If your social media For You page looks anything like mine, you’ve probably stumbled upon the term “trad wives.” Maybe you’ve watched Nara Smith effortlessly cooking elaborate meals from scratch, or perhaps you’ve been drawn into the controversy surrounding Hannah Neeleman, better known as Ballerina Farm online. She went viral after her husband—an heir to the JetBlue fortune—gifted her an egg apron for her birthday, despite her openly wishing for a trip to Greece (again, his father owns JetBlue, an international airline company). At first glance, it’s all gingham aprons, homemade sourdough, and wholesome family values. But the viral charm of this trend hides a deeper, more troubling narrative that’s worth unraveling.
So, what exactly is a trad wife? Short for “traditional wife,” this social media trend wraps old-school patriarchy in a shiny, Instagram-ready bow. Picture 1950s housewife ideals rebranded with aesthetic minimalism and homemade jam. These women glorify domesticity—cooking, cleaning, and catering to their husbands—not just as a duty, but as a lifestyle to aspire to. Its biblical womanhood meets cottagecore, except it comes with a rejection of feminism and a full embrace of submission and rigid gender roles. Between homeschooling their kids and baking homemade bread, trad wives champion values what, at first, seems harmlessly nostalgic. But if you look closer, it becomes clear: this is a carefully curated celebration of oppression disguised as nostalgic idealization.
Trad wives are more than just a social media trend—they’re shaping how young girls view relationships and independence. These influencers romanticize stay-at-home motherhood but often gloss over the dangers of being fully dependent on a partner. What happens if that partner isn’t as perfect as they seem, or if the relationship falls apart? Without financial independence or a backup plan, one risks putting themself in a vulnerable position. The irony is, many trad wives profit off their “traditional” lives through sponsorships and brand deals, quietly building personal wealth while preaching submission. They’re profiting off a carefully crafted fantasy that looks idyllic online but can leave followers in vulnerable positions.
Even more concerning, some trad wives are actively encouraging their followers to ditch college and higher education altogether. In an article published by The New Yorker, trad wife influencer Estee Williams actually questioned whether women should even go to college, suggesting they pursue a trad wife lifestyle instead (Um, what?!).
As someone who had a stay-at-home parent (a dad, actually—something most trad wives would probably hate), I can tell you firsthand that the work is no joke. Raising kids, managing a household, and keeping everything running smoothly is a full-time job, and it deserves real recognition. The trad wife movement, however, tends to idealize this lifestyle into something effortless and aesthetic, reducing it to a Pinterest-perfect fantasy. In reality, stay-at-home parents—whether moms or dads—work tirelessly and face challenges that go far beyond what these influencers portray. By idealizing this role as part of an outdated gender dynamic, they undermine the true value and hard work of those in this role.
I get it—today’s world feels uncertain and scary at times, and the trad wife lifestyle might seem like a tempting escape to simpler times, with cooking, cleaning, and family at the heart of it. The aesthetic is easy to fall for: peaceful, pastel-toned moments of baking and family life (and yes, I got hooked too). The thing is, though, the trad wife trend romanticizes something that can have very real consequences, especially when it encourages dependence, submission, and a rejection of modern values like equality and autonomy. And let’s be clear: this is completely made up. This isn’t what the 1950s—or any time period—actually looked like. It’s a carefully constructed narrative designed for social media, polished to perfection to sell a fantasy that’s far from reality.
What’s troubling is how these influencers market a life that looks flawless on Instagram but hides the complexities and risks beneath the surface. It’s not just a matter of aesthetics—it’s about promoting a worldview that many women have worked tirelessly to move beyond. So, if you love the idea of sourdough starters and gingham aprons, go for it—but let it be your decision, not one shaped by a curated fantasy with deeply unsettling undertones.