Mums on Strike: the post-work politics of reality TV

Stefan Darling

13th June 2025

I call it house work, ‘cause it’s light work, but I’ma throw shade if I don’t get paid for this house work.

Jax Jones, Mike Dunn, MNEK, ‘House Work’ (2016)

Mums on Strike


Mums on Strike is a Channel 5 reality format in which the overburdened caregivers of two households go “on strike” for a fairer distribution of chores. It’s a well-conceived 45-minute reality narrative, whose irreverent mood is captured by shambling instrumentals and sardonic quips from both contributors and the narrator. But in being ‘playful and purposeful’ according to its production team (TV Zone 2023), the show suffers from something of an ideological identity crisis. Being a slice of guilty pleasure reality with a ‘heady sense of justice’ (Watkins 2023), Mums on Strike is plagued by the risk of appearing overgeneralised or reductive. Using some of the learnings from Helen Hester and Nick Srnicek’s volume on domestic reproductive labour, After Work (2023), this blog looks at how we might apply post-work ideas to Mums on Strike’s potentially provocative progressive politics.

Wife on Strike


The renaming of the show from Wife on Strike neatly represents the discursive problems it faces. After a two-episode pilot series in 2023, Wife on Strike disappeared from My5 (the channel’s streaming platform) before returning as Mums on Strike for six new episodes in 2024. The name change might have an agential purpose, abating some of the connotations of subordination embodied in the “dutiful housewife”. However, the gendering of the striker as “mum” still clashes with the open-minded casting of the show, including same-sex couples, multigenerational families, and other non-nuclear household units. Indeed, the programme description reads, ‘How will families cope when the person doing the most leaves them to fend for themselves?’ The ill-fitting title perhaps makes sense when considering TV as a competitive cultural industry: Person Doing the Most, On Strike doesn’t have quite the same cultural cachet as the recurring character of the overburdened mother.

This gendering is also largely justifiable, according to Hester and Srnicek. In an era of neoliberal capitalism that so often demands economic participation from both adults in the nuclear family, ‘a ‘one-and-a-half earner’ model has emerged…leading to a reassertion of ‘traditional’ family imaginaries and their associated temporal inequalities’ (2023: 105). Mum is instead an ‘intrafamilial reserve army of unwaged care’ (ibid.: 110), pulled pillar-to-post between workplace and domestic commitments. As such, when she ‘withdraws her household labour’ (the surprisingly formal description of Mums on Strike S2E2), it strikes a politically agitational, and relatable, chord (Watkins 2023).

Nevertheless, the title of the show raises questions about who “mum” is. If the ‘person doing the most’ within the household is always “mum”, this simultaneously entrenches gendered expectations around women as caregivers, while challenging these essentialist perspectives. For Mums on Strike, “mum” is a work role, and as work is not a natural category (it can be adopted…or refused!) gender for these mums becomes denaturalised. Echoing the perspective of Judith Butler (1990), gender is now performative. This is how in Series 2, Episode 4, stepdad Shaun is arguably gendered “mum” by virtue of taking on the lion’s share of domestic duties. As such, he inverses cultural expectations by going on strike, leaving partner Vicky to pick up the slack – alongside her two jobs, of course.

Collective power


Screenshot from the original ITV Series ‘Mum’s on Strike’ is used under Fair Dealing.

Mums on Strike exudes visual confidence and is tightly paced. But the immediate maturity of the format is no lucky coincidence – Mums on Strike is effectively a reboot of a show from twenty years ago, Mum’s on Strike (ITV 2005-6). Giving off “not to be confused with companies of a similar name” vibes, the shows both feature mums abdicating the responsibility placed on them by their family structures, leaving the household behind. Their destination – hotels, resorts and spas – are the logical opposite of the unwaged labour factory of the home: eating at restaurants and enjoying a housekeeping service, the mums’ reproductive labour is outsourced to the market.

However, where the forerunner’s individualist title – “mum is on strike” – compartmentalises the mums’ experiences (the dads meet up at the end, but not the mums), Channel 5’s version collectivizes the experience, sending two mums to the same conference room to watch and comment upon both families’ domestic pratfalls and intransigence. Contrary to the supposed solipsistic bliss of the marketized retreat, collective action appears to be the driving force behind the successful redistribution of domestic labour. Striking is hard work, carrying its own obligations and emotional burden. The toil of watching clips in which the mums are often openly criticised – Shaun’s video message announcing his strike is met with derisive laughter – leaves them unable to shrug off the mental burden of household relations. These onerous observation duties are not only necessary for the upkeep of the factual format, but also seemingly essential to the political project of equitably redistributing necessary tasks. Representing the audience’s outside perspective, the support of the other striker is also often necessary to commit to a harsh ultimatum marking the format’s midpoint reversal.

The mums – having seen the fallout from their withdrawal of labour – send in trusted friends to demand the spouse complete an almost unachievable volume of domestic tasks to exacting standards. Itemised to-do lists on TV carry an impressive normative weight (consider shows such as Death Note and Things You Should Have Done), and so despite their initial protestation, the new sole domestic labourer eventually completes the list, recognising that doing what the striker has done for years will be explicitly interpreted as “a sign of love” (S1E1). This narrative beat marks an important step in repairing the relationship, after an often very dismissive opening interview and indignant response to the strike action by the workshy partner. The list represents a realisation that ‘housework is work’, which Hester and Srnicek (2023: 132) identify as a prerequisite to meaningful critical engagement with unwaged reproductive labour. In the words of a Channel 5 social media post (2024), ‘now that is what we call an epiphany’.

