In 2006 Katie Featherston moved into Micah Sloat’s cozy yet unremarkable San Diego home. In the months that followed, previously undiscussed details about Katie’s childhood came to light, and the couple began experiencing demonic activity. Eventually, a possessed Katie would wreak havoc across multiple installments of the Paranormal Activityfranchise. But how did it happen? How did we get there? In short: it’s Micah’s fault.
At face value, Micah and Katie are an average couple. We’re introduced to them as Micah shows off his brand-new video camera. Katie is visibly nonplussed by the development but takes it in stride. And that becomes a theme in the movie—Micah doing something Katie isn’t thrilled about. It’s easy to watch the events that unfold as inevitable (and details introduced in later installments can be used to support this). But when you isolate the text and really dig in, it’s clear that Micah is the inciting event. Micah is the reason the demon gains access to Katie.
An early red flag is that Katie has kept aspects of her past from Micah. She reveals a history of strange and tragic events, essentially admitting to having been stalked since childhood by some mysterious entity. It begs the question, why? Why would a committed couple have such secrets? Of course, Katie is allowed to keep private matters private, but one would hope she’d trust her partner enough to divulge such info. Especially when they’ve just moved in together.
The camera is another massive point of contention for the couple. Micah insists on filming even when Katie is uncomfortable and distressed. He also pushes the idea of filming them having sex so many times it becomes depressingly comical. She shows no interest yet still he persists, going so far as to pretend the camera is off when it obviously isn’t.
Katie decides to reach out for help and contacts a psychic who very clearly informs her the entity is demonic. He tells the couple not to try and communicate with it, and that it may be feeding off negative energy. He also says whatever is following Katie “wants” her. The information is alarming. But instead of leaping to action and calling the demonologist that the psychic recommends, Micah talks Katie out of it. His ego and posturing make it clear he believes himself to be the man of the house, learned and wise in ways Katie—the person at the center of the experience—and the psychic—the actual professional—aren’t.
Not only does Micah fail to listen to the psychic, he actively disobeys the warnings. Micah asks the presence questions; he yells and attempts to antagonize it. And he employs a Ouija board, something both the psychic and Katie beg him not to do. Micah actively attempts to communicate, all while the couple’s relationship continues to deteriorate. They’re almost always at odds, never a united front. At one point Micah interrupts Katie and her friend as they chat while making jewelry. He’s aggressive, and Katie has to remind him to “be sweet.” He thoughtlessly pulls out the aforementioned Ouija board right before the couple leaves for a date night. Micah’s constant selfishness and lack of interest in his partner’s wellbeing is repulsive and egregious.
Katie wants help. Katie needs support. What she gets is some bozo intent on playing ghost-hunting Columbo, covering the floor in powder and shouting questions into darkened rooms. But Micah is firm in his uninformed belief that bringing anyone in to help will only make it worse. And by the time he does bend to the idea of contacting the demonologist, they’re “out of the country” and unable to help. Two weeks passed between getting the referral and reaching out. That’s two weeks that Katie could’ve been heard and believed. Two weeks where she wouldn’t have felt so crushingly isolated.
When you place all these instances next to the psychic’s early warnings to avoid negative energy, it becomes pretty clear that Micah is single-handedly fanning the demon’s flames. Rewatching the film in the 2020s, that read feels explicit and obvious—it’s been written about before. Micah is an unsafe person that gaslights Katie and treats her poorly, ignoring her needs and trauma in favor of his own various emotions. His actions—and inaction—are what bolsters the demon’s strength. Watching the film through this lens, Paranormal Activity becomes a meditation on toxic masculinity and the ways it can destroy all parties involved.
This angle is so apparent to me now, it forced me to re-evaluate my earlier relationship with Paranormal Activity, which I originally saw upon its release in 2009. My initial viewing left me cold, wanting, and more than a little bored. I struggled to rectify how, and why, my relationship with the film could change so much in 10 years’ time. And the answer was upsettingly obvious: as a victim of abuse, I simply didn’t see Micah as a “bad” guy. His inattentiveness, his disregard for Katie’s feelings, his inability to support her in a meaningful way were all so familiar that they didn’t register as negative traits. He was just a guy, and she was just a lady, and they had a normal relationship. I somehow missed her scolding glances, her expression when Micah describes them as “engaged to be engaged.”
Watching it now horrifies me. Watching Katie fret and plead is like looking into some kind of grotesque mirror. The demonic activity of her childhood is tantamount to abuse, and the cycle continues with tragic results well into her adulthood. Her choice to partner with Micah shows how little she cares for her own well-being. She may voice her displeasure, but she doesn’t leave. She doesn’t advocate for herself in a way that moves the dial. I’m in no way shaming fictional character Katie; I’m saying I get it. I was her.
There’s an alternate ending of Paranormal Activity that shows Katie slitting her own throat as the leering camera watches. I don’t like that one. It’s mean-spirited and hopelessly unfair to a character that has been so completely abandoned. If Katie’s damned to possession, she deserves the most fulfilling, robust experience possible. Killing Micah and living her best possessed girl life is the ultimate retribution—an echoing “I told you so.” It’s Micah reaping what he helped sow. And it’s the type of vengeance this abuse survivor wholeheartedly supports.
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