Sometimes all you can do is eat cake

Sometimes all you can do is eat cake

My feelings about Tina Fey's Weekend Update #sheetcaking rant have swung wildly over the past few days. Here's the journey my mind has taken:

Watching the skit

--I like her glasses. I want her glasses.

--Okay, this is going to be a thing where they cut away from her every once in a while so she can spit out the cake.

--OMG, she's not spitting out the cake.

--Wow, she probably shouldn't have said protesters should just stay home. That is not going to go over well.

The next day

--Would she have eaten that cake on national television if she were overweight? Is eating the cake "thin woman privilege?"

--Would I have eaten the cake? Probably. I love cake.

--Man, the far left have become as humorless as the far right.

--Not that they don't have a point. I mean, if people want to protest, more power to them.

--But also maybe screaming at and drawing attention to the jackhole alt-right isn't the right play? Maybe there should be competing protests, to illustrate the sheer numbers of counter-protesters, like the Women's March the day after the inauguration. Or maybe we should do what Germany does.

--But what right do I have to even question how people protest?

--Wow, are we really fighting this hard over a five-minute skit about cake?

--So, I guess the consensus is that Tina Fey's opinions about things are automatically moot because she's a rich, white woman.

--But her opinions aren't moot to me, as a (much, much, much less) rich, white woman. I feel all the things she's saying. I feel the powerlessness about ALL OF IT--that this jackass is still in the White House, that Paul Ryan seems content not to do anything about it, that every day we're talking about nuclear war and a decimated state department and voter suppression efforts and Russia, not to mention I live in Chicago, so there are all the local issues to think about, too.

--And, yeah, I also feel like I can't speak up about how drained and hopeless I feel right now because over half of the white women who voted, voted for Trump. And I despise those, let's say, ladies for it. Honestly, I do. They are not me, and I am not them, and I resent being lumped with them.

--And then I think about, okay, yeah, but that's what our society has been doing to people of color for centuries, so maybe it wouldn't hurt me to be on the receiving end of it for a bit.

--But then, NO! I want to help, I want to be an advocate and an ally, but I also don't want to be yelled at for doing it wrong or falling short, like Fey apparently did in her rant.

--Which, maybe I'm a total chicken.

--Which, maybe I should do more.

--But how much more can I fit on my plate at the moment? I mean, personally, logistically, for me as a human being who is just trying to get through the day?

--I'm constantly worried about the state of the world, and my family's safety, and my children's future. I'm also fretting about day-to-day stuff, like school starting, and writing deadlines, and figuring out my new job, and how much time I have left with my dog, and whether my four(!) jobs will ever start making me any money, and the fact that the house is a complete mess, and I feel like I'm failing and floundering in every aspect of my life.

--But at least I've got that sweet, sweet white, female privilege to fall back on, so I'm good.

--And then I feel like an asshole because, well, I probably really do have it better than some other women. I mean, yeah, things are tough and stressful for me right now, but they could be worse.

--And then I eat the cake.

I wrote a book! It's YA novel, THE SOUND OF US. You can find the details right here! Kirkus calls it "a winning story about a teenage voice student that hits all the right notes."

I also wrote another book, Any Boy but You, (You've Got Mail in the Pokemon Go era). You can buy it here.

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