The handmaid’s reality
A s countries worldwide report significant violations of women’s rights, Bookshelf trains its spotlight on Margaret Atwood, the celebrated Canadian author, poet, and literary critic and among our time’s most influential literary figures. Margaret Atwood was born in Ottawa, Ontario, on November 18, 1939. Her most famous work, The Handmaid’s Tale (1985), is a powerful cautionary tale illustrating the dangers of women losing hardwon rights, being oppressed and denied freedoms. Male violence remains a scourge to women. A 2022 UN report claimed that 48,800 women and girls globally are estimated to have been killed every year by family members or intimate partners worldwide. Atwood’s depiction of a society where women are systematically oppressed and controlled resonates deeply with the current realities of countries worldwide. The novel’s themes of patriarchal control, loss of autonomy, and the fight for freedom remain profoundly relevant, reminding us of the fragility of these rights and the need for continuous advocacy. Unsurprisingly, The Handmaid’s Tale garnered global recognition, inspiring adaptations in film, television, and stage. The novel explores themes of power, gender, and totalitarianism, reflecting Atwood’s keen interest in social issues and feminist discourse. The rollbacks on women’s rights globally highlight the ongoing struggle for gender equality and bodily autonomy.
Here’s a closer look: The most prominent example of a rollback of women’s rights in the US is the overturning of Roe v Wade by the Supreme Court in 2022. This decision ended the federal constitutional right to abortion, allowing individual states to set their own abortion laws. As a result, many states have enacted strict abortion bans or severe restrictions, significantly limiting access to reproductive healthcare for millions of women. There are also moves to restrict access to contraceptives and to roll back protections for transgender women. Women in Pakistan often face honour killings, forced marriages, and domestic violence. Despite legal protections, cultural norms and inadequate enforcement perpetuate these abuses. The systemic oppression and violence against women in Pakistan mirror the brutal realities faced by the Handmaids in Atwood’s novel.
In India, women encounter widespread issues such as dowry-related violence, acid attacks, and human trafficking. Gender-based discrimination persists despite progressive laws. These ongoing struggles for safety and equality highlight the relevance of Atwood’s exploration of patriarchal control and violence. In Poland, the government has implemented stringent restrictions on abortion. In 2020, the Constitutional Tribunal ruled that abortions in cases of foetal defects were unconstitutional, effectively banning almost all abortions. This decision sparked widespread protests but remains in effect, severely restricting women’s reproductive rights in the country. Hungary has also seen a regression in women’s rights, particularly in terms of gender equality and reproductive health. The government has promoted traditional family values and policies that emphasize women’s roles as mothers and homemakers, often at the expense of gender equality. Access to abortion remains legal but is becoming increasingly stigmatised and restricted.
Although not part of the European Union, Turkey is geographically and culturally close to Europe and has experienced significant rollbacks in women’s rights. In 2021, Turkey withdrew from the Istanbul Convention, an international treaty aimed atpreventing violence against women and domestic violence. This move has raised concerns about the country’s commitment to protecting women’s rights and combating gender-based violence.
Doctors in Italy are conscientious objectors, refusing to perform abortions, which makes it difficult for women to access these services. There has been a rise in political rhetoric promoting traditional family values, which can undermine gender equality efforts.
Since the Taliban’s return to power in 2021, Afghan women have faced severe restrictions on their freedoms, including bans on education, employment, and even leaving the house without a male guardian. The Taliban’s draconian measures echo the totalitarian regime depicted in The Handmaid’s Tale, where women’s autonomy is stripped away, and they are reduced to mere instruments of the state. Despite recent reforms, Saudi women still face many restrictions under the country’s guardianship system. Women need permission from a male guardian to travel, marry, or access certain healthcare services. These limitations reflect women’s controlled and confined lives in Atwood’s dystopian society. In Iran, women are subjected to strict dress codes and face severe penalties for non-compliance. Gender segregation in public spaces and limited rights in family law further restrict their freedoms. The oppression and surveillance faced by Iranian women resonate with the themes of control and subjugation in The Handmaid’s Tale.
In northern Nigeria, groups like Boko Haram have imposed strict interpretations of Sharia law, severely limiting women’s rights and freedoms. Kidnappings and forced marriages are rampant. The parallels with Atwood’s narrative are stark, illustrating the dangers of extremist ideologies on women’s lives. Margaret Atwood’s latest work is “Paper Boat: New and Selected Poems, 1961–2023,” set to be released on October 8. This collection spans six decades of poetry, combining her most vital pieces in one volume. The poems cover feature mythological figures, animals, and everyday people, reflecting Atwood’s unique voice and her exploration of human experiences and societal issues.
The following is a brief excerpt from The Handmaid’s Tale
“I can sit in the chair or on the window seat, hands folded, and watch this. Sunlight comes in through the window, too, and falls on the floor, made of wood in narrow strips, highly polished. I can smell the polish. There’s a rug on the floor, oval, of braided rags. This is the kind of touch they like: folk art, archaic, made by women in their spare time, from things that have no further use. A return to traditional values. Waste not want not. I am not being wasted. Why do I want? On the wall above the chair, a picture, framed but with no glass: a print of flowers, blue irises, watercolour. Flowers are still allowed. Does each of us have the same print, the same chair, the same white curtains, I wonder? Government issue? Think of it as being in the army, said Aunt Lydia. A bed. Single mattress medium-hard, covered with a flocked white spread. Nothing takes place in the bed but sleep or no sleep. I try not to think too much. Like other things now, thought must be rationed. There’s a lot that doesn’t bear thinking about. Thinking can hurt your chances, and I intend to last. I know why there is no glass in front of the watercolour picture of blue irises, why the window opens only partly and why the glass in it is shatterproof. It isn’t running away they’re afraid of. We wouldn’t get far. It’s those other escapes, the ones you can open in yourself, given a cutting edge. So. Apart from these details, this could be a college guest room, for the less distinguished visitors; or a room in a rooming house, of former times, for ladies in reduced circumstances. That is what we are now. The circumstances have been reduced; for those of us who still have circumstances.”
—End of excerpt
Ira Mathur is a Guardian journalist and the winner of the 2023 Bocas Prize for Non-Fiction for her memoir, Love The Dark Days. Website: www.irasroom.org Author inquiries can be sent to irasroom@gmail.com.