A gender swap of a beloved love interest has ignited a civil war among viewers.

The second half of Bridgerton’s third season, released on Netflix last week, dropped a bombshell on viewers. In the season finale, Francesca Bridgerton (played by Hannah Dodd, replacing the character’s previous actress) is talking with her new husband John, the Earl of Kilmartin, at a ball when she meets his cousin, who introduces herself as Michaela Stirling (Masali Baduza). Francesca appears awestruck, and for good reason: As readers of the Julia Quinn novels—on which the Netflix series is based—know, Francesca’s story involves her eventually falling in love with a character named Michael Stirling. Shondaland, it seems, has set into motion a gender swap, one that has pitted fans against each other in an all-out civil war.

To understand the issue, we must turn to the source material. When He Was Wicked, the sixth book in Quinn’s series of Regency romance novels, is broadly considered a fan favorite. Though Francesca is the book’s representative of the adored Bridgerton family, much of its appeal lies in Michael, who is widely known as one of the most notorious rakes in the ton, with one of the most passionate romances across the series, and some of the best skills in the bedroom. The act of replacing such a beloved male love interest with a female one has drawn a backlash that is fast approaching hysteria levels. Lord, it’s even risen to the level of protest—someone made a Change.org petition demanding that the creators of Bridgerton undo this “travesty” and restore the character of Michael Stirling. (At the time of writing, the petition has garnered nearly 17,000 signatures, surpassing its original goal of 15,000.)

Yet the controversy isn’t as simple as “fans just want faithfulness to the books.” Wrapped up in some viewers’—but not all—reactions are, whether consciously or not, overtly or not, threads of homophobia or misogynoir, as defenders of the change have pointed out. After all, if your complaint is that the eventual sex scenes won’t be as evocative as those in the books, well, have you seen films like The Handmaiden and this year’s Love Lies Bleeding that prove that lesbian sex onscreen can be just as heart-pounding as heteronormative hanky-panky? If your complaint is that the change is historically inaccurate, well, first off, it’s not, and second, have you seen an episode of Bridgerton? Not to pile on, but it also doesn’t help that Michael and Francesca’s relationship on the page is somewhat controversial.

But I can also understand some of the anguish surrounding the switch. Reading a favorite novel is an emotional experience, especially when sexual preferences are involved, and this is an emotional response; telling upset fans to just suck it up and let lesbians have this one, however valid, doesn’t address the core of those feelings. And the reason why fans’ attachment to When He Was Wicked is so strong is not only that the steamy passages are known among book readers as some of the best in the series, or because Michael is commonly regarded as one of the more charismatic and beloved Bridgerton beaus. Francesca’s original story is also so adored because it involves not only her experience with grief, but also her struggles with infertility. In the book, this burden is the greatest factor driving her actions and hesitations. Of course, queer couples can also struggle with infertility, but the gender swap is a big enough change that it could alter some of the dynamics of that struggle. I sympathize with the readers who are mourning the prospect of losing this in the television adaptation.

Still, the messiness of the response begs the question: Where does the dissatisfaction with this change actually stem from—homophobia, gatekeeping, or just a matter of selfishness? Bridgerton showrunner Jess Brownell told Teen Vogue that the reason she chose Francesca’s story to insert a queer relationship into the show is because, as a queer woman herself, she “really identified with” Francesca’s story, which she summarizes as being about “feeling different, and not really knowing why.” Upset fans have called that decision selfish, noting that there were other opportunities to mainstage a queer romance on the show—the biggest one being Benedict’s realization, this season, that he’s bisexual. But, if Brownell’s change is selfish, then can’t the same be said for throwing a fit over wanting a TV adaptation to reflect the version of a story that most resonated with you?

Personally, though, I have a different bone to pick with the change—and it has nothing to do with the relationship itself. My long-standing issue with Bridgerton is that it suffers from what I like to call, in purely scientific terms, an imbalance of bad bitches. By this, I mean that the guys of Bridgerton, are, on the whole, serviceable to the story and perfectly fine, but pale in comparison to the series’ women, who might as well be goddesses. When it comes to sheer charisma, effervescence, and beauty, the ladies of Shonda Rhimes’ race-bending alternate period drama are beating the men by a vast margin. These jewels of the ton—even the ones who don’t end up in a relationship, like Season 2’s Edwina Sharma (Charithra Chandran)—are simply too powerful, and it’s creating a noticeable disparity on screen.

There are exceptions, of course: Jonathan Bailey, for example, really pulled out all the stops to make Anthony Bridgerton worthy of Simone Ashley’s alluring Kate Sharma, and not all the female characters are—again, to use a scientific term—bad bitches to the max. But the series really could have used a drop-dead gorgeous, dangerously charming, supremely hot guy to balance the scales. Michael Stirling could have been that much-needed bad boy for the lads. (Lord knows he certainly won’t come from the buttoned-up, prim and proper Bridgerton family, even if they are a bunch of horny thirstbuckets.) If Michaela is anything like the ladies of Bridgerton’s past, it will be another point for the corsets, and this far into the series, the breeches need to step it up.