Taming of the Shrew - From the Perspective of Katherina.

I refuse to be subservient, and I refuse to follow the likes of men. I may be a woman, but I am just as wise as any oaf of a man and twice as dedicated. Unlike my sister, who holds only air between her ears and is willing to give herself to any man who spares her a deceiving smile, I find myself fighting for every ounce of freedom that can be afforded. Though no man hath ever need fight as hard as I find myself fighting now. I once thought to myself, “Of all things living, a man’s the worst”. Truer words have never been. 

I was raised under the loving guidance of my father, who loves me not enough to protect me from my husband. A wretched drunk and a cruel man at heart, who sees it fit to “tame” his wife with starvation and sleep deprivation. If a man’s the worst, there exists no man more despicable than my husband, Petruchio. He believes he has tamed me, but tame me he has not. I have been subdued into shame and embarrassment, for a time. I have put on the mask, parading myself as the dutiful and obedient wife, but it is not so. For I have tricked those whom foolishly believe themselves to be untrickable. 

Once the father whom I thought I loved has passed, half of all his lands and dowry will transfer to my rotten Petruchio, who has promised that I will outlive him. Well, outlive him I shall! For once we have confirmed the wills in place, the contracts amended, I will have my revenge. They say that poison is a woman's weapon, but I am sure it is no less effective than a blade to the heart. Once my dreadful Petruchio rots in the ground beside my father as they both deserve, no one will marry me off again. I will be free, finally free in my own right with my own lands to use as I see fit. 

Though the wait for such events to occur feels unbearable. The parchment mask, forcefully glued to my face, has begun to itch. I can feel my skin peeling beneath it, desperate once more for the sun. Every courtesy, every “yes sir”, every night as he lie atop me, takes a new fresh piece of my soul until I fear there will be nothing left. As the months go on, I persist, dreaming of death and dismay for this man who sought to own me as one owns a pig or a falcon. My only comfort is the knowledge that his time will come, and when it does, I shall laugh!

Zeffirelli, Franco, director. The Taming Of The Shrew. performances by Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, Sony Pictures, 1967, www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tz3MeVccdXA&t=5150s.