Many critics of Measure for Measure have focused on a sexual Isabella—not necessarily as overtly sexual, but perhaps sexually repressed, confused, naïve or, in some of the worst cases, provocative. I want to introduce the idea of an asexual Isabella.

Asexuality is a lack of sexual attraction to anyone, and while it still remains barely visible in both the straight and queer communities, it is as real and present as any other sexuality. But in a world that sexualises women in every situation, pushes sex on us at every moment, and tells us that romantic relationships are necessary to our happiness and wholeness, asexuals often remain unnoticed or misunderstood. 

In her essay for Shakespeare Survey entitled “Writing About Motive: Isabella, the Duke and Moral Authority”, author and director Anna Kamaralli writes about the way critics and directors have assessed Isabella’s sexuality. She looks into two opposing arguments of Isabella’s fear of sexuality and “irrational” fear of sexual violation (as claimed by Vivian Thomas) against the feminist critique which reads Isabella’s decision to join the convent as a search for solace from the harassment and oppression her female status brings her. Kamaralli opposes the argument that Isabella is necessarily afraid of sex, except when she is threatened, by arguing that her joining a nunnery and refusing sex is no indication of fear or disgust.

This is true, one is not indicative of the other, but I think there is a case to be made for Isabella’s repulsion to sex, not as a character flaw but as an addition. There are a number of people in the asexual community (and out of it, too) identifying as “sex-repulsed” or “sex-averse” who, as a part of their being and not out of choice, feel highly uncomfortable with sex. They cannot bear to hear about it, they don’t understand its fascination, and they feel repulsed by the idea of having any sexual relations. These are not character flaws, but simple facts of people’s lives. Most of the evidence for Isabella being fearful of or disgusted by sex comes from her decision not to have sex with Angelo in exchange for her brother’s life. Many critics believe this to be an absurd and maladaptive attitude that nobody with a stable mind would choose. This perception is in line with the common belief that sex is a natural part of the human self—as natural as food or sleep—and that going without it must be unnatural. Many non-asexuals see asexuality as equivalent to chastity as something they unnaturally force upon themselves.

While being asexual is still difficult today, there is enough research and widespread deviance from long-term relationships and marriage for an asexual to live a happy, normal, and, in many places, accepted life. In the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods, with a strict adherence to marriage practices and the widespread belief that a woman owed her husband sex, this wouldn’t have been so easy. A woman might not have been able to support herself alone, so the only alternative lifestyle for someone who was asexual might have been the convent. Upon joining a nunnery, an asexual may have felt free from the pressures of sex and relationships (particularly for those who were also aromantic).

Kamaralli brings up the twisted problem in the “assumption that a sexual rebuttal from a woman should be interpreted as a character flaw in her” (50). Isabella doesn’t want to have sex with Angelo, whether her brother’s life is on the line or not, and that is empowering. That being said, many critics take Isabella’s silence at the Duke’s final proposal to indicate her acceptance of the marriage, even her desire for the Duke. Isabella gives us no reason to suspect such a thing up to this point, and earlier in the play her heart seems set on the nunnery even before Angelo’s threats against her. The open ending gives us room to believe the opposite, that she does not accept him, or that she at least doesn’t want to. I like this ending; its consistency with the rest of the play gives Isabella a leg to stand on, and makes asexual Isabella an enticing possibility.