


































DLR Journal


119

By Grace Goze

ABSTRACT

Offred Versus June:
The Purpose of the Protagonist

 in The Handmaid's Tale

Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale has recently made its way back into popular culture and 

media. This is a consequence of the streaming service Hulu launching a web television series based 

on the novel. The protagonist, Offred, plays a crucial role in both tellings of the story, but that 

role shifts depending on the medium. Within the novel, Offred lacks the characteristics of a hero, 

demonstrating complacency in her tortured position. Meanwhile, the Offred of the Hulu series is a 

rebel, an empowered woman who refuses oppression. These intentional portrayals of Offred speak 

to the inevitable distinctions between visual and written storytelling.



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 As screen adaptations of books continue to flourish, it is no surprise that Margaret Atwood’s 

politically charged novel, The Handmaid’s Tale, has become an award-winning Hulu exclusive series. 

The series, which shares the name of its inspiration, was an instant hit among viewers who praised 

its relevancy to today’s political and social issues, especially those surrounding women’s rights. The 

dystopian plot of the show and novel are essentially the same; Offred shares her day-to-day life as 

a handmaid in the nation of Gilead. Gilead, which was formerly the United States, is undergoing 

a fertility crisis, forcing them to adopt polyamorous relationships modeled after the bible story of 

Rachel and Jacob. As a handmaid, Offred is forced to carry a child for a powerful family in Gilead. The 

nature of this dystopian ritual is a paradox, for handmaids are exalted for their fertility but slaves to a 

system with particularly cruel and unusual punishments.

 However, one could certainly say the Offred that lives between the pages of Atwood’s novel 

and the Offred that is brought to life on screen by actress Elisabeth Moss are two different characters. 

Within the 1985 novel, Offred’s resistance towards the government is very subtle, leaving her status 

as a hero debatable. On screen, Offred is shown as a rebel, overtly committing transgressions against 

the Republic of Gilead. This stark contrast leads one to question why Atwood’s original Offred acts 

the way she does and how these actions contribute to the themes of the novel as a whole. While she is 

the main character of The Handmaid’s Tale, Offred is not its hero. She carries potential for heroism, 

as amplified and utilized in the Hulu series by the same name, but ultimately, Atwood choses to keep 

her indifferent and complicit, which both strengthens the realism and warning within the novel. 

Further, Offred’s complacency highlights the grueling nature of dystopias and their ability to strip an 

individual of identity due to totalitarian rule.

 The debate over Offred’s heroism within The Handmaid’s Tale is not a new one. For as long 

as the book has been in print, scholars have argued over Offred’s role in her own story and what that 

implies about the rest of the novel’s messages. When analyzing the textual evidence, it is clear she 

is not the story’s hero. The first place a reader can see this is Offred’s complicity in the Republic of 

Gilead. This society thrives on the oppression of women. Offred lives in this world not reading, not 

writing, and not making her own choices because its leaders have an overly conservative outlook on 

the role of women. While it can be agreed that Offred’s values do not necessarily match those of 



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Gilead’s, she still voluntarily acts according to those values. Looking at her position as a handmaid, 

Offred does not feel as if she was forced into this position. She describes the Ceremony by saying it 

is far from “making love”; however, she reflects, “Nor does rape cover it: nothing is going on here 

that I haven’t signed up for. There wasn’t a lot of choice but there was some, and this is what I chose” 

(Atwood 94). Although all her options contained unfavorable consequences, Offred recognizes 

she was still able to choose a different fate. It is true that her chances of survival are highest as a 

handmaid, but in making herself one, Offred willingly gives up the rights to her body and her identity, 

a consequence that is common in dystopian novels. 

