On September 16, 2016 the Faculty of Arts at the University of Waterloo organized a Rape Culture Teach-A-Thon. Fourteen teachers from Arts gave 10-15 minute talks on rape culture in their areas of expertise. I spoke about Game of Thrones. While I am not a cultural theorist or an expert in fantasy literature, I am a huge Game of Thrones fan. I took my fan-hood to give me enough expertise to discuss rape culture in the franchise–primarily in HBO’s adaptation.
For this post, I’ve shared the video of my presentation. For accessibility purposes, I’ve also shared the text in case you prefer reading or need text when listening to audio. The text has section headings that don’t appear in my oral presentation. I welcome comments/questions/disagreements to continue this conversation!
In addition, I encourage you to check out the entire Rape Culture Teach-A-Thon playlist. The topics are diverse, including ones such as humor, Twitter, and missing and murdered indigenous women and girls. Three of my department colleagues presented: Tim Kenyon on rape culture and ignorance, Shannon Dea on rape culture and trans people, and Trevor Holmes on rape culture and vampire fiction.
Take care. Perhaps it is obvious, but my talk (and the others) discuss rape and sexual violence. While I invite you into this conversation, do whatever you need to do to take care of yourself.
I’m a fan.
I’m a fan of the Game of Thrones franchise. I’ve read all 4,451 pages of the series that author George R. R. Martin has published thus far. I’ve watched all 73 episodes of HBO’s television adaptation. I play not one but two Game of Thrones board games. Needless to say, I’m invested in the story that Game of Thrones tells. Because I am a fan, I use Game of Thrones to help me think about the responsibilities of fiction writers when depicting rape.
Rape culture
To begin, let me share a definition of rape culture offered by feminist cultural critic, essayist, and novelist Roxane Gay. Gay says:
We live in a culture that is overly permissive where rape is concerned. While there are certainly many people who understand rape and the damage of rape, we also live in a time that necessitates the phrase ‘rape culture.’ This phrase denotes a culture where we are inundated, in different ways, by the idea that male aggression and violence towards women is acceptable and often inevitable. (Bad Feminist, p. 129)
Following from this definition, I will ask this question: Does the depiction of rape in Game of Thrones tell the truth about rape? Does it tell the truth, or does it ignore the reality of rape or the effects of rape for victims and survivors?
Game of Thrones is an artistic production. Martin is the artist who crafts the books, and show creators David Benioff and Dan Weiss craft the show. I will suggest that as artists Benioff and Weiss, and thus the Game of Thrones television show, does not tell the truth about rape. Game of Thrones ignores the reality of rape and effects of rape for victims and survivors. It fails to ask us, its fans and viewers, to challenge adequately the prevalence of rape within its own world, or within our society. I will also challenge Martin’s defense that depictions of rape in the television show, as well as in his novels, tell the truth about rape.
Let’s discuss two scenes from the show in detail. You don’t have to know anything about Game of Thrones to follow this talk, but there will be spoilers, and I will ignore much of the detail about how these scenes function in the plot.
Cersei and Jaime, S4E3
One of the most controversial sexual assault scenes is Jaime’s rape of Cersei, which occurs in Season 4, episode 3. I will describe this scene in some detail to raise questions about the artistic decisions made by show creators Benioff and Weiss. Some context: Jaime and Cersei are lovers, as well as siblings. They have three children together, though Cersei’s now-deceased husband is the presumed father. Their oldest child (who is the King, and thus a big deal) has been murdered.
Here’s the scene: Jaime comes to the church where Cersei stands watch over their son’s corpse, and they mourn together. Cersei is crying, Jamie holds and comforts her. They kiss, and Cersei breaks off the kiss. After she turns away, Jaime tells her, “You’re a hateful woman (14:37). Why have the gods made me love a hateful woman?” He grasps her hair behind her neck, forces her to turn around, and moves to kiss her. Cersei struggles against him (14:54). She asks him to stop, to not continue in this location. Her requests seem to become more frantic. He rips away her clothes and forces her to the ground. She says “It’s not right.” She is crying. Jaime says. “I don’t care,” and he continues to rape her.
Fans, myself included, hate this scene. We call attention to the passage in the book, A Storm of Swords, where Cersei exhibits much more agency. Also absent in the book are misogynistic remarks that if Cersei does not want to have sex, she is “hateful,” thereby “withholding.” In the novel, Cersei gives voice, literally, to her feelings of pleasure during this scene. This quotation gives you a sense of the full passage, which I’ve provided on your handout:
“‘Hurry,’ she was whispering now, ‘quickly, quickly, now, do it now, do me now. Jaime Jaime Jaime.’ Her hands helped guide him. ‘Yes,’ Cersei said as he thrust.”
As we heard, Cersei actively guides Jaime to a sexual position. To me, indicates that Cersei acts on her desires for sexual pleasure.
Daenerys and Khal Drogo, S1E1
The second scene to discuss is a case of marital rape, from Season 1, episode 1. Yes, first ever episode of the show depicts a rape. In this scene, Daenerys, who is the daughter of an outed king, is married off to Khal Drogo, an important leader in another culture. This relationship is problematic from its beginning, as Daenerys is coerced into this marriage by her elder brother. She is effectively sold like property.
Let me summarize the scene about how Daenerys’ wedding night unfolds. It’s sunset, in a seemingly secluded location. Daenerys looks nervous, or worried, perhaps scared. Drogo approaches her from behind. He undresses himself, and then her. Daenerys is crying. Drogo says “No” a few times, but why he repeats this word doesn’t really make sense, at least to me. When Drogo completely disrobes Daenerys, she tries to hide her breasts, still crying. Drogo has sex with her, facing her backside.
