I stare at my physics homework, my mind exhausted from wrestling with complex equations. The numbers and symbols start to blur, and frustration builds. I need a break. I pick up my phone and start scrolling aimlessly until a video catches my eye. Nara Smith is onscreen in a glamorous dress, her hair perfectly styled in soft curls, baking bread in a spotless kitchen. She smiles demurely at the camera and, in a soft whisper, describes the joys of cooking from scratch for her family. She’s clearly living her dream life.
Smith, of course, is an extremely glamorous (and possibly tongue-in-cheek) example of the tradwife influencer trend, where women embrace traditional roles such as homemaking and child-rearing — basically the opposite of modern “girl bosses.” On platforms like Instagram and TikTok, these influencers advocate for a lifestyle where women focus on nurturing roles while their husbands are expected to provide and decide. They promote an ideology that suggests women are happiest as homemakers, sparking debate about whether it’s a nostalgic return to old-fashioned values or a setback for gender equality.
The tradwife fantasy can be a powerful one. In a world where teenage girls like me are juggling multiple AP classes and time-intensive extracurriculars, the tradwife aesthetic offers an appealing contrast. The slower, low-stress lifestyle presents an alternative to the high-achieving, financially-independent ideal we’ve been told to strive for. It whispers, Wouldn’t it be easier to opt out?
It was that contrast — the push and pull between these two visions of womanhood — that led me to explore this topic for my AP Research class. While my results aren’t yet finalized, my initial findings from surveying 32 high school classmates suggest that the appeal of the tradwife lifestyle depends largely on gender. When I surveyed teens after showing them tradwife influencer social media content, many of the girls expressed skepticism, while the boys generally viewed the trend more positively. For many girls, the aesthetic initially seemed appealing, but as they thought more about the reality of financial dependence, their views shifted. The boys, however, largely saw the tradwife model as an ideal arrangement, reinforcing traditional gender roles rather than challenging them. Since my research focuses on how these messages influence teenage girls specifically, their evolving perspectives — starting with curiosity but often ending in critique — are the most revealing.
What struck me most during my research was the paradox at the heart of this movement. These tradwife influencers present themselves as devoted homemakers while simultaneously building lucrative personal brands. They’re essentially entrepreneurs, turning their domestic lives into content that generates significant income — becoming both the ultimate housewife and savvy businesswoman rolled into one. Meanwhile, a non-influencer tradwife faces a different reality: financial dependence on her husband for every aspect of her life. This contradiction wasn’t lost on the teenage girls in my study. As one 15-year-old classmate put it, “It’s crazy how these influencers seem to have it all — being perfect at home while making bank — when in real life, being a tradwife means you’re totally relying on your husband for everything.”
My research suggests that when teenage girls actually engage with tradwife content, they often come away more critical of it. Many of my female survey respondents reported feeling skeptical after watching these videos, recognizing the way they romanticize dependence. In contrast, the boys’ perspectives remained largely unchanged — about 70 percent had no strong opinion on the matter, while around 30 percent expressed a preference for the tradwife model. This divergence reinforces the idea that the tradwife trend isn’t just about aesthetics; it’s about reinforcing traditional power dynamics. It’s important to note that these findings are preliminary, and further research is needed to draw definitive conclusions.
At its core, the tradwife resurgence is not just about personal choice — it’s about the broader societal messages we absorb about gender roles. The fact that this trend is resonating with young audiences, even ironically, may speak to a larger cultural shift.
Whenever one of my friends jokes, “Well, I guess I’ll just marry rich” after bombing a test, we understand she means that the pressure to excel in every arena can feel overwhelming. But choosing the tradwife path means relinquishing control over one’s future. It’s not a trade-off any of us actually want to make. One of my friends wants to be a professional actress, and another is planning to become a doctor. Jokes about “just working in the kitchen” are said sarcastically; we still dream of ambitious futures we shape for ourselves.
The tradwife trend may continue to circulate online, but so will the pushback against it. If anything, its rise has sparked a necessary conversation about gender, choice, and societal expectations. And personally? I’d rather struggle through physics homework than surrender my independence.
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