Bernadine Bluntly's April video renouncing the tradwife movement she once championed sent shockwaves through social media. The 36-year-old, who previously sold T-shirts reading 'RIP Feminism' and promoted 'traditional masculine men' through her course Simply Smitten, had reached a breaking point. After leaving her husband and obtaining a restraining order against him—which she claims was due to abuse, though he denies this—she posted a video titled 'What I got wrong about the trad movement.' Her conclusion was damning: the movement has 'become indistinguishable from the current wave of the red-pill manosphere.' This is not an isolated incident. Bluntly is part of a growing exodus of ex-tradwife influencers recognizing that the ideology they promoted often enabled harm.
What makes these defections particularly significant is that they reveal a pattern of financial control masquerading as tradition. Jennie Gage, 52, who spent 24 years in what she describes as an abusive tradwife marriage, was forbidden from working or having a bank account. After catching her husband meeting a sex worker in 2018, she left him—and discovered she had nothing. For most of her marriage, she received cash in an envelope for groceries. After divorce, she was left with nothing and had to set up a GoFundMe to pay for her lawyer. Tia Levings, also 52, similarly lived under what she now calls a 'high-control family patriarchy cult,' where her husband's authority was justified by religious doctrine. Both women now warn others: have babies, get married, but secure prenups, spousal trusts, and financial independence.
The irony is stark. Hannah Neeleman, perhaps the movement's most successful current face with her 10 million Instagram followers documenting her nine children and Utah ranch lifestyle, can afford to backpedal gracefully. When she recently told New York magazine to 'take the feedback' if her content harms women, she spoke from genuine financial security. But Gage was explicit about the distinction: 'I'm not out to fight Ballerina Farm. Because [Hannah Neeleman] is financially safe. I'm out to fight women not being financially safe.' This captures the movement's fundamental lie—that women can surrender economic autonomy while remaining 'safe,' as long as they're submissive enough.
These ex-influencers deserve credit for their honesty, particularly Bluntly's acknowledgment that her past content 'contributed' to harm. But their emergence also exposes how the tradwife movement, dressed in religious language and aesthetic appeal, normalized financial imprisonment and abuse. Young women viewing content from Nara Smith's 12.5 million TikTok followers see only the cutesy dresses and cooking, not the financial trap being constructed. The lesson from Gage, Levings, and Bluntly is clear: tradition dressed up as love is still control. The reckoning is overdue.