The Girls Went to Space — and Everyone Had Opinions

"Witnessing History While Watching the Internet Miss the Point"

One week before I flew to Van Horn, Texas, for the NS-31 launch, I lost my best friend. I almost didn’t go. My heart was heavy, my spirit cracked open, and the thought of showing up for anything felt impossible. But something told me to go anyway.

On April 14, 2025, I found myself standing in Astronaut Village surrounded by 23 women astronauts—the largest gathering of its kind. I cried the whole day. In quiet moments alone, I felt grief, awe, and deep gratitude. This wasn’t just a work trip. It was a reckoning. A reminder that spaceflight—like grief, like healing—is a process. And sometimes, when everything else is falling apart, space has a way of grounding you again.

23 women taking up space.

I was there supporting Aisha Bowe, who flew on NS-31 as a Citizen Astronaut and Payload Specialist. She ALSO made history as the first Bahamian to reach space and one of the first 10 Black women to do so. I’ve spent months working on her social media team, helping share her story—from NASA rocket scientist to commercial astronaut. This was a mission we had all been waiting for. And it was one that mattered.

NS-31 marked the first all-female crewed spaceflight. And yes, before anyone rushes to the comments—Valentina Tereshkova was the first woman in space. But this was different. This was the first time more than one seat on a spacecraft was filled by women. That matters. Because for decades, we’ve been told who space is “for.” The image has always been the same: military-trained, PhD-holding, stoic—and male.

But this crew broke the mold. Yes, the celebrity choice should criticized. They still didn’t mute their femininity to fit someone else’s space suit (which, by the way, still doesn’t fit most women). They flew in full glam, carrying art, science, and stories with them. And in doing so, they redefined what a space explorer could look like.

Aisha Bowe with supporters, NASA Astronauts Jeannette Epps & Joan Higginbotham

And despite what the media says, this was a flight filled with purpose. Aisha wasn’t a passenger. She was the mission’s science payload operator, overseeing critical research. Inside the capsule was a plant biology experiment from the first-ever HBCU-led payload on New Shepard. There was a NASA-funded women’s health study—part of the ongoing effort to close the gender gap in space medicine. There was flight hardware from BioServe Space Technologies, now qualified for future orbital science missions. And there was representation: unapologetic, visible, powerful. Imagine what that mean't for the young girls all over the world watching.

So imagine my frustration when the headlines didn’t lead with that. Instead, the public discourse exploded with hot takes and snark. Was it a “real” mission? Were they “real” astronauts? Was this just a joyride for influencers and billionaires? And criticizing the "glam" of it all!

The backlash wasn’t really about science—it was about discomfort. About women taking up space, literally and metaphorically. And about a society still struggling to reconcile femininity with legitimacy. Because if a woman wears lashes to space, suddenly she’s not serious. If she doesn’t code or carry a wrench, suddenly she didn’t “earn it.” And if she enjoys it, suddenly it’s not important.

Photo by Rosie Johnson

Let’s be clear about a few things:

1. Yes, commercial spaceflight deserves critique. But critique is not the same as erasure.

2. Celebrity brings visibility. Visibility brings curiosity. Curiosity fuels investment, and investment drives innovation.

3. The New Shepard rocket is fully reusable and emits zero carbon emissions. You contribute more to the climate crisis by flying on a commercial airplane than this launch did.

4. Most spaceflights—private or public—carry science that benefits Earth. This one did too.

5. And finally: Disagree all you want. But don’t disrespect the women. That’s where the line is.

   
   

This mission was part of a larger story. One about reclaiming narratives, expanding access, and shifting public perception. For every little girl who’s been told she’s “too much,” too girly, too emotional, too loud—this flight was a reminder: you don’t have to tone it down to aim high.

We need more voices in space. More artists. More educators. More cultures. More perspectives. And yes, more women. Because when we limit who gets to go, we limit what we can discover. When we mock commercial space, we miss the science behind it, we lose out on real investment. And when we dismiss a moment like this as meaningless, we erase the very people it was meant to inspire.

This was one of the biggest opportunities of my career. As someone who left an entirely different industry to work in space media, witnessing this mission up close reminded me why I do this work. My hope is that all the attention this flight received—good, bad, and viral—sparks something deeper. That people start doing their own research. That they ask better questions. That they understand how space exploration is not a luxury—it’s a lens. One that shows us who we are, what we value, and what kind of future we’re building.

The girls went to space—and everyone had an opinion.

But I was there.

And I’ll never forget what it actually mean't.

Because here’s the truth: Women going to space shouldn’t be controversial. But the way we talk about them often is.

And until that changes, I’ll keep showing up. I’ll keep telling these stories. Because taking up space—on rockets, on screens, in headlines—isn’t just about breaking barriers. It’s about rewriting the narrative so that the next generation doesn’t have to fight for visibility. They’ll just belong.