Q: ‘Shakespeare's female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them

comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women's nature and women's roles

in the world...paradoxically, this has tended to occlude their own historicity, as they
served, and continue to serve, in ever-changing guises as models of unchanging,
universal female nature.'
- Phyllis Rackin

In her book Shakespeare and Women, Phyllis Rackin argues that feminist interpretations of William
Shakespeare’s plays overemphasise the purported oppression of women. She pushes back against the
notion that Shakespeare was describing normative life in terms of how women were treated in the world
in which he lived and worked. The popular practice by academics to drive this narrative is useful, according
to Rackin, to fit into a particular agenda, especially in feminist discourse. The feminist scholarship of
Rackin’s time, circa early 2000s, espoused the narrative that historical women’s lives were universally
pitiful. Then, according to Rackin, feminist scholars used this narrative to expose the ills within modern
day society. The point of such an endeavour was to discourage society from ever returning to the
expectation that women should accept debasement as second-class citizens. Yet in drawing attention to
and emphasising that narrative, argues Rackin, the feminist discourse only reinforced those unfavourable
circumstances. In other words, scholars might as well have been arguing for them to come back. According
to Rackin, not everyone who engages in this brand of feminist discourse is for the political movement, per
se. She highlights that each person has their own agenda and in this crowd there are few true feminists.
To prove this point, she states that contextual data was ignored in the process of presenting these
narratives of an exclusively oppressive past. She goes on to demonstrate that women had far more agency
than the discourse of her time would have readers believe. The scholar even accuses some academics of
deliberately eschewing data-driven research to fixate on a particular, fashionable angle. Interestingly,
Rackin points out that the most popular feminist scholarship was read through a male lens by scholars.

The central focus of Rackin’s argument is that certain scholars have used a faux magnifying glass to
emphasize the troubles of the past. Yet, according to Rackin, society risks becoming too complacent by
doing just that. It is her fear, in Shakespeare and Women, that this will create in the collective conscience a
self-congratulatory habit of thinking that society has moved on from the oppressive past it inflicted on
marginalised groups, such as women. Rackin is not alone in warning about the inherent bias that comes
with history writing. Other historians have emphasised the crux of Rackin’s argument: that interpretations
are merely that. There is no such thing as an objective interpretation of history.1 What Rackin strongly
implies here is that accounts of events cannot be told without being tainted by selfish motives that are,
more often than not, political. With this final point in mind, I agree with much of Rackin’s argument.

1Phyllis Rackin, Shakespeare and Women (Oxford University Press), 2005, p.22
Q: ‘Shakespeare's female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them
comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women's nature and women's roles
in the world...paradoxically, this has tended to occlude their own historicity, as they
served, and continue to serve, in ever-changing guises as models of unchanging,
universal female nature.'
- Phyllis Rackin

This essay will consider the crux of Rackin’s argument, which is the suggestion that historical context
should be derived from factual accounts (in other words, data) to effectively reconstruct a truthful version
of the past. Although I agree with Rackin’s point that scholarship should take a wide surface area of
knowledge as it attempts to piece together the past, there are some factors to her argument that must be
questioned and could be contested. For example, the overarching notion that we must not interrogate the
past through too sharp a feminist lens is concerning and perhaps a little dramatic. It is true that overstating,
and even forcing, a particular interpretation is not ideal. Yet that does not mean we should cease to
interrogate the wrongs of the past in order to not repeat them. Rackin even argues that some of
Shakespeare’s plays could be interpreted as either proto-feminist or anti-feminist, depending on the lens
through which the reader looks at them or, more specifically, the agenda that the reader is pursuing. That
is why this thesis will look at the ambivalence found when comparing Shakespeare’s women; first in
Princess Catherine (Henry V), then in Cleopatra (Antony and Cleopatra). I will briefly consider Cleopatra
through the lens of the popular feminist interventions that have made Rackin wary. Then, there will be an
elaborated interpretation of the text, albeit through a Rackin lens. I don’t believe that it is necessary for a
reader to possess data-derived contextual knowledge to understand characters in as measured and unbiased
a way as possible. All that is needed is the language that Shakespeare uses. The words he attributes to
Cleopatra, in particular, are some of the most memorable and powerful in all his plays. Thus, they prove
Rackin’s point that there is more to the Shakespearean woman than a one-dimensional, woe-is-me
narrative. Rackin’s argument will be the starting point for me to develop my own perspective.

