In a world fascinated by the glitz of social media and the constant churning of superficial trends, a peculiar phenomenon has emerged, capturing millions of online views and sparking heated debates about gender roles. It’s the “tradwife” movement, a trend primarily driven by young women on platforms like TikTok and Instagram, who have aligned themselves with traditional notions of womanhood. Their domestic duties are clearly delineated: cooking, cleaning, and raising children while adopting a subservient posture to their male counterparts.
The term “tradwife” is short for “traditional wife,” but this resurgence of ’50s-style homemaking goes beyond mere role-playing. It entails a complete adoption of regressive gender norms, where husbands, as sole financial providers, exercise control over household finances, approving their wives’ expenditures, whether personal or for the comfort of their home. The tradwife’s visual identity is marked by frills, dresses, flawless hairstyles, and a meticulously maintained presence—never caught without a full face of makeup, as evidenced by one viral video of a woman rising at dawn to ensure her husband never glimpses her “plain” face.
Amidst these portraits of domesticity, Kate Middleton, the Princess of Wales, emerges as a beacon, an unwitting standard-bearer for the tradwife community. Her public persona, always impeccably polished, embodies their ideal. The royal’s conduct since her engagement has been marked by calculated perfection. Her fashion choices, her poised demeanor, her capacity to oscillate between warmth and solemnity—every element curated to fit the narrative of the perfect consort to a future king.
The recent disappearance of Middleton from public life, followed by her radiant return post-surgery, sparked wild speculation and conspiracy theories, igniting discussions about her role in the public eye. In those instances when she addresses the public—her voice eager listeners’ hunger to hear—Middleton fortifies her image: the tradwife par excellence, seen but rarely heard.
Yet in the pursuit of this traditional perfection, there’s a glaring omission: the sheer tedium of it all. Is authenticity sacrificed at the altar of flawlessness? Middleton—a figure so scrupulously presented that she has been accused of photoshopping her appearance on social media—represents this tunnel-vision pursuit of perfection. But perfection devoid of individual characteristics is an unattainable and ultimately indistinct goal. One wonders how many will recall the specific images of royal family celebrations amidst a sea of similar, sunny portraits.
In stark contrast stands Diana, Princess of Wales, whose legacy was built not just on her aesthetic elegance but on her unmistakably human touch. Her persona was accessible, the strain of royal life perceptible, and it was through her vulnerabilities and candidness that she deeply resonated with people around the world. Photos and clips of Diana’s less guarded moments—snapping at her spouse, candidly discussing her failed marriage, or openly seeking affection—reveal a multi-dimensional figure facing life’s trials, rather than a distant icon beyond reach.
Regrettably, in the current era of tradwives and their online depictions of domestic bliss, we witness a uniformity that lacks substance. These women, so devoted to the traditional script, often become indistinguishable within the movement they cherish—a disquieting echo chamber of baking, dressing up, and silent smiles where depth and difference are sacrificed.
The conversation around the tradwife trend is less about individual choices and more about what those choices signify in a broader cultural context. As we deconstruct the homogeneity of this modern yet antiquated perfection, we might find ourselves questioning whether the progression toward equality and individualism has inadvertently slipped through our collective grasp.
