If you're a certain age woman with a phone, you've probably seen one of Melanie Sanders' We Do Not Care Club posts. In a flannel robe, glasses perched atop her head like Christmas ornaments, a sleeping mask askew on her forehead, Sanders stared blankly at the camera. "We're warning the world that we just don't care too much," she said. She opened a highlighter with her teeth, not a flicker of a smile, then flatly listed the things the We Do Not Care Club, her virtual community of menopausal women, don't care about. "We don't care if we have to go to therapy weekly; you're probably the reason." "We don't care if I've asked you 13 times. We don't remember the answer; say it again." "We don't care if you notice I'm not wearing a bra; that, my friend, is freedom."

Sanders laughs as I show her on Zoom (she's in West Palm Beach, Florida) a highlighter tucked into the strap of my bra in her honor. Since she first suggested starting the "We Do Not Care Club" on May 13, 2025, it's become more than brilliantly funny videos about how the hormonal rollercoaster of middle age leaves women with FUCKS GIVEN. It's a worldwide maternal connection on Instagram with 2.2 million followers and 1.5 million on TikTok. But as Sanders, 45, sat in her car, jittery and sleepless, taking supplements to keep her (slightly) sane since her surgically induced premenopause, she was alone. Before her pre-hysterectomy, she was a perfectionist running her home, family, and life with military precision; no more. Her sports bra was askew; her hair was a mess. "I said, "Melanie, you really don't care... is it just me? I just recorded."

Twenty minutes after her "hot mess moment," she had an answer: it wasn't just her. Sanders was an experienced content creator, "I've had viral content; I know what that looks like," but this was different: her post was everywhere, simultaneously. "I was honestly scared," she says. "I actually turned my phone off for a bit." She turned it back on the next day - already in her signature list format ("We don't care about being on time - kid be happy I showed up because I don't even want to be here," was a very relatable item). Since then, as she looked at her phone, hundreds of thousands of women who found her funny but also finally saw and understood her joined the club. It was overwhelming, she says. "I cried a lot during that time - imposter syndrome. I didn't think I was enough. I felt like everyone was watching me to keep going, but I'm premenopausal, I don't know what I'm doing every day. I don't even know who I am every day!"

According to Sanders, what changed was watching other women say they were starting their own "heads" in the WDNC, taking on the carefree mantle in their own fields or communities. "I said thank you, Jesus - it's that maternal connection." Still, Sanders remains the heartbeat of the WDNC, and it's been an intense ride for a woman dealing with a bag of premenopausal symptoms and a full life with her husband and three sons. There was an appearance on The Drew Barrymore Show with Halle Berry; Ashley Judd reposted her; Sanders regularly gets deeply heartfelt messages from women going through the throes of menopause. She even wrote a book, The Inevitable (and extremely funny) The Official We Do Not Care Club Handbook. "What allows me to just be is hearing women say, "I see now. You're saying what we want to say." That's what empowers me." Premenopause, Sanders says, "can be extremely isolating." Women's symptoms are minimized; misinformation - and medical apathy - are rampant. Being part of a community, sharing frustrations and symptoms ("I have something to say if our sister coochie is dry, then we all have dry coochies," Sanders says charmingly) and, most importantly, laughing, is precious. Her pinch-me moment, Sanders says, wasn't about being famous but when a woman saw her shopping for groceries: "She started crying and said she follows your videos - she's going through a divorce, she's premenopausal, and watching your videos has given me the strength to keep going." Because she cares, very much, not about laundry or chin hair, but about what really matters.

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