Unreal Worlds, Real Bodies: Part II
Gender and the Myth of the Universal Hero
Published to commemorate the birthday of Joanna Russ.
“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
— Neil Armstrong, 1969
“He was a man, and I was a woman. That’s what they told us.”
— Janelle Monáe, Dirty Computer, 2018
Genre Was Never Neutral
Speculative fiction was built on a foundation of masculine myth. From the 19th century onward, writers like Verne, Wells, and Burroughs imagined futures of conquest, invention, and control. Their heroes were white, male, cisgender, heterosexual, and rational – and women were either absent or ornamental.

- Early science fiction: Explorers and inventors dominated their worlds. The alien was orientalised and othered. Women were sidelined.
- Golden Age SF (1930s–50s): Pulp magazines glorified masculine genius. Women were assistants, lovers, or threats.
- High fantasy (Tolkien, Lewis): Noble bloodlines, patriarchy, and exotic locations.
- Space opera (Star Wars, Foundation): Empire in space. Male heroes and women as damsels in distress.
For me as a younger science fiction fan, one of my template heroes was Captain Kirk, who happened to be white, male, heterosexual and imperialist. The same with Commander Straker, Luke Skywalker, Doctor Who, R. Daneel Olivaw, and even Galen from Planet of the Apes. These generically universal straight white male heroes (or their analog) served to lead and guide science fiction by example. But from Tarzan to Tony Stark, from Sherlock to Spock, the so-called “universal” hero was never really universal. He was a product of Western patriarchy, designed to dominate and conquer.
Helena Tried to Give Them Souls
She Was the Genre’s First Media Emotional Ark
Helena Glory, the President’s daughter, arrives at Rossum’s Universal Robots (R.U.R.), a factory that mass-produces synthetic labourers. She comes as an emissary of the League of Humanity, pleading for the robots to be treated with dignity. She begs the scientists to give them souls, to make them more human. They laugh. They dismiss her. They marry her.
Years later, Helena burns the formula for creating robots (not out of malice, but grief). She’s horrified by their callousness, by the sterility of a world without care. When the robots revolt, she is killed: erased like the empathy she embodied.

From the beginning, women haunted the margins of speculative fiction: sometimes as authors, more often as symbols. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818) gave the genre its first speculative scaffold, yet even there, women are silenced, sacrificed, or erased to propel male ambition. In colonial fantasies by Verne and Burroughs, women are romantic prizes or civilizing burdens; emblems of the empire’s moral veneer. As the genre moved into pulp fiction, women were both creators and constraints: Mary Gnaedinger edited Famous Fantastic Mysteries, while writers like Clare Winger Harris and Leslie F. Stone published under ambiguous names to slip past editorial gatekeeping. Yet on the page, female characters were often mute, decorative, or doomed: narrative decoration for masculine conquest. Even in R.U.R. (1920), where the word “robot” was born, Helena Glory’s efforts end in obliteration. These early texts excluded and obliterated women.
Maria: The Robot Was a Woman
In Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927), the first cinematic robot wasn’t a neutral machine, it was a woman. The Maschinenmensch, built in the image of Maria, wasn’t designed to liberate. She was built to deceive, seduce, and incite chaos.
She was created by Rotwang, not as a marvel of science, but as a monument to his lost love, Hel. In that act, the genre revealed its blueprint: women being subservient to the whims and fantasies of men. The robot wasn’t just futuristic, it was patriarchal fantasy presented in chrome.
And yet, she endures. Her silhouette haunts pop culture, from C-3PO to Beyoncé. She reminds us that speculative fiction didn’t begin with liberation — it began with discrimination.
Masculinist Literature
Science fiction, in particular, has long been a stage for masculine melodrama. From lost-world adventures to interstellar warfare, the genre has often glorified the warrior archetype. As Ezekiel Crago puts it, SF’s morality is saturated with “military masculinity”, a form of manhood that justifies violence through the illusion of protection. The “helpful hero” becomes a vessel for power.
To understand how women are written in speculative fiction, we have to start with how masculinity is constructed. The genre doesn’t just exclude women, it defines them in contrast to male protagonists. They’re presented as emotional devices, moral challenges, or damsels in distress. Feminist SF has pushed back for decades, but the genre remains stubbornly resistant.
