I’d like to imagine that I’m very much like June Osbourne; a
free individual in control of his life and making decision without concern
about who it affects. It is not that
June isn’t aware or remorseful for her actions: She’s free! On the other hand, as Offred, she’s trapped
in a mouse maze with endless consequences for every decision she makes. And like Offred, I wonder if she has begun to
accept the fact that her life as June never existed. As I am compelled deeper into the story of The Handmaid’s Tale, a profound desire
for her liberation sparks a hope for my very own. Perhaps, it was Margaret Atwood’s intention
all along to remind me that I am Offred.
I’m sure the female fan base of the novel or tv series,
never expected a man to identify with the heroine of this tale, but neither did
I. One day, out shopping, I felt a fear
come over me. The security that
surrounded me felt fragile, as if in any moment it would fragment into a
different alliance. I could have soiled
my underwear. It was in that moment
June’s story began to blend with mine.
Here I am, Daniel De Leon, a free citizen of the United States; but as
if were having a flashback, I snapped back into reality, and there I was
staring out of a window in my red handmaid garments: My sole purpose, to breed children for the
republic of Gilead.
I grew up in a conservative home, not typical for most
Hispanic families. My mother was a
religious woman, devout to her faith regardless of the church denomination and
its institutions. I recently told her,
that she had taught me her own religion growing up. It was the bible with her interpretation and
her views woven symbiotically. The
churches we attended were no different; it was about their power and control
over the individual. I find it humorous
now, recalling my mother’s struggle with the church authority and her plight to
carry out her faith independently. As a widow raising four children, I’m
grateful that her faith carried her through our adolescence. Blessed be!
I was the new generation of conservative Christian to pay it
forward.
I remember being sixteen and rebellious against the Christian faith. I wanted to be free from religion, but it had a way to ensnare me every time I tried to get away. Whether, I was trying to lose my virginity and not getting on because all I could hear was my mother’s voice reminding me that it was a terrible sin to engage in premarital sex; or worrying about my flamboyant gestures because they could be the manifest of a homosexual spirit passed on from my grandfather’s family. It distorted me and beat me down, until all I could do was surrender back into its control. This kind of surrender, the church called, finding Jesus again. These were the moments, when Aunt Lydia would step in and remind that God had blessed me with such a post. Christianity has a way to make it look right. How can you argue with right? Sprinkle a few emotions and you are nostalgically renewed to the faith.
I wanted to believe that as an adult, it would all change. Somehow, I would be this strong-willed individual and break free, but the education I had been afforded paved the groundwork for my adulthood. It reminds of the verse in Proverbs, “Train the child in the way he should go, and he will not depart from it.” My social circles shared similar beliefs and only encouraged me more to break off relationships with ‘unhealthy’ individuals. I had swallowed the pill and there was not turning back. How could I? They own my family and me. If I want freedom, I have to abandon my family as it is stated in Exodus 21:4-6, “If his master has given him a wife, and she has borne him sons or daughters, the wife and her children shall be his master’s, and he shall go out by himself. But if the servant plainly says, ‘I love my master, my wife, and my children; I will not go out free,’ then his master shall bring him to the judges. He shall also bring him to the door, or to the doorpost, and his master shall pierce his ear with an awl; and he shall serve him forever.” In the words of Offred, “Father who Art in heaven, what the actual fuck!” You think I’m exaggerating? What if I stopped believing in the bible or came out of the closet per se, what would my Christian conservative wife do? Stay with me, work it out, and let her children’s morals be tainted by a sinner? The law is clear; I would go out by myself and lose everything or like June, remain an Offred, until I knew my children were safe. How can I run to freedom, when my children are slaves to the same system?
There you have it, the reality of which I am Offred. My faith in God isn’t challenged, it’s how I’ve been made to perceive Him. My worldview and politics had been defined, not by my faith, but the religion that drove it. I’m changing and I’m okay with that. My hope is to see Daniel De Leon one day, but if I don’t, I hope I see the De Leon children in a free world. I have to fight against Gilead, that’s what Jesus did in His day. He fought and set many free from the religious system. My plight is the same as the Apostle Paul, “Now therefore, why do you test God by putting a yoke on the neck of the disciples which neither our fathers nor we were able to bear?” May the Lord open!
