After eight years of stomach-churning drama, Hulu’s The Handmaid’s Tale bid farewell to Gilead with its sixth and final season. For fans who stuck around, it was the moment we both feared and expected: Would June Osborne finally find peace, or would she still be trapped in the show’s merciless loop of resistance and survival? As always with The Handmaid’s Tale, the answer is complicated.
Season 6 came with the burden of Margaret Atwood’s preeminence, years of excellence, and a reputation for being unflinching yet sometimes narratively redundant. The expectations were through the roof—not only for June’s journey, but for the show’s final imprint on pop culture and its relevance in a world that sometimes seems uncomfortably akin to Gilead’s conception.
June & Serena Joy: A Final, Twisted Dance
If there’s one dynamic that dominated the last season, it’s the tortured relationship between June (Elisabeth Moss) and Serena Joy (Yvonne Strahovski). Season 6 begins with the two women in flight from Canada, each with an infant, each sizing up the other like adversaries assessing a foe. Their relationship—equal parts trauma, anger, and grudging compassion—continued to be among the richest, most complex ongoing storylines in the series.
Serena’s arc was particularly strong since she was drawn back toward Gilead, only to find her dream of reform an illusion. And June—never able to leave the struggle behind—was drawn back into harm’s way, even as the price to her liberty escalated. Seeing them vacillate between enemies and reluctant allies provided a season with its strongest emotional tension.
Breaking the Loop: Progress or Just More Pain?
Let’s get real: The Handmaid’s Tale has had issues with narrative redundancy for a long time. June escapes, June gets recaptured, June resists, and so on. Even the critics said that the series, at times, felt trapped in its trauma cycle.
But Season 6 indicated actual growth. Rather than merely intensifying violence, the narrative zoomed in on the emotional consequences of decades of torment. The stakes became more intimate, the repercussions more lasting. Despite lagging pacing in areas—mainly outside Gilead—when the action landed back within the regime’s center, the series found its bite again.
Big Swings: Rebellions, Redemptions, and a Bombshell
True to form, the back half of the season delivered some of its most intense and cathartic moments.
June and Moira’s sabotage of Jezebels resulted in a botched rescue attempt, sparking a vicious crackdown by Commander Wharton (Josh Charles). Serena’s coerced wedding to Wharton was the focus of a brazen Mayday uprising, with drug-tainted cake and smuggled knives making the ceremony erupt into chaos. The long-suspended reckoning between Aunt Lydia and the Handmaids was visceral, tragic, and hard-won, long providing a release that had been simmering since season one.
And then the ultimate strike: an airport bombing designed by Lawrence (Bradley Whitford), eliminating the remaining leadership of Gilead. June, witnessing the explosion light up the sky, was a creepy, symbolic moment—a mixture of horror and deliverance.
The Finale’s Emotional Core: Closure, Compromise, and New Paths
Instead of going out with a bang, the series finale went with softer, emotional conclusions. Serena, Luke, Tuello, and Aunt Lydia each were given significant conclusions, though not necessarily joyful ones.
Highlights were Serena’s flight with her son and June’s unexpected display of forgiveness. Emily’s (Alexis Bledel) return for a short, emotional chat with June was a great embrace by the fans of the early seasons. The finale left room for reflection, not action, intentionally following years of trauma storytelling.]
June’s complex relationships were also resolved. Her love triangle between Luke and Nick also ended, with June and Luke both admitting they’d grown up and that the battle, and not love, was now the focus. It was a bitter but healthy ending that was fitting for their journey.
Other plot threads didn’t quite work. Janine’s delayed reunion with her daughter was a bit too tidy for a series that so frequently plunged into moral gray. And Hannah—June’s initial rationale was largely brushed aside, only appearing in the season finale as a symbol, not as a main character.
That Final Scene: Symbolism or Misstep?
In the final seconds, June wears the teal dress of the Gilead wife and goes back to the same room in which her narrative began. She says the show’s signature opening line again: “My name is Offred.”
The reaction was immediate and polarized. Some saw it as a complete-circle return to the roots of the show. Others perceived it as undermining June’s journey of reclamation of self. Reviewer Alise Chaffins lamented the moment as potentially being stronger had it referenced both monikers—her given name, and the one inflicted upon her. It was a strong scene, one that reopened questions that the show had seemingly answered.
The Handmaid’s Tale in 2025: Why It Remains Relevant
As the end credits came up, The Handmaid’s Tale was just as timely and disturbing as it had been. Its condemnations of religious fanaticism, control by authority, and women’s rights seem uncomfortably topical in the world today.
Although not all storylines were tidied up—and maybe that’s the point—season six provided what was most important: emotional authenticity, evil gets its just deserts, and a feeling of hard-won deliverance. It provided long-time viewers with a gratifying closure while leaving room for The Testaments to pick up the narrative later.
Six seasons of resistance, rebellion, and resilience for The Handmaid’s Tale didn’t provide a fairy tale ending—but in a world such as Gilead’s, survival, solidarity, and hope for change could be the most optimistic we could have hoped for.