top of page

Slaying and Staying True: Guillermo De La Cruz’s Queer Chicanx Journey in What We Do in the Shadows

  • Jazmine Casas
  • May 1
  • 3 min read

Javier "Harvey" Guillén as Guillermo De La Cruz in FX Show What We Do In The Shadows  (2019-2024)
Javier "Harvey" Guillén as Guillermo De La Cruz in FX Show What We Do In The Shadows (2019-2024)

In FX’s refreshingly hilarious gothic mockumentary What We Do in the Shadows (WWDITS), four eccentric vampires stumble through the modern world alongside their long-suffering human familiar, Guillermo De La Cruz, played by Javier "Harvey" Guillén.

Harvey Guillén as Guillermo de La Cruz in Season 4, episode 7 What We Do in the Shadows
Harvey Guillén as Guillermo de La Cruz in Season 4, episode 7 What We Do in the Shadows

While the show’s bloodsucking roommates get caught up in ridiculous antics—from launching vampire nightclubs to assembling Frankenstein-like monsters—Guillermo’s storyline is far more than comic relief. Beneath the laughs, his character wrestles with layered tensions surrounding Chicanx and queer identity, giving the series a surprisingly profound emotional undercurrent.


From the outset, Guillermo’s journey mirrors the complexities of living at the intersection of multiple marginalized identities. As queer and Chicanx, one of Guillermo’s first major challenges is coming out—to himself and to his traditionally Mexican family. WWDITS handles this storyline with a rare warmth and humor: Guillermo’s family accepts him with a table full of voices chiming in with messy, familiar love. This refreshing moment resists the trope of trauma often associated with queer coming-out-stories, instead offering a celebratory depiction of Chicanx family dynamics embracing queerness.


But Guillermo’s identity struggles don’t stop there.


Alongside his queer coming out, he navigates a second, supernatural dilemma: his dream of becoming a vampire clashes with the discovery that he descends from a long line of legendary vampire slayers. Suddenly, Guillermo finds himself torn between two worlds that both lay claim to him—and reject him. His vampire friends see him as a potential threat, while his human family could never fully understand his loyalties to creatures of the night.


Much like the Chicanx experience itself—caught between American and Mexican cultural expectations—Guillermo’s hybrid identity becomes a space of conflict, compromise, and constant negotiation.


When Guillermo finally gets the chance to become a vampire, it’s not the triumph he imagined. His transformation is incomplete: he sprouts grotesque wings, develops unsettling features, but remains neither fully human nor fully vampire. His body refuses to fit neatly into one category, just as his life refuses singular definition. What could have been a victory instead highlights a haunting truth: sometimes transformation doesn't mean belonging—it means standing at the border, perpetually in-between.

Nandor and Guillermo, Season 4
Nandor and Guillermo, Season 4

While Guillermo’s “failed” vampirism provides hilarious physical comedy, it also invites a more serious reflection. His monstrous new form and his fear of being found out—especially by Nandor, his closest vampire companion—visualize the terror and vulnerability of living between identities. In a darkly funny way, WWDITS captures the profound anxiety of carving out a space for oneself when neither side offers complete acceptance.


Yet Guillermo’s journey is not one of defeat, but of empowerment. Just as he comes out as queer on his own terms, he ultimately defines his new hybrid existence for himself. Refusing to be boxed in by the traditions of either vampires or humans, Guillermo reclaims the right to exist authentically at the margins—and thrive there.


Through Guillermo De La Cruz, What We Do in the Shadows offers a refreshing portrayal of queer Chicanx identity: not through heavy-handed drama, but through laughter, horror, and heart. It’s a rare and valuable reminder that the monstrous, the hybrid, the “failed” can be sites of profound power—and that claiming these spaces can be a radical, beautiful act.

Comments


bottom of page