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7. SLEEPER IN THE SEA (ALYSSA WONG)
6. A KING REBORN (TOBEY POON)
8. ACFFS (AUDREY YUEN) 9. ENDANGERED (CHLOE LEVIEUX) 10. HANDMAID’S TALE (JOLIE WONG)
11. BY YOURS TRULY (ZOE WONG)
12. THE HISTORY OF DEBATE (JOEY CHAU & VVIENNA KWAN)
13. POEMS ON THE POWER OF DEBATE (EMILIA STRANGER AND GINNY KE) 14. POWER IS NOTHING WITHOUT CONTROL (JENNY YIN)
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15. TIPPING POINT (JOY CHEN)
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5. WHAT IS RIGHT, IS TO FIGHT! (VICTORIA KOENIG)
4. A TIMELINE OF WOMEN IN POWER (ALYSSA WONG)
3. POWER IN WORDS 2. AN ELEGY FOR YESTERDAY (WARREN ZHU) 1. EDITORS’ NOTE (CHLOE LEVIEUX & JAIDAN VOELKNER)
FRONT COVER ILLUSTRATION: JOY CHEN THANKS TO HELEN NG, GAURI RANJAN, CHISE IWAKAWA, CHLOE LEVIEUX, JAIDAN VOELKNER, VIENNA KWAN AND JOY CHEN FOR PHOTOGRAPHY AND ILLUSTRATIONS ALSO TO ROOKIMAG.COM FOR COLLAGE KITS
BACK COVER ILLUSTRATION: CHISE IWAKAWA
16. TEN YEARS LATER (ZIYAN HUANG)
17. TO BE ALIVE — IS POWER (ANONYMOUS CONTRIBUTOR) 3
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the meaning of power
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#2 “Duende”
(Spanish) (n.) The mysterious power of art to deeply move someone. In a time of unprecedented challenges where imbalances and extremes are present in every aspect of our lives, the meaning of “Power” must be reviewed. Creative expression not only empowers the creator, but the audience, to act. ‘Duende’, as stated above, encompasses the waves of emotion that radiate from paintings, movies, and of course, literature. That’s why, this term in The Literary Harrovian, our writers explore the idea of power – where it is derived from, how it is manipulated, and how we should wield it in a range of forms: poetry, short stories, and essays to name a few. In the first piece of this edition, Alyssa Wong (Y11) unearths the history of women in positions of power in a timeline tracing back from the Paleolithic period to our present day. How far have we actually come in women’s rights? The answer may surprise you. Where did yesterday go? How did endless days of Zoom lessons and mindless work melt into a shapeless brain fog that rendered us powerless? In ‘An Elegy for
Yesterday’, Warren Zhu (Y12) mourns the past whilst exploring the true power of time and the trasiency of our memories. “Power is nothing without control”, says Jenny Yin (Y10), in her essay on how essential having control is in achieving, managing, and maintaining power. She delves into examples of powerful figures whose lack of control led to their downfall, much like the tragic hero, Macbeth. ‘Sleeper in the Sea’ reimagines this Shakespearean character into Cold War America, where Lady Macbeth’s merciless lust for power persists. At the Literary Harrovian, we genuinely believe in the power of words to evoke deep-seated emotional responses. Throughout history, those who directed the narratives of society dictated the possibilities of the future. Take power over your voice, and others soon will follow. Henry Miller puts it best: “A book lying idle on a shelf is wasted ammunition.” Go forth and read!
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WARREN ZHU (Y12) USES THE SORROWFUL AND EVOCATIVE FORM OF AN ELEGY TO QUESTION THE EVANESCENT NATURE OF TIME AND IMPERMANENCE OF MEMORY.
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Photograph by Joy Chen
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“Knowledge is power. Power to d Power itself is not evil. So kno ― Veronica Rot
“How absurd it was that in all seven kingdoms, the weakest and most vulnerable of people - girls, women - went unarmed and were taught nothing of fighting, while the strong were trained to the highest reaches of their skill.” ― Kristin Cashore, Graceling
“The day the power of love overrules the love of power, the world will know peace.” ― Mahatma Gandhi 8
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do evil...or power to do good. owledge itself is not evil.” th, Allegiant
“Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren’t.” ― Margaret Thatcher
“Recognizing power in another does not diminish your own.” ― Joss Whedon “I wonder if fears ever really go away, or if they just lose their power over us.” - Veronica Roth, Allegiant
“I do not wish them [women] to have power over men; but over themselves.” ― Mary Wollstonecraft
“Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.” ― Abraham Lincoln
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women in power The Ancient Greek poet Sappho, now a pioneer in feminist literature, is born on the island of Lesbos. Sappho’s poetry centres on love and passion for people of all genders - especially women. The word lesbian is derived from her island of birth.
Mitochondrial Eve lives in the lakes, forests and grasslands that are now the Kalahari Desert in Africa. She will eventually become the matrilineal most recent common ancestor of all living humans.
150 BC -200,000 BC 30,000 BC
Venus of Willendorf figurine is created in what is now modernday Austria by an unknown artist. At the time of discovery in 1908, voluptuous figures like these were thought to be of goddesses, with female proportions exaggerated through the male gaze. However, more recently some anthropologists have reconsidered this notion, positing that the art may have been made by women, with the proportions matching those seen when a pregnant woman looks down at her own 10 body.
615 BC
Wu Zetian reigns as empress regnant of her self-founded Zhou dynasty, the only female monarch in the history of China. Before being crowned, she was one of the longest-reigning de facto rulers in the history of the world, first through her husband the Emperor Gaozong and then through her sons from 665-690. Her period of political and military leadership includes the major expansion of the Chinese empire and important effects regarding social class and state support for Taoism, Buddhism, education, and literature. The Zhou dynasty ends with her abdication. Her son Zhongzong is crowned as emperor, formally restoring the Tang dynasty.
