Shakespeare's Nasty Women

The result of the US election marked a painful disillusionment for many people, not just in the US, but around the globe. The idea that such numbers would prefer to put that wholly unqualified man (think of all the adjectives I could have used!) in the White House over Hillary Clinton, was both disturbing and disgusting for many. Of all the myriad distasteful realisations that this vote triggered, I want to reflect on just one:  a lot of people can’t stand opinionated women. Living as I do in a nice, liberal, intellectual bubble, I forgot that women who talk, and shout, and push themselves forward face a great deal of hatred. I recently went on a date with a man called Bob (he wasn’t called Bob but since I’m going to tell you bad things about him, let’s leave it at that). It was going OK and Bob seemed like a right-thinking sort of bloke. We were discussing politics and Bob announced “I really hate Hillary Clinton”, but could not then justify his antipathy for her. I asked him more about it. Male figures with similar political stances, or those accused of similar alleged misdemeanours simply did not provoke the same vitriol from Bob. My questioning didn’t unearth any interesting political ideas, just frustration. “I just don’t like her, OK? She’s just really aggressive and abrasive” said Bob tersely, and I could see that he was beginning to find me somewhat abrasive too. I laughed prettily (not my real laugh – horse-like and unsuitable for dates with men like Bob) and changed the subject. I silently judged Bob; he disliked Clinton because she is a forceful woman. Why didn’t I call Bob out? Even though I had decided I would rather gargle puddle water than go on another date with Bob, I still wanted him to like me - this is my Achilles heel – and smiling and agreeing is how I was going to achieve this with Bob.

Bob’s dislike of Clinton’s so-called “aggressive and abrasive” manner is by no means unique. It’s the sort of comment replicated all over the internet and in conversations everywhere. I’ve heard that it’s Clinton’s fault that Trump won, because she just isn’t “likeable” enough! Likeability doesn’t seem to be an ideal that Trump has been held to. Far from likeable, he comes across a brash bully. This confused me. I like Hillary Clinton, but not Trump, so what is this obscure measure of likeability? Guiltily, I realise I really do know the answer – this is the bizarre kind of likeability that I strive for when on terrible dates. It’s demure, simpering, and agreeable. It’s the opposite of powerful. This can become the catch 22 for women who pursue powerful roles. The traits we associate with leadership are boldness, confidence, determination, but as a society we also seem to demand a certain strange kind of likeability from women. If women must be quiet, acquiescent, and unthreatening, how can they be bold, challenging, and outspoken at the same time? So why does society, or large swathes of it, demand this bizarre brand of likeability from women?

Thomasin Bailey Shakespeare's Women
"Shakespeare's Wicked Women"
Photograph by Peter Marsh at ashmorevisuals


One reason is that this terrifying value system is deeply ingrained in the culture of the English speaking world. In Shakespeare’s tragedies and histories the wicked women, the really nasty ones, are those who talk too much. Virtuous women, in contrast, speak very little. Think of King Lear. In act 5, scene 3, the good daughter, Cordelia, lies dead, and her old father bends close to her, hoping she’ll speak. Her father likens the deathly silence of her lack of response to her living, virtuous quietness: “her voice was ever soft, / Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in a woman.” Her voice was always this way claims Lear, praising an absence of speech as “excellent” in a woman. Her wicked sisters, by contrast, are characterised from the beginning of the play by their persuasive and voluble language. They use their eloquence to persuade Lear to put his divided kingdom in their hands, and then they abuse him, pushing him out into the wilderness. Any reason we might perceive in their arguments is quickly discredited by the atrocities they commit, such as the blinding of Gloucester. This is no surprise. This is how women in these plays use speech: to trick men and bring about their destruction. In Titus Andronicus Tamora uses her eloquence to save her children (the children that will go on to rape and mutilate Lavinia) and to manipulate Saturninus into facilitating her revenge on Titus Andronicus. In Antony and Cleopatra the Egyptian queen’s wiles and wit seduce Antony into neglecting his duties and making terrible decisions, such as fighting by sea, and in this way Cleopatra (whether on purpose or accidentally) brings about his defeat. In Macbeth the witches speech captures Macbeth’s mind and leads him towards a terrible path. His wife, Lady Macbeth, becomes analogous to a witch as it is her persuasive language (as powerful as any incantation) that pushes him to take the step pf murdering Duncan. These eloquent women are an early modern nightmare. In a society that believes women are inferior to men, they are all like witches as they seek unnatural power over men. They have co-opted a masculine power – rhetoric, the art of persuasion, was the preserve of a male education – and because of women’s inherently weak wayward nature (as it was seen in the renaissance), their wielding of it invariably leads to destruction.

Surely this is all outdated claptrap? We don’t live in a society that believes woman are inferior to men, and that a woman who seeks power is unnatural. We don’t accuse women who live outside of patriarchal control of witchcraft, or vilify and torture women who voice their own opinions by imprisoning them in Scold’s Bridles. Well, bar an actual Scold’s Bridle, some of this seems a little close for comfort. The treatment of Hillary Clinton by the public and by the press has been a witch hunt in more ways than one. Apart from the desperate and dogged attempts to discredit her, Clinton has also been regularly depicted as an actual witch. After a quick internet search you will find Clinton mocked for her “witch laugh” and decried as “evil” beside videos and pictures of her edited to show her painted Witch of the West green and wearing a pointed hat. This kind of demonisation doesn’t take much intelligence to create, and even less to understand. Women who want to wield power, even over themselves or the situation they’re in (that is women who talk or have an opinion), are witches, or just as bad.  The labels “witch” and “bitch” are just a few of the ways society gags women, or casts doubt on the credibility of their voices. If you thought that we had moved beyond the sort of gender politics that lay behind Shakespeare’s nasty women, this US election will have disillusioned you. A huge number of people, both voters, and commentators, are upsettingly misogynist. Despite all this Hillary Clinton, has not shut up or disappeared. She has called on her supporters to “Believe in our country and fight for our values and never, ever give up.” Clinton’s response to the terrifying election result should inspire us all to refuse to accept misogyny where we see it, even the quiet, insidious kinds. Especially the quiet, insidious kinds. As for me, my resolution is to stop caring about being “likeable”. In future, if terrible date situation delivers me another Bob, instead of giving a kittenish smile and concealing my inward condemnation with a delicate bite of my salad, I will say “Bob, you’re being a misogynist” then stuff a handful of chips in mouth. If that makes me a witch, well good. Slap on the green face paint and call me Hillary because I have the right to my opinions.

Thomasin Bailey Shakespeare's Women
Photograph by Peter Marsh at ashmorevisuals

Click here for more information about the images in this blog, which are part of my Shakespeare's Women collaboration with Peter Marsh at ashmorevisuals.

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