When it Changed by Joanna Russ

No flex zone! No flex zone!

Joanna Russ’ When It Changed is an unapologetically feminist twist on the classic first-contact narrative, and it doesn’t waste any time making its stance clear: men are the worst, and the patriarchy needs to go! This 1970s sci-fi short story remains highly anthologized, and for good reason—it’s a thought-provoking examination of gender, identity politics, and autonomy, all set against the backdrop of Whileaway, an all-female utopia where men have been extinct for centuries. 

And you know what? The women of Whileaway didn’t just survive without men—they thrived. Society flourished, technology advanced, and they built a world free from male oppression that once held them back. Relationships, love, and even family structures evolved, with women partnering with each other, raising children, and continuing the human race through advanced reproductive technology. The story subtly queers traditional notions of gender and sexuality, presenting a society where heterosexuality itself has become obsolete—until, of course, the men come back to ruin everything.

Enter the spaceship carrying these so-called "apes with human faces" and bodies "heavy as draft horses"—a perfect encapsulation of how alien and unwelcome men have become in this world. Their arrival isn’t just a disruption; it’s a threat of colonization, a harbinger of regression. The men show up expecting to be greeted as saviors, only to find that—oops!—they’re completely unnecessary. The women of Whileaway don’t swoon, don’t submit, and certainly don’t see their return as some grand restoration of balance. It’s a brilliant reversal of the classic sci-fi trope where male explorers “discover” alien worlds and impose their will. Here, the so-called invaders are the ones being sized up, dismissed, questioned and ultimately seen as relics of a past best left behind. The women of Whileaway have been doing just fine without them, thank you very much.

When It Changed is often considered a feminist sci-fi classic, and it’s easy to see why. With its playful yet scathing critique of gender norms and power dynamics, the story still resonates today—maybe even more than ever. Sure, Russ’ politics are blunt (subtlety is not the goal here), but that’s what makes the story so effective. It’s biting, defiant, and deeply queer—not just in its depiction of female relationships, but in its radical rejection of patriarchal structures altogether. It forces us to ask: what does gender really mean when one half of the binary is removed? And more importantly, what would a society look like if it were built entirely outside the shadow of male dominance? Russ gives us a glimpse—and while it may appear utopian, it’s also a challenge that can quickly turn dystopian when men remain in roles of power.