Hultman Hannah Hultman Mrs. E Richardson University English II

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Hultman i
Hannah Hultman
Mrs. E Richardson
University English II
14 November 2011
Miserable Women in The Handmaid’s Tale
Thesis: Throughout The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood paints portraits of women who are
miserable because of their purely sexual role in society, their memories of the time before, and
their dissatisfaction with the new regime, despite the involvement of many women in its rise.
I. Women’s purely sexual role in society
A. For reproduction
1. Handmaids
2. Women’s Prayvanganza
B. The brothel
II. Women’s memories of the time before
A. Offred’s personal memories
1. Of Luke
2. Of her daughter
B. The reeducation of Handmaids
1. The use of imagery
2. Moira
III. Women’s dissatisfaction with the new regime, despite involvement
A. Serena Joy
1. Her involvement in the formation of Gilead
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2. Her apparent misery, despite getting what she wanted
B. Feminists
1. Her mother
2. The Aunts
3. The “Mayday” underground
Hultman 1
Hannah Hultman
Mrs. E Richardson
University English II
14 November 2011
Miserable Women in The Handmaid’s Tale
In The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood spins the tale of Offred, a woman in the
Republic of Gilead. Offred, a Gileadian Handmaid, has been assigned to a commander, and is
essentially a reproduction tool. The Handmaid’s Tale focuses on Offred’s day-to-day activities;
she goes to the market daily with another handmaid and they often go by The Wall, where
executed political criminals hang. Once a month, she has emotionless, detached sex with the
Commander while Serena Joy, the Commander’s wife, sits behind her in the hopes of
procreating. If Offred does not become pregnant within two years, she will be condemned to a
slow death in the Colonies, where the unfertile, old, and rebels do the dirty work for Gilead.
Throughout The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood paints portraits of women who are
miserable due to their purely sexual role in society, their memories of the time before, and their
dissatisfaction with the new regime, despite the involvement of many women in its rise.
The Republic of Gilead views the role of women as purely sexual to the dismay of most
women. Gilead classifies women into three acceptable roles: Handmaids, Wives, and Marthas.
Of these three groups, the Handmaids face the most obvious sexual objectification. Gilead,
formerly America, formed due to low birthrates; therefore the entire focus of Gilead is
reproduction. Handmaids, who are assigned to prominent Commander families, are women who
are expected to be able to conceive and bear children for a family that cannot. Offred describes
the act of sex as a Handmaid: “My red skirt is hitched up to my waist, though no higher. Below it
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the Commander is [ ]… I do not say making love because that is not what he’s doing” (Atwood
121). Gilead condemns all thoughts and actions that connect sex with pleasure; critic Glenn Deer
observes this condemnation: “The desires of both [the Commanders and the Handmaids] are
controlled by state regulations: sex has been reduced to reproductive duty without contact and
love” (109). Even their bodies, sexual tools though they are, cannot be of any distraction to men
around them. Therefore, Handmaids don ankle-length full dresses that conceals their figures, as
required by Gilead. They wear white wings around their eyes that not only keep the Handmaids
from seeing but “also from being seen” (11). This restriction on visual stimulation only
reinforces the Gileadian regime’s belief that sex’s purpose is reproduction. When a Handmaid
finally conceives, her life changes drastically. She no longer walks to the market because of a
requirement, but rather to make sure other Handmaids see her, envy her, as Offred notices:
“Janine looks at me, then, and around the corners of her mouth there is a smirk. She glances
down to where my own belly lies flat under my red robe…” (36). A sense of rivalry and
superiority can be seen in the interaction between Janine, the pregnant Handmaid, and Offred.
Through this rivalry, Gilead again highlights its standard that women’s identities should be
wrapped up in reproduction, and therefore sex.
