No form of feminism—whether it was the sex-positive movement I embraced in college or the reproductive rights activism I later participated in—bothered me more than the “Lean In” brand of feminism that dominated the early 2010s. Sheryl Sandberg’s call for women to take over the professional world was incredibly compelling, sparking a wave of #bossbabe and #girlboss culture where ambition and femininity were celebrated together.
Even though I never wanted an executive office or any sign of professional dominance, I still felt the pressure. For my mother and grandmother, landing any job at all meant success—it was about financial independence. But according to the #girlboss mindset, women needed powerful resumes, tireless work habits, perfectly curated social media profiles, stylish wardrobes, and the belief that their careers would somehow uplift all women and dismantle the patriarchy. Family life was acceptable, but only if it didn’t interfere with those goals.
Just as “Lean In” was gaining momentum, I became a mother—talk about a clash. Before kids, I had always assumed I might pursue ambitious work outside the home one day. Then I had a child, cut back on work hours, and the dream of power lunches and glamorous business trips faded into something distant and unlikely.
At the time, I spent my days writing about workplace discrimination against mothers and the gender pay gap for women’s publications like this one. Rarely did I admit—even to myself—that I was contributing to the pay gap in my own household. I had chosen caregiving over what I thought of as ambition. As a feminist writer, I felt like I was failing feminism.
Ambition has always been a tricky idea for women. When someone asks if you’re ambitious, it often feels like a trap. While living in New York City—a place obsessed with ambition—I struggled to network or play the game. Making money mattered, but I never chased more than I needed. I rarely worked late or on weekends. Could I have tried harder to build a following online? Sure. If I ever do succeed, it will likely be due to luck more than relentless hustle.
And yet, think about how I define *ambition*. I completely ignore the fact that I’ve built a career doing what I love: writing. Or the deep relationships I’ve maintained with my parents, siblings, in-laws, and friends. Most notably, there’s the exhausting, full-time job of raising two children who are kind and curious—something I pour my energy into daily. Still, when asked about my ambitions, I hesitate. Because ambition is usually limited to the narrow definition of professional success, which experts say needs to change.
Anne-Marie Slaughter, CEO of New America and author of *Unfinished Business: Women, Men, Work, Family*, says that for years, women had to act like men to succeed professionally. Female lawyers wore bow ties, acted tough, and avoided talking about childcare. Now, she’s part of a group of influential women trying to redefine ambition to include both career and caregiving.
Slaughter, now 66, calls herself a “care feminist,” a shift from her earlier identity as a “career feminist.” This includes pushing for better public support for childcare and rethinking what success means. When she started discussing this in the mid-2010s, many of her peers resisted. They couldn’t understand why she thought caregiving could be as important as a career.
“For my generation,” she told me, “this requires unlearning old ideas. I grew up thinking my father’s work was valuable, but my mother’s wasn’t—except when she painted professionally. Many women saw my focus on care as a betrayal.”
Seeing caregiving as meaningful work challenges us to rethink the invisible labor of running a home and raising kids. Over the past few years, terms like “invisible labor,” “emotional labor,” and the “second shift” have become common. Yet many still believe that only work done outside the home deserves celebration, while tasks like organizing birthday parties, scheduling doctor visits, and buying school supplies are burdens.
But others are starting to talk differently. Yes, they want men to share more of the load—not just because it helps women advance professionally, but because caregiving is a vital part of life. The bigger goal? Redefine ambition so that men also value caregiving, leading to more equal homes and stronger advocacy for caregivers.
Eve Rodsky, author of the bestselling book *Fair Play* and a self-described “care feminist,” believes the reason men don’t contribute equally isn’t laziness. It’s haba it. It’s how they were raised. And how their fathers were raised before them.
“We’ve failed to treat the home as a serious organization that deserves respect and structure,” she said.
“When we reduce care to chores, it sounds awful. But caring for others is what gives life meaning. We need to help men see that.”
Feminism has long been focused on rising up toward money, power, independence, and breaking through glass ceilings. That’s good and necessary. After all, women make up more than half the world. Of course, we should have control over our lives, our communities, and our finances. I’m grateful for everything women have gained by going “up”—including things like access to loans and the right to vote
But climbing that male-defined ladder isn’t the only thing holding women back. Other barriers make my efforts as a mother go unnoticed, which keeps my earnings lower and my voice smaller in politics. These are invisible limits that trick women into believing the work we do inside the home doesn’t matter outside of it.
I’ve come to think of these as “glass doors.” They explain why we lack paid leave, affordable childcare, and why we don’t treat mothers as capable, valuable contributors. They also explain why the caregiving workforce—largely made up of women of color—is often underpaid and undervalued. And they explain why I struggled to see my parenting as ambitious or politically significant.
But when I claim that label, I’m saying that the inner work I do—the parenting, the nurturing, the friendships, the family messages, bringing soup to a sick neighbor, holding my child’s hand during a doctor’s visit—is not something women should do quietly while men get praised for other kinds of work. No, caregiving is one of the most essential parts of life. It’s something we should all strive to do well.