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Tradwives: yes or no?

Tradwives: yes or no, Relationship Therapy Online
I flinch every time I see content telling me a man is meant to be head-of-the-household, provider, protector, the one who decides — while a woman submits, keeps the home, raises the children, holds the family together.
And what shocks me most is how popular these ideas have become among the young: the tradwife movement on one side, the manosphere on the other.
On one side, women in linen dresses who knead dough at dawn, milk the cow, raise seven children, and, with a quiet glow, tell you how they gave up their careers for home, peace and "traditional values."
On the other, the Tate brothers and the rest of the manosphere, explaining to men that the world belongs to the strong, that a man is born to dominate, and that everything else was invented to make him weak and pliable.

For a long time I simply couldn't understand — why would a modern woman want this?

We — grown, cynical women — have learned the hard way why you shouldn't hand your life into a man's keeping without a backup plan.It's like locking yourself in a tower of your own free will and handing the key to the dragon guarding it. Add years of personal and professional experience to that, and I could explain these new trends as nothing but the glaring foolishness of the young.
And then I came across an explanation from the historian Stephanie Coontz — and the pieces fell into place.
There's a thing in medicine called referred pain. Anyone who's been to an osteopath knows it. Your shoulder aches, but the cause is in your pelvis. Your lower back nags, but the culprit is your jaw. The problem sits in one place, and what reacts is whatever has started taking on the load and over-compensating.

Coontz argues that we're now in the grip of a nostalgia for the years between 1950 and 1970. Back then the economics were remarkably kind: wages rose far faster than inflation, growth reached those at the bottom more than the rich, and there was none of today's skew where the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.

At the same time there was a cult of the "perfect family," in which the perfect, happy wife tended an idyllic home with two idyllic children. What it ignored was the reality underneath — one where women's depression flourished and antidepressant use began to climb (anyone curious can revisit The Hours, the 2002 film with Julianne Moore).

And now — when the world is unpredictable, when the economy lurches from crisis to crisis, when wars break out one after another — we start longing for those "golden family days." That's the referred pain. We can't recreate the economic conditions, but we can recreate the "perfect families," and we sincerely believe it will make us happy.

Treating the lower back, when the cause is a clenched jaw

A study from last year by King's Global Institute for Women's Leadership says exactly the same thing. Its headline finding: women aren't drawn to the role of the "traditional wife," but they are drawn to the calm that this way of life seems to promise. At least 79% of the women surveyed crave that calm — they're burned out by the stress of work and parenting.
But a substitution takes place: instead of the jaw, we treat the lower back; instead of calm, we're sold submission.
The real danger lies in the discourse itself — as long as women prop up the tradwife ideal, the manosphere has something to lean on. Two halves of a single bargain: women are sold submission, men are sold dominance. It only works if both swallow the bait.
The woman worn thin, watching videos about sourdough starters, and the lonely lad watching Tate are, at bottom, reaching for the same thing — stability, calm, a sense of self-respect. For a world in which your role is finally clear, where you don't have to reinvent yourself every morning but can simply follow the instructions.
Except the instructions are about a hundred years out of date.
And here's where it gets interesting. Coontz points to a range of studies showing that the very closeness and the very peace everyone so desperately wants grow not out of hierarchy but out of equal, mutual relationships.

Where two people negotiate and share the load, rather than dealing out roles from an old script, both are far happier with their lives:

  • Couples like this have sex more often (Gager et al., 2009)
  • They're more satisfied with their sex lives (Carlson et al., 2016), and with life in general
  • And the perception of fairness matters more than an objective 50/50 split (Smith et al., 2026) — what counts is the conversation and the agreement, not blind obedience to a principle
  • Where the housework is divided unfairly, both partners are dissatisfied with the relationship (Frisco et al., 2003). Unhappy wife, unhappy life — and how.
So it turns out that both the tradwives and the manosphere are trying to sell calm and contentment by a method guaranteed to deprive you of exactly that.
There's a book, by the way, that takes this idea to the point of absurdity — and in doing so makes it obvious. The recently published Yesteryear is a sharp satire about an Instagram tradwife who plays the part so far that her whole aesthetic stops being content and becomes her life. And then she winds up in 1855… I'll write about the book separately, next time.
Both the scientific research and the literary masterpieces say the same thing: peace and closeness can't be bought like an aesthetic or won like a hierarchy — however desperately we lack them in this mad, chaotic modern world.

Stability, peace and closeness can only be built — slowly, unglamorously, without any breathless reverence, between two people who look at each other as equals.

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