The Death of Desdemona by Eugene Delacroix, 1858 What do I do when the man whom I love the most is the man who hates me the most? How do I feel after rejecting the land of my father and chosen a man from enemies' lands, now I fell victim of my audacity and see my Othello turning against me, with undeserved jealousy he hurts me publicly and with no proof he sentenced me to death. He's himself a victim of his own fears, manipulated by an evil, twisted mind. Was it my love that turned a beauty into a beast? God have mercy on me, if so cursed my love can be. And now my love is my murderer. His beautiful hands are taking the last breath of life from my body. Still, my love for him doesn't die with my life, and I utter a prayer as my last words: "Forgive him Father, he doesn't know what he's doing".
I used to teach this play in the University too. It’s one of my favourite tragedies, because it's so easy to happen, so close to reality. Othello fears Desdemona's love for him, because he belongs to a different culture and race. He's jealous of any man she might have around her of her own race and culture. No matter how much she shows her open-hearted trust to him, he's always suspicious towards her. Then his jealousy turns into paranoia. Led on by the twisted Iago, he falls into a trap that will lead to his own destruction: he never talks to the unfortunate Desdemona, he never listens, and he always reacts with harshness and on growing violence. Instead, he spends his time imagining ways of killing her. In the end, blind by stupidity, pride and fear, he kills her. In reply, she forgives him, thus providing the greatest proof of love any human being can give to other. If he only had trusted her once, I believe this tragedy would have never had occurred. If only he had talked to her.
