Critic’s Rating: 4.45 / 5.0
4.45
I didn’t expect an episode of The Handmaid’s Tale to punch me in the chest the way this one did. Not today.
Not when I’m reckoning with the fact that I’ve been slowly killing myself — little choices, small dismissals of needs, brushing off symptoms, waving off signs. Not when I’m crawling out of that fog and realizing that I’m not fine. Not even close.
And then this episode airs.
Women executed in stalls like they’re nothing, Nick choosing survival over truth, and June dragging her broken body back into the fire because there’s no one left to do it.
And somehow, through all the wreckage, they still plan a revolution. Still move.
It hit me hard. Too hard, maybe. But that’s the power of this show when it remembers what it is.
This wasn’t just television. It was a call to arms.
The Fallout We Saw Coming — And Still Left Us Unprepared
Let’s talk about Nick because we loved him. Maybe we still do. I don’t know anymore.
He told Gabriel the truth, handed over Mayday’s plan, and helped dismantle Jezebel’s not as a resistance act but as damage control.
And he did it knowing — knowing — what Gilead would do with that power. That they’d take out the women first, that Janine and the others would be sacrificed before anyone in command even broke a sweat.
And yet, he justified it.
“We’re human. That’s what we do.”
Self-preservation. That’s what he offered June when she asked him why, not remorse or grief. Just an ugly, necessary truth. And it gutted her. It gutted me.
Because I’ve said that, I’ve rationalized things that hurt me because I needed to survive that day, that week, that month. You can’t fight a system while also doing meal prep, answering emails, and sleeping.
But what The Handmaid’s Tale reminded me — and maybe reminded June — is that survival isn’t enough when it comes at the expense of everything else.
“Don’t Be in Love With a F#ck!ng Nazi.”
Luke said what had to be said, which is what I’ve told myself about people I once believed in; people I once trusted.
He saw Nick clearly — always did. But June needed to believe in someone who saw her. And Nick did, for a very long time. But seeing someone and saving them aren’t the same, not when it puts others in the crosshairs.
June walked away. Finally. Because some truths you can’t walk back from, and some choices you can’t unmake.
But June and Luke aren’t walking away from each other, and that’s what matters. I admit that I had Luke all wrong. That he stands by June because of and in spite of everything she’s done says it all.
Lydia Is Not the Woman We Keep Hoping She Will Be
I thought Lydia would break this time. I did.
She sobbed over Angela’s drawing, cried at Jezebel’s, and wept with joy when she learned Janine was alive.
And then she turned around and proudly accepted an assignment to D.C. — to help pitch a plan to turn Handmaids into something resembling respectable servants. “Attendants.” Like lipstick before the guillotine.
It would almost be easier if Lydia were heartless. But she’s not.
She’s broken in a different way — one where the indoctrination is so deep and the trauma so normalized that she still thinks she’s doing good and still believes God is guiding her.
She saw Janine’s battered face in Bell’s window, and while she was somewhat moved, she walked away, still determined to forge through with her plan to “save” handmaids — by offering them up as caregivers for those who determined their fate.
Lydia won’t change, at least not during this chapter of Gilead’s story. And that’s almost more horrifying than Bell himself.
Serena Joy’s Blinders Become the Resistance’s Open Door
And then there’s Serena. If Nick is survival, and Lydia is delusion, Serena is vanity — weaponized and hollowed out.
She’s clawed her way back from disgrace. We watched her stripped of power, imprisoned, brought low. And instead of learning from that fall, she built herself a pedestal all over again. One wedding cake tier at a time.
This week, we saw her try to rally the wives behind New Bethlehem — a place she once scoffed at herself. They mocked her. They mocked Joseph.
They insulted the dress shops, the policies, and the optics. Serena was humiliated, and Gabriel? He told her to smile through it, to fix it with a bigger ceremony, with more pomp — with more handmaids.
And she said yes because what she wants — what she’s always wanted — is to be seen, not respected, just seen. She may say otherwise, but her actions convey the truth.
And Joseph saw that. He used it when June was ready to walk away and close the book. Joseph reminded her: Serena never quit. She got knocked down and pulled herself back up, heels sharpened and eyes wide open.
June was furious. So what? Was she supposed to be inspired by Serena Joy? Hell, yes. How could she let defeat be her swansong when Serena just keeps pushing for herself?
Because if Serena can rise again after everything she’s done, then so can June — and June can do it right.
That’s the truth Joseph threw at June like a lit match: Serena’s need for spectacle is the resistance’s opportunity. Her wedding is the breach. The veil. The perfect crack in the system.
And June? She’s the one with the hands steady enough to blow it wide open.
Joseph Moves the Pieces — Again
And then there’s Joseph. Smug, wry, infuriating Joseph.
Just when I’d written him off, he came back swinging — not with warmth, but with strategy. He knows the time for middle ground is over. He pushed June to act, reminded her that the wedding was the perfect opportunity, and cleared the field by shipping Lydia off to D.C.
He’s still playing the long game. And honestly, we need that.
We need someone who doesn’t pretend things are salvageable, who knows the only way forward is to blow the whole thing up — metaphorically and maybe literally.
It turns out all Joseph needed was to know everyone mocked and wanted to kill him. That’ll do it!
This Revolution Isn’t Clean — But It’s Ours
The plan is reckless. Veiled Handmaids at Serena’s wedding. Hidden weapons. No extraction until the end. Every single friend they’ve ever had — from Rita to Phoebe — is involved.
It’s messy, dangerous, and right.
And when Moira asks for a speech, what does June give us?
“The Lord is my shepherd… and please dear God, give us the strength to murder those motherfuckers.”
That wasn’t blasphemy. That was faith. Faith in herself. Faith in the woman beside her. Faith that this — all of this — might finally be the last chapter written by them.
Why This One Mattered More Than I Expected
I’ve been low. Tired. Scared. Not quite able to find my footing. And then this episode came at me like a freight train wrapped in barbed wire.
It said: You’re allowed to be broken. But get up.
It said, Yes, this world is unfair, cruel, and relentless, but you don’t owe it your silence.
It said, Fight, even if all you have left is spite, half a plan, and a killer song by Heart.
It reminded me that the women who survive don’t do so because they’re stronger or smarter or purer. They survive because they decide not to die. Not emotionally. Not spiritually. Not today.
Final Thoughts: Shattered But Not Done
This is The Handmaid’s Tale at its best, not because it gives us answers, but because it lights a fuse.
We’re supposed to be unsettled, angry, and ready because that’s where real change begins. Look, I know that this story won’t end here, but their stories will. They need to go down fighting, or they’ll never forgive themselves.
So here’s to the resistance — fictional and otherwise. Here’s to every woman crawling out of her own grave, brushing off the dirt, and saying, “Not yet.“
And here’s to a revolution backed by Barracuda.
Because damn it, that’s the kind of energy I need right now.
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