We talked in class about how The Martian would have changed had the protagonist been named “Marcia Watney.” Today, we’re fortunate to have girl-targeted STEAM programs and books (Girls Who Code recently came out with The Friendship Code, first in a Babysitter’s Club styled series; also on this year’s pub list are Ada Twist, Scientist; How to Code a Sandcastle; and now we’ve gone as far as Baby Code!).

It’s really nice–and certainly no fantasy–to think that women can fit perfectly into roles held by men in this day and age. But so far, we lack the literature to prove it.

When NASA started out, the primary vision of women in space was in the role of colonizing: women would help set up a domestic society on new planets, and leave the spaceship-steering to the menfolk. Even though we now understand, accept, and encourage the idea women can touch technology without making things implode, it seems like the glass ceiling extends to the stratosphere and beyond.

Marilyn of “The Cold Equations” is a teenager, and although she’s heading off to the working world, she still wears “gypsy sandals,” which suggest a wandering soul and a lack of stereotypical bounds. As Melissa points out, we expect teenagers to rebel. The Luke Skywalkers and the Anakins of the world get to bend the rules and come out on top–but it seems that girls who break the rules either die or forfeit the right to save themselves and have to play damsel.

Even if a female rulebreaker is successful, she’s rarely taken seriously. TVTropes.com, on it’s “Lovable Rogue” page, mentions that outlaws who fall into the Lovable Rogue category are, “Usually male, but female thieves tend to be considered Lovable Rogues by default; i.e. they are not ‘rare.'” In other words, a girl who operates outside of the rules doesn’t get to be known by the daring explorer traits we marked up on the whiteboard; even if she’s smart beyond belief, she’s charming first and everything else is secondary.

So, could Mr. Watney have been a Ms. without changing anything besides gendered pronouns? Evidence would suggest no. Inevitably there’d be an urge to feminize Watney, eliminating some crude humor in exchange for ladylike observations, and Watney would probably come across like Lewis: hyper-confident, emotionally-engaged, and laser-focused to the point of Mary Sue-ism. Not a bad character, but not one who’d win her actress an Academy nominee.

In an English class a year ago I read piece of criticism from Kiernan Ryan, who suggests that Shakespeare was the last writer capable of writing universally, without gender. I found myself resentful, and wanted to know why Shakespeare didn’t want to be born four hundred years later so he could set a play in space. But I wonder–maybe the problem isn’t a lack of SF writers capable of writing without keeping gender in mind–I’d categorize Kels as a genderless character–maybe they’re fighting audience expectations, and don’t want to push suspension of disbelief beyond lightsabers. Maybe most of us aren’t ready to read stories with interchangeable genders–but maybe we’re getting there in steps and leaps.