A Feminist Reading of George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion
George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion is often interpreted as a sharp critique of Edwardian society, particularly in its treatment of class and gender. Through the character of Eliza Doolittle, Shaw examines the rigid gender norms imposed upon women and interrogates the constraints of female independence in a patriarchal society. While Eliza’s transformation from a poor flower girl to a refined woman might seem like an empowering narrative on the surface, a deeper feminist reading of the play reveals the problematic ways in which her agency is compromised by the men around her—especially Professor Henry Higgins. Pygmalion ultimately critiques the gendered expectations of its time, highlighting the illusion of female empowerment under male control while underscoring the necessity of true independence. Through Eliza’s growth, Shaw exposes the limitations of societal notions of womanhood, making the play a powerful feminist commentary on autonomy, respect, and self-worth.
From the outset, Eliza Doolittle is introduced as a character who is both economically and socially vulnerable. As a flower girl, she is barely scraping by, and her lack of proper speech immediately marks her as a member of the lower class. When she first encounters Henry Higgins, he does not see her as an individual but as a project to be molded. Higgins boasts that he could "pass that girl off as a duchess at an ambassador’s garden party" (Shaw, Act I), framing Eliza not as a person but as an experiment in linguistic refinement. This moment serves as a direct critique of patriarchal control, illustrating how men in positions of power often dictate the identities and worth of women. By reducing Eliza to a mere experiment in linguistic refinement, Higgins strips her of both agency and self-definition, reinforcing the stereotypical belief that a woman's value is contingent upon her adherence to male-imposed standards of refinement and decorum, much like Akhil Anil’s reference to this play’s parallels between “man [as] God, and the creator, whereas woman is in the position of a child” (Anil, 1).
Higgins’s treatment of Eliza throughout the play reflects this underlying assumption of male authority. When she approaches him for lessons, willing to pay for them herself, he does not respect her ambition but belittles her: "You’re no use: I’ve got all the records I want of the Lisson Grove lingo" (Shaw, Act II). This dismissive attitude reinforces the gendered notion that women’s desires and self-improvement are secondary to men’s whims. Moreover, Higgins’s determination to "train" Eliza into an acceptable version of femininity reflects the broader societal expectation that women must conform to male-defined standards to be considered valuable.
Shaw’s critique of male dominance, marking the “unequal relationship between man and woman” (Anil, 2), is further underscored by Higgins’s frequent outbursts and condescending remarks. His reference to Eliza as a "creature" and his consistent dismissal of her emotions reveal the extent to which he views her as an object rather than a person (Shaw, Act II). His interactions with Pickering further emphasize this dynamic, as they often discuss Eliza as if she were a subject of academic inquiry rather than an autonomous individual. Additionally, Higgins’s reliance on verbal dominance, such as ordering Eliza to "cease this detestable boohooing instantly" (Shaw, Act II), exposes the way in which men often seek to control women’s expressions of emotion as a means of asserting superiority.
Another crucial moment that demonstrates the objectification of Eliza occurs when Higgins exclaims: "She’s no use to me until I’ve made her into a lady" (Shaw, Act II). This statement implies that Eliza, in her natural state, holds no inherent value beyond what he can create from her. He sees her as raw material to be sculpted into something socially acceptable, a view that aligns with the titular reference to the Greek myth of Pygmalion, in which a male artist crafts a woman to his liking.
Furthermore, Higgins’s treatment of Eliza in private moments reinforces this dynamic. When she completes her first major test by successfully attending the ambassador’s garden party, she returns home expecting some form of recognition. Instead, Higgins dismisses her entirely, saying, "Thank God it’s over!" (Shaw, Act IV). This moment highlights the inherent problem in male-driven notions of success: Eliza’s achievements mean nothing to Higgins beyond his own personal triumph, further emphasizing her status as an object in his grand experiment.
One of the most troubling aspects of Eliza’s transformation is that it requires the destruction of her original identity. Higgins and Pickering take it upon themselves to reinvent Eliza, again, treating her as an object rather than a person. From the moment she steps into Higgins’s laboratory, she ceases to be Eliza Doolittle, the independent flower girl, and becomes an experiment in phonetics and social conditioning. Higgins explicitly orders, "Take all her clothes off and burn them [...] wrap her up in brown paper till [Whitley] come[s with new ones]" (Shaw, Act II), a moment that is particularly symbolic—it represents the stripping away of Eliza’s individuality and the imposition of an identity that is deemed socially acceptable by upper-class standards.
