“Nolite te bastardes carborundorum.”
In The The Handmaid’s Tale Margaret Atwood tells the story of a woman named Offred living in what was once America but, after the United States government is overthrown, is now called the Republic of Gilead, and governed by a system based on 17th-century Puritan roots.
Offerd—meaning, literally, “of Fred,” or belonging to Fred—is a Handmaid, a fertile woman who must act as a surrogate for the wealthy and privileged men who’s wives can no longer bear children. Offred still remembers the old world, when women had freedom and choices, and despite the danger of forced labor, or death, or both, she can’t let go.
Originally written in 1985, this book has been recently rediscovered by the public due to Trump’s election, the rise of the conservative right all over the world, and Hulu’s adaptation premiering this week.
I for one didn’t find a lot of parallels to our time and our current political climate except in the way it was allowed to happen, in the easy silence and acceptance. We are often silent and accepting, and that makes us easy to control long past when our energy and outrage flare and burn out.
“We thought we had such problems. How were we to know we were happy?”
Still, some of it felt very plausible. The way women will become complicit in the oppression of other women, hoping the same won’t happen to them. The way women will participate in the oppression of other women to ensure the same won’t happen to them, only for the same to happen to us all in some way or another eventually. The way that women are given only hard choices, but still will hold all the blame for what they must do and with whom. The way men will betray and pacify you and never truly see that women are just like them with the same needs for freedom and fulfillment.
What felt relevant will be different for every reader, but I believe everyone who reads it will find something of this tale in our present times and in our deepest fears. For me, the book was terrifying because, as a queer woman of color, I’ve spent much of my life terrified of a rising up of the religious right. I do not think I would have the same privileged place in Gilead but instead, would lose my life or be sent to labor camps.
Hush, he said. … You know I’ll always take care of you. I thought, already he’s starting to patronize me. Then I thought, already you’re starting to get paranoid.
So, I wouldn’t call The Handmaid’s Tale a prediction, but more of a warning. A warning about acceptance, and complacency, and the false belief that it can never happen to you. It is also an encouragement, to tell the stories of your time. Offred reminded me a bit of Anne Frank, who didn’t give us the historical breakdown of how Hitler came into power but instead simply told her own story and made us feel what Hitler’s power did.
But unlike The Diary of a Young Girl or even 1984 as I’ve read The Handmaid’s Tale often compared too, Offred’s story doesn’t read so timeless. With references to specific movements and changing views of porn, gender roles, sex, and sexual orientation it made it hard to bring the danger into our time.
The style of writing makes it a hard read at first. Not difficult to understand, but difficult to stay engaged and interested in. Things either progress slowly and we are left frustrated for more information, or we are thrust forward and back with little or no understanding of how we got where we are. Stick with it through the first third, it gets better, and there will be answers to many of your questions, but not all.
I do consider it a must read, because it is different, and interesting, sure, but also because it is a warning, and because it is about women and the ways people can suffer and let other people suffer, which is something we all too easily forget.
“I want to be held and told my name. I want to be valued, in ways that I am not; I want to be more than valuable. I repeat my former name; remind myself of what I once could do, how others saw me. I want to steal something.”
Featured image via Tom Blunt