This essay will, thus, seek to prove Rackin’s argument of ambivalence, while simultaneously criticising
some of her generalisations. Firstly, it will interrogate the overall narrative of the type of discourse with
which Rackin’s book engages. This will be aided by an analysis of Catherine’s and Cleopatra’s characters
and divergent roles. Likewise, the essay will argue for the crux of Rackin’s perspective, namely that
Shakespeare’s work does not prove the single, overarching messaging found in the feminist scholarship
that investigates it. Lastly, I shall outline the point of departure between Rackin’s perspective and mine.
That is, that highlighting the progress made in terms of how society treats women will not lead to that
same civilisation abandoning prescient feminist goals.
Q: ‘Shakespeare's female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them
comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women's nature and women's roles
in the world...paradoxically, this has tended to occlude their own historicity, as they
served, and continue to serve, in ever-changing guises as models of unchanging,
universal female nature.'
- Phyllis Rackin

This section will consider the crux of Rackin’s argument, which is the suggestion that historical context
should be derived from factual accounts (in other words, data). To Rackin’s point, doing so would
effectively reconstruct a more honest version of the past. Note that I do not say ‘truth’ because that in
itself is too subjective, even from an angle. Rackin seems to believe that the best a historian can do is aim
for an honest account, by deploying contextual accuracy and critical thinking to better understand how
works of art fit into a historical canon. This is important, because, as Rackin highlights, such histories act
as a guide on how to construct society at present and perhaps how to shape its future. Thus, if the past is
distorted by liberally interpreted artistic representations, how can one truly learn from it – let alone society?
According to Rackin, basing interpretations of Shakespeare’s women characters on the mere fact that they
were women is reductive. It is as though these scholars allowed the women’s gender alone to help them
form a narrative riddled with assumptions. 2 Were historians to look into the contemporary reality of
women’s lives in Shakespeare’s time, they would find it difficult to argue some of what is fashionably
understood, or misunderstood, about Elizabethan women through the Shakespearean lens. 3 Thus, Rackin
argues for an intersectional approach, which is more than reasonable. Doing so would mean that, by using
the information from contextual data, historians would be better able to accurately place Shakespearean
women within the appropriate context. This would mean considering a Shakespearean woman’s role,
duties, priorities, and rank (or even, in Cleopatra’s case, her ethnicity). The aforementioned point is the
strongest critique of second-wave feminism that Rackin makes.

But first, let’s consider Shakespeare’s Henry V, particularly in the treatment of Princess Catherine as the
‘exotic woman’ and Othered object. This will help in understanding the arguments presented by
scholarship from the feminist perspective. The closing act of Henry V begins with promise. King Henry
exchanges pleasantries with the king and queen of France, with Henry stating his terms for peace and the
French royals acquiescing. Then Henry is left alone with Princess Catharine, except for a lady-in-waiting,
and proceeds to propose to her as though her universally expected consent were not forced due to
circumstance:

2Phyllis Rackin, Shakespeare and Women (Oxford University Press), 2005, p.11
3Phyllis Rackin, Shakespeare and Women (Oxford University Press), 2005, p.25
Q: ‘Shakespeare's female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them
comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women's nature and women's roles
in the world...paradoxically, this has tended to occlude their own historicity, as they
served, and continue to serve, in ever-changing guises as models of unchanging,
universal female nature.'
- Phyllis Rackin

Fair Catharine, and most fair,

Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms
Such as will enter a lady’s ear
And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?4

The king must be patient, however, as a language barrier makes his words nearly incomprehensible to
Catherine. But this scene is not about Catherine. It’s about Henry, like the rest of the play. Lines 162 to
164 demonstrate a gallantry that belies the sinister words that follow. Henry repeats the word “take” to
Catherine, rendering himself an object. And he equalises the lowly with the high-borne in himself: his
service as a “soldier” to be “take[n],” and his status as a ruler are both up for snatching (“take a king”).
Then the focus turns on Catherine when Henry tells her:

