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In his opening statement at last year’s trial over hush money given to porn star Stormy Daniels, Donald Trump’s lawyer Todd Blanche sought to make his client relatable: “He’s a husband. He’s a father. And he’s a person — just like you and just like me.”
Since his re-election, President Trump has certainly continued his family man cosplay. (As one wag quipped, Trump loves families so much he’s on his third.) Last weekend, he attended the Super Bowl with his eight-year-old grandson, Theodore, prompting gush over their special bond. He has lauded his youngest child, Barron, for helping secure a second term by introducing him to the podcast bros, as if his son were a media mastermind rather than a teenager with a smartphone.
Sometimes it seems Trump’s entire presidency is one long bring-your-family-to-work day. And he’s not the only one in the administration showing off his children and grandchildren to burnish familial credentials. JD Vance brought his wife and offspring to Paris for the AI action summit, not an obvious child-friendly activity (although there was a session entitled AI and Children’s Development: a Multistakeholder Dialogue).
Not to be outdone on the paternal peacocking, Elon Musk took one of his 12 children, X (short for X Æ A-Xii), to the Oval Office. He picked his nose (the son), threw some shapes and generally acted, well, like a child. This was the ultimate power move as Musk, his son on his shoulders, faced down accusations he was executing a “hostile takeover”.
Musk’s ex, the musician Grimes, was not happy, taking to social media to say their child “should not be in public like this”. But seeing these men with their kids had public appeal. One observer identified X’s cameo as “a subtle, frequent reminder that parents of young children should not always have to choose between career ambition and being present for their kids. A society that values children is a healthy one with a bright future.” Another, praised Vance for being “incredibly relatable to Americans with families. He just got off a long flight with his kids, clearly exhausted and in pajamas.” Yes, the vice-president is just like us — and by us, I mean people who take Air Force Two.
Just imagine a female vice-president doing the same. The debates would rage about whether her mind was on the job. When Labour MP Stella Creasy brought her newborn into the House of Commons four years ago because her role didn’t allow maternity leave there was uproar. “Idiotic,” cried one columnist.
The assumption when it comes to women appearing with kids at work, Brigid Schulte, author of Over Work, says, is “often that she’s a bit of a mess, that she can’t find child care, that she’s crossing her personal and professional boundaries. It’s a double standard — entirely in keeping for the Trump clique with their masculinist worldview. They’re being ‘great dads’ — because the assumption is this is an occasional ‘nice to do’.”
For women, looking professional has historically been about keeping kids out of the picture. (The pandemic provided a brief respite for everyone when video calls were interrupted by curious toddlers and home-schooled children.) But we are now in an age of “masculine energy” as Mark Zuckerberg called it.
This means Vance and Musk are able to flaunt their parental flexibility privilege while ordering staff back to the office full-time, removing the ability for many federal agency workers to combine family and work. Of course, female leaders can be guilty of such power plays, too. One friend moaned about his female boss extending the working day: her child came into the office with the nanny but it meant he missed his own kids’ bedtime.
Seeing involved fathers could inspire others, says sociologist Allison Daminger. But there’s a distinction, she says, between “private” and “public” fatherhood. Save us from performative dadding.
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