Patriarchy's Paradox

In chapter 37 of The Handmaid’s Tale, Offred’s commander smuggles her into an underground club. There, she is reunited with Moira, who assumes that she is also an escort. When Offred tells her that her commander snuck her into the club disguised as an escort, Moira says “Some of them do that, they get a kick out of it. It’s like screwing on the altar or something; your gang are supposed to be such chaste vessels. They like to see you all painted up. Just another crummy power trip.” (243) This quote immediately drew me in, as it encapsulates the hypocrisy and control at the heart of Gilead, but also in reality.

My first impression of this quote was how Moira’s blunt cynicism cut through the suffocating oppression that Gilead imposes on communication. She doesn’t speak with restraint, or through some kind of filter, and they are completely un-survailanced in the bathroom. This authenticity emphasizes the truth in her statement. In the book, Moira has always been a symbol of defiance and this encounter reignites that or Offed. For instance, when Offred starts having covert meetings with the commander, she’s agonizingly aware of the power imbalance between them, and how easy it would be for him to take advantage of her. She imagines herself stabbing him in the throat with a piece of metal from the toilet, like Moira threatened to do with an aunt in order to escape the Red Center. That act of defiance mirrors Moira’s situation at the club; it’s not outright defeat, but gritty adaptation that Ofred envies and draws strength from. By escaping the fate of being a Handmaid, and therefore a “chaste vessel”, Moira gets certain freedoms that handmaids don’t get, like slightly more individuality, socialization, and she’s able to drink and smoke. Yet, she’s still used for her body and is abused by Gilead.

Moira’s response also unsettled me because of the way it exposes the commodification of women’s bodies in such a visceral way in our current reality as well. Every Halloween, most “sexy” costumes are portraying people like nuns, schoolgirls, and nurses. These costumes are exaggerated caricatures of women whose roles are supposed to be unsexual, designed to cater to the male gaze. Moira’s line, “they like to see you all painted up,” perfectly captures this, implying that the appeal lies in visually conquering women who are supposed to be off-limits. In Gilead, the commanders preach chastity for handmaids, yet they secretly revel in defiling that purity. This is clearly illustrated by Moira describing Offred’s relationship with her commander as “just another crummy power tip.”—commanders bringing their handmaids to the club is a common occurrence.

As Moira puts it, “it’s like screwing on the altar […] Just another crummy power trip.”; to disregard the sanctity of something for your own pleasure, like “screwing on the altar” is a power move in the context of the patriarchy. That same sexual assertiveness is not expected of women under the patriarchy, which is why we see a lot less “sexy” priests, schoolboys or nurses from men. It’s also why women like Offred are designed to be “chaste vessels,” who are defiled as a power move, which underscores the novel’s critique of religious fundamentalism as a tool for patriarchal dominance. Emotionally, this parallel left me grappling with discomfort, as it forces me to confront how Gilead’s distortions aren’t so far removed from societal norms, making the novel feel urgently relevant.

Building on this, to disregard the sanctity of something sacred, like “screwing on the altar,” isn’t just a sexual act in Gilead; it’s a power trip that reinforces the regime’s control. Women like Offred are designed to be “chaste vessels,” their bodies regulated and objectified to maintain the illusion of moral purity, while figures like Moira, who escape that role, are still abused in different ways—traded for the elite’s entertainment. This reveals how Gilead offers the illusion of choice; both women are exploited sexually, just for different reasons. While Offred is a vessel, Moira is a prostitute. In the end, as Moira points out, both are objectified by their oppressors. Moira’s adaptation at the club might offer her a semblance of agency, but it’s still within Gilead’s confines, which made me question the sustainability of rebellion in such an authoritarian world. What intrigued me most was the irony: Moira, once the epitome of bold escape, now embodies a tempered defiance.

Ultimately, this section lingers with me because it blends personal intrigue with broader discomfort, mirroring the novel’s exploration of purity versus perversion and resistance versus resignation. Moira’s words didn’t just critique the Commander’s actions; they illuminated the insidious ways power corrupts intimacy.