So, we played this game in our English class that was
supposed to mock the dilemma of the antagonist, Offred, in Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale. Despite being a
literal land-crab, Atwood’s ability to express the inner and outer-personal
conflicts afflicting her characters is incredibly conducive to an interesting
and suspenseful narrative and the way in which she is able to type with crusted
pincers is equally as admirable.
Though I was disappointed with the game in its noted lack of crab-walking, I
did appreciate the way in which it prompted assumptions of my level of trust
both with myself and with others that I had never before attempted to
understand. In the game, two classmates were selected at random to be Eyes,
spies in the novel, whose job it was to convince the other players that they
were simply Handmaids. Two classmates were also selected to be Mayday Rebels,
whose job it was to free a Handmaid at nightfall, for a rebel to free an Eye
however, was deadly. During the day, everyone in the room (the rebels being the
only ones aware of each other’s identities) would speculate as to who the Eyes
were, and if steadfast enough in that speculation would unanimously choose to
execute another classmate. The entirety of the game is the strength of blind
assumption and the power of a group to influence personal decisions, or at
least to fortify or validate them.
Within the first round of the game it is difficult to make any assumptions, and
the things that are assumed are either biased or entirely baseless. I tried to
trust the people who spoke the least, thinking that by their lack of desire to
engage in forced small talk, that they had nothing to hide. I didn’t have any secrets,
I was just a Handmaid; I wasn’t even allowed to read. By the second round
however, despite having no further evidence from which to make conclusions, people
were desperate to kill; either from a lack of action or an urge to get the game
started. A great many judgments were made regarding the way people looked, just
their natural faces; “you have a dishonest face, no offense.” As if we were
looking for any footing to justify conviction. Mary talked, a lot, as she often
tends to do; and her inability to keep quiet, her facial expressions, even her
stance contributed to a general dislike that was only fostered from a single
suggestion that she may be a spy. One suggestion, and every aspect of her
immediately seemed suspicious. As if we had all been waiting for someone to be
the first to say it. So she was executed. And then she slapped Gabby.
The thing I found most interesting about the exercise was my subconscious need
to belong to the group, to satisfy myself by agreeing with them. And we all
built off of one seemingly insignificant detail; someone twitching their eye
immediately translated into distrust, and then their shoes looked funny, and
their voice was strange, and their hair was deceiving. It was surprising how
many minor, trivial, ridiculous reasons we would come up with to justify our
hatred. And I did it too, I was pointing my fingers without really knowing why.
Because I wanted so much for fingers to not be pointed at me.
