John Armellino

ERH 203WX 02

Major Knepper

Due 11/5/15

 

“What Makes The Yellow Wallpaper so Frightening?”

 

Charlotte Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper” is a masterpiece of feminist literature and horror (some would argue that those are both the same thing). It tells the story of a young woman, the wife of a doctor, who is suffering a terrible case of depression. The story is from her point of view, and begins at the couple’s arrival to a “colonial mansion,” which the narrator compares to “a haunted house” in her thoughts. Of course, it has been debated if the mansion was actually haunted. A frightening thought indeed, but I do not think that is the case. And even if it were, it is not the true horror of “The Yellow Wallpaper.” What makes this story so disturbing is the protagonist’s suffering at the hands of her well-intentioned husband, as well as her utter lack of free will.

Consider that immediately upon entering the estate, the narrator notices that there must be something “queer” about the mansion, as they have rented it cheap. Her husband laughs at her, which is something to be expected, the protagonist states. It seems as though the narrator is treated not only like a child, but also like a child whose cares and concerns are almost always dismissed immediately. She also appears to simply accept this. “What is one to do?” As the story goes on, the more “practical” husband locks her away and refuses her the simple pleasures of human interaction and even writing. She is essentially a prisoner.

As time goes on, the narrator becomes more and more disturbed. It is apparent that she is not only a prisoner of the room, but also a prisoner of her own mind. Because of her mental illness, and the lack of an outlet for her fears and frustrations, her mind has no choice but to turn in on itself for some form of escape. It is almost as if her consciousness is folding in half to read itself. The woman stuck behind the yellow wallpaper is the narrator herself, as she truly is, a prisoner. With the wallpaper as her metaphorical cage, she tears it apart while “creeping” around. To be reduced to such a state is unimaginable, even terrifying, to someone like me, who does not like to be told what to do at all. The idea of having one’s basic freedoms stripped away, and being forced to accept it by a patriarchal system that “knows best” is horrifying to me. Even outside the room there was no escape for the narrator. She was powerless, and Charlotte Gilman made sure that the reader knew what that powerlessness felt like, and what its consequences were.