boycottthetestaments

[boycottthetestaments]

Max Minghella is stepping into a new role — filming Clayface — and we couldn’t be happier for him.

After carrying Nick Blaine with so much depth and quiet power, Max deserves every success that comes his way. He gave us a character who meant everything to so many of us, and now he gets to expand his range in a whole new arena.

We wish him nothing but success and happiness on this next chapter. ✨

[boycottthetestaments]

So Elisabeth Moss says:

“There’s a very strong Team Luke contingent, but it’s my understanding that Team Nick is definitely very strong as well.” well.”

…Is the strong Team Luke contingent in the room with us right now?

Because according to Meta AI, it doesn’t exist. Search #LukeBankoleEdit and it pulls up a football player.

Search #NickBlaine, and you get canon, character breakdowns, and recognition that he was pivotal to both the novel and series.

And to the writers? If you forgot who Nick Blaine was, you could’ve just asked Meta AI. Its memory is a helluva lot better than anyone in your writers’ room.

There was never a “Team Luke contingent.” What there was (and still is) is a jealous cast member and a handful of minions leaving the same bitter comments under every Nick and June post. Meanwhile, Osblaine built the fandom’s backbone, fanworks, analysis, engagement, and the longevity that carried this show.

👉 Fans didn’t forget Nick Blaine. The creative team did.

[boycottthetestaments]

The Handmaid’s Tale: Misogyny in Discarding Romance

Romance as a Dismissed Genre

For centuries, romance has been treated as lesser. Critics dismissed it as “fluff,” women who loved it were mocked as silly or unserious, and stories centered on love were sidelined as if they had no cultural weight. This dismissal is not accidental. It is misogyny in disguise. It’s the belief that women’s emotional lives and desires are trivial, not worthy of serious storytelling.

Atwood Understood the Power of Love

Margaret Atwood never fell into that trap. In the novel, romance is not a distraction; it is survival. Offred clings to Nick because, as she says:

“I want to be held and told my name. I want to be valued, in ways that I am not; I want to be more than valuable.”

This was not weakness. It was an act of defiance against a regime built to erase her.

Mike Barker, who directed the show’s early seasons, understood this too. On June and Nick’s first intimate scene, he said:

“It was a glimmer of hope and humanity. A moment of freedom and personal empowerment for June, in stark contrast to ritualistic rape.” (The Art and Making of The Handmaid’s Tale)

Atwood and Barker both positioned love not as trivial, but as resistance, as the human tether that allows survival under totalitarianism.

The Writers’ Betrayal

The creative team chose to discard the love story in the final season, and in doing so, they revealed their own misogyny. They didn’t just write Nick out, they rewrote what romance meant.

• Elisabeth Moss dismissed Osblaine fans with: “It’s not about the boys.” But the truth is, June’s love story was never “about the boys.” It was about her humanity, her survival, her tether to herself. To reduce it to a rom-com or a distraction was not just insulting. It was gaslighting.

• Yahlin Chang framed Nick and June as merely “lusty” while elevating Luke as “true love” because he “stood by her.” This rhetoric is steeped in patriarchal ideals, reducing June to a reward for male patience rather than an active agent of her own desires.

• Bruce Miller himself once said Nick was “pathologically dangerously romantic” (Deadline, 2022). To turn around in Season 6 and call him “Gestapo” shows not just inconsistency, but contempt for the fans who remembered what they themselves once told us to believe.

Romance Bonds the Audience to the Story

Romance isn’t weakness, it’s what bonded the audience to the story. It gave us hope in the bleakness. It gave June (and us) something to fight for.

By discarding Nick and June, the writers didn’t just betray a love story. They severed the emotional bond that carried this show for six seasons. Fans weren’t delusional for investing in it; the writers were misogynistic for dismissing it.

The Truth

The creative team’s misogyny is plain:

• They discarded romance as trivial.

• They gaslit fans for caring.

• They reframed survival love as shameful.

• They pretended a woman’s strength is proven only in loneliness.

They thought this was feminist. It wasn’t.

It was misogyny wrapped in prestige.

[boycottthetestaments]

The Good Guy Illusion: How The Handmaid’s Tale Protected Luke and Betrayed Feminism

Erasing Annie’s Pain

When the show introduced Luke, it could have explored the messy, complicated truth: that June’s relationship with him began in betrayal, and that his ex-wife Annie was left devastated. Instead, the creative team minimized Annie’s perspective.