The renaming of Eliza’s voice and mannerisms is another act of erasure. Higgins constantly reminds her that her previous way of speaking is unacceptable, telling her, "A woman who utters such depressing and disgusting sounds has no right to be anywhere—no right to live" (Shaw, Act II)—statements that surface as not just attacks on Eliza’s speech but on her existence as she is. The implication is clear: she must become someone entirely different to be deemed worthy of respect and opportunity. This raises the feminist concern of whether women must conform to male-dictated standards in order to be accepted, rather than being valued for their intrinsic abilities and intelligence.
Eliza’s transformation is traditionally seen as a pathway to social mobility, but her new status does not come with the independence one might expect. Instead of gaining control over her life, she finds herself trapped in a liminal space where she belongs to neither her old nor new world. Higgins boasts that he has turned her into a lady who could "pass [...] off as a duchess at an ambassador’s garden party" (Shaw, Act I), yet he gives no thought to what will become of her afterward. Once the bet is won, Eliza is left questioning her own place in society, asking, "What am I fit for? What have you left me fit for? Where am I to go? What am I to do?" (Shaw, Act IV). Her despair highlights the hollow nature of her transformation—she has been given refinement, but not purpose, wealth, or security.
Her realization of the continued objectification and lack of control culminates in her ultimate rejection of Higgins’s authority. While the transformation process strips her of her original identity, it also inadvertently gives her the tools to recognize and resist oppression. Her declaration, "I’m not afraid of you, and can do without you" (Shaw, Act V), is more than an assertion of independence—it is a direct repudiation of the power dynamics that have shaped her existence. This moment embodies a feminist awakening, as Eliza reclaims control over her identity, recognizing that her worth is not contingent upon male validation but rather her own self-definition.
However, even in her defiance, Eliza remains ensnared in the paradox of her transformation. Higgins continues to assert his dominance, refusing to acknowledge her autonomy and dismissing her assertion of independence as mere theatrics. His sneering remark—"Let her go. Let her find out how she can get on without us" (Shaw, Act V)—drips with condescension, revealing his unwavering belief that her success is inseparable from his influence. This reaction underscores the entrenched power structures that hinder women’s self-determination, as Higgins frames Eliza’s agency not as legitimate autonomy but as a fleeting rebellion bound to collapse without male guidance.
George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion presents a narrative in which Eliza Doolittle undergoes a transformation that, on the surface, appears to elevate her social standing. However, her journey is ultimately not about refinement but about reclaiming autonomy in a society that seeks to control her. Given the events of the play and Shaw’s critique of gender norms, the most logical and proper outcome for Eliza is to sever ties with Henry Higgins entirely, pursue a career in linguistic tutoring, and choose a life aligned with her own happiness—possibly guided by Colonel Pickering’s more respectful mentorship and a marriage to Freddy Eynsford-Hill. This path ensures that she fully embraces her newfound self-respect and refuses to be an object of Higgins’s condescension.
Throughout Pygmalion, Higgins constantly disrespects Eliza, treating her as an experiment rather than an individual. He refers to her as a "creature" and dismisses her emotions as inconsequential, as seen when he tells her to "cease this detestable boohooing instantly" (Shaw, Act II). Higgins views her transformation as his achievement, not hers, and his indifference to her success at the ambassador’s garden party—merely exclaiming, "Thank God it’s over!" (Shaw, Act IV)—reveals his utter disregard for her as a person. Even when she asserts herself, Higgins refuses to acknowledge her autonomy, mocking her attempts to break free by telling Pickering to "let her go" and sarcastically suggesting she will fail without them (Shaw, Act V). Given his blatant refusal to respect her boundaries and feelings, it is evident that Eliza’s only real option is to leave Higgins permanently. Just as “Pygmalion loses his Galatea” (Doug, 19), Higgins has recreated Eliza with “independence of spirit and vitality of mind,” (Doug, 19), a stage enabling her to break free from the shackles of misogynistic oppression.
