When Congress extended the Victims of Terrorism Tax Relief Act of 2001 to include astronauts, they probably weren’t thinking of Katy Perry.
In fact, it’s safe to say they imagined solemn, uniformed heroes, not pop stars in custom jumpsuits singing “What a Wonderful World” from the edge of the Earth’s atmosphere. Yet, here we are, in 2025: Katy Perry has gone to space, and the internet—and, somehow, the U.S. Tax Code—are not quite sure how to handle it.
The Astronaut Tax Forgiveness
After the September 11 attacks, Congress passed the Victims of Terrorism Tax Relief Act, which, among other things, forgave the federal income tax liability for victims of certain terrorist attacks. Later, realizing that astronauts who die in the line of duty also give the ultimate sacrifice, Congress extended the same tax forgiveness to astronauts who die in the line of duty after December 31, 2002.
What does that mean, practically? If an astronaut perishes during a mission, their federal income tax for the year they died and the year before is wiped out. Additionally, special rules apply to death benefit payments and federal estate taxes, as described in IRS Publication 3920—although that publication, primarily focused on 9/11 victims, needs a little mental editing when used for astronauts (hint: substitute the date of death for “September 11, 2001”).
It’s a small but meaningful gesture—acknowledging, through tax law, the profound risks astronauts undertake in the pursuit of knowledge and exploration.
Katy Perry: Pop Star Turned Space Tourist
Enter Katy Perry, one of six women aboard Blue Origin’s historic all-female spaceflight earlier this month.
Unlike NASA astronauts, Perry’s journey was a space tourism mission, not an exploration in service of humanity. Still, going to space is no small feat…and no small expense. Critics were quick to pounce, noting the environmental impact of rocket launches and the perception that space tourism is little more than a vanity project for the ultra-wealthy.
The backlash came fast and hard, even from unexpected corners. Fast-food chain Wendy’s joked about “sending Katy back,” and social media was ablaze with commentary about misplaced priorities, elitism, and carbon emissions.
Katy Perry, known for her resilience and heart-on-sleeve performances, addressed the criticism during her Lifetimes Tour stop in Mexico City, at one point asking the audience: “Has anyone ever called your dreams crazy?”
Tax Law, Space Dreams, and Public Perception
Of course, Katy Perry’s trip to space doesn’t trigger any special tax forgiveness under the Act. Thankfully, she returned safely, and even if she hadn’t, space tourists are not covered under the same rules that apply to professional astronauts who die in the line of duty.
But the juxtaposition raises interesting questions.
Why does society so readily extend honor, forgiveness, tangible benefits, and even tax relief to astronauts, but turn so quickly on a celebrity who dared to pursue a similar dream?
Part of it is purpose: astronauts risk their lives for science, exploration, and national pride. Space tourists, critics argue, risk environmental, financial, and social resources for personal fulfillment.
Another part is context. The original astronaut tax relief provision emerged in the aftermath of tragedies like the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster, when the line between bravery and sacrifice was painfully clear. Katy Perry’s trip, by contrast, came amid widespread conversations about wealth inequality, climate change, and the ethics of private spaceflight.
Even the language around each event differs. The tax code speaks solemnly of “death in the line of duty.” Online commentators speak snarkily of “celebrity space jaunts.” Yet both stem, at least in part, from the same awe of space—a desire to reach beyond Earth’s bounds and to be part of something bigger.
A New Kind of Astronaut?
Maybe, in a way, Katy Perry is a new kind of astronaut—not in the legal sense, and certainly not in the sense Congress intended, but in the cultural sense.
Where the original astronauts carried national ambitions on their shoulders, today’s space tourists carry the complicated baggage of late-stage capitalism. Dreams of space haven’t died, but they’ve changed. And with them, our expectations of who gets to chase them.
Katy Perry’s emotional breakdown wasn’t just about being teased for going to space. It was a public reckoning with what it means to dream (and spend) boldly in a world increasingly skeptical of those dreams.
In 2002, the U.S. government codified the idea that space explorers deserve a special kind of respect, even in death. In 2025, Katy Perry reminded us (messily and imperfectly) that dreaming big still costs something.
Even if no one forgives your taxes for it.