When The Handmaid’s Tale premiered in 2017, it came in like thunder — gripping, and eerily prophetic. Based on Margaret Atwood’s dystopian 1985 novel, the Hulu series tapped into a rising global unease about the erosion of women’s rights, authoritarian overreach, and the weaponization of religion.
Over five seasons, the show evolved beyond the book, unfolding as both a chilling warning and a character-driven psychological study, led by Elisabeth Moss’s portrayal of June Osborne.
Now, as the series concludes and its cultural footprint settles into the landscape of television history, it’s worth revisiting what The Handmaid’s Tale meant — both as a work of fiction and a mirror to real-world anxieties. Its imagery has become iconic, its themes dissected in think pieces and classrooms. But beyond the red cloaks and white bonnets is a complex narrative about resistance, trauma, and the thin line between order and oppression.
Watching The Handmaid’s Tale was, for me, an emotional rollercoaster. It was often disturbing, but I couldn’t look away. Each episode felt like a gut-punch, yet I was locked in, desperate to see what would happen to June, how far Gilead’s grip would reach, and whether justice would ever be served. I found myself constantly shifting — rooting for June with every small act of rebellion, then feeling betrayed by some of her reckless choices, and defiance that sometimes seemed to cost others more than herself. But that emotional rollercoaster was part of the show’s brilliant appeal. The language of the show — phrases like “blessed be the fruit” and “under His eye” — spilled into everyday conversations, jokes, and even protests.
The first three seasons of The Handmaid’s Tale chart a trajectory from despair to defiance. Season 1 remained largely true to Atwood’s novel, giving us nightmares of Gilead through June’s point of view. With its blatant visuals and intimate narration, the show captured the psychological toll of life under a totalitarian rule. By Season 2, the narrative began to expand, digging deeper into the inner workings of Gilead and the backstories of supporting characters. June’s transformation from a passive sufferer to this force of rebellion started to mirror real life, as the show aired during a period marked by resurgence of the #MeToo movement and threats to reproductive rights.
At this point, June is now a symbol of resistance with that signature stare. The show resonated with current political events: protestors wore handmaid costumes at statehouses, and the phrase “Nolite Te Bastardes Carborundorum” became popular across social media, even though it’s not a real Latin phrase. At the same time, the narrative was pushed even more beyond Gilead’s borders and explored the messy, moral gray areas of revolution. What we thought was just a cautionary tale became a voice in the face of patriarchy.
Both the novel and the television adaptation have received criticism for their treatment of race, especially in how Black people are represented — or, more often, sidelined. While Black people exist in the series, at times it felt as though they were only there to garner sympathy for the suffering of white people.
The book offers up an explanation for the absence of Black people in Gilead: the regime is not only patriarchal, but also racist. Its obsession with repopulation is rooted in a desire for white children, which means its system of reproductive enslavement targets mostly white women. At one point, the book references a news report about the “resettlement of the Children of Ham,” implying that people of color are being forcibly relocated — and, considering America’s historical context, they were likely subjected to violence or even killed.
Basically, Black people were removed from the narrative, allowing the story to reference racial injustice without having to include the lived experiences of Black people themselves. Hmm, appropriating racism. Well, no surprise there.
In Season 4, we saw a major turning point in The Handmaid’s Tale, shifting from survival within Gilead to confrontation from the outside. After years of torment and failed escape attempts, June finally crosses into Canada — a moment that felt both triumphant and uncertain. Rather than giving her closure, June’s freedom deepens the psychological weight of the series. So, even though she’s safe, we watch her become more and more consumed by vengeance and unable to detach from her trauma. Her relationship with Luke grows strained, her sense of morality gets blurred. It was a scary place for us to watch her be in.
Meanwhile, Serena and Fred Waterford (Yvonne Strahovski and Joseph Fiennes) find themselves at the mercy of international justice systems, turning the tables but raising new ethical dilemmas. Needless to say, Season 3 was a slow burn of reckoning.
By Season 5, the lines between victim and aggressor became even more complicated. Low and behold, June and Serena’s dynamic evolved into mutual obsession and reflection. Both women possess aspects of the other’s worst fears.
Gilead’s influence also began to spill over into Canada, where sympathizers stirred up all the unrest they could. The show leaned into the idea that trauma doesn’t end with escape — it just takes a different form. Characters who once seemed on the right path began to straddle the fence of morality. There were times that June made me mad as heck! I was constantly yelling at the television, “Girl, what are you doing?!” When I thought she’d do one thing, she completely went rogue and did something else. But this tension is what kept the series compelling: It forced us to confront the high price of survival and revenge.
So far, this final sixth season has been bittersweet. As viewers, we want closure — but to what, exactly, remains to be seen. Will June find true justice? Will Gilead’s regime finally collapse?
We also want to see these long-simmering arcs come to fruition: a reckoning for Serena, redemption (or not) for Commander Lawrence (Bradley Whitford), and a future for June’s daughters that’s free of authoritarian control. The hope is that this final chapter will not only offer resolution but also protect the show’s legacy as a story that dared us to confront the ugliest sides of power — and what it takes to throw them. Regardless of how Season 6 ends, The Handmaid’s Tale has cemented itself as one of the most unflinching series of our time.
Praise be.
The Handmaid’s Tale is streaming on Hulu.
You can also check out our podcast recaps on the series here.
