The Illusion and Allure of the Trad Wife Aesthetic

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at USF chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

In the endless scroll of TikTok and Instagram reels, it’s inevitable we’ve all come across a cinematic post of a woman carefully crafting food from scratch—whether it’s sourdough bread, pasta, or individually forming each cinnamon toast crunch cereal piece—and there’s usually a blissful smile on her face, that of someone who has all the time in the world. It’s not a commercial for a kitchen brand or food product; it’s the “tradwife” aesthetic, a movement that romanticizes traditional domesticity.

From creators like Nara Smith, who turns simple cooking tasks into a carefully crafted art, to Ballerina Farms—Utah mom Hannah Neeleman, who records her life with her husband and their eight children on a dreamy farmland—the tradwife aesthetic has become one of the internet’s mesmerizing escapes. But as easy and carefree as it may seem, it’s raised questions about privilege, gender roles, and whether this lifestyle is too good to be true.

the rise of the modern tradwife

A tradwife is a “married woman who embraces traditional gender roles and values.” The rise of this movement came through a surge of content creators, primarily on platforms like TikTok and Instagram, sharing bits of their lives as homemakers—caring for their children and cooking every single meal from scratch. The image stems from that of a 1950s housewife, who devotes herself entirely to her husband, children, and home. But through the lens of social media, it’s been rebranded as a curated aesthetic. Instead of being overtly political, it’s filtered by serene visuals, romantic dinners, and captions encouraging audiences to find fulfillment in romanticizing domestic life.

According to an article from Political Research Associates, “Tradwifery is a complicated movement,” rooted in a deeply misogynistic history, but influencers are simplifying it, turning the ideology into “fun, musical video bites, easily digested by their followers in 30 seconds or less.”

The rebrand of the tradwife aesthetic has transformed something deeply ideological into something seemingly harmless—maybe even aspirational. This curated internet persona, built on a storybook “fairytale” life, thrives on selective storytelling. Now, it’s gone beyond storytelling; it’s shaping the way young women talk about their futures. Across social media, many girls can be seen repeating rhetoric like “I don’t want to go to college,” or “I just want to be a stay-at-home wife or mom.” And while there’s nothing wrong with wanting that—raising children and managing a home is hard, demanding work—the concern lies in why this idea is becoming popular. When the traditional lifestyle is marketed as something simple, soft, and easy, it distorts what reality looks like for most people.

idolizing the inaccessible

It’s no secret that people on the internet love to give the spotlight to the extraordinary. It can become a form of escapism—an easy way to get lost in someone else’s world, especially when that world feels unattainable.

When Nara Smith spends hours making cereal or Pop-Tarts from scratch, it’s easy to forget she’s married to model Lucky Blue Smith, and that their lifestyle is backed by wealth, fashion shows, and flexibility that make it possible. Similarly, Ballerina Farms may appear to live a rustic rural lifestyle on their family farm, but it’s easy for audiences to lose sight of the fact that it’s not just a rustic life they maintain—it’s a successful business empire.

This doesn’t make these women deceitful—they didn’t ask for large audiences to idolize their lives—but it does show that their “simplicity” is built on economic privilege. They’re able to exist in a blissful domestic life because they exist in a higher tax bracket than most of their viewers.

Political Research Associates notes that these videos, which depict a simple aesthetic, “paint a clear picture: traditionalist Gen Z women are dreaming of a perfect marriage in a culturally conservative world.” It’s a daydream of what life could be, without any regard for the full picture. Choosing to stay at home looks very different when there’s financial security to back it up—and for most, that isn’t realistic.

beyond the filter

There’s nothing wrong with embracing motherhood and homemaking—these are valuable and often overlooked forms of labor. But the version that floods our feeds isn’t reflective of reality for most women. It’s filtered through wealth, security, and access to resources that make traditional domesticity seem effortless.

When we romanticize this filtered version, we mistake privilege and comfort for authenticity. The tradwife aesthetic offers an illusion of peace and purpose, as if it promises to save women from hustle culture. The truth is, the peace being marketed to us comes from resources most don’t have. Domestic life isn’t inherently regressive, but when it’s being marketed as the best option through an idealized online portrayal, it risks reinforcing the idea that a woman’s worth lies in how gracefully she can exist within limitation.