For I love France so well that I will not part

with a village of it, I will have it all mine; and Kate,
when France is mine, I am yours, then yours is
France, and you are mine.5

The humble words that preceded these last few phrases were meant to disarm, to soften the less-than-
subtle reminder that Henry is really the one doing the “taking” – of the country and of the woman. For
one thing, by telling Princess Catherine that France will be hers now that it has become his, Henry (or,
rather, Shakespeare) is being dismissive of her birth right. Feminist scholars might point to this exchange
between two heirs of powerful nations as a prime example of how oppressive male-female dynamics reflect
Shakespeare’s contemporary world experience, and view. Such an argument is supported by the sort of
historical context that does not take much digging up. The Commentaries on the Laws of England were
published a century after Shakespeare’s time, but the tome’s perspective on the state of marriage speaks
to a long-standing tradition of female objectification. It reads, in part, that:

4William Shakespeare and Roma Gill, Henry V (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 5.2.98-101
5William Shakespeare and Roma Gill, Henry V (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 5.2.169-172
Q: ‘Shakespeare's female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them
comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women's nature and women's roles
in the world...paradoxically, this has tended to occlude their own historicity, as they
served, and continue to serve, in ever-changing guises as models of unchanging,
universal female nature.'
- Phyllis Rackin

By marriage, the husband and wife are one person in law. That is, the very being or legal existence
of the woman is suspended during marriage, or at least it is incorporated or consolidated into that
of the husband under whose wing, protection and cover she performs everything… For this
reason, a man cannot grant anything to his wife, or enter into covenant with her. For the grant
would be to suppose her separate existence; and to covenant with her would be only to covenant
with himself.6

Thus, not only is it not surprising that Henry conflates Catherine’s worth with that of a nation’s, but the
absorption of her rights into his upon their marriage would have been part of standard practice.

As Norman Rabkin points out in the Shakespeare Quarterly, critics have presented king Henry V as either
“an exemplary Christian monarch, who has attained… both the ‘age’ and the ‘stature’ of a perfect man,”
or “the perfect Machiavellian prince.” 7 The gift of ambivalence is awarded to the male character in this
particular play, but not the female counterpart (as his future queen). Henry is so nuanced that readers can
choose to read him as they please, because this ambiguity allows room for their own biases and experiences
to colour their view of him. Catherine does not get this luxury; rather, she merely gets the privileges of
learning English and accepting a proposal. Her limited raison d’etre makes no room for readers or audiences
to understand her, if only to project their own experiences on to her. In this way, she is less human than
Henry and becomes symbolic rather than woman-like. Henry’s treatment of Catherine highlights the
question of this essay: Shakespeare’s female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them
comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women’s nature and women’s roles in the world. But
Henry V is not Shakespeare’s only play and Catherine is not the playwright’s only female monarch. Of all
the characters Shakespeare chose to feature in his plays, no one is as nuanced and dynamic as Cleopatra.

Patriarchal criticism of Cleopatra’s role has historically been centred, less around her character, and more
on her worth. Was Cleopatra a villain or a heroine? At the end of the play, is she a loser or a winner?

6William
Blackstone and others, Commentaries on The Laws of England, 4th edn (Printed at Boston: By I. Thomas and E.T.
Andrews. Sold by them at Faust's statue, no. 45, Newbury-Street, 1799), p. 468.
7Norman Rabkin, "Rabbits, Ducks, And Henry V", Shakespeare Quarterly, 28.3 (1977), p.294
Q: ‘Shakespeare's female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them
comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women's nature and women's roles
in the world...paradoxically, this has tended to occlude their own historicity, as they
served, and continue to serve, in ever-changing guises as models of unchanging,
universal female nature.'
- Phyllis Rackin