 By choosing to be a handmaid, Offred “fails to maintain her identity . . . because in Gilead even 

apparent forms of resistance or attempts to create, maintain, or grasp an identity frequently turn into 

complicity with the regime” (Stillman and Johnson 75). Understanding this helps deconstruct the 

obvious counterargument that Offred participates in transgressions against Gilead, particularly by 

having a relationship with Nick. While this relationship is illegal and Offred risks her life by pursuing 

it, the very existence of it has Offred fulfilling Gilead’s expectations of her as a woman. She enters the 

relationship to satisfy her desire to be touched, which “directly enmesh[es] her into the system of sex, 

power, and corruption that characterizes the actual workings of Gilead and powerfully construct her 

as a being who defines herself by her body” (Stillman and Johnson 76). This exemplifies the dystopia’s 

control over Offred. It is built to put her in a box she cannot escape. Instead of strengthening her 

sense of self, this relationship buries Offred’s motivation to escape. She decides, “I no longer want 

to leave, escape, cross the border to freedom. I want to be here, with Nick, where I can get at him” 

(Atwood 271). It is here the true colors of Offred’s illegal relationship show themselves; it is not 

a rebellious act, but rather one of desperation, showing that Offred, like the rest of her society, is 

satisfied by a few compensations. Her environment is successfully working to melt her personal goal 

of freedom by making her one with its corruption.

 Although these actions can clearly classify Offred as less than heroic, it is also often argued that 

Offred is incapable of rebelling. The restraints of her position force her into a victim role she is unable 

to shake. Along these lines, scholars have claimed that as a victim, the fact that Offred’s story exists is 

resistance enough; “The handmaid’s voice breaks silence, for she is heard. [They] can finally neither



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appropriate nor invalidate her voice” (Jones 11). Offred’s position as a handmaid forces her into 

a life of silence. The totalitarian government censors her from expressing criticism of their rule. 

Figures, such as Aunt Lydia, work to reshape her mind and doubt her identity, leading some to 

believe “her individual speech produces a profusion of words and desires that are not allowed . . . . 

She revives the capacity for individual and spiritual emotional life” (Staels 49). This interpretation 

is important to consider. Offred’s narration is a significant tool used by Atwood to deliver the story 

with a more humanizing touch as opposed to having an omniscient, outside narrator. The survival of 

her story allows her to exist, yet the survival of her story reveals “that Offred has played a role in her 

own oppression, whether or not she can do anything about it” because as with most dystopias, the 

continuation of the undesirable society comes from a failure to act (Weiss 122).

 Memories narrated by Offred of the time before the coup illustrate how complicity and 

complacency have always been a part of her identity. Although it can be argued that Offred’s “memory 

of the past brings back to life the excluded pole in Gilead, such as the existence of love and humanity,” 

more prominently the memories display how Offred favors inaction (Staels 49). Her inaction in the 

time before diminishes her claim to victimhood because this is what ultimately led to the existence 

of Gilead. Throughout the entirety of the novel, Offred overtly comments on her political and social 

indifference concerning her rights. Profound but chilling, Offred notes,

 We lived by ignoring . . . . There were stories in the newspapers, of course, corpses in ditches

 or the woods, bludgeoned to death or mutilated, interfered with, as they used to say, but they

 were about other women, and the men who did such things were other men . . . . We were the

 people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of the print.   

 It gave us more freedom. (56-57)

It cannot be an accident how closely this quote mirrors the famous German Lutheran pastor Martin 

Niemöller’s response  concerning the Nazi’s rise to power. Addressing the cowardice of bystanders, 

Neimöller warned:

 First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out – Because I was not a socialist. Then   

 they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out – Because I was not a trade unionist.

  Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out – Because I was not a Jew. Then they 



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 came for me – and there was no one left to speak for me. 

The connection between the two sends a powerful message to the reader. It is possible Atwood 

wants her audience to see the reality of choosing to ignore major societal issues like pollution of the 

environment and discrimination. Incidentally, both of these contribute to the fall of the United States 

in this novel: pollution causing the fertility crisis and inequality of women leading to their purely 

domestic lives. 

 Offred’s attitude towards the persecution of others prior to the coup directly impacts where she 

ends up. Some have gone as far as to say Offred “is more like a ‘good German’ than a freedom fighter” 

(Greene 311). Mimicking the creation of Nazi Germany, Gilead was birthed out of many people 

sharing Offred’s view: If the issue does not directly involve me, I can ignore it, and it will go away. The 

problem with this logic, of course, is that the issue does not go away – it only grows. 

