Initially, I thought about overlooking the peculiar Blue Origin flight earlier this week. However, the outcome was more disastrous than anticipated, prompting this commentary.
You may already be aware of the details: Lauren Sánchez, Jeff Bezos’ fiancée, pop sensation Katy Perry, and four other women embarked on a high-profile space tourism mission. Many perceived it as a display of performative feminism, with the women donning “space suits” that necessitated wearing Spanx beneath for a flattering look. “We’re going to have lash extensions flying in the capsule,” mentioned Sánchez. “We are going to put the ‘ass’ in astronaut,” commented Perry.
This flight was expected to serve as a significant marketing opportunity in a country captivated by spectacle. However, it has faced a surprising amount of criticism. Numerous TikTok videos have emerged, lampooning Perry’s mock enthusiasm for “astronomy and astrology,” alongside accusations that the entire venture was fabricated. Clips have surfaced showing Bezos seemingly falling in Texas. Questions spurred about whether Bezos even opened the capsule door have also circulated, alongside declarations that this flight “highlighted the decline of American feminism.” Social media arguments have debated the distinctions between passengers and crew.
Look, the ass has always been in astronaut
Having pondered this situation for several hours, while my colleagues flooded me with TikToks mocking the absurdity of the flight, I’ve been trying to comprehend how things spiraled out of control.
The notion of “putting the ass in astronaut” could only confuse in a field where NASA has long insisted its astronauts keep physically fit. While Perry, Sánchez, and the other women would typically be criticized for their stale claims about space tourism empowering women, their antics unfolded amidst a backdrop of significant budget cuts faced by NASA, and with Elon Musk’s adjustments to the agency benefiting himself.
The prominence of private space enterprises like Blue Origin reflects a policy failure with increasing risks. Historically, the US did not depend on affluent individuals to launch astronauts; NASA was capable of manufacturing its own rockets. The inception of the Commercial Crew Program in 2014, born from a series of Republican budget cuts, shifted that dynamic, as contracts were awarded under the premise it would be more economical for private entities to build NASA’s rockets, following the Space Shuttle’s retirement in 2011 when NASA lost its launch capabilities.
While the program offered a fixed-price structure, it also rendered NASA perilously dependent on contractors like SpaceX and Boeing.
I think, at this point, we can all agree the Commercial Crew Program was an important failure point for American democracy
As it stands now, issues abound. Boeing once left astronauts—including a realfemale astronaut—stranded in space due to a malfunctioning Starliner, necessitating a rescue by SpaceX. Meanwhile, SpaceX enjoys significant technical success, but Musk’s misconduct—ranging from unauthorized launches to various controversial activities—has gone largely unchecked due to NASA’s dependency on his rockets. This leads to the conclusion that the Commercial Crew Program has turned into a serious flaw in American democracy, ultimately enabling Musk’s ventures to undermine critical systems.
In contrast, Blue Origin has struggled to keep pace. Established for two decades, the company has received a mere $25.6 million in exploratory grants from the Commercial Crew Program, and its recent heavy-lift New Glenn launch occurred only this January. The mission’s planned launches do not aim to transport people at all. Blue Origin, thus far engaged primarily in vanity projects for Bezos and Sánchez, has showcased a lack of substantial relevance in the space industry.
This backdrop makes Blue Origin’s space tourism increasingly absurd, especially with reports suggesting an astonishing price of $28 million per ticket. For context, Dennis Tito paid $20 million for a stint aboard the ISS back in 2001, making the current offerings seem lackluster compared to that milestone. The New Shepard only flies to what’s minimally considered space, maintaining a strictly suborbital trajectory. Although witnessing Earth from the Kármán Line for 11 minutes might sound tempting, it hardly breaks new ground, particularly when Bezos himself was among the first human passengers on such voyages.
What a breakthrough for feminism — am I right, girls?
The strategic move of showcasing women at a later stage—first an all-male crew, followed by an all-female crew—appears sound from a marketing perspective, creating two notable firsts. However, the empowering rhetoric clashes sharply with the anti-women policies of the government, erasing real contributions of female astronauts and leaders in NASA’s history. It’s worth noting that Bezos, at the heart of this narrative, attended the inauguration of the individual responsible for those policies. Bezos notably directed a significant sum towards that inauguration, which involved the removal of images honoring women in science.
Adding another layer, Sánchez’s presence on the Blue Origin flight may seem less about empowerment and more about her personal relationship with Bezos. This raises questions about the true nature of feminist achievement in this context.
Gayle King, a media personality accompanying Sánchez and Perry on the New Shepard, has expressed her frustration with the backlash. “My question is, have y’all been to space? Go to space or go to Blue Origin and see what they do and then come back and say, ‘This is a terrible thing,’” she remarked. Many are unable to afford such luxury, especially as NASA’s astronaut program faces severe challenges. King’s comments reflect a disconnect from the current economic landscape marked by rising inflation and tariffs.
Perry has also found herself in a social media skirmish, now clashing with Wendy’s, the fast-food chain, in response to negative tweets about her involvement with Blue Origin. Her camp has sought a public apology through People.
However, the media personalities involved are not the primary offenders. They seem to be mere pawns in a larger game. The criticism is directed at Bezos, whose motivations appear dubious. Whether attempting to impress a partner or competing with Musk, his actions seem more like play acting rather than genuine contributions to NASA’s struggles. If he sought to make a difference, he could leverage his influence to address the issues facing NASA, yet he continues to indulge in vanity projects instead.
The broader implications of this spectacle remain unclear, but it is evident that this endeavor has failed to capture the public’s imagination. Maybe it is that Perry is experiencing a decline in popularity and has affected the public perception of the flight. Alternatively, it might be Sánchez’s questionable media approach. Ultimately, many people seem weary of performative feminism, especially at a time when women’s reproductive rights are systematically under threat. Whatever the case, the all-women space tourism venture has unfortunately become the punchline of a larger narrative.