17 October 690 - 21 February 705 AD
51 BC to 10/12 August 30 BC
Cleopatra reigns as the last active ruler of the Ptolemaic Kingdom of Egypt. She is known now for her infamous romances as depicted in works of art such as Shakespeare’s ‘Antony and Cleopatra’, but in reality these romances were more political strategies rather than blind passion. Upon defeat at the Battle of Actium by the first Roman emperor Caesar Augustus, Cleopatra commits suicide to avoid the humiliation of being paraded as a prisoner in a Roman triumph.
7 Septemb 24 March Elizabeth I reigns as Queen of England and Ireland. Her 44 year reign provides welcome stability after the short-lived rule of her half-siblings, and becomes known as the Elizabethan era. English drama thrives, led by William Shakespeare. It is often depicted as the golden age in English history.
women in power After the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 is passed, Harriet Tubman makes some 13 missions to rescue approximately 70 enslaved people, including family and friends over the course of 11 years using the Underground Railroad. She gains the nickname ‘Moses’. During the American Civil War, she serves as an armed scout and spy for the Union Army and in her Queen Amina is crowned as a Hausa later years, becomes an activist in warrior queen of the city-state the movement for women’s suffrage. Zazzau (now modern-day northWidely known and well-respected west Nigeria). She gains notoriety during her lifetime, after her death in for her military skills, expanding 1913, Tubman becomes an American Zazzau territory, creating trade icon. A Harriet Tubman $20 bill is set routes throughout Northern Africa, to be released in 2020, before being and constructing a distinctive series of earthen fortifications now known delayed by the Trump administration to 2030. as ‘Amina’s walls’. She enjoys a lasting legend as a woman warrior.
1576 AD
ber 1533 – h 1603 AD
At the Women’s Convention in Ohio, Sojourner Truth, an American abolitionist and women’s rights activist, delivers an unnamed speech that will come to be known as “Ain’t I a Woman?”, although it is disputed if the question was asked in the original speech. It will become one of history’s most memorable speeches on the intersection between women’s suffrage and black rights.
May 29, 1851 AD
December 1850 AD 9 July 1762 – 17 November 1796 AD Catherine the Great rules as Empress of Russia, the country’s longest-ruling female leader. She comes to power following a coup d’état that overthrew her husband and second cousin, Peter III. Under her reign, the Russian Empire expands rapidly by conquest and diplomacy. She presides over the Russian Age of Enlightenment, incorporating many ideas of Enlightenment philosophers, particularly Montesquieu, into Russian law.
22 August 1861 – 15 November 1908 AD Empress Dowager Cixi reigns as the de facto ruler of China’s increasingly weak Qing dynasty, first through her son and then through her nephew, until her death in 1908. She rose from 16-year-old sixth rank consort in 1852 to to hold supreme power for 47 years. She maintains power through numerous political killings, including of her nephew via arsenic, one day before her own death. She supervises the Tongzhi Restoration, a series of moderate reforms, and supports the disastrous failed 1899 Boxer Rebellion against foreigners. Her death leaves a power vacuum and a deeply discontent country. The Qing dynasty collapses three years later 11
women in power Frida Kahlo has her first solo exhibition in Mexico at the Galería Arte Contemporaneo and attends despite being severely ill. Her surreal folk art style explores questions of identity, postcolonialism, gender, class, and race in Mexican society. Posthumously, beginning in the 1970s, her work rises in popularity and international recognition.
Queen Liliʻuokalani is crowned as the only queen regnant and last monarch of Hawaiʻi. In 1893, she proposes a new constitution that would restore power to the monarchy and Native Hawaiians, which becomes the precipitating event for the overthrow of the Kingdom by American sugar barons and businessmen. As a talented musician, she uses her music to protest the annexation and guide her people through crisis. Her love song, Aloha ʻOe (Farewell to Thee), becomes a cultural symbol long after her death in 1917.
April 1953 AD
January 29 1891 AD
1903 AD
1911 AD Marie Curie wins the Nobel Prize in Chemistry for her discovery of radium and polonium. It is her second Nobel Prize after her 1903 Physics win shared with her husband Pierre and physicist Henri Becquerel, for their pioneering work developing the theory of radioactivity. She is the first woman to win a Nobel Prize, the first person and the only woman to win twice, and the only person to win in two scientific fields. Her work overturns 12 established ideas and continues to shape twentieth and twenty-first centuries science.
The Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU) is founded by Emmeline Pankhurst. She, her daughters, and other activists received repeated prison sentences where they went on hunger strikes and were often forcefed. She is criticized for her aggressive tactics, which include arson, but her work is recognised as a critical in achieving women’s suffrage in the UK. She dies only weeks before the vote is extended to all women over 21 years of age on 2 July 1928.
28 March 1935 Leni Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will is released. It gains recognition for revolutionary cinematography and condemnation as a Nazi propaganda film.
women in power
Rosa Parks refuses to give up her seat on a bus for a white man in Montgomery, Alabama, becoming an icon of the Civil Rights Movement and sparking the Montgomery bus boycott. It leads to a United States Supreme Court decision in favour of integrated transportation.
Indira Gandhi, the daughter of the first Indian prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru, serves her third term prime minister until her assassination. She becomes known for unprecedented centralisation of power and leaves a powerful but controversial legacy.
6 p.m, December 14 January 1980 1, 1955 AD – 31 October 1984
25 February 1986 – 30 June 1992 Corazon C. Aquino serves as the 11th President of the Philippines. She was the most prominent figure of the 1986 nonviolent People Power Revolution that led to the end of dictator Ferdinand Marcos’ 20-year presidential term.