Commanders receive Handmaids when it seems their Wives are unable to bear children;
however, Gilead still holds hope that their young will be fertile. Prominent families marry off
their daughters, deemed “Angels,” in group weddings called Women’s Prayvaganzas. Mothers
arrange the marriages and give away their white-veiled virginal daughters in what Offred
describes as “a form of entertainment, like a show or circus” (227). All women—Wives,
Handmaids, Marthas, and even the low-ranking Econowives—attend these ceremonies, although
for some it is not required. During the ceremony, the Commander presiding focuses on the role
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of the woman not only in society, but in the household. According to him, women must dress
modestly, obey their husbands in silence, and do good works. He also remarks that Adam did not
commit the original sin, but that “the woman being deceived was in the transgression” (286) and
because of this transgression, women “shall be saved by childbearing, if they continue in faith
and charity and holiness with sobriety” (286). The Angels, no older than eighteen, assume this
responsibility of bearing children, and having sex, in order to make up for the fall of man.
While most women in the Republic of Gilead merely have sex for reproduction, a small
portion of women still have sex for pleasure, although it is for the pleasure of men. The
Commander takes Offred to Jezebel’s, a place critic Annette Kolodny calls “Gilead’s
underground version of a Playboy club” (44).When she arrives, Offred observes her
surroundings, what used to be a hotel in the days before Gilead. She studies the prostitutes, and
makes careful note of the costumes they wear, which vary from lingerie to cheerleading
uniforms. When Offred sees her friend in a Playboy bunny costume, she reveals her thoughts:
“What is the significance of it here, why are rabbits supposed to be sexually attractive to men?
How can this bedraggled costume appeal?” (311). She notices that what seems to attract men is
often ridiculous, but in Gilead only sex matters. In this instance, the sexual pleasures of men
count while the desires of women are trivial. Despite appearing happier than Colonists or
Handmaids, Gileadian concubines seem to spend their lives drowning their misery and feigning
joy. Drinks and drugs are readily available to the prostitutes so that they may be able to forget
where they are and what they are doing. Offred comments on the atmosphere at Jezebel’s: “At
first glance there’s a cheerfulness to this scene… Is there joy in this? There could be, but have
they chosen it? You can’t tell by looking” (305-306). Offred notices that the despair of women at
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Jezebel’s lingers in the air, accompanied by their false delight at existing solely to please men
sexually.
Atwood also portrays miserable women in Gilead through Offred’s memories of the time
before Gilead. Throughout The Handmaid’s Tale, Offred offers insight into the rise of Gilead in
breaks in the narrative, as Kolodny notes: “The events of the present are set against an
interweaving of the past…” (43). Offred’s husband and daughter most often appear in these
discontinuities in the present story. These sometimes happy, but more often unhappy, memories
juxtapose Offred’s life before Gilead with her present. The first mention of Luke, Offred’s
husband, comes when she and Ofglen, another Handmaid, are observing the Wall. Offred’s
remark is unimportant, seemingly just the thought that came to her mind. However, when the
scene is dissected with more care, her worries become essential to her sanity. Luke comes to
Offred’s mind as she stares at the bodies of six men, Gileadian “war criminals,” who were
executed because of their profession before Gilead; they were abortion doctors. As Offred
observes these men, she feels relief because none of the bodies bear Luke’s face. Before she
studies the men in the first place, however, Offred notes that she didn’t hear the bell signaling the
victory of executing six new criminals: “There must have been a Men’s Salvaging early this
morning. I didn’t hear the bells. Perhaps I’ve become used to them” (42). This sobering
realization on Offred’s part must be horrifying. In light of this realization, she thinks of Luke, of
the plausibility that he lives, to soothe her. Critic Deer comments, “The narrator asserts her
“blankness,” perhaps an emotionally protective measure to help her cope with the loss of Luke”
(105). Offred stifles her emotions about the present miserable situation she’s in by thinking of
Luke. She even escapes to him in her dreams, absconds to their first apartment together, to being
loved by him, and to her pregnancy. However, Offred always returns to her misery; sometimes
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she resumes her melancholy by letting her mind wander to where Luke exists now—either dead
or captured. Other times, and this appears to make the unhappiness worse, she remembers her
last day with Luke, and with her daughter.
