Pigtales 04: Taking a Minute

This post is going to seem out of left field, but it’s one of those things, like plucking a mole hair, that just needs to happen. And it’s about as glamorous. Meaning, no photos of food today. No babes. Just this. Words. And I’ll keep them few.

I applaud transparency in blogging. In fact, it’s what keeps me coming back to my favorite spaces over and over again. If you’re feeling vulnerable, I want to know about it. Shit is getting heavy? Let me virtually shoulder that burden. Shedding salty tears over your fifth batch of gluten-free doorstops? I’ve been there. And I am no stranger to being real on the internet. I fully embrace the overshare, and I truly consider the self that I put forth online to be the same self you would encounter if I was standing in line behind you at Target. That girl eyeing your Cheez-Its with a look of both horror and envy? That’s me. But when it comes to topical content, I blog in a big, glossy bubble.

So today, I’m just going to take a minute to put forth some hard truths that have been pinging around in my head lately.

Truths like: The state of our nation is appalling, and I’m doing very little to change it.
Truths like: Just because I speak in hashtags and end a disproportionate number of words with z’s doesn’t mean I don’t recognize the language of hate. Or intolerance. Or even blind ignorance.
Truths like: White privilege doesn’t even begin to describe the only life I’ve ever known.

I blogged last week about vacations and celebrations while great injustices were bearing down on others with all the grace of a freight train derailed, and I did it with intention. In part, to protect you guys, my readers, who perhaps come to this space for a nosh and a laugh in the face of dark times. But for me, too. To preserve that lustrous bubble. To keep things light. And I question whether that was the right choice. I wouldn’t be writing this otherwise.

I won’t make any grand statements or gestures about what this means for the blog’s content moving forward. I realize that even politicizing, however vaguely, a post that the lot of you are expecting to be about food or motherhood will turn at least a few readers away. I hope that’s not the case, but I won’t lie and say I don’t understand. I do. And it makes me feel shitty. But it’s not For Real Shitty, of course, because — and here’s another truth: I’ve never known For Real Shitty.

I won’t end this with an action or an empowering message. To do so while sitting here, incredulously letting the days headlines wash over me in tide of secondhand oppression, would be beyond hypocritical. Even typing those words makes me flush with shame.

I will just say, if you’re here.
If you’re still reading.
Whether you relate to these sentiments or admonish me for sharing them.
I’m taking a minute. Mostly because I don’t know what else to do.

xo,
Em

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OH! before you go…

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Hoisin-Grilled Eggplant + Avocado Bánh Mì
mexican chocolate crème brûlèe (vegan)