Soft Mom Era? Over. Welcome To The Sarah Connor Generation Of Moms.

I was but a literal baby when The Terminator first hit theaters back in 1984, but it proved to be one of those movies that ‘90s kids watched probably far too soon (and too often) in our formative years. Back then, I remember thinking that Sarah Connor was… scary, honestly. As someone raised by a soft mother — a mother whose version of cursing is “hells bells,” who made me special Snickers cakes every year for my birthday — this version of motherhood felt entirely alien to me. Even a year ago, if you’d told me I’d one day relate to John Connor’s tanktop-wearing, weapon-wielding, apocalypse-prepping mom, I probably would have laughed. But here we are, in 2025, and Sarah Connor feels like the patron saint of fiercely protective, fed-up moms everywhere.

Sadly, the dystopian possibility of our world becoming one like the future that Sarah feared seems to inch closer every day. Political chaos, climate anxiety, rising extremism, school shootings, dangerous misinformation, and harmful rhetoric: It’s impossible not to live in a heightened state of stress and fear. Going anywhere means instinctively eyeing the exits to plan your escape route.

As moms in 2025, we’re a lot like Sarah in the sense that we, too, are constantly fighting for our kids’ futures. Modern motherhood feels less like a nurturing journey and more like a battle strategy. So, really, what better way to process our collective anxiety than through the lens of a badass ‘80s movie mom who saw the end coming and tried to prepare her kid for it?

Sarah wasn’t always the cynical, ripped warrior she became known for being. When we first met her, she was a college student and waitress just trying to live a semi-normal life. In a string of very extraordinary circumstances, she meets a time-traveling soldier who informs her that an army of highly advanced robots will try to destroy humans in the future — and John, the son Sarah hasn’t had yet, will be humanity’s savior.

She must raise him, she’s told, to be ready for what’s to come. She must raise him to fight against oppressive forces and look out for the people around him. Subsequently, Sarah was branded as hardened and hysterical.

And sure, hers is a pretty hyperbolic scenario. Still, more than ever, mothers’ concerns and fears are being minimized. There’s also a parallel to be drawn between the way Sarah felt thrust into this complicated new reality and how moms today went from laidback pre-pandemic parenting to our current doomsday sh*t show.

I mean, I’m not stockpiling weapons or anything… but I did put together bug-out bags and map the quickest routes out of the city.

Sarah tried to warn people about the dangers headed straight for them, but she was ultimately institutionalized and ostracized for it. Granted, she was trying to convince people that a homicidal race of cyborgs was coming to take over the planet. In today’s world, women get labeled hysterical or paranoid for much less: speaking out about school safety, asking for accommodations for their kids, fighting for reproductive rights… the list goes on.

Certain parts of society will do their best to make you feel crazy for caring so much. Sarah Connor would understand how disheartening it can be to push back against a system actively gaslighting you.

Meanwhile, you’re awake at 2 a.m., researching legislation, checking your kid’s browser history, and wondering if you should be teaching them to code or to farm.

Throughout history, mothers have been expected to endure hardship, trauma, and tragedy while still holding their families together and shaping future generations. Sarah Connor’s story is a cinematic example of that resilience. But her story also highlights a very real thing moms face today: what it costs to live in a constant state of vigilance.

The anxiety. The fierce protectiveness. The guilt. The rage. The desperation. The exhaustion.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it 1,000 times more: Motherhood is not for the faint of heart. Sarah Connor was never meant to be perfect — she was angry, messy, misunderstood — but she was relentless in her mothering, in her singular devotion to fight for her child’s future and, really, the future of all children.

Despite the extreme circumstances of the Terminator universe, Sarah seems more relatable than ever. We may not be in a literal war with robots (yet), but we are navigating strange and scary times… and just trying to raise good humans in the middle of it. Like Sarah, we’re trying to prepare our kids to survive the future we see coming.

She’s haunted mostly by the fear of failing her kid, and yeah, I feel that. As much as I want to give my children the kind of soft and beautiful life my mom tried to give me, I also can’t ignore the radically different truths of the world my kids are inheriting versus the one I grew up in. I want them to romanticize their life, but they also need to know where to hide in a lockdown. I want to teach my kids kindness and empathy, but also that those are values many people do not possess.

The cognitive dissonance is real — and tiring.

So, I get Sarah Connor now. I don’t want to be her (although I wouldn’t mind my arms looking like hers do in a tank top). But if I have to be, at least I’m not alone. Whatever the future brings, I know I’ll be able to look around me and recognize the power of other mothers who will do whatever it takes to protect their families in a world that all too often feels beyond control.