Are Nepo Babies Real Founders?
Can You Be a Self‑Made Founder When You Start Three Floors Up?
The phrase “nepo baby” exploded into mainstream discussion as a shorthand for children of the famous or wealthy who benefit from parental influence and cultural capital. But as celebrity offspring increasingly launch brands, media ventures, and startups, a big cultural question has emerged: Are nepo babies real founders? This is not a takedown. It’s a nuanced probe into how we define creating something of your own in an age where influence and access are often more powerful than raw grit.
Defining the Term and Why It Matters
A “nepo baby” refers to someone who benefits from nepotism, gaining career opportunities, visibility, or industry access because of a parent’s status, wealth, or connections. Some people wear the label as a badge of dishonesty, while others argue it’s just a descriptive term. But the broader cultural pushback isn’t about mockery; it’s about clarity, about understanding how access shapes career outcomes and whether privilege blurs the lines between founder and inheritor.
Privilege and Pressure: The Case of Phoebe Gates
Perhaps the most public recent example is Phoebe Gates, daughter of Bill and Melinda Gates. She has openly acknowledged the complicated impact her upbringing has had on her sense of identity and purpose, even while launching her own ventures.
Phoebe co‑founded Phia, a digital fashion startup focused on sustainable shopping, and also hosts a podcast called The Burnouts, where she talks openly about her insecurities surrounding her image as a “nepo baby.” In an interview, she admitted “I had so much privilege. I’m a nepo baby. … I had such insecurity around that.”
The candidness matters: it challenges the myth that privilege always translates to confidence. Growing up with extraordinary advantage carries its own set of expectations, assumptions, and internal pressure to prove yourself. But it also undeniably provides a runway many founders without fame will never have, like alumni networks, built‑in visibility, and access to capital or mentors.
Tech Heiresses and the It‑Girl Label
The conversation has also widened beyond fashion into tech and cultural influence. An L’Officiel piece explores whether the children of tech royalty, names like Eve Jobs (daughter of Steve Jobs) and others, represent a new class of public‑facing founders, poised at the intersection of old wealth and cultural influence.
For example, Eve Jobs has carved out her own space in fashion and modeling, gracing magazine covers and campaigns. While she’s not running Apple, Jobs represents a generation of privileged youth whose careers are shaped as much by inheritance as by personal talent and ambition. These figures blur the boundaries: they’re heirs, but they’re also active participants in cultural industries.
Platform vs. Origin Story
Part of the “are they real founders?” debate hinges on origin story. Traditional entrepreneurial lore celebrates people who start with nothing, take risks without a safety net, and build something new from scratch. Many nepo founders don’t fit this mold, but that doesn’t automatically render their work illegitimate.
Privilege doesn’t automatically equal incompetence or lack of talent, and ignoring that nuance does a disservice to the conversation. Instead of dismissing nepo founders outright, we can ask: Are they leveraging privilege responsibly? Are they creating value beyond their name?
Phoebe Gates’s emphasis on women’s health, sustainability, and community conversations, even if fueled by capital and access, suggests that impact purpose can coexist with inherited advantage.
Privilege Isn’t the Only Story
It’s also important to recognize that privilege and criteria for success vary widely. Not all founders with access become successful; not all self‑made founders lack networks of some form. Privilege may open doors, but hard work, strategic insight, and resilience determine whether someone stays in the room.
Anecdotally, many nepo founders face skepticism online or feel pigeonholed by their inheritance, something Phoebe has discussed publicly. The presence of expectation and scrutiny complicates the narrative: privilege is real, but the psychological burden of public comparison is also real.
Reframing the Narrative Around Influence and Impact
The solution isn’t to erase nepo founders from the cultural conversation, nor is it to equate access with failure. Instead, we need a more precise vocabulary around success and creation. Labels like “privileged founder” or “legacy founder” might help distinguish who had a head start and what they’ve actually built.
We also must acknowledge that how someone begins is a different question from what they do with their platform. If nepo founders use their influence to champion sustainability, reform, or social value, those are contributions worth evaluating on their own merits, not simply dismissing because of their last name.
Where the Conversation Goes Next
This dialogue isn’t about shaming anyone, it’s about awareness. By unpacking the dynamics between privilege, platform, and entrepreneurship, we can have a richer conversation about what it really means to build something that matters. Maybe the term “founder” needs expansion rather than contraction, to include a broader spectrum of origin stories without erasing the structural differences between them.
Privilege shouldn’t be minimized, but it also shouldn’t erase the possibility that someone can use it meaningfully. In the end, real impact doesn’t come from a last name. It comes from work that resonates beyond the bubble and contributes something valuable to the world.