The Handmaid's Tale and the Cost of Silence: Who Will They Come for Next?

Based on Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel of the same name, “The Handmaid’s Tale” premiered as a television series on Hulu in April 2017. Created by Bruce Miller, the show quickly gained critical acclaim for its chilling adaptation of Atwood’s dystopian vision. The series is directed by various filmmakers, including Reed Morano, Mike Barker, and Daina Reid. It stars Elisabeth Moss as June Osborne, a woman forced into servitude in the totalitarian regime of Gilead. 

The adaptation stays true to the novel’s themes of oppression and resistance, while it expands on its characters and world-building to reflect contemporary issues.

One of the most common criticisms of the television adaptation is the lack of diversity in its cast. Some viewers argue that, given the racial realities of our world, a dystopia like Gilead would likely oppress people of color even more brutally. But when I hear this, I can’t help but think beyond that. If women of color, if marginalized communities disappear, who will the powerful turn against next? The answer is simple: women. Any and all women, regardless of race. And in many ways, that is exactly the world we are living in today.

The idea that only the most privileged can escape oppression is a dangerous illusion—one that “The Handmaid’s Tale” shatters. Women like Serena Joy believed they were exempt from the horrors of Gilead. She helped craft the very policies that stripped women of their rights, only to become a prisoner of her own making. Serena thought she would remain powerful because she was one of the main architects, one of the favored. But in a system built on controlling women, power is never permanent for any woman.

Margaret Atwood, the author, has repeatedly said that nothing in her novel is purely fiction. Every form of oppression in Gilead is inspired by real events from history. The forced surrogacy imposed on handmaids, for instance, echoes the practices of the Argentine dictatorship (1976-1983), where pregnant political prisoners were executed after giving birth, with their babies handed over to military families. The strict dress codes imposed on women in Gilead resemble policies enforced by the Taliban, where women were and continue to be required to wear full-body coverings and are denied basic freedoms. Additionally, the novel’s systematic stripping away of women’s financial independence is reminiscent of the historical reality in the United States before the 1970s, when many women could not open bank accounts or obtain credit cards without a husband's permission. Atwood has drawn from these and other historical and contemporary realities to craft a dystopia that feels uncomfortably familiar.

The situation is a chilling reminder that power seeks to silence women—any woman—who dares to speak uncomfortable truths. During a House Oversight Committee hearing, Rep. AyanaPressley (D-Mass.) attempted to bring up the devastating reality of rape, only to be yelled over and denied the right to finish her statement by Rep. James Comer (R-Ky.). 

It doesn’t matter where you stand politically—this is not about parties. It is about humanity. When a woman says the word rape, you listen. You stop and you listen. And yet, powerful men in government—men who claim to represent democracy and justice—feel entitled to shout over any woman daring to name something so real and harrowing.

The world is mirroring Gilead in ways that should terrify us. The erosion of reproductive rights, the silencing of women in political spaces, the normalization of treating women’s voices as interruptions rather than essential contributions—it all leads to the same chilling conclusion: If we do not stop them, we will no longer have a voice at all.

Serena Joy believed she could carve out a place for herself in a world that oppressed other women. She thought she could rewrite the rules to benefit herself while subjugating others. She was wrong. Women who think they are immune to this oppression because of privilege—whether by race, wealth or status—should take note. The systems that silence one group of women will, in time, turn against them all.

The lesson of “The Handmaid’s Tale” is not just a warning of what could happen. It is a mirror reflecting what is already happening. And for those of us who can still speak, now is the time to be louder than ever. Because if we don’t stop them now, soon we may not be allowed to speak at all.

The Handmaid's Tale (2017)

Elisabeth Moss in The Handmaid's Tale (2017)