Aung San Suu Kyi becomes State Counsellor of Myanmar after playing a crucial role in the state’s transition from military junta to partial democracy and spending 15 years under house arrest between 1989 and 2010. Once a peace icon, she draws criticism over inaction in response to the genocide of the Rohingya people. The Rohingya genocide case is currently being heard by the International Court of Justice
6 April 2016
7 November 2020 AD The American election is called in favor of the Biden–Harris ticket. Kamala Harris will assume office as Vice President on January 20, 2021, becoming the highestranking female elected official, the first Asian American and first African American Vice President.
10 August 1993 – 18 September 2020
Ruth Bader Ginsburg acte as an associate justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. She is a leading voice for gender equality, women’s interests, and civil rights and liberties in her time on the court, until her death in 2020..
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Why do men, Get all the power? Is it fair, Or just a thought? I am drowning, In a world that hides the truth, What is it like, Wielding the power? Women’s rights, Is what we fight for. We need to try, To let it shine.
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Thrown in the water, For what we have forgotten. White waves, Smashing me down into the lies The dark cruelness in this life; Stubborn like a clam. We are equal, But have our differences. Why obstruct the light, For those that yearn for sun? Why drag away, Those who can help?
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Why leave, What’s left behind? There are voices, That need to be heard. Don’t block it, Because you know it is right. Don’t block it, Because you know what that means.
Give us the power We were never given a chance to have before! Our right means as much as yours, Yet it’s shoved aside to be second place. We need power, We need rights! It is everyone’s life and rights that matter, Even if you don’t believe it. There is a power, We all deserve. That power is rights!
- Victoria Koenig
Here, Victoria Koenig (Y6) explores the discrimination women face in our society and how their voices should have the chance to be heard, loud and clear. 15
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Photograph by Helen Ng: ‘Permanence is only the impermanence of the sea.’
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By Tobey Poon (Y11 Churchill)
Tobey Poon (Y11) in ‘A King Reborn’ reimagines the infamous ‘Ozymandias,’ while retaining its original message of the ephemeral nature of power.
A King Reborn: Ozymandias reimagined. I met a traveller from an ancient land, Who said—“The kings and queens who long left us bereft, lie in the desert in sunken tombs . . . Above them, on the sand, lies a half-sunk cartouche, Whose words and shattered text dictate: Here lie the ‘Kings of Kings’ Whose draconian dominions brought naught but suffering and death and pain. Then the traveller told me of a joyous King Whose Kingdom sits fair and opulent, and His people rejoice under his rule; When he is nothing but sand and bones, He will not toil in a tomb but live on in the hearts and minds Of his Kingdom. Ramblings The poem “Ozymandias” tells of a crumbling statue of ancient Egyptian pharaoh Ozymandias, a conceited and hubristic king, who believed that his legacy would last forever. He had his own statue erected in a futile attempt to guard his legacy, however, millennia later his “Mighty” works are reduced to nothing but a crumbling wreck, overtaken by the forces of nature. Wise people recognize their own limitations and the limitations of being human. “There is no eternity to be found within existence” is the main message which may be gleaned from this poem. Those fortunate enough to come to a position of power should use their power righteously, for the advancement of human welfare, instead of narcissistically in a desperate attempt to maintain stature after one’s inevitable death. Power is not permanent, regardless of how hard one may try to maintain it or how omnipotent one may believe themselves to be. I leave you with this quote to keep in mind: “What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others” Pericles; Orator and General of Athens in the Golden Age of Greece. 17
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BY ALYSSA WONG
If I walk any further, I would be swept away. I imagine the water dissolving my skin, peeling it off in long, thin strips, unravelling strings of blue and purple veins, sloughing the flesh off my bones until they sink unknown and unsexed to the sightless depths of the ocean. The water ices my blood but I feel feverish. Above me, smoky clouds obscure the thin curve of the moon, until no light glances through the blanket of the dark.
Photograph by Helen Ng
Alyssa Wong (Y11 Anderson) reimagines Lady Macbeth’s soliloquy (1.5) of Shakespeare’s Macbeth in this short story exploring the original play’s universal themes of power while transporting the setting from 11th century Scotland to 1960s American suburbia.
T
he moon is a fingernail slit in the skin of the sky. Milky, bloodless light seeps down and drenches me even before I touch the water. The sea stretches out in a thick, singular shade of night. I walk forward until it soaks through my nylon stockings, until the skirt of my dress undulates in the waves. Sand disintegrates and reforms under my feet. 18
I think of my husband, dearest partner of greatness, slumped in front of the numbing black and white buzz of the television, hunched over the same identical desk year after year, eclipsed by men younger and brighter, with ambition burning beneath their skin. I want to pour my spirit into the food I cook for him. I want his pale eyes to reflect the inky colour of mine. I want him to walk through the door and take the greatness never promised to me, in this land that has always been his and men like his. The water creeps higher and by the time I stumble onto the beach with saltwater melting out of my skin, my shoes have been swept away. I picture two black, patent leather Mary Janes walking down to the bottom of the ocean. The roaring of the waves within my skull do not subside during the drive home, and the perfect chill of the autumn air bleeds through the open windows. In the rearview mirror, I watch the ocean recede until the night swallows it whole. The glinting sliver of moon stays frozen in place. In the back of my mind, President Kennedy’s words from September echo: We choose to go to the Moon in this decade. I feel the future in an instant, thrumming now through my veins. I drift past rows of houses adorned in bedsheet ghosts, carved pumpkins, smiling skulls, limp spiders and bats, until I reach ours. It is beige and undecorated, a sharp contrast to the year
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before. When I swerve into the driveway, three little girls fly past, cackling childish nonsense. Their mother has them dressed in identically oversized black dresses and witch hats, complete with small, homemade brooms. I shut the door of the car and as I walk up to the doorway I murmur the chant of the little witches, wielding imaginary power against imaginary monsters. Fair is foul, and foul is fair. I breathe in, letting the cool air fill me from head to toe. Hover through fog and filthy air. I don’t have to press the doorbell; he is already there waiting for me, opening the door. I float past him into the kitchen. I pull out a can of Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup and a can of flaked tuna. Moonlight drains in through the window and gleams off the silver tops of the cans. While I rummage through the drawer for a can opener, I ask, “Aren’t you curious about where your wife was?” “Unless you’ve discovered another ocean nearby, I already know where you go all the time.” There’s a snap as the can opener bites into steel. “Duncan is coming for dinner tonight,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “Congratulations on the promotion.” I slice into the second can. “Are you going to serve him food from a tin?” he probes, hovering next to me, though this is clearly what I am doing. The accusatory tone cuts, as if he were suspecting me of something far more malicious. I envision a murderous plot: Duncan’s fatal entrance into our house, a raven croaking itself hoarse. My husband with two bloody knives in his hands, slaughtering his boss. Duncan’s face growing slack, eyes empty and fish-like. He might resemble my father as he slept. Duncan is a good humoured man and he reminds me of my father, a paper son at seventeen, working as a waiter and teaching himself English while maintaining an unrelenting optimism. The way
