I, like probably millions of other women, spent some time this weekend furiously baking, as it somehow felt like the only response to being made to feel like we don’t Matter. We bake to relieve stress and sift our feelings out and be the nice ladies our mothers raised us to be. But as I carefully folded in the walnuts, making sure they were properly, evenly spread, as I was raised to do, I thought — what if we stopped? No, really. What if we just didn’t provide the comfort and balance and warmth and pie that we were raised to provide, that it gives us genuine JOY to provide? What if it no longer gave us joy and so we stopped? WHAT THEN?