By Hannah You
On any given morning, my TikTok feed might show a woman in a linen dress grinding wheat by hand, feeding her seventh child, and smiling while her husband heads to work. She calls herself a “tradwife”- a traditional wife- and invites her followers into a world of old-fashioned homemaking, gender roles, and artisan everything. But a quick search reveals what the videos don’t: this woman lives on a multi-million-dollar estate, married into generational wealth, and sells her lifestyle to millions of viewers online.
Why are rich influencers cosplaying as farmers? The resurgence of the tradwife aesthetic isn’t just about sourdough starters and frilly egg aprons. It’s about nostalgia, a curated longing for a romanticized 1950s domestic life that many of these influencers never actually lived. And it’s more than a lifestyle choice; it reflects a growing cultural shift toward conservatism, especially among younger women on social media.
For example, take Hannah Neeleman of Ballerina Farm (pictured above). She’s a former pageant queen, a Juilliard trained ballerina, and now a TikTok star who shares dreamy videos of her Utah farm life with her husband and seven kids. But this is no humble homestead story. In fact, her family’s wealth traces back to her father-in-law, who founded JetBlue. Her brand now sells everything from aprons and pork boxes to sourdough kits, turning the image of her domestic, simple farm life into a full-scale luxury business. Similarly, Nara Smith, another tradwife influencer, crafts elaborate home cooked meals in clean designer kitchens, her soft-spoken voice romanticizing a life where a woman’s value is rooted in service. Her content is calming and undeniably beautiful, but it’s not representative of most women’s realities. These influencers have household help, disposable income, and ample time; the very things that made traditional domesticity bearable in the 1950s, thanks to robust middle-class support.
The issue here is that these women are not returning to tradition, rather, they are monetizing it. And here’s where the tradwife movement becomes something more than a harmless lifestyle. Many of these influencers argue that embracing traditional gender roles is “empowering,” as long as it’s a choice. But choice requires options, and most working-class women don’t have the luxury to leave the workforce, bake cakes from scratch daily, or homeschool their children on acres upon acres of land.
What makes this trend more than just a pretty picture is the way it’s tied to a broader political and cultural shift. The tradwife movement taps into growing frustration with the demands of modern life, especially for women. Some feel exhausted by the pressure to “do it all”: build a career, raise children, stay in shape, and somehow remain serene through it all. Tradwife content offers an alternative: a life with clearly defined roles, a peaceful home, and a return to old-fashioned values. However, it is essential to realize that it’s largely part of a conservative revival that’s pushing back against decades of progress on gender equality.
To be clear, there’s nothing wrong with being a stay-at-home mom or finding joy in homemaking. For many women, those roles bring real joy and purpose, and choosing them can be empowering. But the trouble begins when that lifestyle is romanticized as something everyone can achieve, without any recognition of the immense privilege that makes it possible. The truth is, behind those calm kitchen vlogs and perfectly folded laundry is a level of financial comfort that most families simply don’t have. We’re talking about generational wealth, partners with high-paying or flexible jobs, and often behind the scenes help like nannies or cleaners. Choosing to stay home with children or bake fresh bread every morning feels very different when you’re not also worried about rent, groceries, or medical bills. When this version of domestic life is presented as the ideal for all women, it overlooks the economic and social realities that most people live with. And when that aesthetic is used to push a return to traditional gender roles, it quietly suggests that going backward is the answer to modern problems. But for the vast majority of women, that kind of choice has never really been on the table.
If the tradwife movement stayed personal, it might not usually draw this kind of criticism. But it has become a brand, a political identity, and a business model, one that suggests the solution to modern discontent is to rewind social progress. It’s a social media fantasy, selling a version of the past that never quite existed, except perhaps for the very wealthy few. So when we ask why rich influencers are cosplaying as farmers, we should also ask ourselves: What are we being sold and what are we being distracted from?
At the end of the day, the tradwife trend is about selling an unobtainable lifestyle, one that looks easy and beautiful, but only works if you have money, time, and a lot of help. For everyone else, it’s just another impossible standard to live up and another performative social media trend. So the next time you see a rich influencer churning butter in a prairie dress, remember: this isn’t a return to tradition. It’s a carefully crafted performance, tailor made for clicks, and quietly nudging us toward a vision of womanhood that doesn’t leave much room for choice at all.