Luke outright called Annie a coward for wanting to work on her marriage, when in reality she was trying to salvage her life. Later, when June experienced guilt, Luke gaslit her: “I didn’t love Annie. I love you. Annie’s trying to ruin our lives.” Instead of validating June’s conflict, he rewrote history to make her guilt irrational.

The message was clear: Annie’s pain didn’t matter. Women discarded by men don’t get to be humanized. They get to be written off as bitter, in the way of the “real” story.

Gaslighting in the Name of Love

Luke didn’t just betray Annie, he gaslit June. He implied that with her, things would be “different.” But they weren’t. Before Gilead and beyond, he fell back into the same patterns: passive, waiting, expecting June to adapt to him.

Instead of interrogating this pattern, the writers framed Luke as the safe, reliable partner. A feminist show should have unpacked the harm in his complacency, but The Handmaid’s Tale protected him from critique.

The Creative Manipulation

The most telling piece of evidence comes from The Art and Making of The Handmaid’s Tale. The costume designers admitted they faced the “challenge” of making Luke look less like a cheater. Their solution? Cosmetic manipulation.

• They gave him glasses to make him appear like an “everyday guy.”

• They softened his framing, dodging any hard truths about how men benefit from patriarchy without ever lifting a hand.

Instead of letting Luke be morally complex, they sanitized him. Instead of respecting Annie’s pain, they erased it.

Luke Protected, Nick Punished

Contrast this with how Nick was treated:

• Nick was vilified in the final season, reframed as “Gestapo” despite years of being written as a resistor.

• His love story with June, which Atwood positioned as vital to survival, was discarded and mocked.

• Fans were gaslit for caring about Nick, told that “it’s not about the boys.”

So while Nick, the rebel, the resistor, the one who gave June humanity in Gilead, was torn down. Luke, the passive cheater whose flaws were never confronted, was propped up as the “good man.”

The Hypocrisy of Their Feminism

This is not feminism. This is misogyny in disguise.

• A real feminist story would have interrogated Luke’s treatment of Annie, his complacency, and his gaslighting of June.

• A real feminist story would not erase one woman’s pain to protect a man’s reputation.

• A real feminist story would not villainize a character like Nick while sanitizing Luke for the sake of a “good guy” archetype.

By protecting Luke, the creative team revealed their fear of tarnishing the male archetype they wanted audiences to accept. By dismantling Nick, they showed their contempt for women who dared to take romance seriously.

The creative team wanted prestige feminism, but what they delivered was hypocrisy:

• They erased Annie.

• They gaslit June.

• They sanitized Luke.

• And they vilified Nick.

All of it in service of protecting a man who was never half as complex or vital to the story as they wanted us to believe.

This isn’t feminist storytelling.

It’s misogyny dressed up in glasses.

[boycottthetestaments]

The Handmaid’s Tale: Niche Reality vs. Prestige Illusion.

Mass Appeal vs. Niche Reality

The Handmaid’s Tale was never a mass-appeal show. From the beginning, it was dark, bleak, and emotionally demanding. The imagery of red cloaks and white bonnets broke into the mainstream, but the show itself survived because of a niche audience willing to carry it. These were fans who dug into every theme, every foreshadowed line, every layered performance. Casual viewers often dropped out after a season or two — but the loyal core stayed.

The writers either forgot this or never understood it. They started writing as if they were chasing mass prestige and mainstream acceptance, ignoring the very people who had kept them afloat. And in the process, they betrayed their most devoted viewers.

The Betrayal of Loyal Fans

For Osblaines especially, the betrayal cut deep. For years, the show itself framed Nick and June’s love as vital, resistant, and deeply human. It was never just “romance” — it was survival, rebellion, and emotional refuge. Marketing campaigns, interviews, and scripts positioned their relationship as one of the show’s beating hearts.

But in the final season, arcs were retconned, continuity was discarded, and the love story was dismissed as if it never mattered. The message to loyal fans was clear: your investment doesn’t count anymore.

The Awards Chase

What makes it sting even more is the obvious attempt to chase awards recognition in the final season. Several cast members even posted For Your Consideration campaigns, signaling that nominations were anticipated. The show was written and marketed like it was headed for one last round of prestige TV glory.

But awards were never what made The Handmaid’s Tale powerful. Its impact came from its raw storytelling, its haunting symbolism, and the loyalty of fans who stayed even when the show became grueling to watch. By prioritizing Emmy bait over narrative integrity, the creators lost sight of what actually sustained them.

