The Glorious Rise Of The Anti-Tradwife

The videos all start the same: glossy marble countertops waxed by Mr. Clean himself; a freshly steamed sundress; makeup that men call “natural” but likely took over an hour to apply; and manicured hands that effortlessly pour, and knead, and stir.

“My boyfriend was craving a bacon-egg-and-cheese,” creator Kai Denise begins with a lilt as soft jazz plays in the background of one recent Instagram video. “But his breathing was pissing me off. So instead of shoving this potato up his Idaho, I decided to make a potato galette.”

Seconds later, a crispy galette appears, topped with a fried egg and herbs. “Two fucking hours later, all I can say is, he better fucking like this,” Denise concludes.

Introducing the anti-tradwife — a cohort of creators like Denise whose content is all irony wrapped in a tradwife bow. (Bonus points if it’s spun from the wool of herded sheep.) Here, realism displaces the romanticizing of housewife culture, and creators provide relatable master classes in finding humor in the chaos of the day-to-day.

Their parodied content is a reaction to tradwives — short for “traditional wives” — who have been rapidly gaining popularity over the past few months. Whatever side of TikTok you’re on, you’ve likely seen the idyllic-verging-on-spooky videos of creators like Nara Smith (the undisputed queen of tradwifery, and the one who gets the most heat), Hannah Neeleman , Alexia Delarosa and Estee Williams , who whip up entire feasts for their families from scratch (including homemade Cinnamon Toast Crunch ), manage their children, and run households without a coiffed hair out of place, or an unrolled sleeve catching a stain somewhere along the way. (One person commenting on a video of this self-proclaimed “tradwitch” asked: “Can you please share the spell you use to be able to cook in beautiful robes without ending up wearing sauce? Or at least the name of the spirit you made a deal with?”)

While some have marked these creators as innocuous “vision board inspiration,” others see their doting wife and mother characters as glamorizing a return to retrogressive gender norms reminiscent of the 1950s and 1960s homemaker — one who’s likely white and rich. The harm they pose is evident in their audience; their content might not actually be consumed by other women wanting to be tradwives, but rather Harrison Butker-esque men who want submissive wives.

One of those norms is submitting to their husbands’ wills and desires, something that tradwife Williams herself explained but promised isn’t as bad as it seems. Dom Bouchard , an anti-tradwife creator, hilariously subverts that problematic norm in a video that begins with her husband’s desire for fresh-baked cookies and ends with him running to get Bouchard a bag of Reese’s Dipped Animal Crackers. “Honestly thought she was gonna start harvesting wheat in the garden,” one commenter wrote.

But the anti-tradwife subculture is more than just poking fun at perfectly plated food and wispy smiles. Rather, it’s a reminder of universal truths — that modern feminism affords us a spectrum of choices, including staying at home and managing a household, which can be a seemingly insurmountable feat on its own.

At first blush, anti-tradwife content looks like it’s criticizing this choice to stay at home. In reality, it’s making fun of tradwife influencer culture, which is just one way that rich creators are able to performatively flaunt their wealth. (Neeleman’s stove, for instance, reportedly cost over $20,000, and her father-in-law founded JetBlue.)

The best part of the anti-tradwife content is that it sees this performance, doubles it, and makes it extra. Even skin care brand 4AM has jumped in , going on a quest to forage for ingredients in a 10-step skin care routine, complete with scenery changes and a pair of diving goggles. It’s this deadpan humor that delights women in the comment sections who are in on the joke (and, if we’re lucky, angers a couple of cis-het men).

The lifestyles we see online are all just for show, and the jury’s out on whether these influencers are practicing tradwife lifestyle off-camera. Regardless, we have the anti-tradwife to thank for making our feeds come less from a place of lack, and more from a place of embracing the lives we lead as they currently are. (Seriously, though, what’s that spell? )