In the sinister annals of the men’s rights activist internet back in 2017, an alt-right personality called Matt Forney popularized the term, or depending on your outlook, slur, “tradthot.” According to Forney, a “tradthot” (a portmanteau of “tradwife” and “thot”) was a woman who entered the alt-right pretending to believe in traditional gender roles but, in reality, wanted to exploit a male-dominated audience by catering to their fantasies.
Forney, although not well-known for his charitable views about women at the time — he’s since repented, naturally — may have been onto something. While his original article unfairly characterized the specific women he offered as examples, all of whom turned out to be genuinely committed to the values they espoused, what he described ended up reflecting a real phenomenon.
In the years that followed, the “tradthot” — the Traditional Woman who created content seemingly for everyone except other women — became a thriving and lucrative genre of internet personality.
These women positioned themselves against the prevailing mainstream feminist tropes, offering an alternative perspective tailored specifically to disenfranchised men who, crucially, hang out in male-dominated digital spaces. The tradthot enters, stage left, as the only woman. The woman who genuinely understands, who recognizes a woman’s “true place” and tells it like it is, always armed with hard truths like “women just refuse to take accountability,” or “women are wrecking the dating market because their self-esteem is overinflated.”
Many also follow the same pattern in their online journey.
The story goes like this: after a stint in another content niche, either because of failure or market oversaturation, these women would rebrand, this time strategically positioning themselves as “right-wing,” with a special emphasis on traditional gender roles.
One example is TikTokker Estée Williams, who, after attempting to pursue a career as a meteorologist, reality TV star, actress and fitness model, reinvented herself as a “tradwife.” Tits first, she makes videos that are purportedly for conservative women (and are enraging feminists!) about topics that famously appeal to women, like how there aren’t “as many ultra-feminine, submissive and traditional women in the United States.”
Williams isn’t the only one, though. There’s Shannen Michaela, who had an OnlyFans profile before pivoting to proselytizing about the dangers of feminism. As did the SEO-minded Gwen Swinarton — master marketer! — who today is better known as “Gwen the Milkmaid.”
Before “finding God,” Swinarton was known as “GwenGwiz,” a “pro-choice, anti-marriage, lesbian, vegan ASMRist who dabbled in OnlyFans content creation on the side.” By the summer of 2022, she had transformed into a “truth-seeking, red-pilled, agenda-2030-weary, anti-feminist, anti-vax, anti-birth control, holistic-living, anti-big government, Big Pharma-opposed, conspiracy theorist, homesteading tradwife.”
The list of formerly sex-positive, OnlyFans-hawking women who claimed that “modern feminism had led them astray” and later found solace in right-wing politics and a new audience is long. So long that it has spawned the meme “the OnlyFans to tradwife pipeline.”
While it remains plausible that some women genuinely had a change of heart, either through negative experiences with feminism or a spiritual awakening, it’s equally likely that content creators recognize and seize opportunities when they arise. To state the obvious, one glaring clue here is the contradiction between the message of traditional gender roles and being a “content creator.”
Some writers have argued that “tradwife” content is a pernicious form of radicalization, but it’s not so much dangerous as it is hollow and opportunistic. Rightward pivots are usually downstream of the beliefs that building a following as a woman is easier in conservative circles and, even more intuitively, that sex sells, particularly in male-dominated spaces. Of course this trend isn’t unique to right-wing media. Relevance on social media is a moving target — and content creators across the political spectrum must constantly adapt.
When OnlyFans is profitable, these influencers sell their bodies; when the platform becomes oversaturated, or they realize they don’t have what it takes to succeed, they pivot to something more lucrative. As our timelines become filled with performative conservatism — as they seem to be now — they’ll move on to the next trend. They might already be moving on to the next trend. As ultra-polarized “Gender Wars” discourse heats up online, with major conservative figures like Charlie Kirk stirring the pot by saying things like, “women in their thirties aren’t attractive” (pity his thirty-five-year-old wife), a new market is opening up: critiquing the right from the right. Maybe not being like other girls isn’t so fun anymore; maybe it’s time to be a girl’s girl.
The ideological ping-pong continues.
The open question is if anyone believes anything any more; if the popularity of one type of content over another speaks to any genuinely held political convictions. Influencers might follow trends, but they don’t necessarily create them. Are their intended audiences rapid-cycling through ideologies, too? Or does the ideological musical chairs say more about the high volumes of content we’re consuming — and a sort of novelty seeking — than it does what we believe?
