Why I'm Not A Working Mom Influencer

(Hint: possibly in part because the phrase "content creator" still makes me cringe.)

I used to work at the United States’ first museum of modern art - founded eight years before MoMA - and knew, even before my first day on the job, that I had a steep learning curve ahead. After all, my academic focus was the medieval period; the paper I wrote for my undergraduate Art Humanities class was on an early Christian baptismal font. Modern art felt like an entirely different language.

So I was relieved when, one day in the galleries, someone else pointed at a painting and asked, “Why is that art? I could do that!”

“Yeah,” replied the museum’s director. “But you didn’t. The artist did.”

I think of that exchange often while scrolling through working mom accounts on Instagram. I could do that, I catch myself thinking - sometimes with a twinge of jealousy. (Or, less often but more smugly, I could do that better.) And then I remind myself: but I don’t.

---

Today’s content creators are more transparent than ever about what it actually takes to build an audience and earn more than pocket change on social media. Beyond hoping a post goes viral, it requires deliberate branding and a deft understanding of how to work the algorithm. It demands, as Olivia Muenter perfectly describes, “the emotional and mental gymnastics required to market yourself successfully while still remaining, impossibly, authentic at the same time.” She also writes:

The truth I know now is that the internet only facilitates performance. Everyone is an unreliable narrator. You can perform perfection, presenting a highlight reel to the world, and you can perform imperfection or authenticity in the very same way. Neither option is real.

I quote her - and believe she writes - without judgment toward influencers who acknowledge this tension. But it’s precisely this contradiction that makes me hesitate to pursue influencing in any meaningful way, despite the frequent “I could do that” thought when I see other accounts. It’s why I cringe at “content creator” as a job title; content creation and genuine candor seem inherently at odds. Everything we post online - or choose not to post - is strategic. It all feeds the story we want to tell, the identity we want to claim, the product we want to sell. And for many trying to break through online, the story, the identity, and the product collapse into one and the same, especially when followers extend beyond real-life friends.

All of this… and yet I still find myself wishing I had the time and energy to build a cohesive social media strategy. To filter everything through one consistent, compelling lens. To craft a personal brand—even though the phrase alone makes me squirm for the same reasons as “content creator.”

I suppose not having the bandwidth to do so makes things easier. It takes the option off the table entirely. Could I carve out the space in my life if I really wanted to? Yes, probably. But what would I have to give up to make that happen? Sleep? Precious moments with my kids? The mental clarity I need to do my day job well? The ability to simply exist without turning every experience into content?

That’s a reflection for another day - a post I’ll write when I need to remind myself why I make the choices I do, and why, sometimes, not doing something can be an act of intentionality, too.