When Heartbreak Pays the Rent
Gabrielle Stone never imagined she would get divorced, let alone broadcast it to the world. Following the double blow of her marriage ending and her first post-divorce heartbreak in 2017, her initial instinct was to log off. She planned a monthlong solo trip to Europe, channeling Elizabeth Gilbert’s *Eat, Pray, Love*, and intended to take a social media hiatus.
"I'll see you on the other side," she captioned her farewell Instagram post, featuring a photo of herself at the airport with a backpack and passport.
But the internet had other plans.
Stone’s emotional post, which traced her journey from heartache and betrayal to self-love, resonated far beyond her modest following. She received hundreds of comments and direct messages from people who called her an inspiration and urged her to keep sharing. So, she did.
Nine years later, Stone has carved out a highly lucrative niche: the divorce influencer. Her Instagram following has surged from 10,000 to over 112,000, and she boasts 1.3 million TikTok followers. She self-published a viral memoir, *Eat, Pray, #FML*, in 2019; hosts the podcast *FML Talk*; and organizes global meet-and-greet trips for her fans, whom she calls "FMLers." What began as a personal coping mechanism has blossomed into a mini media empire.
"I've never regretted my divorce," said Stone, who is now remarried.
While Stone may not have set out to become a divorce influencer, she recognized her audience's appetite for her story and pushed through self-doubt to deliver. She also recognized the financial upside. "For anybody to say, 'I don't need to support myself and make money,' they're just lying," Stone told *Business Insider*. Seeing a viral post translate into a real-time spike in book sales on Amazon's self-publishing platform is, she admits, part of the fun. "You can't pay for marketing like this."
When 'Conscious Uncoupling' Becomes 'Celebratory Uncoupling'
Stone was an early adopter of the earning potential in breaking up. Since then, divorce has undergone a rewarding rebrand in popular culture, emphasizing autonomy and freedom, particularly for women.
In certain corners of the internet, the traditional connotations of divorce—tragedy or failure—have been replaced with an air of liberation. This shift is epitomized by the famous paparazzi photos of Nicole Kidman joyously basking in the sunshine. (Meme lore claims the photos were taken after she filed for divorce from Tom Cruise, though Kidman has denied this; the band Haim even recreated the pose for the cover of their 2025 single, "Relationships.")
Trending TikTok phrases like "the divorce effect" and "the divorce glow-up" showcase before-and-after transformations of singles who claim to be happier, hotter, and more fulfilled after leaving their spouses. Earlier this year, the fashion brand Reformation launched a "Divorce Collection" campaign starring celebrity divorce attorney Laura Wasser. High-profile women like Emily Ratajkowski and Rachel Zoe are proudly repurposing their diamonds into "divorce rings"—or, as some call them, "F-you rings." Meanwhile, Belle Burden's divorce memoir, *Strangers*, has sold over 220,000 copies in the US, remaining on *The New York Times* bestseller list for over six months. It has never been more chic—or more lucrative—to flaunt your divorcée credentials.
And it is largely women doing the flaunting. A Stanford University study found that women initiate about 70% of divorces among heterosexual couples in the US. New York City divorce attorney James Sexton attributes this gender imbalance to women often having to seize the bureaucratic reins as a marriage falls apart.
"I couldn't count on all my fingers and toes how many times I've had a case where the guy went out for milk and never came back, or came home and said, 'I'm in love with another woman, and I'm moving out,'" Sexton said. "Then the wife comes to me and says, 'He stopped paying the mortgage. What do I do?' And I say, 'We have to file for divorce.'"
Over her 30-year career, Wasser has witnessed clients transition from discussing divorce in hushed, conspiratorial tones to proudly introducing her in public. "When I first started practicing, divorce was kind of taboo," said Wasser, who is herself divorced. A decade ago, she struggled to promote her 2013 book because morning shows rejected divorce as "too negative." Now, people throw "divorce parties" and document them for millions of likes. Labor and delivery nurse Jen Hamilton recently threw a "Jendependence" party to commemorate her divorce, complete with burning her bedsheets. Beauty influencer Mikayla Nogueira shared two "get ready with me" videos before attending divorce court, both of which went viral.
If "conscious uncoupling" was the defining divorce catchphrase of the 2010s, this decade is taking the concept to its aesthetic extreme. Call it "celebratory uncoupling"—a public renunciation of shame and a declaration of empowerment, wrapped in brand-friendly packaging.
