Month: January 2014

* Following a bout of whimsical music, I was introduced to what, seemingly, was a very lovely and wonderful experience for aboriginal children. Residential schools.

Many people insist, rather passionately, that residential schools were bad. They mention physical and emotional abuse, loss of family ties, and the destruction of a culture. But, after seeing the joyous children jumping ropes and participating in the oh-so-Canadian act of playing hockey, I find these sort of insidious claims hard to believe.

Destruction of a culture? Ha! Whoever dared accuse the Canadian government of such atrocity did not understand that aboriginal children were taught “traditions such as the celebration of St. Valentine’s Day.” Their young, impressionable minds were being molded and absorbing relevant, vital knowledge. After all, what human being is capable of living a fulfilling life without participating in rituals that involve chocolate exchanges and badly written poetry?

Furthermore, people, principal Eric was dispensing first aid to his students. Not one of my principals ever expressed any sort of great concert for my health and well-being. (In fact, I am sure more than one of them wished me bodily harm at one or another point in my academic career, but I digress.)

It is also notable that the kids in the video were allowed to wear crowns whilst acquiring “a mastery of words that would open to them a range of the ordinary Canadian curriculum.” This led me to conclude that Eric (and as an extension, all residential schools) really understood the art of holistic learning. In fact, perhaps a few public schools today should take note on their advanced methods, which so clearly respected and deeply cared for their charges.

Observing the attentiveness, patience, and well-roundedness of the youth’s experiences, I felt a pang of pride for society. “Instead of the isolation and neglect of the past, a free and equal chance” was being provided. As I watched the ringing bell, I imagined a thousand juvenile voices rising up in harmony, and thanking residential schools for the superb experiences they provided.

Having been exposed to the marvels of residential schools for a whole two minutes and thirty-eight seconds has made damning claims against the system hard for me to believe. In fact, it has instilled in me a great respect for the methodology used by Canada to not assimilate, but generously give opportunities of growth to First Nations.

* Disclaimer: This is sarcasm. In truth, the video was repulsive and eerily reminiscent of propaganda used by Nazis, which promoted concentration camps. (As can bee seen in this 15-min long video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9UDicS0zme8)

Reading The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood, I was particularly stricken by the eerie similarities existing between the narrator and her Commander.

Firstly, we begin with their situation. The Commander’s passive role and acceptance (even enjoyment) of Gilead’s society casts him as “villainous” in the novel. However, Offred admits to playing a similar role before, even hinting to the fact that she enjoyed the freedom her apathy and inaction gave her.

(“We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print. It gave us more freedom. We lived in the gaps between the stories.”)

Secondly, their respective relationships with power. In Atwood’s work, the Commander’s most notable interactions with Offred demonstrate that he enjoys showing her kindness. He patronizes her, provides her with reading materials, and eventually parades her around Jezebel, because, as Moira notes, he enjoys it. However, Offred similarly enjoys wielding her own power over both the Commander and other men in the story. One of the passages that most clearly demonstrates this is when she muses, “I move my hips a little, feeling the full red skirt sway around me. It’s like thumbing your nose from behind a fence or teasing a dog with a bone held out of reach. . . . I’m ashamed of myself for doing it. . . .Then I find I’m not ashamed after all. I enjoy the power; power of a dog bone, passive but there.”

Yet another similarity found between both characters is their craving for a taboo relationship in Gilead. Both the Commander and Offred yearn for the transcendent sort of companionship that has been outlawed by the state. In the Commander’s case, he searches for understanding and a physical/emotional connection with his handmaids. Offred, for her part, finds herself drawn to Nick. She even appears to be content in the society once they begin sleeping together.

Lastly, the man and woman shared illicit relationships outside of marriage. The Commander claims that since Serena Joy cannot understand him nor fulfill his need for an intelligent emotional connection, he is forced to search for it in his handmaids. Offred criticizes this condescendingly, despite the fact that she, too, took part on an affair with Luke.

Having pointed these resemblances out, I must now address the issue of why the author might have created her characters in such a way. I believe Atwood meant to show that circumstances determine how we act, and that people who might at first appear “villainous” or “evil” are in fact not as different from those who seem to be “victims.”