There’s something undeniably glossy about the rise of tradwife content in India and globally. On the surface, it looks like women are reclaiming a simpler, softer life — homemaking, cooking, cleaning, and rejecting the hustle culture that’s left so many of us burnt out. For the unaware, tradwife is short for ‘traditional wife’, a woman who embraces old-school gender roles, where the man earns and the woman serves. It looks like a rebellion against the never-ending boss babe grind. A softer life, framed as empowerment.

But look closer, and it feels less like liberation and more like performance. A performance not just for Instagram, but for the men scrolling through it. Because let’s be honest: who are these reels of “touching his feet before he leaves for work” really for?

Is cooking online enough to be a tradwife?

Tradwife content works because of the aesthetic. If you look at Nara Aziz Smith, often described as the poster girl for tradwife content on Instagram, her feed is anything but accidental. Her kitchen is spotless, dresses perfectly ironed, and her voiceovers strike a balance — sensual, yet never sultry. Everything feels deliberate and polished, often looking more professional than the work of many creators who focus only on making content, not on presenting a true picture of domestic life. Behind the glow lies a far less romantic truth: much of it looks like women auditioning for a role society already scripts, the ideal homemaker woman.

Back home in India, the tradwife content comes with a sharper edge. Many of these tradwives often shame feminists for not choosing a domestic life. But the truth is, these tradwives aren’t “choosing” this life either. Sara Ganesh, who is a popular YouTuber and Instagram personality, makes tradwife content, runs a clothing brand, and generates income with her following of over 3 million.

So here comes the real question: why are they glorifying being a tradwife when they aren’t tradwives in any sense at all? Just cooking meals online isn’t enough to be defined as a traditional wife. Why do it then? The answer is simple: it caters to the male gaze. And this is not something I’m pulling out of thin air. A content creator on Instagram named Japneet Siman Sethi posted this reel online, shaming and abusing feminist women, and support from men filled her comment section. Scroll yourself and you’ll see men telling her that her decision to stay at home is right

 

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A post shared by JAPNEET SIMAN SETHI (@blendedshadesbyjapneetkaur)

Who is the tradwife content for?

It’s almost funny, you “reject” being an independent woman, only to reinvent it with influencer branding and a submissive smile. The apron becomes the new power suit, except the applause comes from men who see you as proof that “modern women have forgotten their values.”

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with homemaking itself. Cooking a seven-course festive meal, managing a household, or raising children can absolutely be a feminist choice. But when those choices are curated for likes, and, let’s face it, the male gaze, we have to ask: are these women really choosing for themselves, or are they choosing within the narrow framework of what’s considered appealing to men?

The tradwife trend isn’t about liberation at all, but about packaging an old ideal — women as homemakers, men as breadwinners, in Instagram-friendly wrapping. It’s not a rejection of patriarchy. It’s a rebranding.

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