The Power

“It doesn't matter that she shouldn't, that she never would. What matters is that she could, if she wanted. The power to hurt is a kind of wealth.”

Gosh. The moment I finished this last night, my girlfriend (who'd finished it the week before) turned to me and asked me what I thought. I stared at her for a second, muttered “need to process,” and lay flat on my back on the bed, eyes closed, brain buzzing.

I still feel like that. I'm still not sure I can put my thoughts into words, or even if my thoughts have fully formed yet. But I know I'll be thinking about this book for a long time.

This was an uncomfortable analysis of our gendered society and history, and how the power might (literally) change hands with one violent catalyst.

It was simultaneously uplifting and terrifying. I found myself cheering the women's revolts, even sometimes their righteous violence. Other times, I felt sick, balking at the idea that in a position of almost absolute power, women would become the same kind of cruel, vicious oppressors that men have been throughout history. I struggled, through some of the book, to believe that this would be possible, that women would use the same tools of oppression—patronization, physical abuse, rape—not only to maintain their higher status in the world, but just to show that they could. But I do think it made sense, in this specific set of circumstances, with the abrupt change in women's potential for and access to violence, that society could change this drastically and this quickly.

And that's a very uncomfortable thought. Because I truly cannot say that this fictional world was any better or any worse overall than the world as it is now. It was the same. Except in this world, this fictional world, I would be the one with the power. If I could really have it, would I want this power? Would I want all women to have this power? If it meant we could protect ourselves? If it meant we never had to fear for our lives or our bodies or our freedom, ever again? There's a quote I marked, a quote that feels so hopeful:

“She finds she's doing that more often now, just laughing. There's a sort of constant ease, as if it's high summer all the time inside her.”

This is what it's like to know no one can hurt you. Would you say no to that kind of power? Even if you knew not everyone would use it well? Would you trade in your fear for someone else's?

My answer scares me: I don't know.

—

tw for rape, forced surgery, violence