Red cloaks. White wings. You've seen them.
Even if you’ve never sat through a single episode of the Hulu series or cracked the spine of Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel, the images of the handmaid's tale are basically hardwired into your brain by now. It is a visual language that has escaped the confines of fiction to become a literal shorthand for political protest and social anxiety. It’s weird, honestly. Most TV shows have "fandoms" where people dress up for fun at conventions, but these images transitioned into something much more visceral and, frankly, much heavier.
The striking visual of a woman in a crimson robe with a stiff, white bonnet obscuring her face isn't just a costume. It’s a signal. When you see these images pop up on your newsfeed or in the middle of a protest at the Capitol, they are doing a lot of heavy lifting. They tap into a very specific kind of fear regarding bodily autonomy and state control.
The Brutal Simplicity of the Red Cloak
Why does it work?
Simple. Contrast.
Ane Crabtree, the costume designer for the first few seasons of the show, didn't just pick red because it looked "cool" or "menacing." She chose a specific shade—a deep, blood-like crimson—that pops violently against the muted, gray-scale world of Gilead. When we talk about images of the handmaid's tale, we are usually talking about that specific visual dissonance. The red is the color of life, blood, and fertility, but in the context of the story, it's a target. It makes the wearer impossible to miss. They can't hide. They are owned.
The wings are even more claustrophobic. Those white bonnets were designed to act like blinkers on a horse. They literally prevent the actors from seeing anything other than what is directly in front of them. This creates a very specific posture—head down, eyes forward—that has become iconic in the show's promotional photography. When photographers capture these images, they often use a shallow depth of field, blurring the background so the solitary red figure feels completely isolated, even if she's standing in a crowd.
It’s about the erasure of the individual. In the world of Gilead, a Handmaid doesn't have a name; she has a function. The images reflect that by hiding the hair, the ears, and the profile. You’re left with a shape. A silhouette.
How Protesters Hijacked the Visuals
It didn't take long for the real world to notice.
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Back in 2017, shortly after the show premiered, women started showing up to statehouses in Texas and Ohio wearing the red robes. It was a brilliant, if chilling, bit of political theater. By using images of the handmaid's tale in a protest setting, they were basically saying, "We don't need to shout; you already know what this means."
The power of the image lies in its silence.
When protesters sit in a gallery or stand on a sidewalk in those cloaks, they aren't holding signs. They aren't chanting. They are just... there. The visual reference does the talking. It implies that the distance between our current reality and the fictional Republic of Gilead is shorter than we’d like to think. Whether or not you agree with that assessment, you can't deny the effectiveness of the branding. It’s a rare case where a piece of pop culture becomes a universal symbol for a specific political grievance.
Interestingly, Margaret Atwood herself has commented on this. She’s noted that the costume has become a "visual meme" that bypasses language barriers. You don't need to speak English to understand that a woman in a red cloak and a white bonnet is being restricted.
The Evolution of the Show’s Cinematography
If you look at the early images of the handmaid's tale from Season 1 versus the later seasons, the vibe shifts.
Initially, the photography was very static. Very painterly. It looked like a Vermeer painting—lots of "Dutch Light" streaming through windows, illuminating the dust motes and the stark textures of the wood and fabric. It felt like a period piece, which made the horror feel grounded and historical.
As the story progressed and Offred (June) became more defiant, the images changed. The camera got closer. We started getting those extreme, uncomfortable close-ups of Elisabeth Moss’s face. The "Handmaid" wasn't just a red shape anymore; she was a person vibrating with rage. The symmetry of the shots started to break down. The world became more handheld, more chaotic, reflecting the crumbling of the social order within the narrative.
Why Some Images Feel Different
- The Particicution: Wide shots of many Handmaids in a circle, creating a geometric pattern of red. It’s beautiful and horrifying at the same time.
- The Wall: Images of the wall are always shot from a low angle to make it look insurmountable. It’s the visual representation of "no exit."
