Motherhood lies at the heart of every women’s movement: as something to escape, to champion, or, for many, something they want, but do not know how to fit in given their career goals and dating pool. Girl-boss feminism and the tradwife movement bring this tension to the surface in today’s cultural debates. 

On one side stands the “girl-boss” feminist: the career-driven, self-before-all-else woman who measures her worth by promotions, paychecks, and personal achievements. Personal happiness and career success come first. 

On the other side stands the “tradwife” ideal: a blend of 1950s aesthetics and modern homesteading. Such women tend to wear aprons and flowing dresses, tend gardens in galoshes, bake sourdough, and document it all on homemaking blogs. The movement puts family and their home first, but sometimes at the expense of intellectual engagement. 

Both movements claim to offer women fulfillment. Yet both miss what many women—and frankly, many men—intuitively know: the highest vision for marriage and family isn’t found in prioritizing personal ambition or in simply wanting the right things, but in cultivating one’s gifts to build a strong, thriving home. 

For too long, those cultural narratives have suggested that a woman’s intelligence and ambition find their primary fulfillment in the marketplace and are secondary to the traits husbands are looking for in women as wives and mothers. But in practice, this leaves the home impoverished. 

>>> Faith, Freedom, and Child Formation

This is why I believe what men and women really want isn’t yet another round in the battle of the sexes over motherhood, but a renewed vision of men and women as battle-mates—partners fighting side by side, especially when it comes to how mothers invest in their children and the home. Most men do want smart, hard-working wives, but not necessarily career queens. They want women who value home and family enough to channel their talents into building a strong, loving household.

One young woman my husband knew in college illustrated this dilemma. She openly talked about how much she valued marriage and dreamed of being a stay-at-home mother to many children. Yet she was admittedly vocationally unmotivated and disinterested in learning. She embodied the outward signs of traditional femininity—braids, dresses, and homemaking skills—but lacked the depth and mastery required of a mother entrusted with shaping the hearts and minds of children. Outward femininity and the right priorities are only half the battle. If we fail to encourage and channel all that ambition and capability into the home itself, it’s worth asking the last line of Finding Nemo: “Now what?”

This is where I think many of the “trad” debates go astray today. The enduring presence of the tradwife movement is a positive indication that women are dissatisfied with the life script they’ve been offered with girl-boss feminism. The answer, however, shouldn’t be to denigrate ambition, but to channel it.

Some of my favorite examples of women who fully invested themselves in raising exceptional children include Maye Musk, who encouraged and channeled Elon’s brilliance, now one of the richest men alive and the CEO of multiple world-leading companies. Susanna Wesley diligently taught her sons Greek, Latin, and theology, raising two of the foremost pastors, evangelists, and hymn writers of the eighteenth 18th century. Pauline Einstein did what no one else could: nurture and draw out the genius of her son, Albert. And, more recently, Melania Trump stands as a modern exemplar.

I remember how encouraged and seen my mother—and many other stay-at-home moms in her community—felt watching Melania Trump step back from the public spotlight during the first Trump administration to prioritize raising her son, Barron. Far from neglecting her role as First Lady, she fulfilled it in the fullest sense: giving her child the attention, care, and formation he needed in those critical years. It validated the sacrifices my mother and her friends made to invest their best years into shaping their children, not just building careers.

I’m also inspired to see Mrs. Trump take on a more active leadership role during their second term, especially now that her child is older. It is a powerful reminder that we should view our life through the lens of seasons; as many have said, you can have it all, but not all at once. 

>>> Crossroads: American Family Life at the Intersection of Tradition and Modernity

Her official portraits from the first and second terms capture this progression. Traditionally, First Lady portraits are warm, feminine, and inviting—meant to soften the imposing presence of their husbands. Mrs. Trump’s 2017 portrait fits that mold: while the President appears severe, her presence softens him, making him more approachable. But her 2025 portrait reflects something deeper—a complementary strength forged through years of political battles. She no longer merely softens; she stands as a battle-mate, fully at her husband’s side.

In Genesis 2, God tells Adam He will create a “suitable helper” for him. While this translation is accurate to the Hebrew, it has unfortunately led many to see women as subordinate helpers—something like domestic servants. But a closer reading reveals that ezer kenegdo refers to something far stronger. 

Throughout the Old Testament, ezer is used primarily in military contexts—to describe God helping His people in battle or David’s mighty men coming to his aid. It conveys the idea of strong help offered to one in need, not servitude. The word kenegdo can be translated “like opposite”—meaning Eve is like Adam in nature, yet distinct, complementing and completing him with her own strength. Her role is neither superior nor inferior, but essential—for their home, their community, and their nation. It is this vision of an ezer kenegdo—a true battle-mate—that Régine Mahaux’s portrait of Mrs. Trump so powerfully conveys.

Men don’t want the battle of the sexes. They want a battle-mate. They want a woman who delights in bringing her full self to the family mission—shaping children, stewarding culture, and standing strong alongside her husband.