While Offred escapes with memories of Luke, she punishes herself through memories of
her daughter. She thinks of her daughter not when situations are unbearable, but when they are
calm. The only memories she shares about her daughter are painful, and this pain carefully
contrasts with the tranquility of Offred’s immediate surroundings. The first time she reflects
about her daughter, Offred bathes and the smell of soap causes her to lapse into a painful
supermarket memory. Offred, Luke and her daughter shop peacefully and, while both are
distracted, a deranged woman snatches the child out of the cart. Offred remembers her elevenmonth-old’s cry as she disappears down the aisle. Luckily, security stops the woman before her
daughter is taken from the store. This memory tortures Offred by bringing up the first time her
daughter slips out of her grasp. Critic Sharon Rose Wilson compares Offred’s situation to Little
Red Cap’s, stating: “Similarly, at least in some versions, ‘Little Red Cap,’ like The Handmaid’s
Tale, is about a fertile daughter who delights in flowers, is separated from her mother (and in the
case of HT, also her daughter) in an off-limits area or underworld…” (273). Offred’s “off-limits
area” echoes memories of her daughter, throws them into her face when she experiences any
repose. When Offred dreams, she often remembers her attempted escape. She and Luke take
their daughter for a “picnic,” their excuse at every checkpoint. However, something goes wrong,
and throughout the novel, Offred remembers pieces from the aftermath. Her most disturbing
dream focuses on Offred dragging her drugged daughter through a forest, attempting to evade
capture. They run toward a body of water, toward their salvation. Before they are able to reach
the water, shots cry out forcing Offred and her daughter to the ground. She struggles to keep the
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child quiet, but fails: “I can see her going away from me, through the trees which are already
turning, red and yellow, holding her arms out to me, being carried away” (97). This dream,
which Offred implies is recurring, best demonstrates how Offred’s memories of her daughter
magnify her misery due to situations past and present.
Along with memories from her life before Gilead, Offred also tells of the interim between
America as the reader knows it, and Gilead as she now knows America. She speaks of the “Red
Center” or reeducation center for Handmaids. This insight offers readers the chance to be “flies
on the wall” during a changing time for women. Critic David Ketterer proposes that “the success
of Offred’s narrative depends largely on Atwood’s skilled use of indirection, irony, and
understatement… Atwood’s indirection frequently takes the form of imagery and symbolism”
(211). The book first opens with a description of the center, a high school whose gym has “old
sex in the room and loneliness, and expectation of something without a shape or name” (3). This
depiction not only illustrates the gym, but also the Handmaids themselves. Fresh off the streets
of America, they smell of old sex—sex with their husbands or lovers—while teenage rendezvous
linger in the gym. Loneliness, at first glance, refers to a high school that is devoid of children.
However, having just been torn from their families and thrown into a life they did not choose, the
Handmaids are truly the lonely ones in the scene. There is also the “expectation of something
unnamed and unknown” (3) loitering in the air of the gym, perhaps a basketball game that will
never happen. The Handmaids also sense this expectation— perhaps they expect death, rape, or
some other crime. Yet, because they have no idea what is to come, there is the fear of an
unknown expectation. The image of the gym symbolizes the women’s despair due to the
unknown and separation from their families.
