Melani Sanders didn’t set out to start a movement.
She didn’t have a launch plan, a marketing strategy, or even the expectation that more than a few dozen women would respond. She was sitting in her car, parked outside a grocery store, doing what she had done before—pressing record when the moment felt right.
“I’d been an influencer for about four and a half years,” Sanders told The Defender. “But on May 13, I just hit the record button and asked women if they wanted to join me in something I called the We Do Not Care Club. I realized I was at a point in my life where I just didn’t care like I used to.”
She expected maybe a few comments. A handful of women who felt seen.
Instead, millions showed up.
“I thought maybe 26… 30 women would say yes,” she said, still sounding incredulous months later. “But it was upwards of six million.”
A moment that hit a nerve
By the time Sanders made it home from the store, her phone was lighting up. The video—raw, unpolished, and unapologetically honest—was spreading faster than anything she had posted before.
“I’d had viral content before,” she said. “But there was something different about that post. I didn’t even think about it. I just posted it.”
What resonated wasn’t attitude—it was truth.
Women flooded the comments with their own declarations: not caring about perfectly cooked dinners, corporate expectations, leg hair, laundry rules, or performing emotional labor on empty. What sounded blunt on the surface was actually about survival, reprioritization, and self-preservation—especially for women navigating perimenopause and menopause.
“I’m so thankful to Melani for creating this platform for us to feel like we aren’t alone with this crazy menopause journey,” said fan Cass Joseph. “I truly resonate with so much of what she shares and love every time she spits out that highlighter top.”
Added fan Tammy Wright, “The first time I stumbled on her page, I stopped in my tracks. I felt seen! And then other women started weighing in, and I thought, I found my sisterhood. I make my family watch so they can see I’m not the only one who no longer cares.”
“It can sound harsh when you say ‘we do not care,’” Sanders explained. “But when you hear it the way I explain it, you realize—oh. I’m not the only one who feels this way.”
For Sanders, “not caring” doesn’t mean indifference. It means reassessing what actually deserves energy.
“There was a time when making dinner every night was a priority,” she said. “That’s not the priority anymore. Now I’m trying to remember my magnesium.”
From content creator to accidental founder
Sanders, a Florida-based mom of three boys, says the speed of the movement initially scared her.
“I ran,” she admitted. “Once I saw how fast it was growing, I felt like maybe the real me wasn’t going to be enough.”
She stepped back from social media for a while, hoping it would fade.
It didn’t.
Instead, women began forming their own WDNC “chapters,” posting videos, wearing the now-iconic glasses, and naming Sanders—much to her surprise—as the club’s founder.
“One day I saw a woman say she was part of a chapter,” Sanders recalled. “And I thought—oh. That makes sense. It’s not just about me anymore.”
What emerged wasn’t a brand—it was a sisterhood.
“I don’t have to be the center,” she said. “This is their club.”
Humor as healing
Sanders entered perimenopause—what she affectionately calls “Miss Peri”—after a partial hysterectomy in 2024. She struggled with insomnia, depression, body changes, and brain fog. Humor became her lifeline.
“I don’t have it in me,” she said plainly. “My body aches. I’m standing in the refrigerator trying to remember how to cook. Some days? Let’s just go to Chick-fil-A and call it a win.”
Her honesty struck a chord across generations. While many WDNC members are over 50, Sanders says that younger women also see their future—and their permission—to participate in the movement reflected in it.
That relatability has earned her a massive following, celebrity fans, and national recognition, including being named PEOPLE’s 2025 “Creator of the Year.”
But Sanders remains grounded in the same purpose she started with.
“My goal has always been to strengthen, inspire, and encourage the everyday woman. I do that visually, through real life—
Melani Sanders
not perfection.”
“My goal has always been to strengthen, inspire, and encourage the everyday woman,” she said. “I do that visually, through real life—not perfection.”
What’s next for WDNC
The movement has now expanded beyond social media. Sanders is releasing The Official We Do Not Care Club Handbook on Jan. 16, a guide she describes as part survival manual, part rallying cry for women navigating midlife. (She’ll be in Houston at Kindred Stories on Jan. 22)
She’s also partnered with Midi Health, a virtual care clinic focused on perimenopause and menopause, helping women access real medical support—something many say they’ve been denied or dismissed.
Looking ahead, Sanders dreams of taking WDNC offline.
“I want intimate retreats,” she said. “No makeup. No pressure. Just women being real. We’ll have a rage room. A writing room. A place to let it all go.”
She laughs easily—but her message is serious.
“If one of us has dry she-shed,” she joked, “then we all have dry she-shed.”
In a culture that constantly tells women to perform, please, and push through, Melani Sanders did something radical.
She stopped caring—and gave millions of women permission to do the same.
And all she did was press record.
Melani Sanders Booksigning, Wed., January 21 @ 7 PM, Kindred Stories, 3719 Navigation St, Houston, TX 77003