Posting Through It Is Paying Off
When Orange County lifestyle influencer Cora Lakey tearfully announced her divorce on TikTok last January, the video amassed over 1.3 million views—far exceeding her average for her "micro following" of 134,000.
Lakey, 32, didn't intend to go viral; she shared the news as a courtesy to loyal viewers who would notice her ex-husband's absence. "But it definitely signaled to me that, wow, there's a lot of relatability here," she said.
Since then, Lakey has broadcast details about her post-divorce dating life, solo apartment hunts, and moments of profound loneliness. Her candor has secured paid partnerships with dating apps, moving companies, and beauty brands. In one ad for the wellness brand Rael, she appears with smeared mascara, telling the camera, "Your personal life might be a mess, but your cleansing balm doesn't have to be."
Though the ad was tongue-in-cheek, leaning into brand deals became a crucial financial lifeline. "I had quit my job six weeks before my divorce, and then my marriage suddenly ended. I was like, what am I going to do? I have no money," she said. While her contracts prevent her from sharing exact figures, she noted that without social media income, her situation would have been "pretty bleak."
"I was making minimum wage at an entry-level sales job trying to get back on my feet. The additional income from social media quite literally made the difference between seeking government-funded resources and being able to pay my rent and keep my dogs."
Detroit-based content creator Scarlett Longstreet, 38, had a similar revelation. After nine years as a stay-at-home mom and "mommy blogger," pivoting to life-after-divorce content helped her break free from relying on her ex-husband's income. In her second year as a full-time creator, she made six figures through brand deals and her Substack.
"I'm able to cobble together an income that I wouldn't be able to achieve by working in my field of study," said Longstreet, who holds a master's degree in educational psychology. "My exodus wasn't possible without this industry."
The Business of Self-Care
With nearly 80,000 followers across Instagram and TikTok, 41-year-old Australian Meghan McTavish has proudly embraced the "divorce influencer" title. She shares posts with captions like, "when I reverse uno'd my divorce into the best rebirth and glow up period of my life," and recently launched a series taking herself on solo trips and romantic solo dinners.
Because she is based in Australia, McTavish is ineligible for TikTok's view-based payouts, so she leverages her platform to sell *The Plotline*, a narrative therapy-based journal, and to secure beauty brand deals. "I always tell women, 'You deserve to get whatever makes you feel good,' and so brands come to me with shampoos, makeup, stuff like that," she said.
A core pillar of McTavish's brand is self-care, which she notes is often deprioritized by her married friends. "I have friends who are married who won't get their teeth whitened because they don't feel they deserve it," she said. "The point is more than just a man. The point is feeling nice and feeling good."
While conflating divorce with hotness and self-care with beauty products is a convenient angle for influencers, McTavish views her overarching narrative as a net positive. "Like anything on the internet, you have to give people what they want," she said. "I'm lucky in that what I think I'm giving people is something positive, and not hateful."
Divorce Is Common. Maybe Talking About It Should Be, Too.
Giving people what they want has its drawbacks. McTavish has been accused of flippantly promoting divorce or encouraging women to leave their husbands at any cost. In comment sections, "divorce-influencing" is often decried as anti-marriage, and high-profile influencers like Nogueira have been criticized for selling divorce as a "fantasy."
McTavish argues these are misconceptions. "I don't want everyone to leave their partners," she said. "I just don't want anyone to be afraid to leave because they're afraid to be alone."
Lakey agrees, hoping her transparency encourages other women to take control of their finances so they don't feel trapped. "We live in a two-income world. That was something that held me back from leaving a lot sooner," she said.
Data supports Lakey's concerns: a 2023 study found that women are substantially more likely than men to live in poverty following a divorce. Yet, divorce itself is not rare. In 2023, over 1.8 million Americans divorced, and about a third of ever-married Americans report their first marriage ended in divorce.
Sexton believes an experience shared by so many deserves to be discussed freely and without shame. "We all suck at love. It's something we all have in common," he said. "I represent billionaires and CEOs and actors and athletes. I used to represent cops, teachers, and union steelworkers. We all suck at this. We all have a hard time with it."
"Should you dispose of a marriage willy-nilly? No, of course not," he added. "But as a divorce lawyer and as a human being, I think we're better off destigmatizing divorce."
When I pointed out that, as a divorce lawyer, he might have a bias—that it would be good for business if more people believed divorce wasn't shameful—Sexton laughed.
"Our business?" he replied. "We don't need any help."