If you’re on TikTok, you’ve probably come across Nara Smith. The 22-year-old model and influencer has been showered in viral fame since she started posting on the platform in late 2022. At the time of publishing this article, her account had 8.9 million followers and 394 million likes.
Much of Smith’s content comes in the form of far-fetched cooking videos in which she prepares everything from homemade bubble gum, to marshmallows, to cough drops. She’ll usually do this dressed in beautiful clothes and aided by a seemingly endless pantry.
Smith has been called out repeatedly for her tradwife (traditional wife) aesthetic, in which women are shown to embody traditional gender roles and are framed as only being “homemakers” and “child rearers”.
Tradwives present themselves as “domestic goddesses” of sorts – effortlessly completing every household chore while they keep their clean girl makeup intact.
Many tradwives wear clothes inspired by the 1950s and ‘60s housewife. Smith takes this a step further by wearing glamorous gowns and jewellery.
Her videos get mixed reactions. Some users find them useful or even inspiring, while others rage at the impracticality of the message she sends to other mothers and young women. So what can we make of it all?
Weighing harm against intent
Smith’s stylised look is part of a carefully honed aesthetic. Her glamorous outfits may be antithetical to the practicalities of the life she presents, but they are integral to her brand.
In one recent video, she “claps back” (as one commenter put it) at those claiming she has an entire production team behind her and doesn’t do any work work outside of making content. In the video, she describes herself as a working mum who simply finds joy in cooking for her family – and reminds viewers of her lupus, a condition she must live and work with every day.
Smith may indeed be a hardworking mother, who is also a content creator, who lives with a chronic illness and enjoys caring for her family because she can. At the same time, she can also be perpetuating harmful stereotypes and setting up unachievable standards for her viewers. All of this can be true at once.
Curated to the T
Smith’s content is heavily produced. Her first video on TikTok showed a different aesthetic, of a young woman in a trendy outfit with a popular song playing in the background. Since then, she has poured countless hours into curating her now famous persona.
As the audience, we see her living in a beautiful home with a perfect family, kneading dough with a full set of rings and having the time – despite raising three children – to cook pizza entirely from scratch (yes, including the cheese).
This domestic bliss is never interrupted by a stained dress, or having to pick dough out from a ring.
As academic Georgiana Toma explains, successful consumer-perceived authenticity online is achieved through stylistic consistency, quality commitment and a softening of commercial motives.
Smith does the latter particularly well. While she receives sponsorships, she doesn’t push them onto viewers with the kind of force many other influencers do.
What is a mother’s role?
Smith’s audience is divided on how she presents motherhood, which features heavily in her content. Take the following video, which was posted less than two weeks after her child’s birth:
Some commenters say they wish they looked like Smith, or hope to become a similar kind of mother as her.
Recent gender studies research shows that mothers can use social media for community and to feel a sense of belonging – but can also be judged if they don’t present the “right” kind of motherhood.
The gap between the perceived act of motherhood (as it’s shown online) and real motherhood can lead to pressure and potential harm for women who view this online content as real or aspirational.
Rage bait?
Some of Smith’s videos are deliberately inciteful – or at least, it’s difficult to imagine them being anything else. For instance, when she makes cola from scratch, you can’t help but feel she is poking fun at herself.
Her audience often responds with a similar jest, with users requesting she make things such as a “husband”, “Ozempic” and an “iPhone 15 Pro Max”.
Rage bait is a genre of (usually outrageous) content that incites viewers’ rage, shock or frustration to boost engagement. While there is no straightforward path to instant virality online, content that prompts a lot of engagement (both good and bad) has a better shot.
Much of Smith’s content sits on the edge of rage bait. It certainly comes across as outrageous. Is it supposed to be? Possibly.
Step back from the fantasy
Whether or not Smith and similar tradwives believe their content is harmful or not, the reality is they present highly unrealistic portrayals of domesticity.
Tradwife content links explicitly to the ideology of choice feminism, in which women can choose to do whatever they want, even if it means waking up at 6am to make a meal from scratch for their husband.
However, as La Trobe University lecturer and political scientist Meagan Tyler writes, choice arguments are deeply flawed “because they assume a level of unmitigated freedom for women that simply doesn’t exist.”
Yes, many tradwife content creators are choosing to live their life that way. But these choices are “shaped and constrained by the unequal conditions in which we live. It would only make sense to uncritically celebrate choice in a post-patriarchal world.”
So, while there’s nothing wrong with watching and enjoying Smith, her videos definitely shouldn’t be held up as something to aspire to. It’s important we all take a critical eye to such content, lest we start to think that’s what life – and what women – ought to look like.
Edith Jennifer Hill does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
