Raised to believe marriage and motherhood would guarantee happiness, I learned how that promise could leave a woman without an income, independence or a sense of herself.
The subtle and not-so-subtle push of the tradwife lifestyle, and the subsequent rollback of federal and state policies to support it, are undeniably gaining momentum and a rebranding within the current U.S. cultural and political landscape.
A tradwife is a repackaged, buzzy word to describe “traditional” women who intentionally forgo career and educational opportunities in order to stay at home to take care of their children and husbands within a heterosexual marriage.
The decades-long Christian nationalist movement and second Trump administration have vigorously pushed “trad” ideology to encourage vulnerable young women to abandon their autonomy in favor of a promised “easy life.” This coordinated agenda is permeating every layer of society, from TikTok feeds and conservative podcasts, to federal policy and religious pulpits. It frames homemaking as the “highest calling,” while masking the systemic erasure of women’s rights.
As a former devout Mormon housewife—and now as a PhD student in history focusing on gender and sexuality and a feminist activist—I see tradwife propaganda, not as an innocent internet subculture, but as a calculated political ideology with a lived understanding of the harmful psychological socialization of these messages.
As the current political landscape attempts to rebrand submission as empowerment, my survival is a necessary counternarrative. By sharing my journey from a devout Mormon to the pages of Ms., I hope to offer a stark warning to the young women being targeted by today’s algorithmic propaganda.
Raised to Believe My Future Was Already Written
I was born and raised in an insular Mormon community. I was taught from my young girlhood that the most important work I would ever do would be within the walls of my home.
I internalized this message, plus hundreds of similar iterations, about the importance of my future role as a wife and mother. For me, there were no other options—at least none that wouldn’t bring shame and unhappiness.
As a former devout Mormon housewife … I see tradwife propaganda, not as an innocent internet subculture, but as a calculated political ideology …
As an adolescent, I wrote letters to my future husband, fantasizing about my utopia dreams of marriage and family. I attended weekly youth meetings where we were taught how to cook, bake, iron and even try on wedding dresses in a fashion show.
My own parents divorced when I was in sixth grade, and soon thereafter, I threw myself into tradwife ideology. Although the language I used back then was “homemaker,” “stay-at-home mom” or, even cringier, “helpmeet,” I saw my parents as an example of how I was going to do things differently. I would be completely devoted; the word divorce was never to pass my lips or be discussed.
I completely bought into the traditional wife lifestyle and its promises. I would pick a righteous husband and provider, and together, if we lived by these God-given and socially supported gender roles, we would be unstoppable and, above all, gloriously happy.
On the precipice of adulthood, I saw these messages as offering an easy, accessible path to safety and security. Like my Mormon mother, grandmother and great-grandmother before me, this was surely the way; my maternal lineage would not lead me astray.
At 19, I married my Mormon husband—a kind man, six years my senior, who was also devoted to the traditional gender roles we agreed to embody in our marriage.
I effectively stopped living and building my life for myself. My “tradwife” life began before I had ever experienced living alone, dating or exploring my sexuality, all before my critical thinking and brain were developmentally complete.
I threw myself into learning how to be a good wife. I had my first baby at 21 and would have four children by the time I was 29. I became proficient in child-rearing, managing the home, being the ever-supportive wife to my husband, and, above all, being a faithful Mormon Christian woman.
For a time, I was content. But as the monotony and isolation of being bound to home settled in, I slipped into a numb autopilot and vigilant cognitive dissociation. My distinct identity was buried. I spent my early thirties in a deep depression—resentful, confused, weak and lonely in my marriage.
It was time for me to begin questioning the tradwife ideology.
My ‘tradwife’ life began before … my critical thinking and brain were developmentally complete.
How does one question an ideology that was taught and practiced since birth? To radically deconstruct and change one’s entire foundation of life’s purpose is not for the faint of heart, nor is it possible or even safe for everyone to do so. I recognize the safety and privilege I had to begin my deconstruction.