The Hero as Vessel of Mastery

Let’s talk about the classics: Aragorn, Paul Atreides, Luke Skywalker, Hari Seldon, and their ilk. They were role models for young white boys, and reflected what NASA would later classify as being “the right stuff” for astronauts: male, white, heterosexual, and culturally all-American.
- Aragorn: Inherits kingship through bloodline and prophecy. Éowyn’s grief is sidelined.
- Paul Atreides: Becomes a messiah. Women vanish in his vision.
- Luke Skywalker: Cosmic destiny, paternal revelation, heroic aspirations.
- Hari Seldon: Intellectual superiority. Women reduced to background decoration.
These narratives entertained and instructed. The hero wasn’t just a character. He was a role model for male emotional distance and a testimony to testosterone. Hasta La Vista, Baby!
The Treatment of Female Characters
In speculative fiction, women are rarely protagonists. More often, they’re decoration, used to provide background context for the male hero, or to soften his testosterone. They’re props.
Altaira and the Gaslight
I recall chatting to a younger SF fan about an old movie (Forbidden Planet), which I had always considered positively, but I was about to learn something. This younger guy viewed this movie as being awful, which surprised me because it is often invoked as a classic. When I asked him why, his reply was startling but made me think:
“That scene when the captain scolds Altaira for wearing a short skirt in front of a spaceship full of men who haven’t seen a woman for a year. Talk about gaslighting and rape culture!”
Maybe the Creature from the Id was wider than just a movie concept.
Narrative Roles Assigned to Women
- The Love Interest: A prize or temptation. Think Leia, Arwen, Chani.
- The Healer or Mother: Emotional tokenism. Often unnamed or undeveloped as a character, often sacrificed. Think Edith Keeler, Beverley Crusher, Deanna Troi, and Miramanee (Star Trek)
- The Symbolic Martyr: Forgotten, or sanctified. Think Maria in Metropolis and Furiosa in Mad Max.
- The Exceptional Woman: Allowed agency only by rejecting femininity or becoming “one of the boys.” Think Buffy Summers, Dana Scully, Ellen Ripley, Sarah Connor, Susan Calvin.
These clichés teach readers or viewers to see women as secondary, symbolic, or expendable. As Brian Attebery puts it, science fiction doesn’t just reflect gender norms, it teaches them. It animates machines and aliens with power, while presenting women as relatively inert, decorative, or dead.
Case Studies in Erasure
- Éowyn (The Lord of the Rings): Slays the Witch-King, then vanishes into domesticity.
- Chani (Dune): Warrior and guide, reduced to womb and warning.
- Leia Organa (Star Wars): Rebel leader, strategist, and survivor—yet always framed through restraint and lineage.
- Susan Calvin (Asimov’s Robot series): Brilliant roboticist, emotionally flattened and mocked for her intellect.
- Dr Elizabeth Dehner (Star Trek pilot): Brilliant scientist, emotionally flattened and mocked as a ‘walking freezer unit’.
These women are allowed power only when it serves the hero’s arc. Their stories are shaped by the emotional logic of a genre that mistrusts vulnerability and disciplines care out of its protagonists and its readers.
The Frigid Prototype
Dr. Susan Calvin, robopsychologist in Asimov’s I, Robot, is often described as cold, emotionless, and robotic. Shmoop notes that she’s referred to as a “frosty girl” with “cold enthusiasm,” her face and voice repeatedly described as cold—like the metal bodies of the robots she studies.
Calvin is more than just a scientist, she’s a genre prototype. She embodies the masculinist ideal of intellect stripped of emotion, a woman who “protected herself against a world she disliked by a masklike expression and a hypertrophy of intellect.” Her competence is unquestioned, but her humanity is flattened. She’s allowed power only by rejecting personality complexity.
Even Asimov admitted she was “much more like the popular conception of a robot than were any of my positronic creations.” Calvin’s legacy is profound: she’s the frigid woman scientist who must become machine to be taken seriously. And yet, she endures: brilliant, unyielding, and emotionally dead.
Damsels, Temptresses, and Designed for Rescue
Speculative fiction has long relied on women as visual and figures to be rescued, desired, or punished. These characters aren’t protagonists. They’re genre tropes, designed to elevate male heroism while suppressing female agency.
From Geisha to General
Princess Leia’s Story Arc Was Evolution
She began as a captured princess, framed through defiance but rescued by men.
She was silenced in a gold bikini, her body part of the conquest and subjugation.
She became a general: grieving, commanding, mentoring, surviving.
