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Paull Laline's dystopian novel The Bees, I found myself thinking of Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale

 



Blurb

In this piece, I dive into the hive—literally and metaphorically. Inspired by Paull Laline's dystopian novel The Bees, I found myself thinking of Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale—another of my favourites—and the strange parallels between a beehive and our own society. While bees live in a world of hormones, pheromones, and roles neatly assigned, we humans—and especially ND women—move through a society that expects a hive-like uniformity but never truly fits that mold. Our hormones are as unique as our wiring—no one pattern is the same, and no two ND minds follow the same path.

So, I've cross-referenced these worlds: the dystopian hive of The Bees, the chilling uniformity of Atwood’s Gilead, and the very real, very human experience of being a menopausal ND woman in a world that expects a hive mind. In this post, you’ll find a poem and a reflection that asks a simple question: what happens when we refuse to be bees and choose to be beautifully, chaotically ourselves?


Hive

A hive. Living in a hive.

One role. Accepting. Accepted. Accountable.

One role.

It’s so dystopian.

ND could never. Be the same. Do the same. Be trusted with the role.

How could anything be created, accepted — or could it?

Watch. See. Do.

One task. Busy bee.

Wave. Feeling. Shared hormones. Pheromones. Vibrations. Hum. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

Foragers. Unity. Be good. Do good. Task. Purpose. Hive.

Handmaiden.

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