The Cost of Chasing Illusions

By misreading the show as mass-appeal and prestige-driven, the writers dismantled what was real: a fiercely loyal, niche audience. They betrayed the people who dissected every scene, who carried Nick and June’s story through six seasons, and who gave the show cultural staying power long after casual viewers dropped off.

In the end, The Handmaid’s Tale didn’t just fail Nick and June. It failed its own core audience — the people who kept it alive while the writers chased illusions.

[boycottthetestaments]

I saw recently from Lucy Halliday (the actress playing Daisy) on instagram that The Testaments has wrapped filming. A year ago and I would have been over the moon excited for it. But now? Now I just feel sad and tired, and I dread what they're going to do to this adaptation. I worry about how they're going to handle Daisy, if they're going to turn Hannah into a mini June complete with plot armour, and if they're going to disparage Nick further. I hate that feeling. I hate that I want the show to fail now. I feel guilty for feeling that way as the people who are acting and helping film the show don't deserve for their hard work to lead nowhere and to be out of a good job, but the producers need to see that they messed up big time by destroying Nick and Osblaine, ruining June as a character, constantly engaging with white radical feminism, the confusing statements around who Daisy will be in the show, and numerous other faults. I'm still so upset about how things ended. I've tried watching other shows like Severance, Ginny and Georgia, King of the Hill, etc. and I'm struggling to enjoy them as I fear that the people who make those shows will hurt me in the way the creators of THT hurt me. Because I am hurt and I am grieving the destruction of my favorite show three whole months down the line. I don't want to experience that again. I just hate all of this. I really wanted to watch The Testaments, but I refuse to now unless they bring Nick back, treat him better, and admit it was a mistake to kill off him after demonizing him. And the odds of that happening are impossible. At best they'll throw us Nick and Osblaine fans a few bones, just as a final way to insult us. "Here's your scraps, come and save our show, girls!" I don't know if I'm ever going to get over this. Nick and Osblaine meant something to me, and it was stolen by people who have no respect for the creative storytelling process, no respect for long-term fans, no respect for Max Minghella, and no respect for Margaret Atwood. I leave comments on instagram about the major issues the show has and will continue to do so as long as The Testaments is airing. It's not much, but I won't let Moss, Miller, Chang, or Tuchman win.

I felt every word of this.

You’re not alone, not in your grief, your disillusionment, or even your anger. Like so many other Osblaine fans, I poured myself into this story. I valued what Nick and June’s love represented: survival, rebellion, emotional refuge. I valued Max Minghella’s performance, his restraint, his nuance, the way he carried the quiet agony of a man in love with someone he couldn’t have, but could never stop protecting. That wasn’t just acting. That was art. And it was disrespected.

So no, you’re not wrong for feeling this way. You’re not too emotional. You’re not petty. You’re a fan who trusted the story, and that trust was broken, and that hurts.

That’s why I fight.

I don’t know how effective I’ll be. Maybe I won’t change the industry. But I know this: we, the Osblaine fandom, are still here. Months after casual viewers moved on, we’re still speaking out, still posting, still demanding accountability. That alone speaks volumes. The love for Nick and June wasn’t superficial. It meant something. It means something.

We have power. Real power. And I will keep using my voice because this story, this character, and this fandom are worth fighting for. I hope you keep speaking out too, your voice matters. Every comment, every post, every refusal to accept narrative gaslighting matters. It’s not bitterness. It’s integrity.

Thank you for sharing what so many of us feel but can’t always articulate. You’re seen. You’re understood. And you’re absolutely right to want better.

We all are. 🖤

[boycottthetestaments]

Erasing Nick Wasn’t Feminist — It Was Misogyny in Disguise

The Handmaid’s Tale claimed to be about dismantling patriarchy. But by Season 6, the creative team, including Elisabeth Moss, who shaped much of the show’s direction, exposed their own misogyny.

1. Villainizing Nick Blaine

Nick represented something rare: a man embedded in Gilead who resisted from within, who aligned with Mayday, who gave June real refuge and love. Instead of exploring that complexity, the writers flattened him into “just another Commander.” That wasn’t storytelling. It was a choice to erase nuance and vilify male resistance.

2. The “All Men Bad / All Women Good” Trap

This isn’t feminism. It’s lazy, white feminist framing. By painting all men as irredeemable and all women as inherently virtuous, the show reduced its characters to caricatures. Serena was granted endless sympathy, while June’s love for Nick was reframed as weakness. That’s not empowerment. it’s control.

3. Misogyny Dressed as Feminism

Real feminism honors complexity, intersectionality, and women’s agency. What we got in Seasons 5 and 6 was the opposite: June’s agency stripped away, love treated as shameful, survival twisted into betrayal. By punishing Nick and devaluing June’s choices, the showrunners revealed their hand, not feminism, but misogyny in disguise.

