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“The Handmaid’s Tale” 1.6: Oranges Are the Only Fruit

We begin this episode still in the throes of passion. Literally. Interspersed with the continuing scene from last week of Offred and Nick making love is Offred standing on a bridge watching ice flow past in the river (quintessentially Massachusetts), thinking about how many times each of them got off that night while also declaring it can never happen again.

The Handmaids are cleaning the hanging wall, which, Janine comments happily, her face smeared with blood, is “like painting.” A few screws are still loose with her. Aunt Lydia tells them a diplomatic delegation is coming, and like some totalitarian regimes around the world, Gilead needs to put a nice face on its repression. Offred learns that the delegation will, in fact, be visiting her very home that evening, a piece of gossip passed on to her by another Handmaid who learned it from her Commander. Janine notes the wall looks weird without the usual bodies hanging from it. “I guess you get used to things being one way,” she remarks casually. Like being a sex slave in a Christian theocracy or saying weird things like “Blessed be the fruit”?

The scene, by the way, is beautifully shot. Bloody water runs off the stairs and the Handmaids, dressed in red and white, file off past the wall dyed red and white. Each episode seems to happen a month apart, because episode five appeared to be late fall, while we’re clearly now in winter.

Back home, Rita tells Offred that Serena Joy wants to see her in her room, and implies she’s rooting for Offred. Offred goes to the bedroom, where she stares at the empty bed that is her torture while she waits for Serena Joy. Serena Joy tells her that a Mexican delegation will be coming and they need to make a good impression. Offred jokes, “Red’s my color,” and Serena Joy almost cracks a small smile. They are two women trapped in the same system, but rather than working together, Serena Joy has chosen instead to wield her power against Offred like a truncheon when she feels threatened or powerless. Serena Joy reminds Offred to “speak wisely” if asked about her life.

Only, she can’t fully control what Offred may say in front of outsiders. She can imply retribution for anything said out of line, but in the end she can only hope that Offred finds the threat sufficient incentive to remain pliable, and Serena Joy knows that. As does Offred. Later, Serena Joy comes upon the Commander and has a flashback of her own, to when she was a career woman awaiting a conference call and they are sneaking off for a quickie during the day.

The future Commander complains he’s not her “boytoy” and asks her to write a poem as they breathe heavily into each other. Then they begin reciting Scripture to each other. The Commander puts his hand on her stomach, asking God to bless their union and make it fruitful. It was a happier time for Serena Joy, and clearly she views her barrenness as the root of their current alienation. In the present, since the Commander is nervous about the Mexican delegation, she tries to boost his ego by telling him that it is the delegation that should be nervous about meeting him, a powerful Commander, but he doesn’t answer. His indifference to her is another blow to Serena Joy’s heart.

Offred encounters Nick providing security/supervising downstairs. He asks how she is and tells her she looks pretty. Awww, it’s like they’re dating. She jokes that she wore her outfit, the same one all Handmaids wear all the time, just for him. They allow their hands to touch, an almost obscenely intimate move in such a public setting, and one that would get them killed if they were caught.

The Commander then appears to bring Offred to meet the delegation. Offred makes the mistake of assuming the man in the room is the delegation head, and is flustered to find that it’s actually a woman. Woah, so not Gilead. Mrs. Castillo is curious about Handmaids. The delegation wants to know her name “from before.” Offred explains she doesn’t use it anymore, and the Commander jumps in to explain that she uses a patronymic: a name derived from the head of the household to symbolize her sacred status. She is Offred, because he is Fred. Of course, in reality the fancy Latin name is just another way to whitewash the truth: she is chattel whose name actually denotes possession: she is Fred’s possession.

Mrs. Castillo asks if Offred chose to be a Handmaid. Offred lies and says yes. As she is leaving, Mrs. Castillo asks one final question: “Are you happy?” The world goes into slow motion as Offred weighs her answer. Finally, she answers carefully that she has found happiness. It’s a truth-she has found some shred of happiness with Nick-but only a partial truth masking a greater lie. It satisfies Mrs. Castillo, however, and the Commander and Nick breathe a sigh of relief.

