Othello

Othello, classic tale of love, jealousy, and how one man’s career frustrations escalate into full-scale tragedy. It has everything: deception, a well-placed handkerchief, and a sobering reminder that if you want to live, you should probably not be a woman in a Shakespeare play.

This isn’t just a play about trust gone wrong. It’s about misogyny. And racism. And classism. And the Elizabethan equivalent of toxic workplace dynamics. In other words, a play that has aged well.

You know this story. Othello, a brilliant general, marries Desdemona, but his right-hand man, Iago, decides to stir up some recreational evil. Cue a spiral of manipulation, jealousy, suspicion, tragic misunderstandings, and several dick jokes.

Othello is about how quickly power and respect are revoked when the person holding them doesn’t fit the mold. Othello is Black in a white society, and nobody lets him forget it. He’s admired, sure, but the moment there’s a hint of scandal, that admiration vanishes. Brabantio, Desdemona’s father, assumes Othello must have used witchcraft to win her love, because the idea that she made a rational choice to marry him is simply inconceivable. Iago plays into this, feeding Othello’s insecurities until Othello begins to believe them himself.

And so a brilliant, accomplished man is destroyed not just by jealousy, but by a society that is quite willing to see him as a villain the second it suits them.

Not to mention, Othello is not subtly misogynistic. It is aggressively misogynistic. Desdemona is treated like an expensive handbag, her father appalled that she eloped without his permission. The mere suggestion of infidelity transforms her in Othello’s eyes. And poor Emilia (arguably the only woman in the play with a backbone) gets stabbed for telling the truth, while Iago at least gets to see his nasty handiwork before facing consequences.

Speaking of Iago — If he had internet access, he’d be the guy writing long-winded articles with titles like “Define a Woman, Especially in the Workplace.”

The eternal Shakespearean question pops up: Is he critiquing these systems, or condoning them? On one hand, the play makes it clear that these forces are destructive. On the other hand, Desdemona’s suffering exists largely to give Othello a big emotional moment, and Othello’s Blackness is emphasized mostly as a way to set up his downfall. Shakespeare holds up a mirror to society, but he is also, perhaps uncomfortably, reinforcing some of the very ideas he’s exposing.

Othello functions on human folly, and none more glaring than how quickly Othello buys into Iago’s lies. The play hinges on the speed at which Othello believes Iago. But where reputation is everything, trust isn’t built on deep personal connection. It’s built on what other people say. Iago plays on this expertly, proving that sometimes, all it takes to destroy a person’s life is a well-timed whisper.

Just why does Iago do any of this? His reasons shift constantly: he wanted a promotion. He thinks Othello slept with his wife. He’s bored. He’s like a Shakespearean Joker, except instead of “some men just want to watch the world burn,” it’s “MEN ARE NOT EMOTIONAL!!!11!!”

And then there’s Desdemona. Shakespeare wrote some excellent female characters (Beatrice, Lady Macbeth, Viola.) Desdemona, however, is frustratingly passive. It almost makes you want to say, “At least ask to speak to the manager!”

Did I respect Othello? Sure. Did I dig it? That’s complicated. The themes are powerful. The language is stunning. The tragedy is tragic. But the next time someone whispers that my best friend is betraying me, I will be double-checking my sources before sharpening my blade.