Worlds Without Gender

As imagined by Ursula K. Le Guin and Ann Leckie

Two Gender or Not to Gender

For a long time, I've struggled to wrap my head around the idea that peoples' gender innately dictates their behaviour, interests, or frankly any aspect of their personality; in my head, we're all just people.

I'm not just talking about 1950s-style 'traditional gender roles' and the asshats trying to bring them back. Even in extremely queer and welcoming spaces, so many aspects of a person are described in terms of gender. (I know some of this is ironic, but I'm also certain not all of it is.)

Maybe it’s all in reference to societal expectations and understandings of gender (pink vs. blue into infinity), or maybe there are aspects of people associated with the Divine Feminine and the Damned Masculine (see this wonderful Chris Fleming bit; I too am a Visitor washed ashore.) 

Either way, I therefore greatly appreciate stories that reflect my own experiences where I can find them. Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Left Hand of Darkness (1969) depicts a foreign man navigating and struggling to accept the genderless world of Geth. Almost fifty years later, Ann Leckie’s The Imperial Radch trilogy (2013-2015) follows in Le Guin’s footsteps while also asking new questions.

If you're interested in reading more about these themes, I've previously written about non-binary characters across speculative fiction, neopronouns in speculative fiction and have written twice directly about Ann Leckie's Imperial Radch novels, though I'm sure I've also referenced her work in at least half a dozen pieces.

This is also an exciting moment to talk about Leckie and her Imperial Radch universe, as her new entry Radiant Star (2026) was announced just last week. Reading the burb already promises plenty more neopronouns, physics fuckery and adjacent vowels (how would you pronounce 'Ooioiaa'?), in addition to further exploration into the universe post-trilogy.

In particular, Radiant Star will be our closest look at society within the titular Imperial Radch since the original trilogy, both Provenance (2017) and Translation State (2023) having depicted entirely new spaces. And it's predominantly the complex Imperial Radch that has done away with gender in Leckie's universe.

Illustrations from The Left Hand of Darkness Deluxe Edition, art by Vanessa Lemen

The Left Hand of Darkness

The world of Geth, called Winter by foreigners, is brutally cold. This simple but inescapable fact of life has shaped its people (Gethenians) and their society in countless ways. Cities and monasteries are called Hearths and Fastnesses, daily calorie and nutrient intake is closely tracked for survival, and a certain degree of mindfulness is built into their very calendar: it is always Year One on Geth, with past and future rearranging themselves over time.

But of course, Geth’s genderless society is the greatest difference from human life as we know it. (Gethenians and Earth humans share a common ancestor in Le Guin's world, though it's unclear which adaptations are a result of natural evolution and which came from genetic experimentation by those same ancestors.) In case it isn't clear, a genderless society is one where there is no distinction between male, female or any other gender.

On Geth this isn't merely a social understanding: their bodies are fully androgynous and only develop sexual characteristics when needed to reproduce. By the same token, Gethenians' sex drives are contained to a short span of each month when they enter 'kemmer', which was inspired by some animal reproductive behaviours. The Left Hand of Darkness is as much about the implications of kemmer – of humans separated from constant sexuality – as it is about gender, but I'll save that discussion for a possible future post.

Although there is no gender on Geth, Le Guin uses he/him/his pronouns for all Gethenians since it was the 'default' pronoun in English and introducing 'they' or a neopronoun (as David Lindsay had done in 1920) would mangle the novel's prose, though she later regretted that decision, stating that "The Left Hand of Darkness is haunted and bedeviled by the gender of its pronouns." And it's difficult to argue with that assessment. Combined with foreign protagonist Genly Ai's confusion and latent misogyny, the choice of pronoun does make it difficult at times to remember that this isn't an all-male cast.

Illustrations from The Left Hand of Darkness Deluxe Edition, art by Vanessa Lemen

I'd posit that, at least in part, Gethenian androgyny is another adaptation to their harsh environment: in a biological sense they surely spend less energy on reproduction than humans, which seems essential when they're already counting every calorie. But in a social sense (and along with their inbuilt tendency toward mindfulness) it may also promote empathy in a world where competition could easily doom all parties to frigid deaths.

