and distributed globally, elements of Malaysian culture are becoming more broadly recognized. Malaysian culture was, and in many ways still is, structured around oral tradition and narrative storytelling. Tales of the Pontianak embody an entire deeply and uniquely female journey, from loving, pregnant mother, to victim of horrific violence, to vengeful rape, back to enslaved and submissive wife, which is, quite frankly, a terrible cycle. This monster truly embodies so many of the divergent and conflicting elements of women's existence throughout history.