Duncan speaks, as if certain words are new and joyous, recalls the bloom of fresh words out of foreign soil. We could hide his corpse in plain sight, hanging his skeleton in front of the house to scare trick-or-treating children. Maybe we could put a bowl of candy in his bleached, bony hands. The idea is so ludicrous I almost want to propose it to my husband. Would you do this for me? If you swore to? He remains close but far enough away to avoid touching. His breathing is too loud, gasping and gasping as if his lungs were filled with water, still agitating over the opened cans. “I think we should go to a restaurant. Duncan would probably understand. The... death of the baby-” “-was a year ago. Shall we tell him we had another child that drowned in the sea today?” The moon floods brightly into the room, straining to be a watered down mockery of the sun. The tides of time tug me back. I feel what I felt. Small, infant arms slipping out of my grasp, even as I reach out, my mind on fire. Why would you take a child that young so far out? I can’t take care of this baby. What mother would do that? The waves push me back, pull me apart. Is this what you want? I want the corner office again, better than the best of them even as they doubt me. I want us, partners of greatness, united by ambition, not husband and wife and child, wrapped in a ribbon of love. I want the tender touch of tiny hands clutching my fingers. And then I let go. I turn back, because if I walk any further, I would be swept away.
“Or perhaps we can tell him I dashed the brains out of this one.”
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Photograph by Jaidan Voelkner
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ACFFS By Audrey Yuen ____ Why must I listen with disquiet and show no contention? To sit down with submission and stay reticent. Why must I look with despair at innocent people being detained by vassals of the fraudulent bureaucracy? To witness such vice and still be unable to come to the aid of the fallen, despite my endeavour to step my right foot forward. Why have I been deprived of the very liberty that we valiantly lost our ichor for? Listen to our Great Leader’s tongue of wisdom! Yield your efforts to our Great Leader! The Great Leader endlessly toils for his country! Let us sing his praises with gratitude and pride! These are the cries of his draconian sycophants. Standing erect, I will defend the weak and the injured, unafraid of the missiles that will come. I will not succumb to your reverberating chants. Even if I will come to my doom, I will persist in vocalising my true thoughts and beliefs --I will not let your demonic schemes control me. Let your bullets fly, I will taunt, not staggering once. Your oppression will never lay a single mark on my will. My heart will boil for all to hear. For as long as my soul is aflame, I will never bow down to the rÊgime and accept this dystopia!
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By Chloe Levieux
IN ‘ENDANGERED’, CHLOE LEVIEUX (Y11) FICTIONALISES THE EXECUTION OF THE RUSSIAN IMPERIAL ROMANOV FAMILY FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF FICTIONAL THIRD DAUGHTER MARIA IN A TENSE, EMOTIONAL SHORT STORY SET AGAINST THE POLITICAL TURMOIL AND POWER STRUGGLES OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION. “We wear the crowns now!” Raucous cries reverberated through the hallways of the grandiose palace, each spiteful echo twisting the dagger further into Maria’s aching heart. That was who she was now – just Maria. The Von Strauss name had been slain along with her parents, who took their titles, their dignity and their centuries of family history with them to their graves. Like a violent tsunami, the sea of rebels had risen with no warning, sweeping Maria’s life from beneath her feet. Insidiously, anti-monarchical sentiments had trickled down from the North, a silent plague that slowly extinguished the ruling classes. The Von Strauss family were the latest victims. Crouching in the narrow alcove behind her father’s mahogany bookshelves, Maria’s trembling fingers traced the carved wood, seeking solace in the familiar curves of the Von Strauss crest. Lily petals unfurled to reveal the scratched initials ‘M + A’, an addition Maria and her sister made during a game of hideand-seek. Where was Alena? She’d been whisked away in a dark limousine to a relative in the countryside when rumours of ‘The Hunt’ started circulating. Not that Maria felt she was any safer there. Ruthless, unrelenting and merciless, the rebels would not stop until every member of the royal family was bleeding out onto the cobblestone of the city square, signifying the extinction of an empire. There would be no exceptions for King Wilhelm’s precious daughters. Despite Maria’s original wishes to remain in the palace with her parents, she now regretted her decision. The nearing orchestra of rampaging footsteps exacerbated this regret. She was going to die alone, hidden in her father’s study at the hands of a cold-blooded murderer. Vehemently, Maria stuffed her shirt
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into her mouth, teeth clenching around the soft linen to keep from crying out. She’d sat in the dark alcove for hours, and with each passing minute the air seemed to thicken, the oppressive heat inflamed by the sharp salinity of her sweat and tears. How she longed to be in the garden, braiding daisies into Alena’s golden curls. Shutting her eyes from the darkness, her deft hands played with the rug beneath her, twisting and pulling at the fibres like she was grappling with her lifeline. Thud. A heavy object swung at the shut doors of the study, and Maria fervently prayed that the ancient oak would stand up to the pummelling. Antique sofas and sculpted chairs were pressed up against the brass door handles, but she knew they would be of little help. The Von Strausses had always been collectors of fine, delicate furniture, and home invasions were never a subject of concern. Until now. Gradually, the pounding increased to match Maria’s racing pulse. Like a rotting dam, the doors finally caved with an
ear-shattering splinter and a giant crowd roared into the study, immediately pocketing trinkets and tearing her father’s believed books to shreds. Maria pushed herself into the wall as far as she could, convinced her fear was leaching out from under the shelf and revealing her hiding spot. “Princess, we know you’re in here, come out, come out wherever you are!” A sickeningly gleeful voice crooned out. Maria bit down on her fist, recoiling at the unwelcome metallic taste of blood. Above her, hands started methodically searching the shelves, feeling, scratching, knocking, and then they stopped. Click. Unhurriedly, the bookcase swung open, exposing Maria to an onslaught of bright light and hungry stares. And the barrel of a gun. “Congratulations, princess,” the same voice whispered, “You’re the last one left. But we wear the crowns now.” “Never.”