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One day in the center, guards drag Moira, Offred’s college friend, into the center. Face
bruised, body undernourished, Moira represents the women who fought against Gilead, and are
ultimately still subjected to the whims of its ideals. Even after she arrives at the Center, Moira
defies the rules of the center. Eventually, Moira attempts, and succeeds in, escape from the
Center. The Handmaids still trapped in the Center idolize Moira, see her as a hero for rebelling
against the Center and all it stands for: “In light of Moira, the Aunts were less fearsome and
more absurd. Their power had a flaw to it” (172). Offred and the other Handmaids do not see
Moira reappear in the Center, as they expected. Offred does not see Moira again until years later
when the Commander takes her to Jezebel’s, the brothel. Moira, clad in a disheveled
government-issued Playboy costume, tells Offred what happened after her escape. She made it to
the home of a married Quaker couple with the Aunt’s outfit she stole. The Quakers, a home stop
on the “Underground Femaleroad,” help her along to the next safe house. She goes from safe
house to safe house for months and reaches Maine before being caught. The Eyes, much like
America’s CIA, take her to unknown location and give her the choice between the Colonies,
where low-class old women and men spend their time cleaning up bodies, or prostitution. Moira
chooses prostitution, and she feigns happiness, or perhaps indifference, with her decision. Offred
comments on this: “She is frightening me now, because what I hear in her voice is indifference, a
lack of volition. Have they really done it to her then, taken away something—what?—that used
to be so central to her?” (324). Moira’s indifference represents the gloom of women’s situations
in Gilead and the loss of hope in women that once rebelled so vehemently.
Finally, despite once being its proponents, Gileadian women ultimately experience an
immense dissatisfaction with the regime. Offred’s Commander’s Wife, formerly Serena Joy, was
a televised gospel singer in the days before Gilead; Offred recognizes her the first time they
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meet. Throughout the novel, Offred takes notice of Serena Joy’s hatred of her, especially during
the monthly sex ritual, the “Ceremony.” Serena speaks loathingly to Offred, grips her hands in a
way to make her as uncomfortable as possible, and disallows the rest Gilead suggests after the
sex is over. Despite this mutual hatred, Offred feels something for Serena noting, “Which of us is
it worse for, her or me?” (123). Serena’s jealousy dominates her interactions with Offred, the
intruder who has sex with her husband. During the rise of Gilead, Serena was in full public
support of the regime. In Offred’s memories, she cries for a return to traditional values, and
makes speeches condemning women to their “proper place,” or the home. However, as Offred
remarks, “She doesn’t make speeches anymore. She has become speechless. She stays in her
home, but it doesn’t seem to agree with her. How furious she must be, now that she’s been taken
at her word” (61). Although Serena promoted this life she lives, it is obvious she does not enjoy
her oppression.
Feminists, the polar opposite of Serena Joy, also fight for Gilead. Offred’s mother is a
prime example of these women who demand something be done about crimes against women.
Offred remembers her mother taking her to a magazine-burning when she was very young. A
woman, presumably a friend of her mother’s, hands her a magazine to toss into the fire: “It had a
pretty woman on it, with no clothes on, hanging from the ceiling by a chain wound around her
hands” (51). Offred remembers her mother participating in protests against abortion, rape and the
general objectification of women. Her mother, like many feminists, seems to get what she wants
from Gilead. Despite the victory of the absence of rape and pornography in Gilead, the Republic
declares Offred’s mother and her friends “Unwomen,” due to their lack of viable ovaries. This
declaration damns Offred’s mother to the Colonies where she spends the rest of her life wasting
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away. In this way, Offred’s mother is miserable due to her new role in Gilead despite her support
of many Gileadian ideals.
The Aunts share many feminist views, and this shared view leads them to adore Gilead
for outlawing “trash” such as pornography. Pornography plays a large part in the rise of Gilead;
in the Red Center, the Aunts show the Handmaids eighties pornography films that depict women
being tortured, one whose “fingers and breasts are snipped off with garden shears, her stomach
slit open and her intestines pulled out” (152). The Aunts tell the Handmaids that when Gilead
takes place, women will not be objectified as they are in the films: “You see what things used to
be like then? That was what they thought of women, then. Her voice trembled with indignation”
(152). In their own way, Aunts align themselves with feminists. Rape, pornography and the
objectification of women disgust them, make them almost sick. Critic Fiona Tolan observes: “In
fact, much of Aunt Lydia’s language ironically echoes the slogans of early utopian feminism”
(23). Aunt Lydia, and the other Aunts, dream of women living together in harmony to work for a
common purpose: repopulating America. Instead of bringing women together, as Aunt Lydia
envisions, the competition for pregnancy and the inability to trust each other drives a wedge
between women of all classes.
