American Feminism Needs a Reality Check

While American women march in costume, their Afghan counterparts are being silenced into oblivion

In the weeks following Donald Trump’s return to the White House, and as recently as last month, a familiar image began reappearing in protests across the country: women dressed in crimson robes and white bonnets, marching in silence, invoking The Handmaid’s Tale to signal a looming descent into patriarchal rule. The symbolism is visually striking, but increasingly hard to take seriously.

These costumes, inspired by Margaret Atwood’s dystopian novel, suggest that American women are on the brink of being reduced to reproductive vessels under a theocratic regime. The protesters want you to believe that a second Trump presidency is ushering in a Gilead-style patriarchy. But the comparison collapses under the weight of reality.

Because while American women are reenacting fictional repression, millions of women elsewhere are living through the real thing.

Comedy, Control, and the Truth Behind the Jokes

A few months ago, I came across a social media trend that unintentionally spoke volumes about this disconnect. In the videos, American women film their unsuspecting husbands or boyfriends during mundane moments and shout their partner’s full name in a stern tone, mimicking a parental scolding. The men’s reactions are almost identical: they flinch, go quiet, and then gently approach their wives to ask what they’ve done wrong, only to laugh when they realize it’s a prank.

It’s harmless fun, but also revealing. These viral moments show a dynamic where women—at least culturally—hold tremendous power in the private sphere. There is intimacy, respect, and emotional responsiveness. These videos are popular because they’re relatable. They reflect the everyday power many women have in free societies: to speak up, to challenge, to be heard, to lead.

That such a joke could even exist is telling. Try imagining a woman in Afghanistan calling her husband’s name in mock anger and living to laugh about it. In much of the world, the notion of women safely mocking their husbands is unthinkable. In America, it’s a meme.

This contrast matters. Because while American feminists stage costume protests about speculative oppression, real women—real human beings—are being crushed by regimes that deny them even the most basic rights.

The Reality of Gender Apartheid

Since the Taliban’s return to power in 2021, Afghan women have been methodically erased from public life. Girls were barred from secondary school, then university. Women were removed from workplaces, banned from appearing on television, and eventually prohibited from even leaving their homes without a male guardian.

More recently, the Taliban decreed that women’s voices should not be heard in public. Reading aloud, singing, or speaking in group settings is no longer allowed. Not even within the walls of their own homes. The message is clear: women are to be unseen, unheard, and forgotten.

Beauty salons have been shuttered. Medical treatment is increasingly hard to access. Suicide rates among women have spiked. In one unbelievably disturbing and tragic instance, a young woman set herself on fire to avoid being married off to a Taliban member’s brother. She would rather end her life than live the reality of gender apartheid.

It’s a codified system, enforced through state violence, surveillance, and religious edicts. Yet in Western feminist discourse, Afghanistan has become a non-issue—an inconvenience that complicates preferred narratives.

American Catastrophizing

By contrast, many liberal women in the U.S. have responded to Trump’s return to power with a renewed sense of existential dread. Their fears are not entirely baseless—reproductive rights are being contested in courtrooms, and some Republican rhetoric on gender and bodily autonomy borders on the punitive. For women who have grown up with Roe as settled law, the political landscape now feels suddenly unstable. Still, the reaction has at times veered into the theatrical, shaped as much by the spectacle of resistance as by the substance of policy.

Attorney Joyce Vance recently compared post-Roe America to The Handmaid’s Tale, and Margaret Atwood herself has endorsed the symbolism by sharing cartoons urging women to vote “before it’s too late.” Protesters in D.C., New York, and Los Angeles have resurrected the Handmaid costume as a sign of solidarity.

But these symbolic acts blur the line between vigilant activism and self-indulgent paranoia. It is not only dishonest to compare American democracy to Gilead—it’s insulting to those who truly live under regimes where women are stoned for adultery, jailed for dancing, or denied the right to read.

In many liberal circles, criticizing the Taliban is seen as politically risky, perhaps even “Islamophobic.” So instead, energy is directed inward, where it’s safer. Safer to demonize domestic political opponents than to confront theocratic misogyny abroad.

Who Abandoned Afghan Women?

The collapse of women’s rights in Afghanistan is not the fault of one party or one president. Trump initiated the withdrawal deal. Biden executed it with stunning indifference to the consequences. The result? A superpower exited, and the medieval returned.

What was once a fragile but growing space for Afghan women to study, work, teach, and lead was sealed off almost overnight. The West didn’t just walk away from a war. It walked away from twenty years of progress. And for many, especially in the media, the story was simply... over.

Since then, Afghanistan has largely vanished from the headlines, crowded out by coverage of Iran, Israel, Gaza, Ukraine, and domestic political squabbles. But Afghan women don’t have the luxury of tuning out. Their lives are now defined by silence, confinement, and fear.

Real Feminism Isn’t Performative

American women are not powerless. They are among the most empowered demographic groups in human history. They hold political office, lead global companies, control wealth, and shape culture. If the goal is to protect and expand women’s rights globally, there are more meaningful ways to act than donning a costume from a Hulu series.

Start by supporting underground schools in Afghanistan. Speak out against regimes that impose gender apartheid. Push for foreign policy that puts human rights before realpolitik. Donate to credible organizations helping girls escape forced marriage or helping female journalists stay alive. Have conversations with Afghan and Iranian women living in exile, and listen to what they need—not what makes us feel righteous.

Protesting for your rights is essential, and I support American women’s right to do so, even if I see it as hyperbolic. But dressing up like a fictional sex slave while ignoring real ones in Kabul, Tehran, and Sana’a is not protest. It’s performance art. And it’s time we told the difference.

Feminism that is rooted in gratitude, humility, and global awareness is feminism worth defending. The rest is cosplay.

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