about Cake & Liberty
I’m just a human who has decided to do something.
I live in Scotland, I’m a middle-aged mum and small-business owner, and I can no longer stand by and do nothing as we approach the anniversary – A YEAR – of our enforced isolation and lockdown.
We are drowning in loneliness and fear, and we have forgotten the warmth of real human connection, as we leap out of each other’s paths and turn our masked faces away from friends lest we breath the same air, even for a moment. We have been deprived of hugs and fun and laughter for so long that we have forgotten they are natural to us, and fundamental for our well-being. We have been deliberately scared, blinded with terrifying statistics and subject to such fear-mongering for a full year, it is no surprise we have lost our ability to sensibly assess risk.
And all the while, unseen unless it’s happening to you, people have lost their jobs, viable businesses have folded, children’s schooling has been a sick joke, students isolated and online, futures and opportunities squandered, illnesses untreated, depression soaring, addiction rising, abuse and neglect and misery taking a monstrous toll. We will be dealing with the fallout for decades, for generations. The measures used to battle Covid are vastly more damaging than the virus itself.
Cake and Liberty is about remembering what it is to be human.
Yes, it might turn out to be a damp squib. Maybe what will happen is I’ll force myself to my town centre at 11am on Saturday 20th March, dressed in bright colours carrying my home-sewn protest banner and a basket of my own (really amateur) baking, and no one will show up.
Maybe it’ll pour with rain, maybe I’ll eke out the hour walking around the square in agonised embarrassment, facing public apathy or hostility, and limp back home with my tail between my legs. Maybe the same thing will happen Saturday after Saturday, and I’ll give up. Maybe.
What if someone does smile back and take a cake? What if someone is wearing a bright scarf in support – or has dressed up in bright colours, too? What if someone who is lonely leaves their house to come and have a chat? What if there are children wearing fancy dress costumes and chasing each other around the square? What if someone else has brought cakes too? What if there are more of us who care about the rights that have been taken from us, and the harm that’s being done to us by these harsh, unjustifiable restrictions? What if, as the weeks pass, there is more and more colour in the square and more and more smiles, as we humans remember that we are not the disease vectors we have been painted this past year?
What if this kind and human protest springs up in towns and villages all over Scotland and beyond? What if it becomes impossible for the powers that be not to at least register the scale of opposition to the draconian measures they are inflicting on us?
Maybe it will take off, or maybe it will fizzle out. Even if we do nothing I daresay most of the current restrictions will probably be lifted, eventually. All I know is that when the next time comes – and there will be a next time – we must NEVER accept these restrictions again.
Whatever happens, I want to know I did not stay silent and I did what I could.