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Photograph & Quotes by Helen Ng
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HERE, JOLIE WONG (Y13) EXPLORES WHAT MARGARET ATWOOD’S “THE HANDMAID’S TALE CAN TELL US ABOUT MALE POWER.
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INTRODUCTION: In The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, The Commander (whom, from this point, I will be calling “Fred”) is interesting to me because we mainly respond to what Offred, the victim of his oppression, thinks of him. Margaret Atwood has said that she intended to write from a “female point of view”, which she did. Still, even when there is so little to learn about Fred from his own dialogue and the context given in the historical notes, there is so much to analyse from what Fred represents in the real world as well as Gilead. Essentially, there would be no Gilead without the Commanders, and I want to look at how the Handmaid-Commander system raises some important questions about male power and masculinity. In his own words, “We thought we could do better”, so we have to wonder ‘what’ Gilead is supposed to be better than, and what room is there for Gilead possibly be even ‘better’ for a Commander like Fred?
Section 1: The Sons of Jacob In the Historical Notes, we learn that Fred was part of the “Sons of Jacob”, the first group of men to overthrow the government and establish Gilead’s totalitarian regime. The “Jacob” in their name refers to the man in Genesis, 30:1-3 in the Bible. These verses are on the first page, telling us that everything in Gilead can be traced back to the words in them. The verses tell the story of Rachel, Jacob’s wife, and her inability to conceive. The couple is distressed, and both sides don’t know who to blame. Rachel says that it’s Jacob who couldn’t give her children, and he responds that God must have “withheld” a child from her — not to say Jacob wasn’t allowed to be upset that he couldn’t have a child, but for him to speak for God should already clue you in on the insane hubris of the Sons of Jacob. It’s impossible to say that whoever wrote those verses knew anything about how fertility actually works the way we do now. But as we find out, science and biology don’t really matter in Gilead anyway.
role exists because the Wives are infertile, birth rates are low, and reproduction is needed to keep the population going. The process in which a Handmaid gets pregnant can only be summarised as state-sanctioned rape. To subjugate all fertile women to the point that their only reason to live is for childbirth couldn’t happen for any trivial reason. When Jacob says that it had to be God who “withheld” a baby from Rachel, it makes her childlessness seem deserved because God thought she was unfit. This conflates a scientific and biological issue with a moral issue. There’s a long history of women being blamed for reproductive problems when they should be looked at equally between the man and woman, especially if external factors were causing infertility. At the time that the novel is set, HIV was rapidly spreading to international levels. There was fear, misunderstanding, and misinformation about its causes and effects— male infertility, in particular, was understood as a result of female contraceptive use and is still stigmatised.
In the novel, the Handmaid’s entire
What Gilead shows us is that not
only do men have limited knowledge of female and male infertility, but there is an inherent power behind the man’s ability to have children. In the novel, Offred tells us that all men, including Commanders, Eyes, and Guards aspire to have a child, yet the duty is placed on Handmaids who are literally under the threat of execution or slave labour if they can’t conceive. Additionally, not all men in Gilead have equal power. Still, it’s not uncommon for a Handmaid to try and conceive with a man other than the Commander she serves to save her life, even though it is believed that these less powerful men are just as infertile. The reality is that while female infertility is reduced to or conflated with moral deficiency, male infertility is simply not understood/ talked about not only because of the blame shifted onto women, there is a stigma attached to it— both of these things have thus kept research and knowledge of male infertility from reaching public discourse. Gilead is ultimately doomed to fail, simply because there is no feasible way to enforce one group’s idea of morality if they 27
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treat fertility and infertility as a moral issue. This makes it clear that not only is infertility very misunderstood, but so are the treatments—and it seems to me that what is being treated is not just the infertility. It would be easy to make oversimplified assertions that men are ignorant or not interested in their health and not recognise how men’s help‐seeking is influenced by broader societal expectations that inform men’s experiences and decisions. It is generally harder for men to admit to weaknesses, as seen when Rachel must be blamed for her infertility, Jacob can’t accept that same moral judgement. It goes on to say that the physical/material and social/representational aspects of masculinity can be perceived to be threatened when men experience health problems. It hence becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy that when men are uninformed, they experience more anxiety and shame— they choose not to talk about it—research goes undone— repeat. Moreover, health and biology aside, not seeking help and concealing emotional needs dominates society’s expectations of men. Both sexes may equally desire parenthood, but the cultural spotlight on women and motherhood has naturally overshadowed the role of men in raising children in addition to the grief and emotional toil involuntary childlessness can cause. The immense power a Commander holds in Gilead’s society in reverse shows the disempowerment men may feel as a result of infertility. Gilead, therefore, shows us what can happen when there is a backlash to not living up to certain
