Feminist Underpinnings in The Handmaid’s Tale By Disha Takle and Rusheen Bansal
2020 has been a tumultuous year. Everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong. Personally, this year felt like a growing pile of books I never got around to reading, instead just watching the pile grow and eventually topple, feeling as if there is nothing I could do to “fix” this problem. This was also the year that exposed the systemic structural inequalities within our societies and governments, forcing us to reevaluate several instances that were usually ignored as “normal”. A striking example of this is Poland’s recent attempt to ban abortions in cases of foetal defects, which was met with a furious uproar by women all over the world, followed by mass protests and rallies that aimed to remind everyone that a woman’s body is not a commodity that can be legislated. Instances like these trigger anxiety and worry for the future because it is a cumulation of such events that lay the foundation of any classic dystopia. Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale gives us a chance to evaluate these accruing systemic leaks and question if these are laying the foundation of a dystopian future for all of us. The book is largely inspired by George Orwell’s 1984, with Atwood exploring a world where it is almost criminal to be a woman. Set in an environment where rising levels of pollution and toxicity have decreased fertility rates, fearing the human race on the verge of extinction, the government of the USA is overthrown by a right-wing organisation which forms the Republic of Gilead. The theocratic order of Gilead alludes to the Old Testament, where most men take on roles of power and women are forced into submission. The role of a woman is severely dehumanised: they’re reduced to vessels of reproduction, servants, and objects of childrearing. This story is a cautionary tale of the unforeseen circumstances of unchecked political power — a world where the passing of misogynistic laws didn’t gather crowds on streets, a world where no one protested. Of the limited roles women are allowed to assume, there is an apparent segregation: in richer households, Handmaids do the surrogate childbearing (as they are one of the few fertile women left), Wives (infertile) raise the children, and Marthas do the housework; the wives of lower-ranking officers are labelled Econowives, who perform all the functions listed above; aunts are instructors that train handmaids. The Handmaids are denied a personal identity — they are allowed no personal objects, no personal relationships, and no name, as they are referred to as “Of their commander,” (like Of-fred, the protagonist) and assigned an identification number (printed on a ring cuffed to their ear). Once a month, the Commanders, the infertile Wives and the Handmaids partake in a conception ceremony, an euphemism for state-sanctioned r*pe.
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