Out Of The Wallpaper: The Imagery Of Mentally Ill In Yellow Wallpaper
At first glance, Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’ is merely the story of a helpless woman grappling with mental illness in a dysfunctional marital relationship. Her husband assumes that as a doctor he knows best what is necessary for his wife to recover from her ‘temporary nervous depression’ (115). With the best of intentions, he prescribes her a treatment regimen to follow. Although the narrator believes that the proposed treatment will be ineffective, she reluctantly follows his instructions out of lack of choice, resulting in an apparent decline in her condition. This story, however, carries an important lesson regarding the treatment of the mentally ill in society. Perkins Gilman uses the relationship between the narrator and her husband, John, to critique the impact that gender inequality, traditional marital roles, and the patient-doctor power imbalance have on the treatment of the mentally ill. The story details how those in control of treating the mentally ill can, by dismissing and invalidating the patient’s experience, ultimately cause them harm and perpetuate their illness; and how despite the obstacles they face, the mentally ill can take control over their treatment and free themselves from the oppressive medical system and gender inequality. Through the evolving imagery of the woman behind the wallpaper, Perkins Gilman illustrates that freedom from the oppressive medical system and gender inequality is possible.
At the beginning of the story, it is made clear that John has control of almost every aspect of the narrator’s life. As her physician, he instructs her to take supplements and refrain from working until she is better. Despite her belief that she would benefit from more “excitement and change” (116), she reluctantly follows these instructions. The treatment she is prescribed is not limited to what actions she must or must not do, it goes so far as attempting to control her thoughts: “John says that the very worst thing I can do is to think about my condition” (116). As her husband, he dictates where she stays, insisting not only that she stay in the mansion but even which room she sleep in, and dismisses her request to sleep somewhere else since she hates the room he chose. She is given “a schedule prescription for each hour in the day” (116), is told which thoughts she may not think, and is prohibited from writing.
The narrator, however, does not blindly follow her doctors’ orders. Although John believes she is following his orders and her condition is improving, she reveals that “I take pains to control myself– before him, at least” (116). At first, the narrator’s resistance is limited to discreet writing and doubts regarding the effectiveness of her treatment which she keeps between herself and the “dead paper” of her journal, providing her with what she describes as “great relief to my mind.” (115). At this stage, the narrator feels helpless and powerless: “If a physician of high standing, and one’s own husband, assures friends and relatives that there is really nothing the matter with one but temporary nervous depression–a slight hysterical tendency–what is one to do?” (115). In her first journal entry, she attempts at times to redirect her worries as per John’s demands by describing her surroundings instead of thinking about her illness, yet is ultimately unsuccessful. At this stage, the narrator describes the wallpaper as “dull enough to confuse the eye” with curves that “suddenly commit suicide–plunge off at outrageous angles, destroy themselves in unheard of contradictions.” (117). Through this description, Perkins Gilman illustrates the absence of the narrator’s voice. At this stage the narrator cannot even see any semblance of a person in the wallpaper, she merely sees dull, endless despair.
In her second journal entry, the narrator asserts her needs with increasing conviction. She grants herself unconditional permission to write, no longer feeling guilty for writing yet still limiting her writing to times when she is alone and nobody can see her. When John maintains that he will not repaper the room since “nothing was worse for a nervous patient than to give way to such fancies” (118), she does not back down immediately. Rather, she requests to at least move to a different room downstairs. As the narrator establishes her needs and permits herself to write in order to help her recover, she sees eyes in the wallpaper, and, under certain conditions, “a strange, provoking, formless sort of figure, that seems to skulk about behind that silly and conspicuous front design.” (120). As the narrator attempts to take control of her recovery into her own hands, she begins to see past the “silly and conspicuous front design” of John’s instructions and starts on her journey of discovering her own figure.
In the third entry, the narrator attempts “to have a real earnest reasonable talk” (121) with John. John responds dismissively, belittles her by treating her like a child needing to be put to bed, instead of an adult whose concerns need to be listened to and addressed, and shifts the focus from her needs to his own needs, telling her to take care of herself “for his sake” (121). John places the responsibility to recover on the narrator, while still preventing her from taking the steps she believes to be necessary for her recovery. Thus, the narrator still feels trapped, yet she no longer attempts to address the issue of the wallpaper with John, for she is “too wise” (122). By acknowledging that what she sees in the paper will not be understood by her husband who is blinded by his professional opinion, and deciding to choose her battles wisely, she reconnects with her inner wisdom. This is reflected through the wallpaper, as the “dim shapes get clearer every day” until she sees “a woman stooping down and creeping about behind that pattern” (122).
In her fourth journal entry, the narrator advocates to leave the mansion and then attempts to disprove John’s insistence that she is doing better. John, however, is adamant that she must accept his professional opinion about the state of her recovery over her personal experience. As a doctor, he willfully ignores the patient’s report of symptoms and her experiences that he cannot see, assuming that his professional opinion is more accurate. The more John invalidates and dismisses the narrator’s experience, the more secretive she becomes and she even begins to fear him. The narrator’s discreet behavior demonstrates the effects of the approach by which through professional opinion and the physician’s own observations, the professional comes to dismiss the patient’s experience. By ignoring the evidence that the patient presents and forcing a certain truth upon them, medical professionals such as John lose their scientific credibility. Perkins Gilman uses this aspect of the patient-doctor relationship to demonstrate how by refusing to accept the patient’s experience, doctors dismiss a large amount of evidence needed to accurately diagnose their patients and minimize the likelihood that their patients will share similar relevant information in the future. The descriptions of the wallpaper in the fifth entry reflect the narrator’s current state. Just as she knows the truth regarding her inner state and well-being and the fact that her presentation changes depending on whether or not John is present, what she sees in the wallpaper “changes as the light changes” (123). She is now “quite sure it is a woman” she sees in the wallpaper, yet under light, the pattern “becomes bars” (124) with the woman remaining behind. This reflects the parallel lives the narrator is living, as she begins to find her voice when alone yet remains imprisoned in the mansion, and forced to hide her writing and mask her experience while around John.
Once the narrator finds purpose in discovering the wallpaper, she reports feeling better and finds her life more exciting. Her experience of the wallpaper expands further to her sense of smell. She can see that the woman behind the wallpaper is shaking the pattern, “she is all the time trying to come through. But nobody could climb through that pattern–it strangles so” (126). Perkins Gilman shows that this struggle of overcoming gender inequality and the patient-doctor power imbalance is not unique to the narrator, and is a challenge that many women are faced with. “Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind” (126) the narrator states, acknowledging the many other women struggling similarly to her. They face the same obstacles the narrator faces when trying to have her voice heard in order to receive humane and fair treatment. “They get through, and then the pattern strangles them off and turns them upside down.” (126).
Perkins Gilman ends the story with a message of hope for women who are feeling helpless and trapped in their struggles with mental illness, fighting for recovery in a patriarchal society in which male doctors drown out their voices, dehumanize them and prevent them from accessing the care they need and deserve. These women can free themselves and emerge from behind the bars just as the narrator does, take ownership of their own recovery and exclaim “I am here, and no person touches this paper but me,–not alive!” (127). While society may take time to catch up, and the women may “have to get back behind the pattern when it comes night, and that is hard!” (128), they can ultimately free themselves. Once they “pull off the paper” for enough that they can’t be forced back behind it, they will have the freedom to do as they please, and “creep over” the collapsed male patriarchy which will be rendered as powerless as John, passed out in the doorway (129).
