Saturday, March 28, 2015

understanding ophelia

This semester, I find myself once again trudging through one of Shakespeare's most famous tragediesHamlet. This is my third time being assigned this particular play, and upon learning I would be required to read it again, I was a little deflated. I'm not the biggest fan of Shakespeare, to be completely honest, and, in the past, I've struggled quite a bit with this particular play in large part because of Ophelia. 

Oh, Ophelia. I've always viewed her as weak, spineless, and a titch whiny. I like strong female characters, and Ophelia has never fit that mold for me. When I mentioned to a friend that we had been reading Hamlet out loud in class, and he asked if I was reading the part of Ophelia, for a few seconds I was tempted to be genuinely offended. I didn't want to be associated with Ophelia, even if the only reason he asked was because she was the only female character whose name he could remember. (And to be fair, Gertrude is the only other lady in the play, and I care for her even less.)


My perceptions of Ophelia have been in part due to the person teaching the play. The first time I read Hamlet, I was being taught by an individual who, in my personal opinion, had no business teaching Shakespeare (or much of anything literary, for that matter). And the second time, it was taught by a staunch Ophelia-hater. In that class, our discussions about Ophelia often veered in the direction of Shang chastising his rag tag army in Mulan ("you're a spineless, pale, pathetic lot, and you haven't got a clue"). Naturally that did nothing to endear Ophelia to me. 


But this time around, my experiences with Hamlet have been different. This time, I'm not reading the play for a literature class. Rather, it's for an Early Modern English class, so our biggest focus in reading is really digging deep into the text to uncover the original meaning of the text and identifying characteristics from the EME period. I first thought this practice would be sterile and formulaic; I thought my experience would be restricted to only vocabulary and sentence structure and rhetorical devices. But I was wrong. A closer reading of Hamlet has helped me understand the characters—particularly Ophelia—in a way I never have before. This deep reading paired with the guidance of a professor who is deeply sympathetic to Ophelia has completely altered my perspectives of one of Shakespeare's most famous leading ladies. 


Ophelia isn't weak. She's not whiny. She's not an airhead who is incapable of forming her own thoughts. 


Ophelia is trapped. She's scared. She's been stripped of power due to her position in society. She's in love with a man she cannot have and who has suddenly begun to act as though he hates her. She's torn between two commandmentsThou shalt not bear false witness and Honor thy father and thy mother—and she can't keep both. Ophelia is sweet, thoughtful, and Christ-like. Even in the midst of one of Hamlet's tirades against her (with her father and the king listening in, no less), she offers prayer. And she doesn't just pray—she prays for Hamlet, the man who is insulting her and forcing her away. In her next encounter with Hamlet—the one in which he is insulting, demeaning, raunchy, and flat out inappropriate—she conducts herself with an enviable level of grace and poise. To put it in the language of the current century, Ophelia is a boss. 


Walking home from class on Tuesday, I found myself pondering my newly sympathetic feelings toward Ophelia. And as ridiculous as it may sound, I felt guilty for having judged Ophelia so harshly in the past. Because while Ophelia is a fictional character who doesn't really exist, in that moment she represented all the people I've come in contact with who I didn't take the time to understand and who I unfairly judged in part due to the opinions of others. 


There is Ophelia in all of us, meaning that we may all come across as something less than what we are. We all have quirks, nuances, and idiosyncrasies that can lead others to misunderstand or underestimate us. We all deserve time and consideration to be put into understanding us, and none of us deserves to be written off as weak or worthless. Many of us are victims of circumstance, just as Shakespeare's Ophelia is. Many of us are trying our very hardest to do what's right even when everything is working against us. We secretly forgive those who are unkind to us, we hold onto our faith, and we love deeply. 


I am Ophelia. You are Ophelia. We are ALL Ophelia. And because of this, we all know what it feels like to be judged and mistreated and underestimated and disliked. So I reckon it's time that we all take a strand and do something about it. When the Ophelia in your friend comes out, don't give up on him or her. Listen, and try to understand. 


I certainly don't want to miss out on what could be an amazing friendship or opportunity for growth because I couldn't look past the Ophelia in somebody. Even now I'm a little disheartened thinking about all the friendships I may have already ended before they began due to my inability to look past an initial impression of a person or an introduction from a biased critic. 

The original title of this post was "Forgiving Ophelia." But as I pondered and wrote and rewrote, I realized that the fault didn't lie with Ophelia at all. I had nothing to forgive. The fault was within me, and so I gave myself a slap on the wrist, amended the title, and considered what I wanted to change

I want to see the good in people more easily. I want to give second chances and third chances and fourth chances. I want to give the benefit of the doubt, assume the best, and love without hesitation. 

I want to understand Ophelia.

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