Today, headlines are dominated by Blue Origin’s historic all-female spaceflight, featuring celebrities like Katy Perry and Gayle King. While many are hailing this as a triumph for gender equality, I sit here in the UK—watching food bank queues grow and girls in my community skip meals to afford school supplies—and feel nothing but frustration. Here’s why:
The mission, dubbed NS-31, lasted 11 minutes and cost millions—funded by wealth or corporate marketing budgets. True empowerment would involve investing in programs that enable women to lead scientific missions, not brief joyrides for the ultra-rich. As someone who once dreamed of becoming an astronaut, I’m heartbroken. Instead of inspiring girls, this spectacle teaches them that access to space hinges on privilege, not passion or skill.
A $150,000 deposit is required just to reserve a seat—enough to feed a family in Yemen for decades or fund a lifetime of education for a girl in rural Pakistan. Why are we applauding millionaires floating in zero gravity while women worldwide are fighting for survival? In the UK ‘s deprived areas 1 in 5 mothers skip meals to feed their children. In Sudan, women walk miles through war zones for clean water. Think Gaza, Syria, Yemen, Ukraine, South Sudan , DR Congo and the plight of women and girls there currently. Celebrating this flight isn’t just tone-deaf—it’s a betrayal of solidarity.
Environmental Hypocrisy with a Human Cost
Blue Origin claims its rocket emits only water vapor, but experts warn stratospheric water vapor worsens climate impacts. Meanwhile, women globally bear the brunt of ecological collapse. In Somalia, droughts force girls to abandon school to haul water. In the Philippines, typhoons—intensified by climate change—disproportionately kill women. Celebrating these flights ignores how elite extravagance fuels the crises trapping millions in poverty.
The crew’s composition—celebrities and Bezos’ fiancée, Lauren Sánchez—reeks of opportunism. What does this “representation” mean to a Syrian refugee girl or a mother working three jobs in London? Real empowerment isn’t hashtags or photo ops. It’s funding STEM programs in developing countries , protecting Indigenous land defenders in Brazil, or ensuring schools provide free menstrual products. Instead, we’re sold a glossy lie. As Malawian activist Memory Kachambwa tweeted: How many girls could escape child marriage with the cost of one
Environmental Hypocrisy with a Human Cost
Blue Origin claims its rocket emits only water vapor, but experts warn stratospheric water vapor worsens climate impacts. Meanwhile, women globally bear the brunt of ecological collapse. In Somalia, droughts force girls to abandon school to haul water. In the Philippines, typhoons—intensified by climate change—disproportionately kill women. Celebrating these flights ignores how elite extravagance fuels the crises trapping millions in poverty.
The crew’s composition—celebrities and Bezos’ fiancée, Lauren Sánchez—reeks of opportunism. What does this “representation” mean to a Syrian refugee girl or a mother working three jobs in London? Real empowerment isn’t hashtags or photo ops. It’s funding STEM programs in developing countries , protecting Indigenous land defenders in Brazil, or ensuring schools provide free menstrual products. Instead, we’re sold a glossy lie. As Malawian activist Memory Kachambwa tweeted: How many girls could escape child marriage with the cost of one
Blue Origin framed this as the first all-female mission since Valentina Tereshkova’s 1963 flight. But Tereshkova spent three days conducting experiments; NS-31 offered minutes of weightlessness. This isn’t progress—it’s a regression. Where are the investments in women like Dr. Maggie Aderin-Pocock, the British space scientist advocating for accessible education? Or in engineers like India’s Ritu Karidhal, who helped launch missions to Mars on a fraction of Blue Origin’s budget?
The mission did have gestures: Amanda Nguyen carried a survivor’s bracelet, and Dr. Aisha Bowe conducted minor experiments. But imagine if Blue Origin had partnered with groups like Girls Who Code or Afghan Women’s Education Projects instead of celebrities. What if they’d funded scholarships for girls in Leeds or Lagos? This could have been a moment to bridge divides—instead, it widened them.
As a woman in the UK, I’m acutely aware of my relative privilege. But feminism that uplifts only the wealthy—while ignoring those battling hunger, war, and climate disaster—is no feminism at all. My friend, a single mother in Manchester, recently told me: “Empowerment? I just want my daughter to eat.”
Real courage isn’t buying a $150,000 ticket. It’s demanding that billionaires and corporations pay their fair share to end poverty. It’s amplifying the voices of women in Gaza, Haiti, and our own neighbourhoods who’ve never tasted privilege.
“Courage is doing something that scares you, "Gayle King said post-flight. True courage would be grounding these vanity projects and redirecting resources to the women keeping the world alive—while the powerful play astronaut.
Written in solidarity with the girls who dream bigger than this world lets them.
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