Erasing Nick wasn’t a feminist move. It was a betrayal of Margaret Atwood’s vision, and of every fan who believed this story was about more than caricatures.

[boycottthetestaments]

“June Should End Up Alone” — Why That Isn’t Feminist

I’ve seen arguments in the fandom that June should end up alone, because a woman is “stronger without a man.” Let’s unpack why that idea isn’t as feminist as it sounds.

1. White Feminism and the “Alone Woman” Trope

A certain strand of white feminism equates empowerment with rejecting men altogether. It frames love or partnership as weakness, while solitude = strength. The problem is, this erases the complexity of women’s lives. It suggests that if a woman chooses love, she’s automatically diminished, which is just another way of policing women’s choices.

2. June’s Love Is Not Weakness

From the beginning, June and Nick’s relationship was about survival, rebellion, and reclaiming humanity. It wasn’t a “rom-com,” it was about finding refuge in a world built on violence. To say June “should” end up alone is to strip her of that right. Strength isn’t about isolation, it’s about autonomy.

3. The Double Standard

The show has given Serena endless space for her emotions, longings, and desires. Yet when June longs for love, some call it “dependency.” Why do Serena’s tears deserve empathy, but June’s love for Nick is treated as weakness? That’s not feminism, that’s bias.

4. True Feminism = Choice

Intersectional feminism means respecting a woman’s right to define strength for herself. For June, that could mean surviving, resisting, raising Nichole, and loving Nick. Love does not erase her strength; it affirms her humanity.

👉 Bottom line: Saying June must end up alone to be a “strong woman” isn’t feminist. It’s another way of denying women the right to choose love on their own terms. June’s strength comes from her agency, not her solitude.

[boycottthetestaments]

THT 6x02 Screenplay Notes: Nick & Wharton

I recently had the opportunity to read all 10 screenplays for The Handmaid's Tale season 6 at the WGF library in Los Angeles. Obviously, my interest was primarily focused on the Nick and Osblaine scenes, but if you have questions about anything else, I'm happy to answer them!

As an aside to all of these posts, I realize I'm being CRAZY specific with every tiny detail, but I find it really interesting what tweaks actors make to their dialogue, the expressions and gestures that aren't indicated through description lines but have such a huge impact on the tone of a scene, and how the actors and directors work together to build from the screenplay.

Of course, we can't know for sure who made which decisions - whether Max was directed to do certain things or if those were his personal touches. But I find it particularly interesting, now that we know where the end of the series took Nick's arc, that the character we knew and loved remained intact in so many of these small, unscripted moments, Max's brilliantly complex face acting, and in the delivery of his dialogue... especially knowing that Max was surprised by the direction for Nick in season 6 too.

Here are my notes from the third Nick sequence in 6x02 - his conversation with Gabriel Wharton by the fire.

Wharton's first line in this scene is: "Lawrence has completely tied his future to New Bethlehem's. And yours." And in the screenplay, Nick's response reads:

Gilead's future, I think he'd say.

Max swapped the phrases and said:

I think he'd say Gilead's future.

The description after these lines reads: "Wharton can see that Nick admires Lawrence."

Wharton's next line is: "Do you know why we called ourselves Sons of Jacob?" In the screenplay, his dialogue continues on with no break until after he mentions Nick's mother.

But in the episode, there's a cut to Nick shaking his head no after the question, then another cut to Nick nodding and looking off to the side after Wharton's "too many of us had to make do without real fathers." Later, there's another cut to Nick, after Wharton says: "No mother would choose to cook at a diner instead of for her own family at home." Nick kinda purses his lips, then raises his eyebrows.

This is nitpicky, because there was obviously coverage of Nick during Wharton's whole line here, so cutting to it made a lot more sense than just holding on Wharton for all of that dialogue. But the reason I'm bringing these moments up is because the script doesn't have any description for Nick up through this point, so these reactions were crafted in the performance.

After Wharton's line "I'm aware that your father was a difficult man," Nick's scripted line was:

That's a kind way to put it.

But in the episode, Max laughed in that brilliantly humorless way and said:

That's, uh, that's one way of putting it.

Here's a Wharton line I noticed, because this seems like a strange omission. In the screenplay, Wharton says:

Pryce, Waterford, now Lawrence. You let these men come into your life, guide you. You looked to them to fill his shoes.