Such questions tie into the Victorian narrative that the Egyptian Cleopatra represented the feminine, while
the Romans Mark Antony and Caesar represented the masculine and that their alliance stood for the
mutually precarious connection between East and West. Indeed, Georg Brandes wrote that Antony’s
connection with Cleopatra ruins him and in turn “so does the fall of the Roman Republic result from the
contact” between the West and the East. “Antony is Rome,” he wrote, and “Cleopatra is the Orient.” 8 If
questions about Cleopatra’s actions were asked, they were more concerned with the symbolism of those
actions, which culminated in her ill fate, than with how Shakespeare’s language evoked the personage of a
towering historical figure. Other critics may not have outrightly praised Cleopatra as a formidable person
but inadvertently did so when trying to highlight Shakespeare’s ability to make her seem like one. For
example, while not part of the (proto)feminist discourse, William Hazlitt’s thoughts on Shakespeare
(through Cleopatra) undoubtedly paved the way for critics to see the nuanced nature of her character. He
wrote that “intuitive power…is observable in the speech of Cleopatra” and praises Shakespeare’s “fine”
ability to make Cleopatra seem intelligent and not only self-aware but self-possessed.9 I concur. It is no
secret that Cleopatra is a flawed character. Yet, what is refreshing and forgivable about her flaws is the
fact that she does not hide them (although she may simply be ignorant to the fact that she has flaws). And
by “she” I mean the way that Shakespeare writes her. He does not seduce the audience with the pretensions
of genteel femininity that they would likely have expected from a title character. For example, when
Antony informs her that his wife Fulvia is dead, Cleopatra callously asks “can Fulvia die?”10 Antony is
consistently patient and measured in this scene. He closes it by saying:

That thou residing here, goes yet with me.

And I hence fleeting, here remain with thee.11

It is Shakespearean tradition for scenes to end with a rhyming couplet, but the endearing, appeasing
sentiment that Antony is keen to convey to “[his] queen,” Cleopatra, is less common among Shakespeare’s
characters. While it is imperative to read Cleopatra’s power within the confines of her own internal
universe, this reader also glimpses her influence and agency through her interactions with others.

8Georg Brandes, William Shakespeare (New York: Macmillan, 1936), p.158

9William Hazlitt and Jon Cook, Selected Writings (Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 327
10William Shakespeare and Michael Neill, The Tragedy of Anthony and Cleopatra (Oxford University Press, 2012), 1.3.57
11 William Shakespeare and Michael Neill, The Tragedy of Anthony and Cleopatra (Oxford University Press, 2012), 1.3.104-105
Q: ‘Shakespeare's female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them
comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women's nature and women's roles
in the world...paradoxically, this has tended to occlude their own historicity, as they
served, and continue to serve, in ever-changing guises as models of unchanging,
universal female nature.'
- Phyllis Rackin

In this way, one can see that Cleopatra was written not only to showcase less than fashionable traits, but
to demonstrate that those traits do not make a person – a woman – any less significant.

Shakespeare also writes Cleopatra as cunning and wise. Her gift for duality has further use than to charm
and disarm Antony (or any man). The final scene of Act five demonstrates the level of control she has
over her destiny, which seems at this point an impossible task. Yet Cleopatra manages to get what she
wants, even in the face of defeat. When confronted by Caesar, she seems as close to being submissive as
she could ever be, confessing that she has “been laden with like frailties which before have often shamed
our sex.”12 In doing so, she makes herself seem vulnerable to Caesar, which in turn lowers his guard. As
he does not suspect a humbled Pharoah to be capable of deceit, Cleopatra can consolidate the last of her
will to carry out her plan of triumphing over her enemy. Her deceptive powers enable her to close the
curtain of her life on her own terms. This is not the first time that Cleopatra forfeits a fight in anticipation
of advantage. With a closer read, one can spot that her sudden bout of submissiveness before Caesar was
foreshadowed in an earlier scene. In scene thirteen of Act four, she demonstrates a rare instance of
restraint that imbues her character with a degree of dignity. “This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me,” says
Mark Antony to and about his partner Cleopatra.13 Cleopatra is silent. She does not push back on Antony’s
outburst and treatment of her, an option that Shakespeare chose to put aside at this stage of the play.
Instead, Cleopatra asks about the reason for her lover’s change of tone. She does this once, only, and does
not stoop to arguing. This demonstrates her ability to reign her emotions in, instead relying on her intellect
to get the answers she needs. As much as that last phrase may seem insultingly simple, it calls to mind that
with this display of Cleopatra’s restraint, Shakespeare’s writing countered the backdrop of societal
expectations. It was commonly understood that women reacted emotionally to verbal and physical threat
and Cleopatra, as a foreign woman at that, would not have been expected to be any different.