As the delegation relaxes in the living room, they discuss agriculture. Gilead has returned to organic methods and is doing well agriculturally now while Mexico is still struggling as a result of climate change. The men want to talk trade, but Mrs. Castillo is more interested in learning more about the opinions of the women present. After all, four wives sit silently on the other side of the room; what do they think of Gilead? It’s wonderful. They’re blessed. “Never mistake a woman’s meekness for weakness,” Mrs. Castillo recites, her eyes meeting Serena Joy’s. It makes the Commander uncomfortable, because it turns out that it’s from a book Serena Joy herself wrote pre-Gilead called “A Woman’s Place.” Mrs. Castillo re-read it on the plane, she says.

She notes that Serena Joy was arrested for inciting rioting. Serena Joy claims she had a temper, dismissing her past, but also defends the idea that women needed to go back to more domestic roles. Mrs. Castillo presses further, asking her if she could have imagined this future. Serena Joy deflects, citing a 78% decrease in carbon emissions in three years. Mrs. Castillo finishes by asking if Serena Joy could have imagined a society in which women can no longer read her book…or anything else. Mrs. Castillo is perceptive. She hasn’t missed the social cues in the room, the marginalization of women, and their nervous discomfort. Serena Joy admits she could not, but tries to salvage the situation by talking about how God rewards the righteous and those who sacrifice with blessings, an attitude the men of Gilead in the room cheer.

After the delegation is seen off, a frustrated Commander complains they shouldn’t have invited the Wives. Serena Joy counters that the optics of not having them there, at a home, would have been worse. The Commander growls that their currency will collapse in six months without that trade agreement, and preemptively blames the tangent about Serena Joy’s past for possibly derailing talks. Serena Joy tries to talk about the upcoming meetings and ways to make up for it, but the Commander calls it a waste of time. Serena Joy asks whether he’ll go over the details with her, but he has no interest in spending any time with her. Serena Joy, alone, is once again cast to the side like an unwanted rag doll.

Back in the past, Serena Joy is cutting flowers. Her hair is half down, the first time we’ve ever seen it not in a bun or ponytail. The future Commander comes in wearing a polo shirt under his tan linen suit. Two of his fellow religious zealots are being tailed by the FBI, and he complains that many of his compatriots are just talk without the faith to see things through. He has calls to make, but Serena Joy orders him to the movies with her instead. While they wait for the movie to start, she tells him about a book idea: fertility as a national resource. Reproduction as a moral imperative. Oh God, she’s the architect of the Handmaids.

The Commander receives a text. His group, still unnamed, will launch three separate attacks in three weeks: against Congress, the White House, and the Supreme Court (referencing an earlier episode when we learned that Congress had been slaughtered by terrorists). “Praise be,” Serena Joy responds. “Things have to change.” She believes that they are saving people; doing God’s work. Back in the present, she lights one of her thin cigarettes in the bedroom. Better doesn’t always mean better for everyone.

Upstairs, Nick comes to let Offred know that the Commander wants to see her in his office. Before they head down though, they make out like teenagers in the hallway. It doesn’t matter if Offred truly likes Nick or not; it’s the first emotion and connection and connection she’s had with someone else in who knows how long. In his study, the Commander is fuming about the Mexican delegation. Who are they to judge? They have food shortages and an unstable political situation.

When the Commander catches her Offred daydreaming, he reminds her petulantly that being in his study is a privilege and then kicks her out. Offred stops at the door, however, scheming and steeling herself, then turns back around and begs to stay. The implication is clear to the Commander: she is making a sexual offer that appeals to his desire to control. He commands her to kiss him like she means it. He wants power over women (this seems to be why he’s so distant from Serena Joy, who he probably perceives as controlling him), but then he sends her off. Back in her bathroom, Offred brushes her teeth and mouth furiously until they bleed.

In the next scene, the Handmaids are gathered in a hotel lobby, chaperoned by Aunt Lydia and Serena Joy. Serena Joy looks over them and asks to have the “damaged ones” removed. To Serena Joy, they are “bruised apples” that shouldn’t be visible at the top of the crate to onlookers, in this case the Mexican delegation. It is here we see that it’s not just a small number of Handmaids who have been punished for one sin or another; at least two have had their eyes put out, one is missing a hand, and others had their faces marred. As the Handmaids file into a massive ballroom, New Ofglen is awed, while another Handmaid comments she thinks she went to a Batmitzvah there once.