It took a lifetime for women’s liberation to arrive in a galaxy far, far away.
Designed for Rescue
- Jane Porter (Tarzan): Repeatedly rescued, framed through romantic submission.
- Aouda (Around the World in Eighty Days): Intelligent, gracious, but offered as romantic reward.
- Maria (Metropolis): Saintly human and seductive robot, her humanity mechanised and weaponized.
- Weena (The Time Machine): Passive and childlike.
- Nova (Planet of the Apes): Mute, idealized, emotionally dependent.
Framed Through Beauty and Silence

- Vina (Star Trek: “The Cage”): Reconstructed for beauty, her trauma made decorative.
- Janice Rand (Star Trek: TOS): Professional, yet subordinated, her arc vanishes without closure.
- Altaira Morbius (Forbidden Planet): Beautiful, naïve, emotionally reactive, transferred from father to suitor.
- Dr. Ruth Adams (This Island Earth): A scientist, but emotionally subordinated, reduced to companion and witness.
Desire as Punishment
- Marla McGivers (Star Trek: “Space Seed”): Betrays her crew for Khan’s love, her professionalism and autonomy forgotten.
- Princess Aura (Flash Gordon): Sensual and rebellious, her quest for love made dangerous.
- Barbarella:Her personality is contextualised through erotic spectacle.
Competence Undermined
- Carol Marcus (Star Trek II): Brilliant scientist, but her arc is framed through romantic history and maternal sacrifice.
- Maureen Robinson (original Lost In Space TV series): Qualified scientist who spends her time baking space cookies, washing the space laundry, and worrying about her children.
- Tanya Adams (The Giant Claw): A mathematician, but her intellect is sidelined by romantic quests and repeated rescue.
- Lois Lane (Superman): A brilliant journalist, yet frequently endangered and emotionally tethered to Superman’s arc.
These women aren’t just underwritten, they’re minimised. Their emotional power, sacrifice, and desire are used to fortify male heroism, not to explore their own arcs. They’re written to be seen, not to see.
Jessica Runs
I recall the opening episode of Logan’s Run: Jessica stands to one side, looking helpless while the men fight in fisticuffs. Just as the villain is about to defeat Logan, he is disarmed by a shot from Jessica, who has turned from damsel in distress to become a self-empowered runner!
I was sitting in a room with other teenagers, and we all cheered as Jessica discovered Women’s Lib. It wasn’t just a plot twist, it was a the birth of a new era. In that moment, speculative fiction cracked open, and we saw possibility sprint across the screen.
Point and Counterpoint: Wonder Woman
Diana isn’t rescued; she rescues the genre from itself. In a landscape dominated by male heroes, Wonder Woman emerges as a revelation.
- Lasso: Compels honesty, not obedience.
- Bracelets: Deflect violence, not invite it.
- Mission: Peace over conquest.
She doesn’t conquer the other; she connects across difference. Where Paul Atreides erases Fremen women, Wonder Woman represents the silenced. Where Luke Skywalker inherits destiny through bloodline, she chooses empathy. She is not a masculinist hero reassigned as a woman. She is her own character.
Transitional Figures
Not all feminist characters arrive fully formed. Some characters inhabit the gap between old tropes and new ideas.
- Ann Veronica (H.G. Wells): Defies patriarchy, seeks autonomy, yet returns to domesticity.
- Jessica (Logan’s Run TV): Begins as companion, evolves co-architect of resistance.
- Servalan (Blake’s 7): Glamorous and manipulative, yet politically dominant.
- Elizabeth Dehner (Star Trek): Gains power, refuses domination, and then dies to stop Mitchell’s descent.
- Nyota Uhura (Star Trek): Cultural bridge and communications officer. Like her character, her full name was not invented for decades.
- Zira (Planet of the Apes): Empathetic and maternal scientist who dies in self-sacrifice.
- Sarah Jane Smith (Doctor Who): Investigative journalist turned protagonist. She challenges the Doctor, leads her own spin-off.
- Sparta (Venus Prime): Genetically enhanced, memory-erased—reclaims identity, solves mysteries, framed through posthuman spectacle.
These women signal that the genre is beginning to crack open.
Ripley Wasn’t Supposed to Survive
Ripley was originally written as a man. In early drafts of Alien (1979), the character was a standard-issue male officer. But director Ridley Scott, with a nudge from studio head Alan Ladd Jr., flipped the script: “Why can’t Ripley be a woman?”
