small critique of tradwife-ism

The “trad wife” aesthetic is making a glossy comeback. It resurrects the archetype of the 1950s Republican ideal: devoted, diminutive, and deferential. It has been dusted off and repackaged as a chic, accessible, and somehow empowering lifestyle. Where once it was imposed through overtly misogynistic advertising or post-war domestic manuals, today it is promoted by influencers who evangelize their roles in serving their breadwinners unconditionally, with the fervor of a TikTok gospel.

If you've scrolled through social media lately, you’ve likely been inundated with videos of young white women in prairie dresses, with red lips and a spotless kitchen, whisking organic eggs as they make almost all meals entirely from scratch for their families. Tradwives aren’t your average stay-at-home moms. She is eerily perfect. She is the distilled image of idealized domesticity, but this is all carefully curated, relentlessly aestheticized, and entirely performative.

The effort involved in being a homemaker is significant, but it is trivialized on Instagram by influencers, reducing it to mere aesthetics. In order to maintain the illusion of perfection and effortless charm, immense economic privilege and hidden labor are required, which are often omitted from these narratives. The five-course meals, perfectly styled outfits, and immaculate homes that populate their profiles are often made possible by resources that aren’t visible on camera: the invisible labor of others—nannies, cleaners, personal chefs—financial support from a partner, or simply the luxury of time and money.

Being a “trad wife” isn’t simply a lifestyle; it’s a product they sell to millions of followers. This romanticism and commodification create an unattainable standard for many women, presenting a fantasy that few can afford to replicate while profiting from the illusion that anyone could achieve it with a little elbow grease and a gingham apron. This fantasy doesn’t just shape women’s aspirations but also sets dangerously unrealistic expectations for young men, who begin to internalize what wives, mothers, and partners “should” be.

The critique goes beyond appearances. The tradwife narratives are framed as empowering, on the grounds that they are a choice. But here lies the limitation of choice feminism, which suggests that any decision made by a woman is inherently feminist as long as it is her personal choice. The problem is that these “choices” exist within the narrow framework of privilege, wealth, and traditional gender roles.

So, how empowering is a choice when it’s tethered to performative femininity, societal expectations, and economic privilege? This ideology, subtly right-wing, exploits choice feminism by rebranding a patriarchal lifestyle as laudable, straightforward, and aspiring. It presents the return to traditional roles not as a regression, but as self-actualization.

This narrative also obscures the economic and labor implications of the “trad wife” lifestyle. The romanticization of domesticity erases the fact that most women cannot afford to make these “choices” without significant privilege. Domestic labor—cooking, cleaning, and childcare—is often underpaid, undervalued, and too often dismissed in society. For many women, these roles are not aspirational but obligatory. The idea that financial dependence on a male partner is empowering is contentious—it often involves women losing agency due to the partner’s financial power. By glorifying this life and underestimating the rigors of domestic labor, influencers risk promoting a harmful narrative that conflates privilege with empowerment.

The return of “tradwives” as an aesthetic suggests that some young women are wondering whether liberation is overrated.

The resurgence of the tradwife is, in part, a backlash to the "Girlboss" era—a successful, entrepreneurial role model who made it look easy. But toxic work culture, gender wage gaps, and double standards have left women burnt out. Rather than critiquing the underlying capitalist structure that constrains women, the tradwife fantasy perpetuates the patriarchal nuclear family model by romanticizing a return to "simpler" times. In doing so, it reinforces the very structures that feminism sought to dismantle.

Tradwife-ism is frequently exclusionary in ways that are inherently racialized, classist, and heteronormative. It enshrines whiteness as refinement, heterosexual marriage as virtue, and wealth as a reward for moral discipline. It is the Stepford aesthetic with a ring light.

I don’t intend to suggest that all housewives are passive or oppressed—nor that domesticity is without value. Some couples have built lives of care and mutual trust within traditional structures. My hope is simply that we remain skeptical of the fantasy being sold to us, and question whether that lifestyle is genuinely appealing or feasible—or if we’re merely acquiescing to higher powers, who bludgeon us into submissive, helpless creatures by convincing ourselves the choice was in our hands all along.