Women Are the Problem (Yeah, I Said It)

Let’s talk about us. The women. The sisterhood. The tribe. The people we’re supposed to have in our corner, cheering us on as we navigate the messy miracle that is motherhood. But let’s be honest: how many times have you actually cheered another mum on without mentally comparing her life to your own?

Be real. How often have you watched a fellow mum wipe a snotty nose while simultaneously handing out organic snacks and thought, Wow, she’s really got it together… only to immediately spiral into guilt over the non-organic breadstick currently being inhaled by your toddler?

We’re all guilty. I’m guilty. You’re guilty. We’re so guilty that Netflix could make a true-crime docuseries about it.

As society increasingly scrutinises the impact of social media on mental health, particularly for women, it simultaneously continues to perpetuate falsehoods. Once a culture of curated perfection, social platforms have seen a backlash, with calls for more unfiltered, authentic storytelling. With movements like #realmotherhood gaining traction, but let me ask you this: how genuine is this trend? Is it pessimistic to assume that it's no more than another fad for mother's to mirror in the hopes that they find their 'club'?

But let’s forget about social media for a minute (I come back to it, don't worry) and talk about the endless pressure to appear like you’re thrilled about every single second of motherhood. How many times have you caught yourself checking in the mirror, making sure you’re smiling at your baby enough to keep up with the other cooing mums at the playgroup? You know the ones—their eyes sparkle like they’ve been spritzed with some magical I love my life serum. Meanwhile, you’re trying to remember if you brushed your teeth this morning.

Are you smiling enough? Too much? Does your baby think you’re happy? Does Karen from baby yoga think you’re happy? Are you even happy? Who knows?! But don’t let your face drop for a second because someone might think you hate motherhood, and gasp, we can’t have that.

Oh, and let’s discuss the photo ops. How long did you spend rearranging the background of your latest Instagram post? Be honest. Did you make sure the laundry was just out of frame? Did you strategically place a houseplant to make it look like your home is basically a Pinterest board?

I get it—no one wants to see reality. But here’s the kicker: we’re doing this for other women. For the same women who are probably scrolling through your post, wondering why their houseplants always look like they’ve been through a war zone.

It’s a vicious cycle of curated perfection and we’re all trapped in it like hamsters on a wheel of inadequacy.

And don’t even get me started on the Judge McJudgefaces - the club we all belong to. Oh, we hate to admit it, but we’ve all done it.

• Did you see her let her baby eat an entire packet of biscuits?

• I can’t believe she’s still breastfeeding at two.

• Wait, she’s not breastfeeding?

It’s exhausting, and the worst part? Half the time, we’re judging because we’re insecure about our own choices. It’s like we’re all standing in front of funhouse mirrors, projecting our self-doubt onto everyone else.

Here’s the truth: we’re all on this exhausting merry-go-round of motherhood, clutching onto the illusion of control as we try to craft our brand. Yes, our brand. Whether you’re the organic-snack mum, the Pinterest-party mum, the “cool and carefree” mum, or the “look, I’m surviving, OK?” mum, you’re working hard to sell an image—consciously or not.

The irony? While you’re sweating over whether you’re curating the right vibe, you’re simultaneously scrolling through other mums’ carefully crafted illusions, comparing yourself to their brands. And the kicker? They’re doing the exact same thing. It’s like we’re all in this unspoken competition to prove we’re the best kind of mum, even when none of us are really sure what that even means.

But here’s the plot twist: it’s all one big, fat illusion. The whole thing. No one’s life looks like their Instagram grid. No one’s as perfect as their playgroup smile. And no one has it all figured out, no matter how many artfully staged photos of oat milk lattes and Montessori toys they post.

What if we just dropped the act? What if we stopped caring about the image we’re projecting and instead talked about the hard stuff? The messy, real, gritty bits of motherhood that don’t see the light of day. Like the time you cried in the car because your toddler threw their shoes out the window, or the night you Googled, “Am I ruining my child’s life by letting them eat chicken nuggets three days in a row?”

Maybe if we were honest—brutally honest—we’d finally open the doors to some real connections. We’d realise we’re all on the same messy journey, just taking different routes. You’re winging it, I’m winging it, Karen’s winging it—we’re all just winging it.

Because here’s the thing: motherhood isn’t about perfection. It’s not about brands or illusions or out-smiling the other mums at playgroup. It’s about showing up—messy, tired, unsure, and doing your best. And when we stop pretending we’re anything other than human, we might just find the community we’ve been desperately trying to curate all along.

So, let’s get off the merry-go-round, stop selling the illusion, and start showing up for each other, raw and real. The next time you feel the urge to compare or judge, pause. The next time you see a mum struggling, offer her a hand, not a side-eye. And for the love of god, let the chicken nuggets count as a win.

We’re all in this together and it’s high time we started acting like it.