 This fault of Offred is highlighted by the juxtaposition between she and the other women 

in her life, specifically Moira and her mother. Where Offred “lacks courage [and] is too apolitical 

to take a stand as her right are being abolished,” the audience sees Moira and her mother taking 

a strong stance against the patriarchal society (Weiss 134). Focusing on Moira, her resistance and 

awareness are easily noted. She not only is brave enough to attempt an escape, but she also is able to 

maintain her wit and humor after being condemned to Jezebel’s. Before Gilead, Offred remembers 

Moira addressing the dominating nature of men in the context of sex; “the balance of power was 

equal between women so sex was an even-steven transaction” (Atwood 172). As a response to this, 

Offred mocks Moira and trivializes the issue she was trying to comment on. Similarly, when Offred 

recalls her mother, an active feminist, her tone is not one of admiration or interest. In fact, she thinks 

critically of her mother remembering, “They ignored me, and I resented them. My mother and her 

rowdy friends. I didn’t see why she had to dress that way . . .  or to swear so much” (180). It is evident 

that Offred has lived her whole life uninterested in taking a stance on anything. Choosing to only be 

concerned with her personal life, Offred fails to see how these issues directly affect her ability to live 

the life she holds so dearly. In writing Offred this way, Atwood hammers home the nature of dystopian 

societies. Atwood is choosing to focus on the average person’s response to oppression rather than 

making Offred the savior of the situation. 



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 There is evidence to support that Offred can recognize the mistakes of her past and regrets 

not acting sooner, but ultimately, these feelings are not enough to motivate her to change her ways. 

Instead, Offred often resorts to denial or romanticizes that someone else will act on her behalf. During 

her conversation with Moira at Jezebel’s, Offred is disappointed that Moira’s attitude towards Gilead 

reflects her own:  “I don’t want her to be like me. Give in, go along, save her skin. That is what it 

comes down to. I want gallantry from her, swashbuckling, heroism, single-handed combat. Something 

I lack” (249).

 Comments like this drive home the complacency of Offred. She continues to wait for change 

to come about without contributing because “knowing that she herself cannot commit such unlikely 

heroics, Offred also fails to think about undertaking the single, specific actions that could aid 

resistance to Gilead (both before and after the coup)” (Stillman and Johnson 80). Further, as the 

novel draws to a close, Offred gives into this reality. She acknowledges what she has become, and no 

longer works to fight it. Following the death of Ofglen, she laments, “everything I’ve resisted, comes 

flooding in . . . . I want to keep on living, in any form. I resign my body freely, to the use of others. 

They can do what they like with me. I am abject.” Most disturbingly, she adds, “I feel, for the first 

time, their true power” (286). In this Atwood creates another undeniably famous parallel; this time to 

well-known dystopian novel, 1984. Offred’s surrender of herself to the regime mirrors Winston’s final 

moments of “re-education,” resulting in his love for Big Brother. Similarly, Offred has been broken 

to the point where she resigns her ability to fight back. The government’s presence at this point is too 

overwhelming, highlighting how dystopias function on their people’s hopelessness. 

 As a reader, one must wonder what Atwood’s purpose was in centering her novel around such 

a weak protagonist. For in the end, albeit Offred does presumably escape, in more ways than one, 

Gilead has won the battle of Offred’s will. Before getting in the van, Offred is fully willing to continue 

her life as a handmaid, resigning her body to the use of Gilead and her relationship with Nick. Offred 

is not a hero and not legitimately a victim; she is just an average person, which is exactly who she is 

supposed to be. The weaknesses of Offred reflect the weaknesses of the average person. It is unlikely 

that the audience of the novel would survive any better than Offred does, which highlights the 

cautionary part of this cautionary tale. It has been written that “our own cowardice or selfishness



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does not excuse Offred’s; instead, her cowardice and complicity convict us all, because we share it” 

(Stillman and Johnson 137). This is what makes Offred and her world so real; it is grounded in history 

and the most common faults among all humans. 