Most miserable women in Gilead sit idly by and wait for pregnancy or death. However,
Ofglen, another Handmaid, exposes Offred to the Mayday Underground, an attempt to
disassemble the Republic of Gilead. Offred learns of the movement while the two women look at
Soul Scrolls, where Wives buy prayers from a machine. Ofglen wonders aloud if God listens to
the machine and Offred knows that in Gilead, this kind of statement is reason for execution. She
contemplates what to do: “I could scream. I could run away. I could turn from her silently, to
show her I won’t tolerate this kind of talk in my presence. Subversion, sedition, blasphemy,
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heresy, all rolled into one” (217). Instead of the options she thinks of, Offred offers her opinion:
that God does not listen to the machines. Ofglen hurriedly agrees. They begin to talk in whispers
of their belief that the other was a true follower of Gilead. They speak, later on their next
shopping trip, of the “grapevine” through which Ofglen learns. Ofglen teaches Offred the
passcode of the rebellion: “Mayday.” However, she warns Offred to only use it in times of
necessity. She advises “isn’t good for us to know about too many of the others in the network. In
case you get caught” (261). This caution reminds the reader of the isolation of women in Gilead.
It echoes Aunt Lydia’s unfulfilled wish, that women can coexist in harmony and fully trust each
other because, in Gilead, there is no trust, no harmony, and no happiness for women.
Miserable women populate the plot in The Handmaid’s Tale. Handmaids hope for
pregnancy in order to keep their lives. Wives watch as their husbands have sex with other
women. Offred, and most other Handmaids, abhor their role as reproduction tools for the
wealthy. Young attractive women who are either unable or unwilling to accept the role of
Handmaid waste away pleasing men sexually while their own desires are cast aside. Through
memories of the time before Gilead, Offred either escapes to thoughts of her husband or tortures
herself with recollections of her daughter. Margaret Atwood’s use of imagery to describe the
gym where Handmaid trainees slept reveals the feelings of the Handmaids during their
reeducation: miserable and lonely. Atwood divulges that her most defiant character, Moira, ends
up broken by the regime. The women who so advocated for Gilead—both traditionalists
comparable to Serena Joy and feminists similar to Offred’s mother—ironically end up oppressed
by the ideals they fought for. Even the rebellion suggests the lack of trust and camaraderie
between women. Throughout The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood portrays a nation that
prides itself on its ability to oppress, marginalize, and depersonalize women and their desires.
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Works Cited
Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid's Tale. New York: Fawcett Crest, 1986. Print.
Deer, Glenn. “The Handmaid’s Tale: Dystopia and the Paradoxes of Power.” Margaret Atwood.
Ed. Harold Bloom. Philadelphia: Chelsea House, 2000. 93-113. Print.
Tolan, Fiona. "Feminist Utopias And Questions Of Liberty: Margaret Atwood's "The
Handmaid's Tale" As Critique Of Second Wave Feminism." Women 16.1 (2005): 1832. Humanities International Complete. Web. 1 November 2011.
Ketterer, David. "Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale: A Contextual Dystopia." Science
Fiction Studies 16.2 (1989): 209-217.Humanities International Complete. Web. 1
November 2011
Kolodny, Annette. “Margaret Atwood and the Politics of Narrative.” Margaret Atwood. Ed.
Harold Bloom. Philadelphia: Chelsea House, 2000. 29-48. Print.
Wilson, Sharon Rose. Margaret Atwood's Fairy-Tale Sexual Politics. Jackson: UP of
Mississippi, 1993. Print.
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