But in the episode, Josh says:

Waterford, now Lawrence. You've let these men come into your life and guide you.

I totally get why the "You looked to them to fill his shoes" part was left out. That's too on the nose as a reference to Nick's father / Nick not having a good father. But the omission of Pryce's name is odd to me.

My only thought on this is that maybe they assumed Pryce was a forgotten character and people would be confused. But to me, that's just more evidence of pandering to casual viewers while leaving out callbacks that more discerning fans would appreciate and find really interesting. It seems to me that leaving in a reference like that - to give the full scope of the story more depth - is worth it, even if some people won't understand it, because anyone who isn't paying enough attention to remember who Pryce was is just going to gloss over it anyway...

Nick's first description line in this scene comes right here. "Nick is insulted, but tries not to show it too much."

Then, his scripted line is:

I was never confused about the role they played in my life.

And Max said:

Look, I've never been confused about the roles they played in my life.

There's a gloriously omitted Nick line next. After Wharton says: "You'll be a father soon. You'll set the standard, for your son," Nick was supposed to say:

I understand. And I'm looking forward to it.

Not only is that something Nick would just never offer up in a conversation in my opinion, but it's phrased so stiffly. I get that he's with his FIL and has to play a part, but that's an unnecessary formality.

The final description for Nick comes after Wharton has left.

"Nick waits to makes sure he's alone, then slips out the encrypted CELL PHONE from Mark Tuello." (yes, that typo on "makes" is in the officially printed screenplay)

"He looks at it, this source of stress, this representation of his torn loyalty, his dangerous betrayal of Gilead."

"He considers Wharton's advice for a beat, troubled, then --"

"He takes the SIM CARD out of the phone, places it on his desk and takes out his HANDGUN."

"Nick SMASHES THE SIM CARD with his gun."

To me, the fire was both more aesthetic and less chaotic. While I do love seeing Nick handling a gun (lol, and I hate guns in every other context, idk), the smashing version of this seems like it would have been loud and maybe alerted Wharton to something going on.

And I'll let us all talk about the "torn loyalty" and "betrayal of Gilead" line in the comments... because the laughable nature of "torn loyalty" when applied to Nick fucking Blaine - the "keep your head down and don't form attachments" guy who turned into the "sign me up to be an Eye so I can get rid of disgusting Commanders" guy - the same guy who signed a government contract he didn't read (after canon-proven government cynicism) just to sit next to June for a few minutes in the hospital... yeah, that sure has torn loyalty written all over it, lol.

[boycottthetestaments]

📢 Anonymous Asks Are Now OPEN! 📢

We’re now accepting Testimony Tuesday submissions!

Share your thoughts, experiences, or reflections — whether it’s about The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood’s work, or preserving the legacy of our beloved Nick Blaine.

From now until Monday at 12 PM, our anonymous ask box is open for you to send in your submissions. We’ll feature selected testimonies in next week’s post.

💌 How to submit:

• Send an anonymous ask through our inbox

• Keep it respectful, focused, and impactful

• Submissions close Monday, 12 PM

Your voice matters. Let’s keep the conversation going.

[boycottthetestaments]

📢 Campaign Update

We’re taking a much-needed break from posting content this week to recharge and refocus. 💙💚

But don’t worry — we’ll be back next week with:

• ✍️ Testimony Tuesday

• 📚 Our continued exploration of Margaret Atwood’s core themes

• 💖 Ongoing work to preserve the legacy of our beloved Nick Blaine

In the meantime… if you’re on Threads, we’ve just created our official account! We’d love to connect and engage with you there. Come join the conversation and help us keep this movement strong.

See you next week! 💪 🫡✨

[boycottthetestaments]

THT 6x02 Screenplay Notes: Nick & Tuello's Meeting

I recently had the opportunity to read all 10 screenplays for The Handmaid's Tale season 6 at the WGF library in Los Angeles. Obviously, my interest was primarily focused on the Nick and Osblaine scenes, but if you have questions about anything else, I'm happy to answer them!

Here are my notes from the second Nick sequence in 6x02 - his meeting under the bridge with Tuello.

First of all, this scene was scripted to take place at "Mile Marker 17," not under a bridge like it does in the episode (unless maybe the Mile Marker 17 we saw in 6x03 is supposed to be in the woods in the background of this scene). The slug line reads: "EXT. MILE MARKER 17 (NML) - NIGHT," so this was also established as No Man's Land, which makes sense.

While I do like the bridge aesthetic, I also love location continuity. It establishes something you can weave through a story, as if the location can become its own character. So I'm torn on that change.