 Likewise, her lack of rebellion is a characteristic of the dystopian genre, for “Dystopian regimes 

are then kept in place by the acquiescence of a complacent citizenry that accepts and may even enjoy 

its comforting oppression. The common image of a dystopian society is that it is the exact opposite 

of a utopia; in the latter, people are generally happy, while in the former, they are miserable” (Weiss 

134). Offred is no more than an example of how dystopian regimes keep their power. While dystopias 

are characterized by the misery of their people and utopias the happiness of their people, “the two 

genres mirror each other in many ways, particularly in that most residents of dystopias are happy 

or at the very least satisfied, and the (supposed) rebels are anomalies in their societies” (Wiess 134). 

Arguably, Atwood does not want to write the story of an anomaly. The story of the rebel is often one 

where good triumphs over evil, but the overall message can appear weak. The fear evoked from the 

reader that they will become Offred, a woman trapped in hero-less situation, is far more motivating 

than believing every seemingly doomed society has a secret, unstoppable rebel in its midst. 

 It can be said, then, that Offred’s purpose is that of a “reverse role model.” Readers are meant 

to criticize her actions and hopefully be inspired not to follow them. The book thrives on Offred’s 

indifference because the reader is inside her head. She paints her world bleakly, sharing the injustices 

of her society. Her narrated thoughts are not only extraoardinarly detailed, but they are the strongest 

things characterizing Offred since she so rarely speaks. This, of course, leads to the discussion of why 

an on-screen Offred departs so much from novel Offred. While all types of story-telling are built on 

the same concepts, visual story-telling and written story-telling are very different beasts. 

 That being said, visually, Offred must be a hero. The most obvious reasoning being that a 

rebellious protagonist is inherently more interesting to watch. Undoubtedly, the stakes in Atwood’s 

novel are high, but they do not necessarily rely on heavy action from any of the characters. Conflict 

and tension are created from the paranoia inside Offred’s head. For example, when Offred’s 

Commander, the man whose child she must carry, asks her to break several rules by playing Scrabble 

with him, Offred’s narration lasts for pages; whereas, on screen, there is less time dedicated to this act



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simply because Offred does not need to describe the Commander, his office, and the way she is feeling. 

The dystopia is shown through set and acting. The many elements of production work to create its 

tone, mood, and appearance. Although the Hulu series does utilize voiceover to share some of Offred’s 

inner thoughts, the show is not reliant on it, relying more on physical movement, vocal inflection, and 

facials to communicate Offred’s state of mind. These techniques are privileges only granted to visual-

storytelling. In this case, showing Offred as a hero has more effect than leaving her complicit. Where 

the novel forces the audience to confront their complacency, the show forces the audience to admire a 

strong woman who speaks out against injustice. 

 The Hulu series makes Offred easy to admire. Right from the start, they establish the strength 

in her character by directly departing from the novel. At the end of the first episode, the viewer learns 

that Offred’s real name is “June,” a name that is used in the novel, but is never confirmed as Offred’s 

true identity. June declares her name while staring right at the viewer (Moss). This scene frames 

the tone for the rest of the season. Already, in the very beginnings of the show, June is defeating 

an obstacle Offred could never overcome — holding on to an identity that is completely her own, 

unshaped by her life in Gilead. Furthermore, June acts in situations a closer reader knows Offred 

would never participate in. Later in the season, June openly rebels against Aunt Lydia during a 

ritualized event much like the book’s Salvaging, an event where the handmaids are ordered to stone a 

rapist to death. In this scene, Aunt Lydia commands the handmaids to stone Janine to death because 

of a crime she has committed. June refuses and inspires the rest of the handmaids to follow suit. She 

acts fearlessly (Moss). This attitude contradicts a timid Offred who upon hearing of Ofglen’s suicide 

thinks, “I’ll say anything they like, I’ll incriminate anyone. . . .  I’ll confess to any crime, I’ll end up 

hanging from a hook on the Wall” (Atwood 285). While the context of the world remains the same, the 

way June interacts with it is starkly different. 

