Sansa Stark, Victimization and Sexual Violence in Game of Thrones (Part IV)

Note: This is a multi-part revision of a previous essay of the same title. Each part is linked below
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V

Trigger Warning: This contains frequent discussion of sexual assault, particularly rape

          One may accept that Sansa’s rape was permissible or even necessary while arguing that its depiction was not. Perhaps Sansa could have simply admitted to Theon that Ramsay rapes her every night in the same way that she broke down before him in the following episode and thereby the audience would be spared the representation of the violent act itself. This argument overreaches however since it ignores the way in which the rape could be referenced through the reaction of Theon’s in the immediate presence of the act without showing the act itself. The rape itself was not depicted for the audience, only Theon’s reaction to it (and the sign of Sansa suffering it), and it was his horrific recognition which was important for the audience to witness. The audience had to see that Theon saw her suffering for its full thematic effect and could not rely upon his reaction to a confession thereafter. 

          Tactfully the rape itself occurred off-screen, only being represented through the horror upon Theon’s face and the whimpers made by Sansa. Simply because the rape of Sansa affected more than one person does not mean that it was not about Sansa and was instead about Theon. Even if Theon recovers his courage and finally confronts Ramsay for all that he has done to Theon and Sansa, there is no reason to reduce this scene to a function of that character development. Simply because the camera focused upon Theon’s contorted and horrified face does not mean the scene was primarily about him. The scene may visually focus on Theon’s face, but it also provides the auditory suffering of Sansa as she moans and cries in discomfort. The suffering of each person is represented but done in such a way that does not dehumanize or sensationalize the ordeal of Sansa. Had the camera focused upon Sansa, or worse still, Ramsay, there would be guaranteed criticism that the scene was a spectacle of sexual violence seen through the predatory perspective of the male gaze. 

          Instead said male gaze was turned back upon itself. Theon is made witness to the dehumanization of women by the institutional powers he is literally in subservience to, and the audience is made witness to this realization in turn. His is the male gaze come to realize its complacency with the degradation of women, idly watching as unfolds before him.Theon is a perfect representation of the self-destructive patriarchy within the world of Game of Thrones. Theon hoped to impress his true father, Balon Greyjoy, by betraying the Stark house, besieging Winterfell and then boasted of killing Sansa’s youngest brothers. For this he was humiliated, tortured and ultimately castrated by Ramsay. Theon’s quest to assert his masculinity only resolved to deprive him of it. But the show focused upon Theon’s face not for the audience to empathize with his suffering, but for the audience to recognize our compassion for Sansa in his own face. And our outrage at Theon for doing nothing to protect Sansa should be turned back upon ourselves to confront the ways in which we never confront the rape culture we are horrified for having witnessed. Rather than reducing the suffering of Sansa into a titillating spectacle, the scene is turned into a torturous spectacle of patriarchal hypocrisy.    

          The focus upon Theon’s reaction to Sansa’s rape highlighting that the effects of rape extend beyond the immediate victim but are also internalized by those aware of it. Sexual violence affects all of society and in patriarchal ones it is particular poisonous to men who perceive themselves to be in a position to judge the very violence they are complicit in. Theon, despite his betrayal of House Stark, was a pseudo-brother to Sansa and having no particular ill will towards her would be particularly traumatized by her rape; Ramsay, knowing this, used it to great sadistic effect in order to humiliate and emasculate Theon further. A major recurrent theme throughout both series is bearing witness to and accepting that one’s society is unjust (to women) and accepting that fantasies derive their narratives from the history and mythology of such societies. To completely absolve one’s self from witnessing the rape would be a betrayal of the ethical deconstruction of the fantasy genre. To ignore such depictions is to assume that rape is less awful if not seen by others, and it is precisely in the interest of patriarchal societies and the fantasy narratives they reinforce to conceal the reality of rape culture they have responsibility for.

          Rape is not merely a grim fantasy in the same way that knights, dragons or White Walkers are but is a horrific reality that women live in fear of and often suffer. Certainly, such a sensitive issue like rape should not be trivialized into a narrative device or sensationalized into a sexual spectacle for the male gaze.  Fictional accounts of rape, in fantastical worlds or not, should be done with visceral impact that does not ignore the lasting emotional impact of the event. But imposing ad-hoc restrictions on how rape is represented to ensure that it is “meaningful” to the story or “empowering” to the person who suffers it is not only unrealistic but is also uncomfortable considering the issue. Rape intrudes into the narrative of one’s life and literally so into one’s bodily person in order to deprive them of power. If it is to be represented in fiction it should remain true to the horror of that experience and not made to conform to comforting or empowering narratives.

          There is nothing wrong with stories of women avoiding rape or overpowering the attackers or of stories that do not feature rape at all. Those stories provide examples of empowered women who are more than victims of sexual assault and it needs to be seen that a woman is capable of such courage when confronted with sexual violence. But it is equally important not to ignore stories where women are raped routinely by men with little power over to resist. The discomfort we male feel over such narratives may only serve to highlight to privilege we have of being so far removed from such a world and our lack of empathy for those who live such fiction as a reality. Although we certainly need heroines to confront the patriarchy, we also need to recognize that it is equally harmful to demand of women that they be a triumphant hero in situations of sexual assault and abuse. We certainly should hope that women prevail in such circumstances and ought to strive to ensure that such circumstances never emerge to begin with, but insofar as they do it is equally important to represent the nobility of the victim as it is the nobility of the victor. 

I think Sana represents precisely what is lacking in so much of fantasy fiction: the noble victim.  Bearing one’s suffering in silence is not an ideal women should strive for, but rather it is a reaction to abuse that the audiences need to strive to accept.  Both heroism and victimhood are possible when confronted with rape and it is not our place as audience to a rape, fictional or real, to judge the victim for failing to live up to our expectation that they be a hero.  The irony is that for Sana herself, the noble victim is an ideal, or at least the best a woman can do in her circumstances.  Yet faulting for her this fails to recognize the way in which the ideology of patriarchy has informed her self-image. And blaming HBO or George RR Martin for writing such a character in their respective series is a failure to realize that their representation is a criticism of the way such misogynistic ideology operates, not an endorsement of it.   

Demanding that Sansa be protected from sexual violence for the sake of the plot is to impose upon the narrative a moral order which the show is continually subverting.  Traditional fantasy worlds are defined by a moral order that ensures the heroes are victorious and the villains are vanquished, and each is easily identifiable for the audience. It is a world where only the wicked are punished and if the good suffer, it is for the sake of some higher purpose the narrative provides them with. This ideology extends beyond the fictional worlds of fantasy, intruding into our own moral judgments ; the belief in a moral purpose to the world ironically justifies moral atrocities the world over for the sake of preserving that sacred narrative or bringing it closer to its culmination.  

Ironically the very desire the shield Sansa and the fantasy genre recognition of sexual abuse is the very sort of romanticized narrative which rendered Sansa so subservient to said abuses in the first place. She was shielded from the violence of the world most of her life, raised to believe in the nobility of knights and lords and to serve them as a kind and passive lady; but this is a fantasy in denial of the depravity of most knights and lords Sansa suffers through. This is not to say that fantastic narratives of female empowerment only serve to disempower women. But the lack of narratives honestly portraying the possibility of degradation and instead insisting upon a perfect world for perfect heroes does leave us unable to confront evil when it penetrates this illusion. Such evil is inevitable but emerges unexpectedly and Game of Thrones manages this balance well.