Scott later explained the logic: a woman would be the last person audiences expected to survive. That subversion—casting Sigourney Weaver as the by-the-book officer who outlives them all—wasn’t just a twist. It was a genre detonation.
Ripley didn’t just survive. She returned, again and again, across sequels and decades, evolving from reluctant survivor to maternal protector to existential warrior. She became the spine of the franchise—and a new archetype for speculative fiction.
Feminist Interventions: Ripley and Sarah Connor
If Wonder Woman reframes heroism through care and individualism, Ellen Ripley and Sarah Connor represent a darker evolution. They are the female equivalents of violent male heroes such as the Terminator, Judge Dredd, Batman, Wolverine, or Lobo. As such, they epitomise the idea that “might makes right” and their character development needs further nuance if they are to be seen as fully fleshed out, positive role models. While they represent the idea that women are just as physically capable as men towards forms of assertive behaviour, they also represent a transition phase between the “damsels in distress” of the past and more healthy representations in the future.
Towards Intersectionality and Speculative Care
Speculative fiction doesn’t just imagine futures. It helps to create them.
Russ Drew the Map
Joanna Russ exposed the architecture of genre in speculative fiction. In her essay “What Can a Heroine Do? or, Why Women Can’t Write”, Russ mapped the literary traps that constrain female protagonists: the ornamental roles, the emotional baggage, the narrative erasure. She showed how women are written to serve, not to act.
Russ argued that the problem isn’t just representation, it’s structure. The genre’s expectations discipline women into silence, sacrifice, or spectacle. “The heroine cannot act,” she wrote, “because the plot does not permit it.”
Her work teaches us that rewriting the hero means rewriting the blueprint. Russ didn’t just ask what a heroine could do. She demanded that we build stories where she can.
Reading List
- Attebery, Brian. Decoding Gender in Science Fiction
- Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale, Oryx and Crake
- Busse, Kristina. Framing Fan Fiction
- Butler, Octavia. Kindred, Parable of the Sower
- Cherryh, C.J. Foreigner series
- Crago, Ezekiel. “The Helpful Hero: Military Masculinity in Science Fiction”
- Drapeau-Bisson, Marie-Lise. “Feminist Readings of Genre Disruption”
- Fellman, Isaac. The Breath of the Sun
- Haraway, Donna. A Cyborg Manifesto
- Lemberg, R.B. The Four Profound Weaves, The Unbalancing
- Le Guin, Ursula K. “The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction”
- Russ, Joanna. How to Suppress Women’s Writing
- Shmoop Editorial Team. “Susan Calvin in I, Robot Character Analysis.”
- Studocu Editorial Team. “Feminist Analysis of Joanna Russ: A Study of Female Agency.” Studocu.
- Tiptree Jr., James (Alice Sheldon). Her Smoke Rose Up Forever
- Vint, Sherryl. Bodies of Tomorrow
- Yang, Neon. The Tensorate Series
Unreal Worlds, Real Bodies: Speculative Fiction and the Colonial Imagination
A four-part journey through how speculative fiction echoed empire, rewrites resistance, and reclaims futurity.
Part One: Race and the Colonial Imagination
Published: 2 January 2026
Read Part One
From Lucian to Le Guin, speculative fiction’s imperial DNA is exposed: how imagined futures rehearsed conquest, racial hierarchy, and colonial logic.
Part Two: The Hero Must Be Rewritten
Published: 22 February 2026
Read Part Two
Gender and the myth of the universal hero. This chapter rewrites masculinist genre scaffolding, tracing how speculative fiction disciplines emotion, care, and female agency.
Part Three: Sexuality & Queer Futures
Published: 1 April 2026
Read Part Three
A queer reading of Star Trek and speculative canon. This chapter critiques heteronormative erasure, celebrates queer fandom’s legacy, and imagines futures beyond genre discipline.
Part Four: We Occupy the Future
Published: 5 April 2026
Read Part Four
Published on the anniversaries of the 504 Sit-In and Medibank Blockade, this chapter confronts techno-fix fantasies and reimagines futures where disabled bodies are not corrected or cured, but centred, celebrated, and architecturally included.
©2026 Geoff Allshorn, with editorial and layout assistance from Copilot AI. I show my respect for Elders past and present and acknowledge the Wurundjeri-Willam people, the Traditional Custodians of the Land on which this blog was prepared.