Moreover, on the subject of audience expectations, Shakespeare’s audiences might have expected male
characters to treat women as, essentially, second-class citizens. In the second scene of Act two, Fulvia is
blamed for Antony’s offence against Caesar. Shortly after, Octavia is proposed to Antony in marriage and
is used as the solution to the problem brought on by the first woman.

12William Shakespeare and Michael Neill, The Tragedy of Anthony and Cleopatra (Oxford University Press, 2012), 5.2.123-124
13William Shakespeare and Michael Neill, The Tragedy of Anthony and Cleopatra (Oxford University Press, 2012), 4.13.10
Q: ‘Shakespeare's female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them
comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women's nature and women's roles
in the world...paradoxically, this has tended to occlude their own historicity, as they
served, and continue to serve, in ever-changing guises as models of unchanging,
universal female nature.'
- Phyllis Rackin

This resolution is not as flattering as it might first appear, not least because the second woman did not
consent to this plan, but also because she is likely part of the bait that Caesar is laying out in his bid for
absolute power. Caesar knows that Antony finds Cleopatra irresistible, so marrying his sister to a man
whose heart has been captured might seem futile. Except it provides a legitimate platform on which to
mount another grievance, thus legitimising his attack on a rival. The Roman men may have viewed
Cleopatra as a wanton harlot. Yet, they at least comprehended her power. To some extent, that power was
beyond their control and did not become apparent until the last scene. Yet the mere fact that such power
exists in Cleopatra is enough to make her more valuable in their eyes.

While some historical criticism opened the conversation on the various aspects of Cleopatra’s personality,
it seems that feminist discourse chose to portray her through a familiar trope. As L.T. Fitz writes of the
reception of Cleopatra’s characterisation, with particular regards to her feminine wiles, critics compare
Cleopatra to other female characters because they have one trait in common – they are all women. Yet no
critic compared Shakespeare’s King Lear to other men, be they fictional or historical.14 Fitz highlights the
bias of male criticism and points out that male critics seemed to be “personally threatened by Cleopatra,”
thanks to their own projected insecurities. For example, George Brandes described Cleopatra as
“quintessential Eve.” To those who observe the narratives of the Bible, that moniker is not a compliment.15
But Cleopatra is more than the stereotype of the fallen woman. Observing her traits through the Rackin
lens makes room to explore all the ways in which she is not this figure. Firstly, she is highly visible. From
being one of the few female title characters, to her dominance in the play’s final act, Cleopatra’s is an
undeniable presence by dint of Shakespeare’s stylistic persistence. Moreover, it is as though Shakespeare
was aware of the interplay between dramatic representation and historical narrative. Being a ‘true’ figure
in the annals of time affords the real Cleopatra a formidable status. There is no other option for any
playwright to downplay her because to do so would call their own talent into question. This has been the
fate of many an actress who tried to play Cleopatra. Regardless of how well written she is, the Cleopatra
of the theatre will never live up to history’s Cleopatra.