However, read as an inflexible description of the tasks necessary for domestic upkeep, these to-do lists arguably aren’t very post-work at all. A ratcheting-up of standards requires a ratcheting-up of work hours, and adherence to each list’s ornamental perfectionism – much as it teaches a lesson – can be understood as adhering to the same disciplinary work ethic constantly reproduced by capitalism. This ‘housework ethic’ reduces free time and valorises ‘conspicuous busyness’ (Hester and Srnicek 2023: 74) as a mimesis – but never valid substitute – for love. After mum teaches their family a lesson, therefore, a dispassionate, collective analysis of domestic arrangements is arguably needed to avoid a workaholic egalitarianism that simply increases stress and time pressure for all (ibid.: 107).

Recognition/Renegotiation


Stepdad Sean and strike partner Chrissy in the later Channel 5 series, used under Fair Dealing.

Hester and Srnicek point out that, for all the heady promises of automation, a ‘realm of necessity…will be present in any possible society’ (2023: 155), but that the role of post-work is to challenge and minimise this realm before work redistribution occurs (ibid.: 156). I’m reminded of the extended ‘R-Strategies’, which can be applied as much to waste reduction as to work: ‘Refuse’ comes before ‘Reduce’ comes before ‘Recycle’. This is all very commonsensical, but like all notions of “common sense”, the simplicity of the maxim belies the truth.

In Mums on Strike, the process of negotiation to return the striker home occupies the final quarter of the show. The negotiation scenes take a familiar path in most episodes, helping us to understand and problematise the effects of seeing housework as a labour of love. It is often revealed that mum’s over-dedication to domestic drudgery is not based on their own belief in domestic standards (“being away has made me think that, you know what, what I do is insane”, S2E4). In other words, the housework ethic as an escalatory ideal is not only unsustainable and unachievable, but arguably self-destructive. Therefore, in the newfound spirit of transparency fostered by the negotiation, mum often admits that their assiduousness is an attempt at self-actualisation in a household unit where their contributions are not recognised or appreciated. Work, it has been established, plays a fundamental role in personal identity construction (Frayne 2016), and despite the full-time work of many of the strikers coming in addition to the domestic labour they undertake, neither appears appreciated by the spouse. When the striker’s domestic labour is not demonstrably recognised as work, despite it obviously happening in front of the spouse, they are cruelly denied a sense of self.

However, we would do well to interrupt this line of reasoning. Followed through, it would suggest that housework justifiably actualises the domestic labourer, strengthening the assertion – endlessly convenient to capitalist value extraction – that unwaged housework is an ‘act of love’, an inherently rewarding pursuit because of its caring qualities. As such, ‘love places limits on the refusal of emotional and reproductive labour’ (Gotby 2019: 100), and ‘it is largely women who are left sleepless, harried, and starved of a life beyond the demands of caring for others’ (Hester and Srnicek 2023: 85). If we are to agree with Hester and Srnicek’s suggestion – indicative of the wider post-work project – that liberation is to be found in ‘temporal sovereignty’ (2023: 166), the Faustian arrangement of the domestic labourer selling their soul to housework in return for validation is doomed to fail. We can see this in Shaun’s lamentation that, despite trying to endear himself to his stepfamily through taking on the cooking and cleaning, “the girls don’t listen to me” (S2E4).

Part of the solution, argued both by Hester and Srnicek and the mums-on-strike, is to be found in ‘sharing necessary labour…essential if we are to ensure that all have the capacity to develop their own projects of freedom’ (2023: 167). Mums on Strike’s negotiation process, and the prior imposition of the list, suggests that necessary domestic labour can never be truly fulfilling by virtue of its heteronomy – it is only when activity is self-directed that it can be enjoyable (ibid.: 156). As such, the act of minimising housework (‘Reduce’) becomes particularly important. Hester and Srnicek indicate this possibility in their discussion of domestic standards:

As women have moved into the workplace and men in mixed-gender households have neglected to ‘pick up the slack’, it would seem that the standards for what constitutes an acceptably clean house have diminished. Many have ceased to prize the pristine and immaculate home of the 1950s ideal and have instead found themselves at home in the rather more dishevelled and lived-in domestic spaces of today. (2023: 59)

This might suggest that, with normative pressures towards a spotless home reduced, and household members operating on the premise of an equitably shared workload, a constructive attitude towards work-reduction can be taken, leading to a comfortably liveable and less onerous domestic environment for all. However, the first part of the passage also indicates where this can fall down – in Mums on Strike, the minimisation of domestic labour is predicated on recognition, represented by a promise to pick up the slack, even if it means to acceding to seemingly excessive domestic standards. Although work ought to be reduced before it is redistributed, mum (understandably) requires the other members of the household to dedicate themselves unconditionally to redistribution, before re-evaluating standards. In Series 2, Episode 3, despite mum Nicole coming home (the presumably available choice to stay in the hotel for longer has not yet been taken in the show), a feeling of ill-usage builds when the initial conversation devolves into her husband Mike churlishly criticising her use of houseproudness as an emotional crutch. The audience is left with the distinct impression that, for this family, nothing will change.

As much as we should advocate for the constructive reduction in standards to equitably increase temporal sovereignty, the warning from the Mums on Strike is that this can only be achieved through the recognition of mum’s unsung contributions. Although the valorisation of housework risks inculcating the work-centred maxim that toil and drudgery become us, it appears to be the fundamental crux of Mums on Strike’s emotional narrative. When the primary domestic labourer is “seen” by the whole household, housework no longer need be an emotional crutch. A turning point is reached, from which the realm of necessary tasks can be reduced.


Bibliography (as cited)

Stefan Darling is a doctoral research student in the Gender, Technology and Work cluster at the University of West London. With an academic background in Film and TV and interests in political economy and critical social theory, his PhD project (due early 2028) focuses on creating a framework for post-work television studies.