When Mark arrives, the description reads: "Out of the woods comes a FLASH from headlights' high beams. Once. Twice. NICK steps out of his car, walks over to Mark."

In the actual episode, Nick's reveal is done off screen with the click of his lighter and a cut to his face with the cigarette sparking. I actually love this change. Nick's smoking wasn't mentioned in the screenplay for this scene either, and I remember thinking the empty underside of the bridge with just the lighter click was such a simple but also clear indication of his presence. I do like the idea of the headlights flashing as a code between Nick and Mark though.

Ugh, watching this scene to prep these notes made me livid again. This was such a cool set up that literally went nowhere, like so many other beautifully set up things that season 6 totally trashed...

Most of the descriptions related to Nick throughout this scene just involve prop handling - when Mark gives him the cell phone and the folder, when Nick looks at the "satellite images" inside the folder. But after Nick asks why the U.S. military needs to know about Gilead's patrols (honestly, this line was always weird to me, because this seems like the exact thing the U.S. military would want to know, but anyway), the description reads: "Mark shakes his head no. Nick doesn't get to know."

In the episode, there's no cut to Mark this soon, and Nick goes right on to say "or is Mayday trying something?"

In the screenplay, there's more description after Nick's Mayday question: "Mark gives Nick a look. There can be no official association between the U.S. government and terrorist rebels like Mayday."

I find this kind of interesting, because in the first "Nick doesn't get to know" description, that's an implication of Mark not trusting Nick. But in the second description regarding the association between the U.S. and Mayday, it's not about trust - it's about Mark circumventing the government and doing things with questionable legality. I like that the only cut to Mark is after this line rather than after the questionable trust line.

The next description reads: "Nick understands why Mark is cagey, but doesn't drop the subject --"

This is obvious from the performance, and I liked that Nick kept pushing this when I first saw the episode, because my assumption was in line with Nick's previous characterization - he is cynical about/doesn't trust any government (1x03, 1x08, 3x06, etc), and he doesn't want innocent people to die.

After Nick says: "They're just teachers, pharmacists, Uber drivers," the description reads: "It's a terrible fact. Mark knows it."

I like this too, because it shows that Mark is actually more ruthless than Nick in a way, but it's because Mark thinks he has to be. It's a tough subject, and I can see both viewpoints having merit. But at the end of the day, Nick is holding the line at people dying unnecessarily. He's uncomfortable with this concept throughout the whole series.

The dialogue in this scene is almost exactly the same as what we saw in the episode. The only real edit was in the final exchange, which was clearly done for clarity. The screenplay says:

Nick: They don't stand a chance. The Guardians capture them and bring them to the Eyes or shoot them on the spot. How many more bodies will you let them throw on the fire? Mark: Until there's no one left to fight.

This doesn't even make sense as scripted. Nick isn't asking "how long," he's asking "how many." So the "until" in Mark's reply feels awkward.

In the episode, we got:

Nick: Well, they don't stand a chance. The Guardians will capture them and give them straight to the Eyes or just shoot them on the spot. How many bodies you gonna let them throw on the fire? When's enough enough? Mark: When there's no one left to fight.

The final description line for this scene reads: "The cost of war. Mark turns and walks away."

So here's another confirmation of Mark being on the side of doing whatever it takes vs. Nick being sickened by the idea of more people dying, for any reason.

[boycottthetestaments]

📉 How to Guarantee Your Sequel Fails

1️⃣ Erase the emotional core

Nichole/Daisy was beloved because she was the daughter of two rebels — Nick and June. That legacy mattered. Remove it, and you strip her story of the weight fans connected to.

2️⃣ Kill off your emotional anchor

Nick Blaine wasn’t just a character — he was the throughline to Nichole’s story and the heart of a long-running arc. Killing him off destroyed the possibility of a father–daughter reunion fans had waited years to see.

3️⃣ Belittle your most loyal fans

Instead of valuing the Nick fans who carried The Handmaid’s Tale for six seasons, the creators gaslit, mocked, and targeted them. They turned their loudest advocates into critics.

💡 Here’s the truth: sequels rarely survive when they alienate their core audience.

Without the passionate base that built the original, The Testaments will have to rely on casual viewers — and casual viewers don’t drive long-term success.

[boycottthetestaments]

🟦🟩 Testimony Tuesday – Submissions Open 🟥

Our Anonymous Ask box is now open for Testimony Tuesday submissions!

📅 Now through Monday, 12 PM (ET)

Have something you want to share about how the showrunners, EM, or the writers gaslit, misled, or disrespected this fandom?