14L.T. Fitz, "Egyptian Queens and Male Reviewers: Sexist Attitudes in Antony and Cleopatra Criticism", Shakespeare Quarterly,
28.3 (1977), 298
15Georg Brandes, William Shakespeare (New York: Macmillan, 1936), p.144
Q: ‘Shakespeare's female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them
comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women's nature and women's roles
in the world...paradoxically, this has tended to occlude their own historicity, as they
served, and continue to serve, in ever-changing guises as models of unchanging,
universal female nature.'
- Phyllis Rackin

Throughout time, critics have differed on opinions about her, but many have agreed that no actor or
actress can do justice to the role.16 The sentiment seems to have been birthed from the Shakespearean
Cleopatra’s lips, when she complained that her tale would be told by “some squeaking Cleopatra [who
will] boy [her] greatness I’th’posture of a Whore.” 17

As outlined in the last few paragraphs, one can recognise both the feminist discourse and Rackin’s counter
argument in Shakespeare’s work. One simply has to align the former with Henry V’s Princess Catherine
and the latter with Antony and Cleopatra’s Cleopatra. Rackin’s statement that Shakespeare’s women are
repeatedly updated in service of new conceptions of women’s roles in the world is correct, even in the
cases of such vastly different characters as Catherine and Cleopatra. One thing that both women have in
common is the fact that they are exotic. Whether she is situated closer to home in France or in the
mysterious East, whether she is portrayed as white or black,18 each woman is Othered. This state of being
different makes a commodity of Princess Catherine, and an enemy of Cleopatra. The greatest
differentiating factor in their divergent receptions is power. Cleopatra rules with it, absolutely, so she is a
threat. Catherine’s is passive and muted by her parents’ presence and Henry’s victory, so she is a tool. As
the critic L. T. Fitz points out, Shakespeare based his play on Plutarch’s account of the story. Yet, he
departs from many of the aspects of the history or the interpretation that might make Cleopatra appear
more worthy of faulting.19 Antony’s military mistakes were historically blamed on Cleopatra, but
Shakespeare allows it to be placed firmly on Antony’s shoulders. The reason? The male ego, not the whims
of a mistress. Clearly, Shakespeare changes the historical narrative in favour of presenting audiences with
a more balanced view of Cleopatra. This is yet again evidence of the agency he affords her as a nod to her
power. Is this the reason that Shakespeare could get away with imbuing Cleopatra with nuance and colour?
Did her power make her, to Shakespeare’s mind, male-adjacent? Perhaps he was aware that the theatrical
Cleopatra would need to aspire to measure up to the historical one. Whatever the case, Cleopatra is one
of the few female characters to whom Shakespeare afforded more freedom and agency than the men
around her. This is the case to the extent that she triumphs over those men, repeatedly – even in death.

16Camille Paglia, "The Dark Women", YouTube, 2021 <https://youtu.be/m_itPedM3ns>

17William Shakespeare and Michael Neill, The Tragedy of Anthony and Cleopatra (Oxford University Press, 2012), 5.2.220-221
18Ben Jonson, William Gifford and Francis Cunningham , The Works of Ben Jonson (London: Chatto & Windus, 1910), Introduction
19L. T. Fitz, "Egyptian Queens and Male Reviewers: Sexist Attitudes in Antony and Cleopatra Criticism", Shakespeare Quarterly,

28.3 (1977), p.311

Q: ‘Shakespeare's female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them
comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women's nature and women's roles
in the world...paradoxically, this has tended to occlude their own historicity, as they
served, and continue to serve, in ever-changing guises as models of unchanging,
universal female nature.'
- Phyllis Rackin

No one can ever really know why Shakespeare chose to write Cleopatra in this manner. Yet, one thing is
sure: Shakespeare’s characterisation of Cleopatra disproves the arguments put forward by second-wave
feminists. In the final section of this essay, I will briefly outline my reservations about the way Rackin’s
argument might likewise be misinterpreted.

This essay interrogated the Rackin quote about Shakespeare’s female characters from the perspective of
the popular feminist discourse of her time. Seventeen years after the publication of Shakespeare and Women,
is that quotation still relevant? In some ways, yes. For example, what Rackin describes is a form of identity
politics, which has only intensified in the collective conscience thanks to new platforms that expose the
cracks in the landscapes of media and academia. What is apt about Rackin’s argument is the palpable sense
that much of the discourse is performative: Shakespeare and the past are collateral to present agendas; be
they career moves or political ones. Rackin suggests that feminist criticism of Shakespeare is more of a
conceptual tool for feminist pretenders than it is proof of the circumstances it purports to prove. In other
words, not everyone who screams “feminism” is truly feminist. Despite the ring of truth in this
assumption, it must be noted that it is impossible to confirm. Surely, by speculating and purporting to
attribute motive, Rackin could have been accused of doing the same thing? It begs the question of whether
there’s any point in handwringing, which her book does on occasion turn towards doing. Still, let’s go back
to the point.

