The Handmaids Tale and the Power of 'I'
“The Canadians think the women here are oppressed and voiceless. I need you to show them a strong Gilead wife,” Fred Waterford says to Serena before their diplomatic trip to Toronto. This gets at the Commander’s arrogant lack of understanding that may lead to his downfall. Of course he wants the Canadians to get the wrong impression of Gilead. The correct impression is what has led to the neighboring country’s opposition to diplomatic and trade relations. But his idea that a “strong Gilead wife” could dispel these perceptions shows just how much he doesn’t get it. He thinks that if he just denies something is happening, walking around Toronto basically crying “Fake News” and “Slander” to every question and story about women in his country, things will go his way. He knows his regime is doing everything it can to render women voiceless, and so thinks that only his voice will matter. But, women’s voices are emerging and developing, even in some unexpected quarters,
By design—his and Serena’s—Gilead wives are voiceless. Hence Commander Waterford’s complete shock upon returning from the hospital to find that his wife had not only passed on his commands to the appropriate power channels, but had written directives of her own and signed his name to orders he expressly rejected (like allowing the doctor who now serves as a Martha to examine the Putnams’/Janine’s baby). She is not to have her own voice, and the sadistic beating he gave her was to reinforce that. They have gone from the passionate partners we have seen in flashbacks of “before” to the most classic example of oppressive, violent husband and battered wife. Despite his specious “forgive me, darling” before beating her, it seemed to me that he enjoyed doing it.
Years before, they had crafted the language of the rules that made the husband supreme and the wife voiceless and subordinate, and he has embraced it, being now fully molded into that role. She still resists some, for she set herself up to lose much. But, they now behave as typical batterer and battered. He beats her, then tries to make nice: “the attentive mother,” he says, adopting a sweet tone of voice when he comes in to her greenhouse. He quotes scripture about a “virtuous woman.” She cringes at his touch, and cries after he leaves, but is compliant. She is only part of his “we.” “We’re lucky in a lot of ways, aren’t we?” he asks her later. “Yes, we are,” she of course says, but despite her claims of loyalty made to the man in the Toronto bar, she shows signs of not feeling lucky. She has no voice with which to claim that, however, and, a dutiful, submissive, voiceless wife—regardless of how “strong” she is in maintaining the Gilead ideal—is not what is going to convince the Canadians that Gilead is not the oppressive place they know it is.
While a few government officials play nice—a lot of money is at stake in trade deals—others, like the American man who fled to Canada with his husband, call out the bullshit. And, the public knows that Commanders’ wives are complicit in the rape and oppression of the handmaids. Witness the woman with her daughter, who won’t even get in the same elevator with Serena, and the man in the bar who cries foul on her statement that she has a child on the way: “That’s not your child.”
While “a strong Gilead wife” is no counter to the impression that “women here are oppressed and voiceless,” some of the oppressed women are continuing to claim their right to a voice. Both Janine and June move to assert the “I” the regime stole from them, doing it in the context of concern for their children, demonstrating that a liberal and feminist ideal of women’s rights to self-determination, agency, and choice does not preclude caring about children. Even Aunt Lydia, one of those odd Gilead women in a role that is both enforcing female submission and oppression while also wielding enormous power in a very narrow sphere, begins to find her “I” and might end up causing trouble for Fred, who doesn’t truly understand what female voices are about.
When the Waterfords are away, a young, particularly vicious Guardian is assigned to the house to “protect” the members of the household. He walks behind June and Janine on their trip to the store. Janine is convinced the Putnams will let her see the baby again. She is distressed when she hears that Serena plans to kick June out of the house after her baby is born. The guard following with his gun tells her to be quiet a couple of times, but she is not. This disobedience and insistence on using her voice is “unfeminine” in Gilead, despite what Fred wants to convey to the Canadians about women in Gilead having a voice. The Guardian finally loses it, yelling at Janine, “Shut your mouth, Unwoman,” for a “real woman” would listen to what a man says. Janine’s response highlights her sense of “masculine” agency: “Suck my dick!” she yells at the man, who gun butts her and then pulls June away. As with Fred, the only “appropriate” response to a Gileadean woman with a voice is a beating.
Like Janine, June is concerned for her soon-to-be-born baby’s welfare. She begs Rita to act as a godmother to the baby in her absence. “I want my baby to know kindness. I need her to have kindness in her life.” In this situation, she can talk like a woman with agency, using “I,” as both she and Rita are women positioned by the regime to be oppressed and voiceless. When she talks with Aunt Lydia, though, a woman with power over her, who has shown herself all too happy to abuse that power to torture her, she speaks more circumspectly. “Children need to be in a safe place,” she says to Lydia, making a statement that sounds objective; they could be talking about anyone; no pronouns are used. “I know what children need,” the Aunt responds, able to use “I” when she is chastising a handmaid. But June can’t stop. Too much is at stake for her baby, so she works to find a way to say what she needs to say without claiming “I”: “In my experience, any man who would hurt a woman, would hurt a child.” Now, she has Lydia’s attention. For all of her disdain and hideous treatment of the women she supervises, it seems that she might actually care about babies. “What are you saying?” she asks. The direct question, rather than a statement of principle, allows June to respond as an individual, using “I”: “I’m saying this baby needs protection.” “I would never allow anything to happen to a baby,” Lydia promises, and with that, I have to wonder what this woman claiming her personal voice might be able to do to the wife-beater, Fred Waterford.
Brilliantly, there is one other arena of women’s voices that has the potential to bring harm to the power of the Commander, and that--of course--is contained within the letters that Nick brought to Luke, and Luke released online. Anyone who sees The Handmaid’s Tale as being anti-male has to take a good look at the characters of Nick and Luke. June gets the gift at the end of the episode of learning not only that the letters have been released, but that her husband accosted the Commander in public and told Nick to let her know that he will always love her. Nick’s choice to pass along that message demonstrates that he really believes that women should be free, independent beings with the choice of whom to love. This is some kind of real feeling he shows her; he loves her and could just have decided to keep her to himself. But he presents himself to Luke as June’s “friend,” obscures the fact that she is pregnant with his child, and then lets June know of Luke’s abiding love. When he says to her before leaving, “I love you,” she’s gotta know that is true. Nick and Luke are good men.
Buoyed by the news of the letters, of Luke, and of Moira, June’s will is rejuvenated. While earlier, she was trying to ensure her baby’s safety and kind treatment before being sent away, now she is re-determined to get out with the child, and she uses her strong voice to let us know that: “I know I should accept the reality of you being here. Make my peace. But fuck that.” The voices of the many women who wrote letters to the world also say, “Fuck that.” Aunt Lydia looks like she might be willing to say a limited “fuck that,” if the Commander could hurt this baby. And, Serena Joy? I’ll be interested to see what happens with her in the season finale. The show has a third season coming, so Gilead’s world is not going to end, but as the traumatized former handmaid being sheltered by Luke says of the letters, “This could go BOOM.”
