I’ll admit it. I’m susceptible to peer pressure.
Or maybe I’m just not very resistant to trends. When Animal Crossing: New Horizons took over the pandemic years, I watched everyone design cozy islands while I remained stubbornly offline. Then came Baldur’s Gate 3 in 2023, celebrated everywhere as the rare game that resonated deeply with women players. By early 2024, Dress to Impress on Roblox had everyone showing off their fashion sense, and Infinity Nikki’s release later that year made customization feel almost like therapy.
Eventually, I caved and downloaded The Sims. I’d seen too many viral videos of absurd builds, chaotic households, and genuinely impressive tips and tricks. But as I fell into the rabbit hole learning about the modding communities, long-running in-game lore, and the countless women who’ve shaped its culture, I realized something. The Sims doesn’t just appeal to women because of its design or aesthetics. It’s because the game offers something most women rarely experience in real life: full, unfiltered agency.
At the heart of The Sims lies control over labour, domestic arrangements, and social roles. You can design a home that reflects your exact vision, or one that rejects every traditional expectation. You decide who cleans, who cooks, who earns the most, and who gets to take a day off. For many, especially those constantly navigating expectations around care and productivity, that level of autonomy can feel quietly subversive.
In The Sims, housework isn’t invisible labour. It’s measurable, even optional. Want to make your Sim a high-powered CEO who never sets foot in the kitchen? Easy. Want to reverse roles, or erase them altogether? Go for it. It’s a reimagining of daily power dynamics, where women’s labour is finally visible and is fully under their control.
Beyond chores and careers, The Sims offers a playground for identity. It’s more than dress up. You can build generational wealth, control property, explore relationships on your own terms, and watch your Sim rise from broke student to penthouse owner. It’s social mobility with no gatekeeping.
Post-COVID, escapism became less about avoidance and more about recovery. For many women who spent years juggling work, study, and care, the game provides a world where progress is guaranteed as long as time passes. There’s no systemic barrier that the in-game clock and a bit of grinding can’t overcome. No glass ceiling, no burnout, no bureaucracy.
It’s easy to overlook how rare leisure itself can be for women today. Between academic pressures, work, and constant online productivity culture, there’s little room for “doing nothing.” The Sims is leisure disguised as creativity.
Even in its silliest moments, like setting the kitchen on fire while learning to cook, it allows you to exist without pressure. To play, to experiment, to fail safely. That’s something real life doesn’t always allow.
I’m glad I finally gave The Sims a try. It started as a trend-following impulse. But it turned into something genuinely comforting. It connected me to a community of women overflowing with creativity. Builders, storytellers, and dreamers who imagine what life could look like if every choice were truly yours.
Maybe that’s the real magic of the game. It’s not about escaping reality. It’s about reclaiming it, one perfectly designed kitchenette at a time.