Have you ever felt utterly alone, even when surrounded by people who are supposed to be your support system? That's exactly what happened to actress, producer, and entrepreneur Ashley French when her 'dream' mom group turned into a painful reminder of high school insecurities. She thought she'd found her village, a sanctuary of shared experiences and mutual support, but instead, she found herself navigating a minefield of exclusion and unspoken hierarchies. It's a story many women are privately experiencing, and it's time to talk about it.
Since stepping into the public eye as a teenager, Ashley French has noticed a peculiar trend: the things she least expects often become the biggest talking points. A casual comment can explode into a viral headline or spark a massive TikTok debate. But recently, one particular topic has caused her phone to erupt like never before: mom-group drama. After first writing about her experiences with a toxic mom group a few weeks ago, Ashley has been inundated with messages from women saying "I feel seen" and sharing their own emotional stories. But here's where it gets controversial... the topic has also attracted online sleuths attempting to uncover details as if they're on a CSI episode. (Spoiler alert: Their guesses are usually way off!) The core of the issue? The hidden toxicity that can fester within seemingly supportive mom groups.
When Ashley's first daughter was born, she desperately craved connection with other mothers. She needed someone to discuss the essential details: the best diaper bag, whether a Snoo is truly worth the investment, and the near-impossible task of "sleeping when the baby sleeps." But her needs quickly evolved beyond logistical concerns. She yearned for someone who understood the emotional rollercoaster of new motherhood: the mood swings, the sleepless nights, the bittersweet process of saying goodbye to her former self and embracing her new identity alongside her daughter.
So, she felt incredibly fortunate when a friend organized a gathering of new moms. These women were in the same boat, many having navigated pregnancy during the isolating early months of the pandemic. They'd missed out on traditional avenues for meeting other expectant mothers, like baby showers and prenatal yoga. Few had even held their newborns. Finally, they could come together, allowing their children to socialize and creating a sense of normalcy.
Ashley remembers being profoundly impressed by these women. They were building brands, leading companies, and launching creative projects, all while juggling the demands of motherhood. As a business owner herself, she felt energized by being surrounded by women who understood the unique challenge of balancing a baby and a Zoom call. She felt a genuine sense of belonging, a feeling that she had finally found her tribe. She hoped they would share their secrets to success. As playdates became regular occurrences and the group chat buzzed with activity, Ashley was convinced she'd found her village.
But over time, doubts began to creep in. She started noticing that she was being excluded from group outings, often discovering them through the curated lens of Instagram. She remembers one particular dinner party where she felt relegated to the end of the table, physically and emotionally distanced from the other women. She began to feel frozen out, hyper-aware of subtle cues of exclusion. Initially, she tried to dismiss her feelings, reminding herself that everyone is entitled to socialize without her and that scheduling conflicts were inevitable. She told herself it was all in her head and not a big deal.
And this is the part most people miss... it's the insidious nature of subtle exclusion. It's not always overt bullying; it's the quiet sense of not belonging, the feeling of being on the periphery. A growing distance developed between Ashley and the other members of the group, who seemed indifferent to her absence. When everyone else attended a birthday dinner, she received flimsy excuses for why she hadn't been invited. She still doesn’t understand why she was excluded from a “girls hang” planned during her own daughter's birthday party. Feeling increasingly isolated, Ashley recalled a similar dynamic from the group's early days, when another mom was frequently left out. At the time, she'd dismissed it, too happy to have found these "incredible, smart, funny women.” Now, she realized this group had a pattern: someone was always on the outside. And that someone had become her.
Why her? The truth is, she doesn't know and probably never will. But the experience transported her back to a familiar, painful feeling she thought she'd outgrown. One night, after putting her daughter to bed, she found herself wondering, "Maybe I'm not cool enough?" Suddenly, she was back in high school, grappling with the same insecurities and anxieties.
People often assume that child actors have a leg up in the education department. But Ashley went to a regular high school and had the typical teenage experience of navigating identity and belonging. She's recently realized that new motherhood shares striking similarities with high school. Both are periods of intense growth and discovery, but also of vulnerability and uncertainty. You're thrust into new social situations, unsure of who to trust and who will become a true friend. And in both cases, your hormones are raging!
Even after decades, the sting of being excluded felt eerily familiar. In high school, she would have retreated quietly, avoiding confrontation and hoping for an invitation back, ready to pretend nothing had happened. But she's not in high school anymore. She's a mom. And it's precisely because she's a mom that she couldn't stay silent. She kept thinking, "Aren't we supposed to be teaching our kids to stand up for themselves when their feelings are hurt? When they're left out on the playground, aren't we supposed to teach kids to include each other?" She knew she had to model the behavior she wanted her daughters to emulate.
So, after being excluded from yet another group hang, she sent a text to the group: "This is too high school for me and I don't want to take part in it anymore." Unsurprisingly, it wasn't well-received. Some tried to smooth things over. One sent flowers, then ignored her when she expressed her gratitude. Another tried to convince her that everyone assumed she'd been invited to gatherings but simply hadn't attended. The problem with that logic? No one ever bothered to ask where she was. To be clear, Ashley doesn't believe the moms are inherently bad people (well, maybe one…). But she does believe the group dynamic had become unhealthy and detrimental to her well-being.
It would have been easier to fade away quietly, allowing everyone to convince themselves they'd simply "drifted apart.” But the overwhelming response to her story has revealed that she's far from alone. Many mothers have been brought to tears by members of groups that are supposed to be supportive. Several friends even reached out, calling her "brave." Why, she wondered, is it so scary to talk about this? Motherhood is challenging enough without questioning the loyalty of those around you. You deserve to navigate motherhood with people who genuinely care about you. And if you're questioning their sincerity, here's the hard-earned lesson Ashley hopes you'll embrace: it's not the right group for you, no matter how picture-perfect it appears on Instagram.
Have you experienced similar dynamics in your own mom groups or social circles? Do you think it's possible to truly "break up" with a toxic group, or is a slow fade the only option? Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below!
