“Why, I guess you can,” Ma said doubtfully. She did not like to see women working in the fields. Ma and her girls were … above doing men’s work. — Laura Ingalls Wilder
Sometimes a dad has to feed his little ones. I take pride in making my mac and cheese from scratch. Unlike those modern out-of-the-box dads, I grate fresh Parmesan and cheddar myself. Authentic, but I’m no match for the “Trad Wives.” For some, like Hannah Neelman known as @BallarinaFarms, mac and cheese takes days to prepare. She first has to milk the cows, boil the milk for cheese, gather eggs, and make pasta from home-milled flour. Instagram and TikTok are buzzing with tradwives like her. Tradwives, short for traditional wives, post and promote conventional values in gorgeous cottagecore images. Sometimes in prairie dresses, often cooking with Le Creuset pans on AGA ranges, they are proud to serve their husband and brood who wait patiently sitting at their (19th-century farmhouse) tables.
Somehow, this romanticizing of women in old-fashioned homemaking roles, cooking, cleaning, and caring for children is trending in 2024. There is a spectrum of viewpoints but most labeled as tradwives glorify women who choose to feed families rather than build careers. Offstage are their husbands who implicitly benefit from their wives’ choices and capabilities.
It’s no coincidence that this hot tradwife trend is both controversial and popular — nothing feeds the algorithm like drama and dispute. At the extreme of tradwife content are orthodox religious or alt-right posts advising women to be servants to their husbands and to put family as their only priority. Watch enough of this content and you’ll likely find the algorithm dripping controversial anti-vax and conspiracy content in your feed. The irresistible combination of bucolic images and rage bait has led to tradwife content being viewed hundreds of millions of times. Audience reactions of love or hate are visceral. But pitting career women against tradwives is a trap. Despite provocative “feminist women hate god and family” or “tradwives promote slavery” posts, most purveyors of this content seem to enjoy their roles and, if anything, are only looking for likes and paid promotions.
Women in medicine whom I spoke with didn’t seem bothered, or surprised, by the tradwife trend. Who doesn’t love idyllic scenes of family and homesteads? The trouble is the expectation that women be both. Competent doctor by day and wild blueberry scones by day as well. FIGS and frilly dresses. Rhomboid flaps and darned socks (though the stitch might be the same). This is why the tradwife trend showcases the most difficult, exacting, and time consuming of household chores — it’s physiologically impossible to see patients 50 hours a week and churn your own butter. The movement is trying to say it’s impossible to do both, so just choose one. As a former Juilliard-trained ballerina, Ms. Neelman was certainly accustomed to performing at the highest level. A generous interpretation of her work is that she cannot be it all and so choosing to be a homemaker is freeing even if perhaps not her life’s ambition. Whether her life is enjoyable or forced drudgery is only hers to know. It seems the contented homemaker might offer a different kind of empowerment — one that centers around domesticity and nurturing. A rejection of perceived overreach of feminism.
Yet, some of the most competent, generous, and assiduous physicians in our department are moms and wives. They somehow manage to run the home operations, coordinate kids’ schedules, pack lunches (including their husbands’) and make homemade angel food cake with fresh whipped cream for dessert (it was delicious). I am in awe of their prodigious productivity and I realize that not all women can be like them nor all families like theirs.
Yet, I wonder how this trend might resonate — or clash — with the lives of the women in medicine more generally. The tradwife movement seems to offer a stark choice to the professional lives of female doctors, who find themselves at the intersection of high-stakes careers and the relentless demands of home. It raises questions about the pressures we place on ourselves and how we define success and fulfillment. The tradwife movement also reflects broader societal tensions — between tradition and progress, individualism and community, modernity and nostalgia. It invites us to reflect on our values and the choices we make, both in our personal lives and as a society.
Kaiser Permanente
Dr. Jeffrey Benabio
We are fortunate that in 2024 so many women dedicate themselves to medicine. Having more women join medicine has improved the quality of care and the experience for our patients. In addition to the friction of inequalities such as bias, discrimination, and even assault for women in medicine, there is also the burden of unrealistic expectations that they can do it all. I don’t criticize tradwives for the choices they make but am ever more grateful for the women who have also added medicine as a priority.
As for assisting and accommodating women in medicine, we have come a way but can do more. At the least, rejecting the view that homemaking is women’s work would help. Often unnoticed is the immense volume of work that gets done at home by women. Men sharing more of this work-after-work can enable women to spend more time in their careers and not feel guilty that the homestead is suffering. Yes, doing the plant operations like fixing a leaky faucet is useful, but so would be getting the kids dressed, scheduling their volleyball, or prepping a lovely lunch for them.
Whilst it’s impossible for women in medicine to lead Instagrammable tradwife lives, we can get closer to it if we do our best to share the work. And I understand there is nothing sexier than a man scrambling eggs in an apron. Get ready, TikTok.
Dr. Benabio is chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on X. Write to him at dermnews@mdedge.com.