- The Commander’s Office: Dark, wood-paneled, filled with forbidden books. It’s the only place with "warm" colors, which highlights the hypocrisy of the elite.
These aren't just random choices. Director of Photography Reed Morano set a visual template that used color saturation to manipulate the viewer's emotional state. When June is in the "present" of Gilead, the colors are cold and desaturated, except for that piercing red. When she has a flashback to "Before," the colors are warm, messy, and natural.
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The Controversy of "Aestheticizing" Suffering
There’s a flip side to all this.
Some critics argue that the images of the handmaid's tale have become too iconic. They've been turned into a "vibe" or an "aesthetic." You can find Handmaid-themed wine, themed weddings (which is deeply weird if you've seen the show), and "sexy" Handmaid Halloween costumes.
This is the "merchandising of misery" problem.
When a symbol of systemic oppression becomes a high-definition, beautifully lit photograph meant to sell streaming subscriptions, does it lose its bite? Honestly, it’s a bit of a toss-up. On one hand, the ubiquity of the image keeps the conversation about women's rights in the public consciousness. On the other hand, when you see a "Handmaid" filter on Instagram, it's easy to forget that the source material is about ritualized violence.
The power of an image is its ability to communicate instantly, but the danger is that it can become a caricature. We’ve seen this happen with other symbols, like the Guy Fawkes mask from V for Vendetta. It starts as a specific story and ends up as a generic "rebel" logo.
Real-World Impact and Global Reach
It’s not just an American thing.
The images of the handmaid's tale have appeared in protests in Ireland during the repeal of the Eighth Amendment, in Argentina during abortion rights debates, and in the UK. It’s become a global uniform for dissent.
Experts in semiotics—the study of signs and symbols—point out that the costume works because it is "legible." It’s a primary color. It’s a simple silhouette. It doesn't require a lot of context to feel the weight of it. Even if you haven't read the book, the visual of a woman whose identity is hidden by a bonnet carries a historical weight that connects to real-world religious and social restrictions from the past several centuries.
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Common Misconceptions About the Visuals
People often think the red cloaks were inspired by some specific historical group. Not exactly. Atwood has said she took bits and pieces from various places—the red comes from the "Scarlet Letter," sure, but also from certain religious depictions of Mary. The bonnets were partially inspired by the "Old Dutch" cleanser woman from the 1940s. It’s a mashup of "wholesome" domesticity and carceral control.
Another thing? The show didn't invent the "red" look. The 1990 movie starring Natasha Richardson had a similar palette, though the costumes were more like actual 90s dresses. The Hulu version just perfected the "uniform" aspect, making it look more like a military garment than a dress.
Actionable Insights for Interpreting These Images
If you’re analyzing these images for a project, or just trying to understand why they keep popping up, here are a few things to keep in mind.
First, look at the composition. Are the Handmaids positioned in a line? This usually signifies the loss of individuality. When you see a single Handmaid out of alignment with the others, it's a visual cue for rebellion.
Second, pay attention to the lighting. In Gilead, the light is often "top-down," which feels oppressive and judgmental, like a divine eye watching. In scenes of resistance, the light tends to be more lateral and natural.
Third, consider the context. If you see these images in a news report about a protest, the intent is to draw a direct line between fiction and reality. If you see them in a fashion editorial, the intent is likely to provoke or use the "edgy" nature of the show to sell a look.
To really grasp the weight of these visuals, you have to look past the "cool" red fabric. You have to look at what the fabric is hiding. The most effective images of the handmaid's tale aren't the ones where the women look like victims; they are the ones where you can see the simmering anger just beneath the brim of that white bonnet.
The next time you see that red cloak on your screen, don't just see a costume. See the visual argument it's making about visibility, power, and the way we use symbols to fight back when words aren't enough. Check the background, look at the symmetry, and ask yourself who is holding the camera. That’s where the real story lives.