We are talking, of course, about words. Because words, despite what people may tell you, can be every bit as effective as sticks and stones.

“Where there is power, there is resistance,” said French philosopher Michel Foucault – and this is plain to see in Offred’s story arc.

Through creating her own narrative, she reclaims some semblance of self – a feat which is even more impressive when you consider the fact that she is forced to tell her story using the very same language that suppresses her with its talk of Salvagings, Marthas, Wives, Handmaids, Gender Traitors, and Commanders. There are forced mantras (she is constantly demanded to utter the words ‘blessed be the fruit’ and ‘under his eye’) – and just one word is enough to earn you a death sentence, or, at the very least, lose you one of your vital body parts. Yet Offred has been able to subvert it, in her own way, by taking joy in childish swear words in the comfort of her own mind.

In this episode, though, Offred is almost a shadow of her own self; lost in dangerous nostalgia, she daydreams of happier times and finds it increasingly difficult to carry on.

But, when Offred sinks to the floor of her closet (hanging from the rails are, of course, a series of identical red dresses), she discovers a tiny scrap of graffiti. And, in that moment, everything changes.

We really need to talk about Offred’s secret weapon in The Handmaid’s Tale