Want to talk about how The Handmaid’s Tale strayed from Margaret Atwood’s vision?

Or share your personal story of why Nick Blaine’s arc mattered to you?

This is your chance to speak your truth — anonymously and without fear.

Your testimony will be featured in next week’s Testimony Tuesday.

[boycottthetestaments]

Identity and Individualism — Stayed or Strayed?

Stayed: Seasons 1 & 2

In its early seasons, The Handmaid’s Tale honored Margaret Atwood’s vision of identity as something that could be preserved, reclaimed, and wielded as quiet rebellion under oppression.

• Emily (1x05) — Even in chains, she held onto a piece of herself that Gilead could not touch: her willingness to fight back. When she commandeered a vehicle and killed a Guardian in public defiance, she became living proof that identity could survive repression.

• June (1x05) — Witnessing Emily’s act reminded her of her own hidden core: the desire to be loved and held as herself. That catalyst sent her to Nick — a choice rooted in individual need, not state control.

• June (1x06) — By insisting Nick call her June, not Offred, she reclaimed her name and her selfhood. Nick’s response, “It’s nice to meet you, June”, validated her identity rather than erasing it.

• Moira — Though she temporarily resigned herself to her Jezebel’s name, Ruby, June’s reminder to “hold her shit together” reconnected her with her true self and pushed her toward escape.

• Nick — Even after being elevated to Commander, he held onto his love for June and Nichole, and his covert resistance to Gilead — refusing to let the role define his identity.

In these seasons, identity was resistance. Love, friendship, and personal truth were portrayed as defiance against the state’s attempt to strip away selfhood.

Strayed: Seasons 4–6

As the series moved into later seasons, the narrative shifted — from identity as resistance to identity as duty. In doing so, it erased or rewrote earlier arcs.

June’s Identity Rewritten

• After making June the leader of the resistance in Season 3, the writers returned her to her husband in Canada, where she reverted to her role as Luke’s wife.

• This decision erased the fierce individualism she displayed in Gilead — where she risked death to follow her desires — and replaced it with an obligation to uphold patriarchal ideals.

• Margaret Atwood herself suggested, in a Zoom panel with Bruce Miller after Season 4, that after killing Fred, June would have a target on her back and would need to go underground. Instead, the show grounded her in domesticity and erased her freedom to choose what she wanted.

Nick’s Identity Retconned

• Nick’s motivation had always been survival — his own, June’s, and Nichole’s. In Season 6, that survival was reframed as complicity.

• The show retconned his identity as a resistor into a man who supposedly loved power more than June, erasing both the canon from the novel and his earlier characterization.

Forgiveness as Identity Erasure

• Serena — June declared, “She’s one of us now”, framing forgiveness as shared identity — despite Serena’s active role in building and sustaining Gilead.

• Nick — In contrast, June justified severing ties by saying, “Nick reaped what he sowed. He lived a violent and dishonest life”. Forgiveness became selective — offered to an architect of Gilead, denied to an embedded resistor.

Atwood’s Vision vs. The Show’s

Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale frames identity as a form of rebellion — the act of preserving one’s self, memory, and truth in the face of erasure. It is individualism as survival, not as duty.

The series, especially in Seasons 4–6, replaced that idea with identity as service — to family, to country, to patriarchal structures.

• June’s choices stopped reflecting her inner truth and began serving external expectations.

• Nick’s survival — once framed as resistance — was rewritten as moral failure.

• Motherhood and forgiveness were reframed not as personal choices but as obligations that dictated identity.

The series strayed from the core theme by punishing individualism and rewarding conformity. It stopped telling a story about reclaiming the self — and started telling one about surrendering it.

[boycottthetestaments]

🟦🟩 Stayed or Strayed.

📚 Strayed: Rewriting Loyalty, Erasing Legacy

I once loved The Handmaid’s Tale series so much because it fed my natural curiosity and desire to analyze. The show motivated me to dive deeper into Margaret Atwood’s work, and over time, I collected many companion books to better understand the novel’s core themes. One of those is the SparkNotes edition of The Handmaid’s Tale — and revisiting it recently made something crystal clear:

“The epilogue also reveals information beyond Offred’s experience—the identity of Offred’s Commander, the purges that took place frequently under the regime, and the success of the underground resistance at infiltrating the command structure.

By telling us that The Handmaid’s Tale was transcribed from tapes found in an ‘Underground Femaleroad’ safe house, the epilogue undercuts the powerful ambiguity of the novel’s ending, letting us know that Nick was a member of Mayday, and that he did attempt to get Offred out of the country.

