ROCKET WOMAN dresses a cosmonaut as a doll. The helmet is set with diamonds like a tiara; the suit is soft pink velvet instead of pressurized utility fabric; a heart, two stars, and a small ♀ symbol sit where mission patches should be; even the equipment belt is rendered as a rhinestone-studded fashion accessory. None of this softness matches what the suit was actually built for. On June 16, 1963, Valentina Tereshkova — a textile factory worker and amateur parachutist before she was a cosmonaut — spent three days alone aboard Vostok 6, circling the earth forty-eight times while Soviet doctors monitored what spaceflight did to a female body no one had sent into orbit before. The mission was real, solitary, and physically punishing; the costume the collage puts her in is the opposite — decorative, delicate, built to be looked at rather than survived in. That gap is the work. It asks whether "the first woman in space" was ever going to be received on the same terms as the first man, or whether she would always be handed a tiara for a job that required a helmet.