Prohibition on suicide

The Prohibition on suicide in the Republic of Gilead is not codified in any written law that the Handmaids are permitted to see, but it is enforced through the physical environment, constant surveillance, and the threat of being declared an Unwoman. The regime's primary concern is the preservation of fertile women as "national resources," and self-destruction is treated as a theft of that resource. The prohibition is therefore absolute, yet it coexists with a system that systematically strips Handmaids of the will to live, creating a cruel paradox: the state forbids the very escape it makes desirable.

Architectural and Material Enforcement

The most visible evidence of the prohibition is the deliberate removal of anything that could be used for self-harm. In Offred's room, the chandelier has been taken down, leaving only a plastered-over hole in the ceiling, "like the place in a face where the eye has been taken out." The window opens only partly, and the glass is shatterproof. Offred notes that "it isn't running away they're afraid of" but rather "those other escapes, the ones you can open in yourself, given a cutting edge." The room is stripped of any object that could serve as a weapon or a tool for suicide: no razors in the bathroom, no knives in the bedroom, and even the mirror has been replaced by an oblong of tin. The hooks in the closet are left in place, but they are too close to the floor to be used effectively, a deliberate oversight that still allows for the possibility of a stocking or a bedsheet. The previous Handmaid in Offred's room hanged herself using a bedsheet tied to the chandelier, which is why the chandelier was removed. This event is a direct cause of the architectural modifications, demonstrating that the regime responds to suicide attempts not by addressing the underlying despair but by making the act physically harder to accomplish.

Surveillance and Social Control

The prohibition is also enforced through constant surveillance. Offred is never alone: the Aunts patrol the gymnasium at night, the Guardians watch at checkpoints, and the Marthas and Wives monitor her movements within the house. The bathroom door has no lock, and Cora sits outside during baths to prevent "incidents." Offred recalls that "there were cuttings, drownings" in the early days of the regime, before "they got all the bugs ironed out." The state's response to these early suicides was to increase surveillance and remove means, not to address the causes. The threat of being sent to the Colonies, where Unwomen are worked to death cleaning toxic waste, also serves as a deterrent: suicide is framed as a betrayal of one's duty to bear children, and the alternative is a slow, painful death that is even worse than the Handmaid's life.

The Threat of Reclassification

The ultimate punishment for attempting suicide is not death but reclassification as an Unwoman. If a Handmaid is caught trying to kill herself, she is no longer considered a "sacred vessel" but a defective, dangerous individual to be disposed of. The Colonies are the destination for such women, where they are worked to death in toxic cleanup squads. This threat is used to keep Handmaids compliant: the regime offers a choice between a life of servitude and a death that is both slow and agonizing. The prohibition is therefore not a moral or religious one but a practical one: the state needs fertile wombs, and it will go to great lengths to preserve them, even if that means keeping their owners in a state of living death.

The Paradox of the Prohibition

The prohibition creates a profound paradox for the Handmaids. They are forbidden to die, yet they are also denied the basic elements of a life worth living: love, freedom, autonomy, and hope. Offred's narrative is filled with moments of despair in which she contemplates suicide, but she always pulls back, not because she believes in the regime's values but because she fears the consequences. The prohibition is thus a form of psychological torture: it forces the Handmaids to continue living in a system that is designed to break them, and it denies them even the dignity of choosing their own death. The previous Handmaid's suicide is a silent testament to the unbearable weight of this paradox, and her scratched message, "Nolite te bastardes carborundorum," becomes a desperate plea for resistance that Offred clings to even as she recognizes its futility.