 Alongside the need for more action, it is possible the Hulu series cashes in on Offred’s potential 

to be a hero to enhance the show’s attempt to be relevant in today’s political and social climate. In 

order to play up its renewed relevancy, the show utilizes modern day technology and concepts, such as 

smartphones and Uber, in June’s flashbacks. It takes Atwood’s dystopian world and puts it in today's 

terms. Today, for lack of better phrasing, the strong woman is “in.” With social movements like the



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Women’s March and the #MeToo movement, the portrayal of women in media has become more 

important than ever. Despite what an indifferent Offred teaches the audience in the pages of The 

Handmaid’s Tale, it very well could not translate to screen. Given the time and the medium for 

retelling this story, it is far more resonant for the audience to see a rebellious June. Atwood’s original 

themes and messages remain the same; they are just reframed through a protagonist that takes action 

and inspires the audience to do the same.

 Being that Offred is the story’s narrator and sole voice, it is crucial to examine her role in 

the larger themes the novel addresses. No matter the lens, historical, feminist, or political, Offred’s 

interpretation of the dystopian world around her impacts any literary analysis of The Handmaid’s 

Tale. As mentioned above, Offred is the narrator; she is the story’s protagonist, but she is not its hero. 

After closely examining the text, it is clear to see that Offred’s potential for heroism is never reached 

within the pages of Atwood’s novel. Despite her ability to narrator her story to the reader, Offred’s 

complicity and complacency within Gilead, and before Gilead, proves her to be playing a part in her 

own oppression. She plays this part to the point that she can barely be considered a victim, especially 

when compared to the resistance of her mother, Moira, and Ofglen. 

 As the story is retold via Hulu, the character of Offred is in many ways reformed. To reiterate, 

Hulu’s Offred is rebellious and not easily silenced. This Offred is better known as June, and her 

characterization inspires viewers to rally behind her in her fight to change Gilead. Meanwhile, 

Atwood’s Offred forces readers to confront their own sense of indifference and ignorance when 

it comes to politics and their basic rights. This evolution of Offred’s character and the plot of The 

Handmaid’s Tale forces one to consider the role of the story as time passes and old issues show 

themselves with new faces. Although these two versions of Offred contradict one another, neither are 

wrong. It can be argued that Offred’s purpose is to explore dystopian literary tradition and teach the 

audience about awareness. The novel Offred demonstrates the consequences of choosing to ignore 

our surroundings while on-screen Offred shows us the rewards of becoming aware. Regardless of the 

tactics, both the original medium and the renewed medium successfully work to spread Atwood’s 

commentary and cautionary tale. They use a dystopian environment to elicit responses from two 

different minded characters. Simultaneously, as the story continues to spread, interpretations of



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Offred will always continue to emerge and evolve. 



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WORKS CITED

Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale. Anchor Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC,

 1998.

Greene, Gayle. “Choice of Evils.” The Women's Review of Books, vol. 3, no. 10, 1986, pp. 14–15.    

 JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/4019952.

Howells, Coral Ann. "Science Fiction in the Feminine: The Handmaid's Tale." Contemporary Literary   

 Criticism, edited by Jeffrey W. Hunter, vol. 135, Gale, 2001. Literature Criticism Online, http://

 link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/OGCUVS874920094/LCO?u=munc80314&sid=LOC&xid=cfffd   

 8de.

Jones, Libby Falk. “Breaking Silences in Feminist Dystopias.” Utopian Studies, no. 3, 1991, pp. 7–11.

 JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/20718920.

Moss, Elisabeth, performer. The Handmaid’s Tale. Hulu, 2017-2018. 

Staels, Hilde. "Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale: Resistance Through Narrating.”  

 Contemporary Literary Criticism, edited by Jeffrey W. Hunter, vol. 135, Gale, 2001.   

Literature Criticism Online, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/QCGZKR24428 9243LCO?u=munc

 80314&sid=LCO&xid=48e60018.

Stillman, Peter G., and S. Anne Johnson. “Identity, Complicity, and Resistance in The Handmaid's    

 Tale.” Utopian Studies, vol. 5, no. 2, 1994, pp. 70–86. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/20719314. 

Weiss, Allan. “Offred’s Complicity and Dystopian Tradition in Margaret Atwood’s The

 Handmaid’s Tale.” Studies in Canadian Literature., vol. 34, no. 1, Jan. 2009, pp. 120–41.


