Reflections on ‘In Orbit’, a feminist short story
A short work of fiction of mine, titled In Orbit, was recently published in TEXT Prose and Poetry, Vol. 30. It’s a story I wrote during my master’s degree, back when I was deeply immersed in the genre of blank fiction and postfeminist theory. Blank fiction became popular during a consumerist 1980s America for its minimalist prose and depictions of subversive youth.
Returning to it over the past few months with fresh eyes, it was clear the piece needed revisiting. I tweaked and refined sentences here and there, and cut whole sections that no longer earned their place. Eventually, it found its new home with TEXT.
As friends began to read the story, it became apparent just how unusual it was – its nihilism and frank exploration of a young woman’s sadomasochistic lifestyle. They would follow up with questions: why did I write the story and why those themes… Because of this, I decided to post some commentary, offering readers additional context around the story’s style and themes. Hopefully it clarifies questions it might raise, or at the very least frames it more thoughtfully.
As a brief synopsis, In Orbit follows Julia’s bleak, repetitive day through a series of timed vignettes, offering glimpses into sadomasochistic behaviours. This premise echoes Soukhanov’s claim that knowledge emerges at the limits of experience, with the body serving as a primary site for that discovery. At its core, though, In Orbit centres on Julia’s strained relationship with her distant mother and her desire to break free from social expectations.
Reading the story alongside Sara Ahmed’s 2008 chapter Feminist Futures helps highlight how women’s connection to pain and emotion can become a pathway to change – not just through experience, but through understanding it.
Feminism and pain
The link between feminism and pain – whether from violence, injury, or discrimination – has long been central to feminist thinking. In the story, Julia sometimes appears to invite or accept pain. Does that exclude her from what Ahmed calls a “feminist collective,” where shared suffering can build solidarity? And does her agency in seeking these experiences complicate her role as a feminist protagonist? I would argue that it does not.
Sadomasochistic behaviour has often been interpreted, especially through Freud’s psychoanalytic lens, as evidence of a woman’s return to a submissive position shaped by past trauma. Within this view, women’s wounds risk becoming their defining feature. That’s why it’s important to tell and examine stories that push back against this kind of reductive thinking.
What causes this pain?
Sara Ahmed suggests that to properly understand harm, we shouldn’t “forget the wound,” but instead ask how it came to exist in the first place.
In Orbit doesn’t romanticise or dwell on suffering for its own sake. Instead, it focuses on Julia’s struggle to define herself in a culture that insists women are already free – that they simply need to “run,” as the billboard in the story suggests. Julia isn’t driven by a single, identifiable trauma. Rather, she turns to pain as a way of questioning her place in a world saturated with idealised images of women – on billboards, in magazines, in advertising, and even in her mother’s behaviour. These everyday influences form the backdrop she’s trying to resist.
Pain doesn’t define her identity. Nor is she the cause of it. The world around her is.
Seen this way, Julia’s urge to rebel isn’t just a private emotional response, but a reflection of broader social and political power structures. What the story ultimately encourages is not ignoring pain, but asking what produces it.
Collective trauma
Ahmed also reminds us that we don’t simply “have” emotions in the moment. What moves us is shaped by what came before – by histories and interpretations we inherit, not just those we create ourselves. The experiences and traumas women have faced don’t disappear with each generation; they carry forward, often felt as if they were our own.
In Orbit explores this through Julia’s relationship with her mother. She disapproves of her mother’s focus on appearances and is uneasy about her new partner, David: “It’s not that I disapprove of the man himself… it’s more about the idea of the man who could hurt mum again.” Julia hasn’t experienced her mother’s heartbreak firsthand, but she carries that fear and pain with her.
In Ahmed’s terms, Julia’s emotional life isn’t just shaped by immediate, personal feelings, but by a collective history of emotion. While the story might feel heavy at times, Julia herself resists being pitied. Her abrasive and sometimes difficult behaviour keeps readers at a distance, allowing us to observe rather than absorb her pain – much like she does with her mother’s experiences.
Toward a feminist future
Although these emotional patterns might seem limiting, I agree with Ahmed that they can actually help point us toward a more inclusive feminist future.
In Orbit ends on a sombre note, but it also opens up the possibility of change. Julia’s mother, for example, shows a willingness to move forward with her new partner, letting go of past pain when she texts that “David is not going anywhere.”
Julia, too, begins to shift. Her growing awareness of her own discomfort and her decision to step away from painful encounters – seen in moments like the 9:15am text, the incident with the leather belt, and deleting Enrique’s contact – suggests real, if gradual, progress. Her change isn’t sudden or dramatic, but steady and believable, acknowledging that healing is often slow, uneven, and ongoing.
I wrote In Orbit to encourage readers to rethink how we approach stories that move beyond familiar postfeminist ideas of the “liberated” heroine. Julia turns to subversion to question her place in a world that insists she is already free. She may run toward pain, but she can’t escape the power structures that shape intimate relationships and everyday life. By following her struggle, the story asks readers to think more carefully about how women navigate autonomy, desire, and constraint – and to imagine feminist futures that don’t just focus on freedom, but also on the conditions that continue to shape and wound women.