Bridging the Gap

To Be or Not To Be
Ophelia
For all of my St. Mary’s girls and the women in their lives.
By Shari Ray
Each October I open up the dog-eared, smudgy pages
of my copy of Hamlet to once again teach a new batch of
budding girl-scholars this magnificent story – a tragedy of
such epic depths that many call this the greatest of all plays
and Shakespeare the greatest of all playwrights.
Of all the deaths that inevitably come at the conclusion
of a great tragedy, it is Ophelia’s stays with me after the
book is stored away for another year. Ophelia’s death lingers
with my girl-scholars as well; it is her sad story that finds
its way into college essays and Senior speeches, and it is for
her we weep.
Alas, poor Ophelia. She drowns herself. She is found
floating in the brook, arms full of wildflowers.
But why? That is always the question. The answer is
this: There is simply so much Ophelia lacks.
Ophelia lacks support. Poor Ophelia has no women
in her life. No women with whom to bounce ideas around,
no mother to ask her important questions, no laughter and
secrets with female friends for Ophelia, tucked away in her
lonely Danish castle on the hillside. She is completely alone.
Ophelia lacks knowledge. No books instruct her
-- women were illiterate. No older women passing down
stories laced with humor and wisdom at the washing tub
or the cooking table. No mother. Everyone demanding of
her, everyone pushing. While poor Ophelia sits alone in her
closet with only her sewing to keep her company.
Ophelia does not find her voice for she lacks
opportunities to find it. Poor Ophelia never asks questions
— no one has ever given her permission or opportunity to
do so. She is constantly instructed and lectured by father,
her brother, and even her boyfriend Hamlet, but she is never
asked a question and she never asks one. “I shall obey, my
lord,” is her only resting place, and it does not serve her well.
Quiet, blind, verbal obedience is not the recipe for successful
womanhood, even way back in Ophelia’s day.
Ophelia lacks strength. No woman has shown her
strength. She is surrounded by only male dominance and
the verbal abuse that leads to quiet servitude and fragility.
Our Ophelia is very fragile. The only woman who could stand
up for her, Gertrude, doesn’t. Thus our pretty Ophelia fades,
like the wildflowers she clutches. She fades out of sight,
quiet and demure, pretty, thin, well-dressed — many mothers
would hail her as a paragon of beauty and grace. With
her little sad smile Ophelia heads to the brook, mumbling
to herself snippets of old tunes, and goes quietly mad. Just
before she takes her own life.
Dearest Students of Mine:
Please don’t try to go through this life alone. You need
people, you need other women. Seek them out if they aren’t
seeking you out at the moment. Be courageous to do this.
Make amends with your mother, if you can.
You have been taught to find your voice. Do not forget
this teaching. Ask your questions well, firmly, with dignity and
intelligence. Demand only when you must, but then do so with
courage and forthrightness. Surround yourself with people you
respect and trust, people who listen to you and to whom you
listen. Don’t worry if these numbers are few -- they will be.
Cherish the few trustworthy voices and tolerate the rest, but
do not listen to unkind, mean voices. Separate yourself
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