It’s time to reclaim the term ‘mommy blogger’

A few days ago, parents of a certain age were shocked by the death of Heather Armstrong, creator of the blog Dooce, at age 47. She was arguably the most famous of a subset of writers—mostly women—who chronicled their parenting experiences online starting in the early aughts. Armstrong was crowned “queen of the mommy bloggers” in the headline of a 2011 New York Times Magazine piece.

The very term “mommy blogger” smacks of an all-too-common dismissiveness about women creatives. Novelist Jennifer Weiner called out the disparity in the literary world more than a decade ago. Today, while women are the dominant force in creating online content, they are more likely to be called “influencers” while men are called “content creators”—and earn an average of 30% more per post in influencer marketing deals, according to a report by influencer marketing firm Izea. 

The original cohort of “mom blog” writers shared their experiences in ways that were honest and raw. They laid bare their lives, relaying the hilarious, embarrassing, joyful, and devastating experiences that happen within households, especially households with young humans in them. In more than a few cases, the very same words printed on the pages of The New Yorker or The Atlantic with a man’s byline would have been praised as insightful and important social commentary.

Instead, the term minimizes the importance of the movement and industry these writers created. For millions of parents, so-called “mom blogs” were—and are—an emotional lifeline as well as a practical source of information. Armstrong wrote honestly about everything from how impossibly hard parenting sometimes feels to how she felt about leaving her religion and dealing with addiction. Jill Smokler, who founded and ultimately sold Scary Mommy, wrote with unabashed forthrightness and sharp wit about her life and gave moms an anonymous place to share their own cathartic, raw, and sometimes intense confessions.

Then, others inspired us and made us feel less alone. Years before my own cancer diagnosis, MommaSaid’s Jen Singer blogged about her own experiences beating Stage III non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Singer (who is a close friend) made us laugh and cry about the realities of navigating cancer treatments while running a “frat house” for the elementary school set. Kayt Sukel, another friend, cowrote the Travel-Savvy Moms blog, showing single moms by example that they could travel the world, even with a toddler in tow.

Even when we didn’t know these remarkable wordsmiths in person, they made us feel like we did. Sure, some curated their images and posts, but most were honest, showing us warts and all, not to mention bee stings, road rashes, and abject heartbreaks. They answered the questions we couldn’t bring ourselves to ask out loud—questions about feeling frustrated, afraid, and overwhelmed—alongside posts about what various shades of poop mean. And they often wrote those missives after the kids went to bed when they were exhausted and sporting at least one bodily fluid that was not their own.

While it’s true that anyone with a mobile phone, laptop, and wireless internet connection could start a blog, the good ones took off, attracting vast and loyal audiences. It wasn’t long before the marketers and public relations folks took notice. The suits began courting bloggers, sponsoring their posts and hiring them as spokespeople. Mom bloggers were the precursor to today’s influencers and content creators, a market Grand View Research estimates will top $140 billion by 2030. Some old-school mom bloggers, like Pioneer Woman Ree Drummond and Cool Mom Picks creators Liz Gumbinner and Kristen Mei Chase, turned their work into multimedia empires, spawning television shows, books, and other lines of business.

It’s also important to remember that this work wasn’t without risk. High-profile bloggers like Armstrong, Smock, and Free-Range Parenting’s Lenore Skenazy faced withering criticism and backlash (some of it valid), when readers disagreed with their words, opinions, or choices.

So, in honor of the writers who took on the emotional, physical, and intellectual labor of creating an entire industry as they took care of children, pets, homes, aging parents, and all manner of other responsibilities, I’d like to reclaim the term “mommy blogger.” Let’s reframe it as a badge of honor for the brave, honest, hilarious, bold, audacious women—and some men and nonbinary folks—who shared their most intimate and private moments so we could all feel a little less alone and a little more seen. They deserve our respect and gratitude.