Rackin does not agree with over-identifying the subjugation of women in Shakespeare’s plays.20 Such
discourse purports to improve our understanding of the lives of women in the past, as well as the state of
women in the present and future. But Rackin believes that over-emphasis on past misogyny will lead to
under-emphasis on contemporary struggles. She writes:

If the story of misogyny and oppression is the only story we tell about the past, we risk a dangerous complacency in
the present…An oversimplified history that emphasizes past oppression is likely to encourage an overly simplified
optimism about the present situation.21

20Phyllis Rackin, Shakespeare and Women (Oxford University Press), 2005, p.5
21Phyllis Rackin, Shakespeare and Women (Oxford University Press), 2005, p.8
Q: ‘Shakespeare's female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them
comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women's nature and women's roles
in the world...paradoxically, this has tended to occlude their own historicity, as they
served, and continue to serve, in ever-changing guises as models of unchanging,
universal female nature.'
- Phyllis Rackin

Yet, I disagree with this sentiment. Society is not necessarily at risk of regressing in how it treats women,
merely because it seems to have exceeded expectations in not doing the very thing that it dissects. It is
true that overstating, and even forcing, a particular interpretation is wrong. If, however, the intellectual
collective ceased to interrogate the past, society might indeed become complacent to the condition of
contemporary women, because it would have forgotten. It would thus risk creating the same problem
Rackin states as a threat. There are contemporary scholars who, in an effort to temper the rampant rule
of identity politics in academia, push the needle in the extreme opposite direction. If Rackin is dismayed
by the simplistic model of finding fault with the past to feel good about the present, then I am concerned
about the opposing side’s enthusiasm for telling ‘snowflakes’ (my generation) to toughen up because we
have nothing more to worry about than our ‘representation.’ This attitude is equally dangerous. Even
though Rackin’s concerns are, arguably, as relevant today as they were when she wrote them, it is my belief
that those concerns are debatable. Our current society can mitigate extremism by following in the footsteps
of Rackin et al. and paying close attention to our biases when piecing history together through art. This
can be achieved through broadening the spectrum of research, not so much to disprove any other theory
but to give readers and learners the opportunity to come to their own understanding. The concern I have
with Rackin’s argument is that it risks minimising the importance of feminist scholarship. Without people
like Linda Nochlin and the Guerrilla Girls asking uncomfortable questions, we might not have had
Artemisia Gentileschi at the National Gallery. This would be a good time to remember that there are
currently twenty-one female artists on permanent display in the collection of 2,300 paintings. 22

In conclusion, this essay considered the question of women’s roles in Shakespeare’s time. It interrogated
the quotation by Phyllis Rackin through a close analysis of the text. To demonstrate the veracity of
Rackin’s quotation, the essay compared the treatment of Princess Catherine and queen Cleopatra as ‘exotic
women’ and Othered people. In considering Catherine alongside Cleopatra, I highlighted the ambivalence
in opposing theories; from Rackin’s stance against the single-story method of historical and artistic analyses
to the identity-driven angle found in feminist scholarship. I agree with Rackin’s overall argument that
scholarship should not be biased towards trend: art should not be used to serve a political agenda.
However, such warnings need to be tempered by considering other angles, as opposed to silencing them.

22London The National Gallery, "Women in Our Collection | Paintings | National Gallery, London", Nationalgallery.Org.Uk,
2022 <https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/women-in-our-collection> [Accessed 19 April 2022].
Words: 4729
Q: ‘Shakespeare's female characters have been repeatedly updated to make them
comprehensible in terms of new conceptions of women's nature and women's roles
in the world...paradoxically, this has tended to occlude their own historicity, as they
served, and continue to serve, in ever-changing guises as models of unchanging,
universal female nature.'
- Phyllis Rackin

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