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masculine expectations. Section 2: What to do? Obviously, none of this actually ends with just infertility. The Handmaid’s Tale is still just a book, but we can go even further and explore the possible commentary Atwood is making on the position of men in society and the concept of masculinity. The assumed fertility of a Commander gives him power. This is indicative of how reproductive capabilities are positively linked to certain masculine norms and expectations, and that extends to include all forms of embodied masculinity. It is undeniable that in society, right now, there are strongly held ideas of what men should or should not be. The Handmaid’s Tale gives us a few examples, and they are all tied to power. Power over women, power in the physical body, power in government, power in work, and so on. Men failing or not wanting to conform to these ideas that form hegemonic masculinity is not a failure of their own, but the failure of the larger system of ideals they are subject to. It should go without saying that anything that exists in The Handmaid’s Tale is in no way, shape, or form an appropriate solution or response to the resentment of a literal social construct, though. Gilead could and has happened in our society; all the Sons of Jacob did was weaponize the prejudices, frustration, and emasculation of the men in the population, and make them (plus the Aunts) the workforce behind their regime. The way Gilead handles the issue of infertility also represents just one reaction a man may have to not meeting one specific standard of embodied masculinity, taken to the
extreme. Overall, The Handmaid’s Tale shows us many symptoms of a larger problem. Harming others (or yourself) in the pursuit of meeting a standard of masculinity is the exact definition of “toxic masculinity”, and that includes physical and psychological harm. The Sons of Jacob didn’t exactly achieve what they wanted either, as evidenced by Fred who reveals that his alienation at the top of Gilead’s hierarchy has only made him lonelier and more emotionally unfulfilled. This shows that having the aforementioned types of power ascribed by standards of masculinity is insufficient for living a fulfilling life. Conclusion: At this point, while The Handmaid’s Tale is set in the 1980’s, I would argue that there really shouldn’t be an eternal, timeless standard of what men, in essence, should or should not be. But it’s also entirely unproductive to just tell men ‘you are toxic’ and have it end there. Things do need to change. Just as the modern feminist movement has slowly began making positive strides in redefining womanhood and reshaping gender roles and expectations for women, it might be helpful to have the same done for men. This, of course, is meant in a broader sense, and as a society, replacing long-held beliefs and understandings of masculinity is no easy task. However, at an individual level, anyone can start making progress towards that goal. There are actionable steps to living in a way that rejects toxic masculinity and dismantles social conditioning, and altogether, that will lead to a movement of (hopefully) positive change in the role and position of men in society.
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ILLUSTRATION BY GAURI RANJAN
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The heated debate within NASA, in Au sending Apollo 8 to orbit the moon th considered by some to be the most NASA ever made. The flight set the sta landing the following July, and capped divisive years in American h
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700B.C. In Ancient Greece (700-480 B.C), the philosopher Socrates used debate as a way of understanding the world by drawing out answers from his followers. His method of debating was called the Socratic method which was used to develop critical thinking skills in students and enable them to approach the law as intellectuals.
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In Rome, Marcus Tullius Cicero gained instant fame in 80 B.C after his first legal success defending Sextus Roscius on the charge of patricide, a case in which he indirectly challenged the dictator Sulla, and showcasing his adept ability to coherently debate.
80B.C
The first Sept. 26 Richard Chicago people. thought those w the youn Kenned 35th Pre
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ugust 1968, about hat December— daring decision age for the moon d one of the most history.
Famous debates among TV viewers does not only surround the political climate or the status quo of a country. It could also be around questions which TV shows raise. One of the most famous ones has been about the TV show, Friends, discussing whether or not the iconic couple, Ross and Rachel, were on a break.
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t televised debate occurred on 6, 1960, when Vice President d Nixon debated John F. Kennedy in o, a debate viewed by 66.4 million Those who listened to the radio t Richard Nixon had won, while who watched on television believed unger and more charismatic John dy had won. JFK later became the esident of the United States.
1994 2020
Recently, the most infamous debate was the 2020 US presidential debate. The debate had become viral due to the candidates’(President Trump and Former Vice President Joe Biden) name calling and interruption of the two- which has become a source of entertainment for the rest of the world. There was no clear decision on which candidate won the debate but one thing was certain to the media: America had lost. 33
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The Power Of Debate By Emilia Stranger The brain is our control panel, With wiring tangled like string. It tells us when to speak or shout, It’s your prompt or guide to anything. Voice Success comes from confidence, That’s why billionaires’ egos are gigantic. But debate humbles us, It pulls out the good and bad without panic. Power War is pandemonium. It’s two sides fighting for power. Sit them down and let them consume each other’s words, Peace will open and bloom like a flower. Inequality Debate brings out the worst in bad people, Whether they’re racist, sexist or abusive. It teaches us to close the door on negativity, But this does not mean you aren’t inclusive. Debating is having a voice. Debating is having an opinion. Debating is power.
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The Power of Debate By Ginny Ke
The power of freedom A free bird leaves the cage The power of rights A black man shows his feeling The power of voice A poor girl speaks her life The power of opinion A white man open his eyes The power of life A black man can’t breathe The power of soul A dove spreads its wing The power of debate
THE MEMBERS OF MR LONG’S DEBATE CLUB SHOW US THE POWER OF DEBATE WITH THESE ASTOUNDING POEMS.
