Powerlessness and rebellion in Gilead  

Lauren Burke

In her book The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood creates a theocratic dystopian society in which the founders base much of their legislation on Biblical passages that are frequently taken out of context. The new society, called Gilead, largely revolves around an individual’s reproductive capabilities. Decisive and severe actions are taken to prevent procreation from occurring any way other than how the ruling body permits. The female protagonist, Offred, once a businesswoman, wife and mother, now struggles against her helpless status as a Handmaid in the new society. Handmaids are assigned to high-ranking couples, where they function as concubines and are valued only as vessels to carry children. As one of the propagandists, Aunt Lydia, says, “There is more than one kind of freedom. Freedom to and freedom from. Now you are being given freedom from. Don’t underrate it” (24). Yet Atwood demonstrates that such an environment both creates and exacerbates a society’s natural undercurrent of the struggle to obtain power.

In our modern society, we might equate power struggles with tension between political candidates, potential employees excelling over others in job interviews, or the middle-class mentality of keeping up with the Joneses. These are clearly examples of Aunt Lydia’s “freedom to”. We are free to try to attain power through political aspirations, business dealings, and educational prestige. In Atwood’s dystopia, however, most access to power is concentrated within the top-ranking Commanders. A trickle down effect does exist within the Commanders’ families. The wives are granted some power over their households but the fact that they are granted power indicates just how little they inherently possess. It is commonplace for the housekeeping Marthas of the story to use kitchen utensils that are off limits to the Handmaids in order to prevent them from committing suicide. The Marthas also have more freedom of mobility, and thus have access to the power of an information network.

Aside from the laws disallowing Handmaids to own any personal effects, Gilead’s officials set in place numerous laws to dehumanize them. They are not allowed to use their names, but rather must answer to a possessive form of their Commander’s name: Ofglen, Ofwarren, Offred. Offred says that she repeats her real name to herself at night in order to remember who she is and a time when she had power. Offred records her dehumanization within the household, “‘Who’s doing the bath?” says Rita, to Cora, not to me. They’re talking about me as though I can’t hear. To them I’m a household chore, one among many” (48). At the height of dehumanization, the Aunts emphasize both with their words and actions that the Handmaids are only valuable as walking wombs. As punishment for infractions, the Aunts beat the women’s feet beyond recognition, and regulations permit them to sever hands. The Aunts consider this reasonable because the Handmaids’ appendages are not necessary to fulfill their function of childbirth.

To combat this dehumanization, Offred found solace in her memories. She says, “The night is mine, my own time, to do with as I will, as long as I am quiet. [T]he night is my time out. Where should I go?” (37). Many of her memories center around the power she used to possess. She remembers that she once use to have control over her own money that she made working at a job. Her thoughts also turn to the young daughter who was taken from her during the rise of the Gilead regime. At these times her thoughts are understandably morose as she remembers just how powerless she is.

 Because Handmaids have no power granted to them, Offred tries to rebel in subtle ways, often more for her own mental stability than to demonstrate her displeasure. Sanity is a precious thing to Offred. She says, “Sanity is a valuable possession; I hoard it the way people once hoarded money. I save it, so I will have enough, when the time comes” (109). In an ironic twist, Offred preserves her sanity by indulging in fantasies where she rebels against her oppressors or society in general. She shares one such thought about her new Commander, “If I could spit, out the window, or throw something, the cushion for instance, I might be able to hit him” (57).  

As one particular form of rebellion, Offred has a preoccupation with stealing as a way to tip the power scales. Initially, Offred only thinks about her desire to steal. As she enters the sitting room that belongs to the Wife, Serena Joy, Offred imagines, “I would like to steal something from this room. Every once in a while I would take it out and look at it. It would make me feel that I have power” (80-81). Nearly every chapter has a mention of her desire to simply disrupt the placement of objects or to steal something from the home. Her acts of rebellion seem to start out small. Her conversations with fellow Handmaid Ofglen break from the standard formula. When one of the Marthas gives her a match, she wonders how and where to hide it as thoughts of burning down the house pass through her mind. She stows butter away in her shoe for later use as facial moisturizer.

Later, her acts of rebellion escalate. She works up the courage to steal a wilted daffodil bloom from Serena Joy’s sitting room. She leaves her own room at night. She enters the Commander’s office alone with him, reads banned material and uses the illegal lotion he provides. When Serena Joy defies the rules by suggesting that Offred have an affair with the servant Nick, Offred’s past precedent of rebellion makes this illegal task easier to carry out. At the height of her rebellion, she grows careless in her continued affair with Nick. Yet it is at this point when she feels she has the most power over herself and her desires.

Our most perplexing insight into Offred’s rebellion and struggle against her powerlessness comes in the historical chapter. Keynote speaker James Darcy Pieixoto explains that we have been reading a partial transcript of audiocassette recordings created several centuries previously. This is the conundrum: Early in the story, Offred only records that she has thoughts of stealing and rebellion. Yet in order to be recording this information, she must have already stolen the cassettes and recording device. Also, we are left to wonder how, if she was wary of hiding a match or a pat of butter, she managed to keep the bulky 1980s technology a secret. Atwood offers no answers to these concluding questions, and we are left considering the balance of power in society and the lengths to which an individual will rebel to obtain a small granule of power. Our unanswered questions and the resulting confusion are an apt ending for a psychologically disturbing work of fiction. 

Works Cited

Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale. New York: Anchor Books, 1998.