As a woman, I have a complicated relationship with Shakespeare. Like all art, his plays are a product of their time, reflecting the limited perceptions and expectations of women in Elizabethan England. The Taming of the Shrew is perhaps the most infamous example: the entire plot revolves around one man’s efforts to abuse the headstrong Katherine into the perfect wife. And that’s to say nothing of Hamlet’s poor Ophelia, immortalized in our collective memory through her tragic death.
Despite his limited worldview, however, one of Shakespeare’s great talents as a playwright was his ability to create complex, memorable characters, regardless of gender. Within the Shakespearean canon are a variety of compelling women, each captivating and powerful in her own way. Join us as we pay tribute to a handful of iconic — and largely underrated! — Shakespearean women.
Beatrice, Much Ado About Nothing
Taming’s sharp-tongued Katherine walked so Beatrice could run circles around every man she encounters. Banter is an art, one that the charming Beatrice has thoroughly mastered when we first meet her. She verbally spars with Benedick with such fervor that we wonder if there might be more to their relationship than mere loathing. So does the rest of the cast, who scheme to push the two together, though, like Benedick, Beatrice has sworn off love altogether.
Throughout the play, however, we discover that Beatrice’s quick wit hides a tender heart. When her cousin, Hero, is falsely accused of infidelity, she steadfastly defends her, distraught at Hero’s pain and disgrace. She demands Benedick prove his newly realized devotion to her by killing Hero’s would-be husband, Claudio, for humiliating her. Though it never comes to that, we see how fiercely Beatrice cares for those she loves — and we, like Benedick, fall head over heels.
Paulina, The Winter’s Tale
For a play with the most famous stage direction of all time — “Exit, pursued by a bear” — The Winter’s Tale doesn’t get nearly enough credit. To be fair, it’s one of Shakespeare’s strangest plays, undergoing an identity crisis halfway through the runtime with a sudden pivot from tragedy to comedy. This does mean, however, that not many people get to appreciate Paulina — one of Shakespeare’s most overlooked characters.
Much like Beatrice, Paulina staunchly defends Hermione, queen of Sicily, against baseless accusations of infidelity by her husband, Leontes. Paulina attempts to calm the king by showing him his newborn daughter, only for Leontes to reject the child and send her away. Leontes’s paranoia has disastrous consequences: his son dies of grief, and Hermione soon follows. Meanwhile, soon after abandoning Leontes’s daughter on the coast of Bohemia, Paulina’s husband, Antigonus, loses his own life to the infamous bear.
Paulina takes Leontes to task for his misdeeds, though she continues to attend to him and provide counsel. For the next sixteen years, she urges him not to remarry out of respect for his lost wife. Miraculously, Leontes’s long-lost daughter, Perdita, resurfaces, much to the relief of the anxious kingdom, who feared Leontes would never produce another heir. But Paulina has a final trick up her sleeve. She gifts the king a statue of Hermione that magically — or through clever deception — comes to life, restoring his happy marriage. Unwavering in her convictions, Paulina arguably held the kingdom of Sicily together single-handedly. It’s high time we gave her the recognition she deserves.
Emilia, Othello
Othello has a complicated legacy, particularly with regard to its treatment of race. But if there’s one bright spot in an otherwise grim, problematic play, it’s Emilia, wife of the villainous Iago. As attendant to Othello’s wife, Desdemona, Emilia finds herself unknowingly aiding her husband in his schemes. She gives Desdemona’s handkerchief, a gift from Othello, to Iago, who uses it to frame Desdemona for adultery. While we lament Emilia’s role in Othello’s downfall, we also can’t help but sympathize with her. Shakespeare hints that her marriage to Iago is unhappy, and she remarks to Desdemona upon the unfortunate nature of men:
After Othello murders Desdemona, Emilia realizes her error and exposes Iago’s treachery, revealing her own role in his deceptions. Justice arrives too little, too late, and she’s killed for her troubles. Yet her final act of defiance, however briefly, has won her power over her despicable husband.
Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia, King Lear
You really couldn’t ask for better villains than the conniving sisterly duo of Goneril and Regan. Taking advantage of their father, Lear’s deteriorating mind, the two flatter their way into inheriting his kingdom. The result is equal parts political intrigue and family drama as the two scheming sisters quickly reveal their true colors. Realizing his errors too late, Lear is cast out into the rain, powerless, unstable, and disrespected by his daughters. Several acts of violence later, and with an invasion from France looming on the horizon, Goneril and Regan turn on each other. Both women fall for Edmund, the Earl of Gloucester’s illegitimate son, and each wants him for herself, with fatal consequences.
Meanwhile, youngest sister Cordelia expresses her love for her father frankly: “according to my bond, no more, no less.” Once the favored daughter, she’s banished for failing to appease Lear’s ego. The King of France, however, is impressed by her honesty and marries her. Though Cordelia has less time to shine than her sisters, she’s no less impactful. Commanding her husband’s army, she leads the charge to reclaim the kingdom and rescue her father. Ever faithful, even after being disowned, she nurses her father back to health. Their reunion, unfortunately, is short-lived, as they are both sentenced to death, and Cordelia is executed. Still, despite her family’s tragic downfall, she and her sisters each wield their power with remarkable skill, for better or for worse.
Lady Macbeth, Macbeth
We had to close with a banger, of course.
No one embodies ruthless ambition like Lady Macbeth. From the moment she learns of the witches’ prophecy, she sets her sights on one singular goal: to take the throne. In a chilling monologue, she rejects the expectations imposed on her gender, summoning instead a masculine bloodlust. Armed with “undaunted mettle,” she orchestrates the assassination of King Duncan, repeatedly scolding her husband when he starts having second thoughts.
Yet this unrelenting thirst for power comes with a cost. Guilt consumes the new queen as the bodies pile up with each passing scene. She begins sleepwalking, haunted by the unseen blood that stains her hands — the “damned spot” that she can’t wash out. The psychological toll becomes too much to bear, and she takes her own life. Lady Macbeth’s unraveling remains one of the most fascinating character portraits the world has ever known.
Centuries after they first graced the stage, the women of Shakespeare continue to captivate us. We want to know: who among them is your favorite? Are you a Beatrice lover or a Lady Macbeth apologist? Let us know on Instagram, X, or Facebook!
Can’t get enough Shakespeare? Click here to learn about the queer elements in his plays.
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