On June 17th, 2015, my life as a 16-year-old was filled with the excitement of first love and travel. But, three hours away from my family home, Dylan Roof pulled into the parking lot of Emanuel AME, the oldest black church in the South. He walked in, joined a Bible study, and then shot and killed nine parishioners. This act of white supremacist violence echoes past atrocities like the 1963 16th Street Baptist Church bombing and the 2017 Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville.
Roof’s radicalisation was evident in his manifesto, filled with racist, anti-Semitic, and xenophobic views. He lamented the lack of real KKK or skinheads and decided to take action himself, believing someone had to bring the fight to the real world.
This pattern of white nationalist violence, predominantly perpetrated by white men, has shaped our view of alt-right factions. However, it’s crucial to recognise the role of white women in these movements. Historically, white women have been active participants in white supremacist causes, from slave ownership to membership in the WKKK. They were not just passive supporters but actively involved in the violence and ideology.
Fast forward to today, and we see white women in the alt-right movement playing significant roles, often masked by seemingly benign aesthetics. Enter the ‘tradwife’ phenomenon. Tradwives, or traditional wives, present a veneer of 50s nostalgia, focusing on homemaking and biblical femininity. But beneath this surface lies a connection to far-right ideologies.
Tradwives are often skilled social media influencers who use platforms like TikTok and Instagram to spread their beliefs subtly. They avoid overtly extremist content to maintain their platforms but engage in more ideological posting on less regulated spaces. This creates a pipeline where viewers are gradually exposed to more extreme views.
The tradwife community is divided into three ideological sectors: conservative right, alt-lite, and alt-right tradwives. Conservative tradwives focus on traditional gender roles and conservative politics. Alt-lite tradwives bridge the gap, aligning with alt-right beliefs without overt white supremacy. Alt-right tradwives are more vocal about their extremist views, including anti-feminism and white nationalism.
This pipeline is concerning because it normalises extreme ideologies under the guise of traditional values. Vulnerable viewers, starting with seemingly harmless content, are gradually radicalised. This is not just an abstract theory but a documented phenomenon.
The tradwife movement is not just about baking cookies and homeschooling. It’s about promoting a specific set of conservative values that often include xenophobia, anti-Semitism, and homophobia. Even those who denounce white supremacy still support other far-right beliefs, creating an environment ripe for radicalisation.
The appeal of the tradwife lifestyle is understandable. Many are disillusioned with the demands of modern life and long for a simpler, more fulfilling existence. However, the solution lies not in regressing to outdated gender roles but in addressing the systemic issues that make modern life so challenging. The desire for a comfortable, fulfilling life is legitimate, but it should not be conflated with the oppressive politics of tradwifery.
In conclusion, the tradwife phenomenon is a modern iteration of a long history of white women’s involvement in white supremacist movements. While not every tradwife is an explicit white supremacist, the community serves as a gateway to more extreme ideologies. Recognising this pipeline is crucial in understanding and combating the spread of far-right extremism.