Some interpretations suggest that Eliza’s best course of action would be to stay with Higgins and engage in a battle of wills, forcing him to recognize her worth. However, this is an illusion. Higgins, a man rooted in arrogance and patriarchal entitlement, has no intention of changing. His final interactions with Eliza make it clear that he sees her independence as amusing rather than valid. To remain in his presence would mean a lifetime of belittlement and emotional subjugation. True feminist agency requires Eliza to walk away completely, ensuring that Higgins no longer has any power over her future.
Eliza’s journey in Pygmalion is deeply tied to language and self-expression. Originally seen as nothing more than a "flower girl" because of her accent and speech patterns, she is taught to refine her language to gain social acceptance. However, what Higgins fails to acknowledge is that this linguistic training gives her the ability to control her own destiny. Instead of merely becoming a refined woman in high society, Eliza should use her knowledge to become a linguistic tutor, teaching phonetics and diction to those seeking to improve their speech. This path would be both empowering and ironic—it would allow her to profit from the very skills Higgins sought to impose upon her, turning his rigid system of transformation into a tool for her own independence.
By pursuing a career in phonetics, Eliza would achieve something that Higgins never anticipated: true self-sufficiency. She could teach individuals from lower-class backgrounds who, like her former self, wish to improve their station in life. Unlike Higgins, who treats language as a means of control, Eliza could approach linguistic tutoring as a tool for empowerment. Through this career, she would no longer be bound by the restrictive gender norms of Edwardian society, where women were expected to rely on men for economic security. Instead, she would become financially independent, a rarity for women of her time.
Moreover, this path allows her to maintain dignity while ensuring that she does not slip back into the lower-class struggles she initially sought to escape. Higgins may have given her the tools of articulation, but her ability to apply them in a meaningful way would be entirely her own accomplishment.
While Higgins represents patriarchal arrogance, Colonel Pickering serves as a stark contrast. Unlike Higgins, Pickering consistently treats Eliza with courtesy and respect. He refers to her as "Miss Doolittle" from the beginning, acknowledging her dignity even before she undergoes her transformation. Pickering’s kindness and encouragement create an environment where Eliza feels valued rather than controlled. When she later credits him for teaching her "self-respect" (Shaw, Act V), it is clear that his influence is one of guidance rather than domination.
In an ideal outcome, Eliza would distance herself from Higgins entirely and seek Pickering’s mentorship in her tutoring venture. Though Pickering is still a product of his time, his respect for Eliza as a person suggests that he would support her independence rather than stifle it. Unlike Higgins, he would see her as an equal rather than a project.
Although Eliza’s independence is paramount, the possibility of her marrying Freddy Eynsford-Hill aligns well with her pursuit of happiness—so long as it is on her own terms. Freddy, while often dismissed as weak or foolish, represents a kind of love that is absent in Higgins: unconditional admiration (Ross, 26). Unlike Higgins, who sees Eliza as a product of his genius, Freddy sees her as an individual worthy of affection. His devotion to her, demonstrated in his love letters and unwavering admiration, offers Eliza a relationship built on appreciation rather than control.
Critics may argue that choosing marriage at all contradicts feminist ideals, as it could be seen as a step toward traditional dependency. However, the key distinction is that Eliza would be entering a partnership where she holds the power. Unlike the domineering Higgins, Freddy is not interested in shaping Eliza into an idealized form—he loves her as she is. Their marriage would be one of choice rather than necessity, allowing Eliza to maintain her independence while also experiencing companionship.
Furthermore, Eliza’s consideration of marriage is significant because it defies Higgins’s expectations. He assumes that without him, she will fail, yet she proves that she can build a life entirely separate from his influence. If she were to marry Freddy while maintaining her tutoring career, she would effectively shatter the constraints that Higgins and society have attempted to place upon her. Instead of being defined by men, she would define herself.
From my perspective, the only logical and proper outcome for Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion is one in which she fully severs ties with Henry Higgins and forges a path of her own. Whether by rejecting his belittling treatment, establishing a career in linguistic tutoring, seeking genuine mentorship from Pickering, or even marrying Freddy on her own terms, Eliza’s true independence lies in her ability to make choices free from Higgins’s influence. This resolution not only reinforces Shaw’s critique of patriarchal dominance but also delivers a decisive feminist statement: a woman’s worth is not contingent upon male validation but upon her own self-determination. Ultimately, Eliza’s transformation is not merely one of speech but of identity, proving that true success is measured not by societal approval but by the power to define one’s own destiny.
Works Cited
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