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BY JENNY YIN
POWER IS NOTHING
WITHOUT CONTROL Here, Jenny Yin (Y10), shows us how control is key in achieving and maintaining power. Power is nothing without control. Before achieving power, at first, learn control. Everyone has special powers. The ones who succeed are the ones who find ways of achieving durable, consistent control over their powers. Consider the power of the gushing water: it can be destructive, but when channelled effectively, it can be very beneficial. This essay will look at successes created from power with control, and wickedness that stems from the abuse of power. The impact of political leaders who have exercised power without control, the disastrous effects on our world can be seen from recent history. For instance, take Hitler and Stalin: both leaders abused their powers to an indescribable extent. Secret police forces and spies, who could arrest and kill without going through courts, were nothing out of the ordinary for the citizens. Punishment and torture were carried out in a large number of labour camps. If the people of their country had freedom and rights before, it completely vanished during the rules of Stalin and Hitler, as one wrong word equalled certain death. Death rates increased dramatically, and to prevent them from increasing even more, both leaders brainwashed the younger generations during their youth. It is clear that they have both brought evil (WW2, the Cold War, and the suffering their people endured) into our world. They undoubtedly changed the lives of people living in their country, and not necessarily in a positive way.
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“IT CAN BE DESTRUCTIVE, BUT WHEN CHANNELLED EFFECTIVELY, IT CAN BE VERY BENEFICIAL�
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On the other hand, the military today can be a great example of power with control. Each country’s military protects its people from harm, with its remarkably powerful weapons and armed services. It is known that the US and the Soviet Union have been the most powerful countries since World War, with the Soviet Union possessing the world’s most powerful hydrogen bomb ever tested. If the military misused their power, the world could have been annihilated many times over, and world peace would seem too far-fetched even for a dream. Since the government controls the military, it can be said that the government also handles great power with great control. If they did not have control, the times of the Cold War and other horrible periods would replay itself again. Contradictorily, activists such as Kaliash Satyarthi protect these children by fighting for their rights. At a young age, Satyarthi was inspired by a work called Satyarth Prakash by Swami Dayananda Saraswati’s, a social reformer who wanted the abolition of child marriages. Therefore, Satyarthi began to campaign in India against child labour and advocate the universal right to education. In 2014, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize jointly with Malala Yousafzai for their struggle against the oppression of children and young people and for the right of all children to have access to education. He said, “If a child is denied education and forced to work instead, violence has been inflicted. Similar to any other successful person, he gained power through his continuous effort and used it with control. Power is of two kinds: one is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more
effective and permanent than the one derived from fear of punishment. This quote by Mahatma Gandhi suggests that true power builds up from others’ trust and respect. People who have power and the determination to control it will always bring hope and good into our lives. On the other hand, people who have power, but no control can lead to performing indecent acts of evil. These topics about power could be overwhelming to some as they appear to have little link to
the lives of students. However, students possess power as well. Our schools motto ‘Leadership for a better world’, is an example of power - the power to guide and empower people. During a period of exams, the school also maintains power by controlling the structure of their student’s daily schedules. Additionally, not only do students control the power to change their actions, but they also have the power to influence other people’s behaviours. Therefore, power is not as distant for students as you might think. If you have power, control it, and use it for the better.
Mr Kaliash Satyarthi 37
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By Joy Chen A shriek of delirium rippled through the throbbing crowd of people. Everywhere I looked, figures cavorted around the firelight. Its roaring flames reached into the night and brought with them an intoxicating scent of pine as the withered wood underneath blazed. Here on the cliff, we had shaken away the skins of our public selves and let loose. Here, we were free. Bass thumped up from the depths of the underground, a demon rhythmically knocking from hell. It thumped in time with my frenzied heartbeat; the music pulsing erratically through my bones until we were one and whole. In this giddy darkness, hands tumbled through the wind and feet stomped over the earth. With our consciousnesses altered and the veil to the spirit world lifted, chaos reigned free. Bliss radiated from every flame-illuminated grin and entranced face, glimmering with perspiration and bathed in glory. We were celebrating. The morning had been exhausting, but so, so worth it. Oh, all we wanted was a chance to see him. To speak to him. To touch him. 38
Earlier this week, every single one of us had uprooted and left our homes, desperate to seek freedom. No longer wanting to be considered ‘silly housewives’, we each took flight to the mountains. Here, we convened. Grapes were thrown by the armful into large pine basins, then crushed over and over again by the soles of our carousing sisters. Wine was made. We scooped handfuls of it into our gaping mouths, gulping down the luscious ichor, traces of it crusting around our lips and leaving them bloodstained. Still, we hungered for more. When the sky paled to dawn, it seemed as if sirens had gone off in each of our heads; we awoke in unison and immediately surged to this clearing. It was time. The usual rites ensued, but this time consumed by a rare urgency. Desperate to prove our devotion, we swarmed after him through the woods, bare feet pounding against cracked earth. We hunted the woods until the smoky dusk gradually obscured our vision. I watched them, blinded by hysteria,
frantically tear apart one animal after another. Bulls were their favourites to kill. I watched as recognition suddenly sparked in their frayed minds, untamed agitation blazing through their eyes, which mere seconds ago were filmy and trancelike. “Those sacred beasts.” Fists thrust into their backs, my sisters clawed at them, delighting in the whimpers that jolted the wounded bodies. They did not stop until the bulls were rendered to shreds of raw flesh hanging from threads of sinew; mangled heaps lying in the dirt. Later, I wondered what stopped me from participating. Everyone was clamouring to get a claw in, grappling at each other to smear crimson on their hands. Mine stayed pristine. We ended up at this corner of the world, a cliff, hanging over uncharted land, where not a single shred of humanity was present, and the ending was, too, inevitable. Peering over at the city, I edged closer towards the edge of the cliff. Every household was lit up, and an endless sea of lights twinkled
