Yes, I watch television dramas to escape, but The Handmaid’s Tale has turned too brutal and too real for me to stomach. Perhaps it is a failure on my part to not want to accept that even though this is fictional, life has imitated art as often as art has imitated contemporary life: more and more women are revealing the identities of their abusers, some don’t get to expose them because they are killed and stuffed in bins (like Karabo Mokoena was by her deranged boyfriend, Sandile Mantsoe), and others are victims of corrective rape.

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