In a flashback to the past, Serena Joy is sitting outside what looks like the room of a courthouse. She has notes prepared to speak to the leaders of this religious revolution, but the Commander comes out and says they won’t let her speak. She’s been a major part of the movement since the beginning, but they (the men) don’t want her involvement anymore. Unbeknownst to her, Serena Joy achieved a Pyrrhic victory. When she leaves, another man comes out to talk to the Commander, spouting nonsense about how by pursuing academia and careers women forgot their true place (pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen, naturally). They won’t let that happen again.

In the present, Serena Joy walks into the hall and joins the Commander at a table. He’s asking about the “oranges,” but Serena Joy replies that timing is everything. She is still controlling parts of the show from behind the scenes. She then gives the opening speech, recognizing the Handmaids for their contributions to Gilead. At the end, the centerpiece of the evening is revealed: the children born to the Handmaids. Children run everywhere as the members of the delegation look on in awe and overwhelming emotion. Even Mrs. Castillo’s heart is melted as children of all colors and sizes run exuberantly around the hall, and it’s clear the trade deal is sealed. The Handmaids are much more ambivalent. Probably some of those children belong to them. One of the Handmaids starts pumping Offred for information. Offred dismisses the importance of what she’s heard. What do a few oranges matter? The other Handmaid says it’s not oranges. Gilead has only one item of value to trade: Handmaids. They’re all just bargaining chips. Offred’s mind is blown.

In the past once more, Serena Joy is starting to create what will eventually be the place where Offred lives with them. She is putting the teal dresses of a Wife in the closet while workmen hammer and movers bring in furniture. The Commander comes in and shows off his new suit. He’s going to meet the senior leaders. Serena Joy should be going as well, he says, but lets the matter drop immediately. Around the neighborhood, the world is changing. Aunts deposit piles of women’s clothes in trash bins while Nick dumps a box of books, on top of which sits Serena Joy’s book, “A Woman’s Place.”

Later that evening, Serena Joy congratulates the Commander on the success of the revolution, then habitually slips into telling him what strategy to take now and how to keep the revolution moving. It’s evident that she’s always been the brain behind their revolutionary activities and the dominant one in the relationship. They start to become intimate and it’s obvious that Serena Joy derives great pleasure from their physical relationship. She reacts, in fact, like a starving person given food.

In the present, Offred goes to Nick’s apartment, completely freaking out after the event with the Mexican delegation now that she knows the truth about the “oranges.” She thinks she should have told Mrs. Castillo the truth, that she wasn’t happy, but Nick reminds her she had no choice. Then she freaks out that if she’s found with Nick she’ll be sent to the Colonies while he’ll be fine because he’s an Eye (he disagrees). She says flat out that the Commander rapes her once a month. Nick tries to comfort her, but she says not to call her Offred. That’s not her name, she tells him. Her name is June. “It’s nice to meet you, June,” Nick says. Why didn’t he think to ask before?

The next day, Mrs. Castillo arrives early to the Commander’s house and Offred runs into her on her way out to meet New Ofglen. Mrs. Castillo offers her Mexican chocolate as thanks for Offred’s “candor” in helping her understand her world. Offred then gives her a powerful, wonderful monologue:

“But you don’t understand. I lied to you. This is a brutal place. We’re prisoners. If we run, they’ll try to kill us. Or worse: they beat us. They use cattle prods to try to get us to behave. If we’re caught reading they’ll cut off a finger. Second offense the whole hand. They gouge out our eyes…maim us in worse ways than you can imagine. They rape me. Every month, whenever I might be fertile.”
Mrs. Castillo is shocked and horrified. Offred continues, “I didn’t choose this. They caught me. I was trying to escape. They took my daughter. So don’t be sorry, okay…please do something.” Mrs. Castillo says she can’t help Offred, and Offred asks what will the Mexicans give in return for Handmaids. Chocolate? How can they trade for human beings? Mrs. Castillo replies that there hasn’t been a child born alive in her hometown for six years. Mexico is dying. Mrs. Castillo may be the same supporter of woman that she was in the parlor several nights before, but she’s also a leader, and to lead her people, she believes that they need children, the rights of the women who will bear those children be damned. Sometimes the rights of the few must be subordinated to the rights of the many.

The Commander shows up and leads Mrs. Castillo away, none the wiser about what has just happened. Offred goes to leave, but Mrs. Castillo’s assistant says he can help her. He doesn’t know where her daughter is, but he can get a message to Luke. Luke is alive. He gives her a pad of paper and asks her to write something. He even knows her name is June. Cliffhanger!!!

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