Le Guin also examines the shape and behaviour of societies to a certain extent. Geth's two nations are locked in a Cold War-esque relationship, and visitor Genly Ai represents a Federation or United Nations-like interstellar government offering membership to either nation or preferably both. Politicians of different shades make up most of the cast, since Genly is here to negotiate. The character of Tibe in particular rings all too familiar today, promoting xenophobia and war in order to gather power to themself.

These sociological elements were the most interesting parts of the book for me personally (along with the workings of the Handdara cult and the full meaning of the title), and as such it's hardly surprising to me that Ann Leckie also chose to focus on them in her novels inspired in part by Le Guin.

'A Ship Walks Into a Bar', scene from Ancillary Justice, art by Malicious-Monkey

The Imperial Radch

Ancillary Justice opens with gender confusion on a frigid planet of its own, in what has to be a love letter to The Left Hand of Darkness. Yet in this case it's the planet's people who have gender, and the envoy of the interstellar empire for whom it is a foreign concept. The reader sees protagonist Breq (/One Esk Nineteen/Justice of Toren) using 'she' for everyone, while other characters impose an occasional 'he'.

Indeed, Leckie goes the opposite way of Le Guin by having every person in the Imperial Radch referred to by she/her/hers pronouns. It's a marked difference and one I highly appreciate, especially when I first read the book back in 2015. Le Guin was correct in that 'he' was/is sadly the default (especially in science fiction), and so the constant use of opposite pronouns in Ancillary Justice simply has a more powerful effect than was possible in The Left Hand of Darkness.

Another difference: the Radch is genderless, but not sexless. Since there is no gender, it perhaps becomes easier to understand how biological sex has nothing to do with a person's gender in this society. (I might be confusing this detail with another series, but I'm fairly certain technology allows any two people to reproduce if they want to, regardless of the parts they were born with.)

And even beyond the Radch, Leckie never states what signifies 'male' and 'female' mean about the people they describe, beyond the fact that it is rarely the same between one foreign world and another. Maybe there is one planet out there where having a penis means being male, but there are comparative thousands where specific fashion choices indicate gender far more straightforwardly.

Breq and Seivarden in Ancillary Justice, art by Lauren Saint-Onge

But as I've discussed previously, the Radch is far from utopian. This is a society built on untold suffering, conquering worlds and re-educating their surviving populations – after taking a certain percentage to act as zombie-like ancillaries for their AI warships. Even in the post-expansion Radch when war is a thing of the past, mutations in Emperor Anaander Mianaai eventually result in untold trillions of deaths leading up to and during the Radchaai civil war.

Reading The Left Hand of Darkness concurrently with Chelsea Vowel's Buffalo is the New Buffalo (2022) led me to question my feelings about Genly Ai's offer of interstellar cooperation, because it is very difficult to draw the line between trade and colonization when the power imbalance is so extreme. It's therefore been incredibly rewarding to realize that Leckie quite possibly came to a similar conclusion, and that she wanted to explore that conflict of ideas in The Imperial Radch.

As I wrote in the intro, I'll be fascinated to see how gender is handled in Leckie's forthcoming Radiant Star, which takes place in Radch space during or after the civil war. Will this particular planet stay true to Radchaai customs, revert to some previous understanding of gender, or reach forward to a new one? It certainly sounds like there are some characters using neopronouns, as has been common outside the Radch in Provenance and Translation State. Probably it will just be a nonissue, but I remain curious!

Illustrations from The Left Hand of Darkness Deluxe Edition, art by Vanessa Lemen

Back Down to Earth

Again, what I appreciate most about these stories is their depictions of humanity freed from our current understanding of gender and gender roles. The resulting images are quite different from each other: Le Guin's Gethenians feeling intimate and emotional whereas Leckie's Radchaai are often stiff and detached. (Both also being informed by their extreme environments, whether harsh winter or strict authoritarianism.)

In our world where... [everything] is happening, I don't think we're going to flip a switch and remove gender anytime soon. But I think these stories offer an important reminder that, even if there are innate differences I don't know about, people of all genders are still just people! And hey, if you treat people like people, they might just treat you like a person too.

Any other books/media you know of with genderless societies? I'd love to hear about them!

Thanks for reading and until next time <3