Offred’s final fate remains a mystery, but the faithfulness of Nick does not.”

(SparkNotes Analysis of Chapters 45–46 and Historical Notes)

This directly contradicts the narrative Bruce Miller and Elisabeth Moss pushed in Season 6 — that Nick’s arc was ambiguous, that he may have betrayed Mayday, or that he was “just like the other Commanders.”

But this isn’t just a fandom disagreement. It’s a violation of canon.

Margaret Atwood made it explicit in the historical notes:

• Nick was part of Mayday.

• He tried to help Offred escape.

• His loyalty was not up for debate.

The creators didn’t reinterpret this.

They erased it — then tried to convince us it was never there.

They exploited Nick’s love for June to heighten drama, then retconned him as corrupted, complicit, and indistinguishable from the men he once risked everything to undermine.

This is where the show strayed, not just from Atwood’s novel, but from its own early foundation. The Nick of Seasons 1–4 was a man of few words but undeniable action. He protected, resisted, endured. His identity as a double agent was part of his quiet rebellion — and that’s what made him compelling.

But in Season 6, identity no longer mattered.

Survival became complicity.

Ambiguity was replaced by accusation.

Faithfulness was rewritten as betrayal.

They told us he “went to the dark side” — but the novel tells us otherwise. And unlike Season 6, the novel respects our ability to remember.

📌 Nick didn’t just survive Gilead.

He infiltrated it.

He resisted.

He loved.

And he remained faithful.

No amount of gaslighting can erase that.

[boycottthetestaments]

🔷 Identity and Individualism in The Handmaid’s Tale — What Margaret Atwood Says

In The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood delivers a chilling yet precise exploration of how totalitarian regimes suppress individuality to maintain control. Through the character of Offred, we witness a brutal stripping of identity — and the quiet, persistent struggle to reclaim it.

Below is a breakdown of how Atwood addresses the theme of identity and individualism in the novel:

🔻 Loss of Identity

The regime of Gilead functions by erasing the individual. Women are renamed, reassigned, and reprogrammed — no longer mothers, daughters, wives, professionals, or lovers, but Handmaids, Marthas, Wives, Aunts. Offred’s name literally means “Of-Fred,” signaling ownership, not selfhood.

Atwood underscores how language is weaponized. A woman’s original name is forbidden. Her past is made inaccessible. Her autonomy is reduced to reproductive utility. This isn’t just about control — it’s about erasure.

🔻 Suppression of Individuality

Everything from clothing to speech is regulated in Gilead. There are no personal choices — no books, no friendships, no music, no ownership of time. Even emotions are policed.

Women are expected to perform their assigned roles without deviation. Expression of individuality becomes rebellion. Offred notes that even thinking the wrong thing feels dangerous. The regime doesn’t just want obedience; it wants internalized silence.

🔻 Memory and the Struggle for Self

Offred resists through memory. Atwood gives her inner life richness and depth through her recollections of:

• Saturdays with her mother

• College with Moira

• Her child, her husband, her old job, her name

These memories are Offred’s lifeline. They remind her that she existed before Gilead — and might exist again. Holding onto the past becomes an act of defiance.

🔻 The Power of Language

Atwood weaponizes language as both a tool of oppression and resistance. Gilead uses Biblical rhetoric to justify its laws, but Offred reclaims language through narration.

Even though she cannot speak freely, she tells us her story. She reflects. She remembers. She documents. She shapes her identity not through action, but through the private act of storytelling, which in itself is revolutionary.

She even longs for intimacy that reaffirms her personhood:

“I want to be held and told my name. I want to be valued, in ways that I am not; I want to be more than valuable.”

This quote is a direct rejection of the commodification Gilead imposes.

🔻 Storytelling as Resistance

The novel’s structure — a recorded testimony discovered later in the Historical Notes — affirms the importance of bearing witness. Offred’s words outlive the regime. Even if her story is fragmented or incomplete, the act of telling it reclaims her narrative.

Atwood presents storytelling not only as survival, but as individual rebellion.

🔻 A Cautionary Tale Against Totalitarianism

Ultimately, Atwood’s portrayal of identity loss is not abstract. It’s grounded in real-world examples of patriarchal and authoritarian control — where people are redefined by the state, their humanity replaced with function.

The Handmaid’s Tale warns us that identity is fragile, and must be protected. The regime may rename you, restrict you, or silence you — but the human spirit resists. It remembers. It narrates. It persists.