Always a lover of books, I began questioning my beliefs in earnest in 2019, as I found myself with more time to read after my youngest had started preschool. For the first time, I gave myself permission to go outside of my relegated, safe, Christian-approved sources of knowledge. I began an intense study of history, politics, social justice movements, patriarchy and feminism.
As I went deeper into my questioning, the real truths of tradwife idealization became crystal clear. Instead of one single “click” moment, for me it was a momentum of tiny click moments that resulted in a tsunami wave of enlightenment.
There was zero deniability. The tradwife falsehoods that had been spoon-fed to me now tasted terrible, and they were slowly killing me.
At 37, the illusion lay shattered. I found myself severely depressed, unhealthy, with zero work experience, no career, no individual bank account, no credit score—and the devastating realization that I had devoted my entire life to a manufactured reality.
The modern tradwife movement markets submission as a sanctuary from the exhausting realities of modern life, but its hidden currency is total vulnerability.
The tradwife lifestyle is hawked as the primary purpose of a woman, but is often, contradictorily, sold by famous online mothers.
Women such as Hannah Neeleman of Ballerina Farm, Erika Kirk of Turning Point USA, and podcaster Katie Miller—who are educated, hold careers and make massive amounts of money—preach the tradwife lifestyle to young women. Their messages lack transparency and honesty about the risks and consequences such a lifestyle inevitably brings.
The second Trump administration and GOP-led government are working feverishly to roll back the hard-earned progress for women and mothers to a time when, in the words of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, “Men were the doers in the world, and women were the stay-at-home types.”
A core pillar of Project 2025 and 2026, the blueprint for Trump’s administration, focuses on shaping federal policies to incentivize a patriarchal, heterosexual nuclear family structure by stripping bodily autonomy, reproductive care and rolling back workplace equity and economic security for women.
Examples of these restrictions to women’s rights include dismantling the Women’s Bureau of the U.S. Department of Labor, rolling back anti-discrimination policies in the federal government, stripping the Head Start childcare program of funding, redefining the professional classification of predominantly female careers, defunding Planned Parenthood and challenging access to telehealth reproductive care and abortion medications. Other restrictions include the ongoing effort to pass the SAVE Act, meant to strip voting rights from married women and pushing a strict definition of biological sex at birth as only a man or woman.
Restricting a woman’s ability to obtain education, making it difficult for her to make her own choices about her body, and limiting or eliminating childcare support, pushes her into a very small box—a box, she is then told, is her destiny and key to happiness. She is socialized and indoctrinated to believe she doesn’t need those rights and individual security—that if she submits to the patriarchy and her husband, her happiness will be secure.
And if you’re not happy? Well, that’s on you, sweetheart. Try harder.
The tradwife falsehoods that had been spoon-fed to me now tasted terrible, and they were slowly killing me.
The Erika Kirks of the tradwife movement would have you believe not only that this is your God-given role, but also that the distinct delineation of roles is an easier and safer path than navigating the cutthroat workforce and climbing the corporate ladder to success and money. A woman’s virtue and her role as a wife and mother were deemed far more valuable than any worldly accolades or success.
The “trad” lifestyle does not eliminate a woman’s struggles—it simply eliminates her ability to protect herself.
True liberation is not found in retreating into a gendered manufactured past, but in defending the very autonomy, financial independence and rights this administration and its “trad” vanguard are so desperate to strip away.
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A note from Ms. editors: We want to hear from you for The Majority, a new campaign collecting stories about how reproductive freedom has enabled readers to build the lives they want and need.
Poll after poll shows a majority of Americans support reproductive healthcare access. Yet public debate overlooks the lives shaped by abortion access, contraception, IVF, miscarriage care, maternal healthcare or comprehensive sex education—countless women who chose to pursue an education, have children, not have children, protect their health and chart their own future. What’s your reproductive freedom story? Add your voice. Together, these stories will help show not only why reproductive freedom remains a majority value, but also what it makes possible.