This scene plays out better in the books. Although I am concerned about consent and coercion, the depiction is better. In the book, Drogo’s repeated “No”s are interpreted as questions, as gauging whether Daenerys consents to sex. There is foreplay, beginning with hand-holding and escalating from there, and Daenerys is an active participant. By the end, it seems as if she does consent to sex. Here’s the final line from the scene:
Daenerys “took his hand and moved it down to the wetness between her thighs. ‘Yes,’ she whispered as she put his finger inside of her.”
I think this line is amazing. Putting aside my worries about consent and coercion in the beginning of this encounter, I think it is significant that Daenerys provides explicit, verbal consent. Whereas HBO’s depiction portrays phallic penetrative sex, thus situating Drogo as the sexual subject, this scene in the book ends with a sex act that privileges Daenerys’ sexual pleasure above Drogo’s.
Thus far, I have cautiously affirmed the book’s depictions over HBO’s rendition of these scenes because they provide agency for women characters, and depict them as active participants in sex. Their pleasure matters, not just the male characters’. Now, Martin’s depictions in the novels may be problematic. For example, Cersei and Jaime’s relationship has a history of using the term “no” as part of their sexual play (and there’s no other “safe word” provided to function as “no”). This strikes me as a problematic representation of a healthy sexual relationship (if we interpret it as such) because it reinforces the myth present in rape culture that no matter what a person says, their verbal statement is taken to mean “keep going.” With these caveats, I do affirm that Martin succeeds in depicting women as sexual, desiring, pleasure-seeking agents.
Justification for sexual violence?
I won’t attempt to guess why the show creators decided to move away from the book in writing these scenes for television. But I would like to consider justifications that Martin has given for sexual violence in both his novels and HBO’s adaptation. In response to Jaime’s rape of Cersei, Martin cautiously defends Benioff and Weiss’s decision, saying that the rape makes narrative sense given the show’s different timeline and plot arc (he also emphasizes artistic freedom). This particular defense relies on Martin’s broader justification for sexual violence in Game of Thrones, which might be summarized as “rape is horrible and happens often.”
In a 2014 New York Times interview, Martin provides this justification for depictions of sexual violence in Game of Thrones:
“An artist has an obligation to tell the truth. My novels are epic fantasy, but they are inspired by and grounded in history. Rape and sexual violence have been a part of every war ever fought, from the ancient Sumerians to our present day. To omit them from a narrative centered on war and power would have been fundamentally false and dishonest, and would have undermined one of the themes of the books: that the true horrors of human history derive not from orcs and Dark Lords, but from ourselves. We are the monsters. (And the heroes too). Each of us has within himself the capacity for great good, and great evil.”
An artist’s obligation
“An artist,” Martin states, “has an obligation to tell the truth.” If we accept this claim, does Martin succeed in telling the truth about rape? If Martin is aiming for the truth, his attempts fall short.
I do admit that in some senses, Game of Thrones tells the truth. Game of Thrones does acknowledge that perpetrators of sexual violence are often people close to the victims and survivors–people they may trust. And yes, it is true that rape is bad and horrible. But that’s only part of the truth. Telling the truth about rape means that we have to look at how culture supports conditions which make rape possible and prevalent. Telling the truth means that we have to talk about rape culture as well.
As a fan, my main complaint about Game of Thrones is that it is does not problematize rape or rape culture. Rape fades into the background, not something that is brought forward to be deliberately and consciously critiqued within the show (or the books for that matter).
Take Jaime and Cersei for instance. We don’t get from the show any deep sense of Cersei wrestling with Jaime’s betrayal of her trust. We don’t get an apology or acknowledgement from Jaime, who is supposed to be a character on a path to redemption. Although Cersei’s character arc through the show might be interpreted as one of empowerment despite violence committed against her (and yes, there’s more violence), her rape by her lover and brother does not lead to any commentary within the show. It becomes a background piece. It ignores the complexities and the difficulties that survivors of acquaintance rape may experience. Game of Thrones does not tell the truth about rape or rape culture in depicting Jaime’s rape of Cersei.
Now take Daenerys. In the show she develops a loving relationship (of sorts) with Drogo. This relationship makes more sense in the novel given the pleasures of their physical intimacy. In the show, marital rape is something that happens to Daenerys but that is quickly overcome in the political drama of the plot. The show does not ask the viewers to grapple with the difficulties of marital rape or intimate partner abuse. I suggest that this is a dishonest representation of the realities of marital rape or rape from an intimate partner.
Telling the truth about rape and rape culture
I haven’t been able to discuss all depictions of rape in Game of Thrones. Originally, I planned to speak about gang rapes in Craster’s Keep, in which women are being raped in the background of a scene while two men are having a conversation. I planned to talk about Sansa Stark and reasons why we should be skeptical that the depiction of her rape is justified because the assault leads to her coming into her own agency. Connect with me via email or twitter and I am happy to discuss these points.
To conclude, I want to end by returning to artists’ obligation to tell the truth. Like Martin, feminist critic Roxane Gay believes artists should tell the truth. But she conceptualizes the truth about rape in a way that enables a critique of rape culture. Gay says that she “considers my responsibility as a writer and what writers can do to critique rape culture intelligently and illuminate the realities of sexual violence without exploiting the subject” (Bad Feminist, 134).
Martin describes his writing philosophy as “show, don’t tell.” The “showing” of sexual assault in HBO’s Game of Thrones falls far short of the truth about the impact of rape and its realities. It lets rape recede into the background, which invites its viewers to do the same. Rather that taking an opportunity to critique rape culture, Game of Thrones perpetuates a culture which makes it easier on all of us to accept rape as an inevitable evil of male aggression committed by human beings. This is an exploitation of rape. It does not tell the truth about rape or rape culture.
Photo source
Photo courtesy of HBO.com.