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back at me; veins of streetlights branched out into the dark abyss. As I took another step forward, a pebble unearthed itself and keeled over into oblivion, alerting me to just how high up I was. Wind whooshed through the fine strands of my hair, whisking its fingers through the tangles and creeping down my spine. Feeling myself becoming lighter, I inched closer to the edge of the cliff. A jolt of electricity shot through me. No. A million separate branches of lightning ignited in my blood. I felt invincible. A few remaining scraps of grass shivered in anticipation as I urged myself to keep going, keep going – but I was paralyzed. Through the balls of my feet, the earth hummed upwards, then out. It pressed against me, heaving upon itself a lifetime’s worth of heartache. It was hurt so universal and so cosmic and so grand that I felt my knees go weak at the thought of all that love and pain and yearning, buckling at my own pathetic passivity. Not wanting to be stifled, yet, too fearful of release from the normal. Here, for the moment, I was untouchable. But with time stretched out and reality pinpointed, I was nothing but a pathetic mangled mess. “Further.” I whipped my head around, and there she stood. Backlit against the flickering lights, she stood tall and proud. All of them did. Her hair was strewn with bronzed leaves, and a faint wound blossomed on her forehead, glistening with the same glassiness as her fluid encased hands. Yet, she glowed with confidence akin to that of the Virgin Mary, serenely cradling the knowledge of the holy spirit conceived within her. I wrinkled a brow, hesitant to ask for clarification. She saw right through me. “I said, further.” The voice hit me. A cold, accusatory, bitter resentment buried under the haze of red wine. Gradually, noticing the two figures perched away from the party, one who swallowed the sun and another kneeling in her shadow, more of them started crowding in. Sanguine and flushed from the fire, their brilliance suffused through the darkness, a huddle of eager excitable calves looking wide-eyed at their rancher. As my face entered the flood of light, recognition flashed across their faces and all of a sudden they were calves no more – I was the one to be butchered. They gained on
me. Hordes of them, eyes glinting and claws unfurled, swelled towards where I was frozen, pushing me nearer and nearer to the precipice. They crescendoed into an ecstatic frenzy, destructive glee trampling its way around the hordes of women as their faces morphed, gouged out eyes devoid of sympathy. Ferocity formed a raging whirlpool as they circled and merged together into one amorphous, merciless mass. “Fur-ther, fur-ther, fur-ther.” My body was betraying me. Nerves were tied taut against my throat, my breathing was constricted, and all coherent thought was blocked from entering my brain. I did not know what to do or where to go or how to make my limbs belong to myself again. A dull thud started pounding at the inside of my skull. Thunder rumbled in the distance, bringing with it a faint metallic tang that buzzed in the air. Now manic, the crowd rushed at me, shrieking out with a vengeance as if the souls of the damned had crawled up to earth. Red hands raised, drops of blood running down the moonlit arms of my sisters, etching out trails of gory. Dark, dark vortexes dug down the centres of their pretty faces. There I stood, balanced on the cusp of existence. And although the herd was nowhere near me, a whisper of warm breath traced around my ear: “Are you afraid to prove your love to our Lord?” It challenged coyly. The distant chanting blended into a gargle of unidentifiable noises, the crowd melting into a smear of uncertainty. The undulating waves of night lapped at my feet, rhythmically washing stars and twigs and rocks ashore. Then, as the first drops of rain started to fall, the ground beneath me gave way, and I took flight. 39
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Photograph by Chloe Levieux
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To be alive — is Power Emily Dickinson
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Photograph by Joy Chen
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2. ramblings
alive alive alive the voices echo in my head as i rub my eyes, brushing away the dredges of the night as sunlight filters through my eyes; alive alive alive i whisper to myself, muffled by the toothbrush shoved down the side of my mouth minty white foaming out; alive alive alive i chant to the beat of my footsteps as i march towards school, a-live a-live a-live. She — Emily — told us that to be alive is power. She — Emily — wanted us to make gods of ourselves : to live, to truly live. philosophers throughout the centuries have told us that our existence is contemplated within the mind, that the mind and the mind alone holds the power to make a heaven of hell and a hell of heaven. cogito ergo sum, i think therefore i am, but am i enough? is there really power to be found in being alive? power, power, power. i feel passive in the grand scheme of life, the waves of time carrying me along white spray and salt drowning me from the inside out. sometimes it feels as if i’m sleepwalking through life sleepwalking through an inconsequential existence i have no control over — i mean, don’t you feel it too? it’s almost like we’re in ‘the office’ but if it were broadcasted in God’s living room. plodding through the rows of fluorescent lighting adorning the school hallways, going to lessons learning listening going to lessons learning listening smiling nodding then trodding back home, back home under the blankets back home to a dreamless sleep and the cycle begins again. pinching myself doesn’t work — i feel, but not power; am i awake or asleep? i try to shut it out, but sitting through hours of math as the numbers melt into alphabet soup, my mind slowly, deliciously, turns to the contem-
plation of what it means to be alive again. when i ask myself this, my brain short-circuits and lags in the search for an explanation that doesn’t exist. you see, there is no point to life theoretically there is nothing more to our existence than breathing, eating, copulating - nothing more than the steady drip of time, each second a drop of sand that slides away into the sea of future present past... did emily dickinson get it wrong? how did a recluse, shut within the four walls of her house all the time, know what it meant to feel alive; to be alive? it’s kind of ironic isn’t it how she managed to find such power in being alive when writing poems on scraps of paper in her dad’s house, arguably the furthest thing from the sublime isn’t it. isn’t it? sometimes i wonder what death would be like. if we would get swallowed up by the tide once again and return to the warm sticky darkness of the womb, but for ever this time. is the power of existence enough to override this thought that hangs over my existence, over my mind? nietzsche wanted his loved ones to suffer; keats asked ‘do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?’ to be alive —- is power? some days, most days, i would rather be dead —
yet i am alive.
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ILLUSTRATION BY CHISE IWAKAWA