The Audacity of Black Women Baking

or participating in life's slow luxuries while Black

Mar 17, 2025

Hey y’all,

With Love, Meghan premiered on Netflix on March 4th, and the haters have been crying, screaming, throwing up ever since.

I don’t have a firm take on the show. I watched a few episodes and found it to be extremely lighthearted, frivolous in the best way, and ultimately, a much needed dose of “Black girl living her best rich life on premium TV” in a world that is excessively dark at the moment. I’d have it on in the background, glancing over every now and then to learn to do something whimsically random like how to salt a branzino fish or create a kombucha face mask.

I remember as a bored teenager, after coming home from basketball practice, I would flip over to the Food Network to watch what Rachael Ray and Giada De Laurentiis were cooking up. These are the original cable TV goddesses of romanticizing your life, and they made domestic duties like cooking, cleaning, and creating a beautiful home, look fun. These days, tradwives, TikTok “homemakers,” and the worship of modesty and conservative cosplay have monopolized the idea of what it means to be a soft, “at home” woman. But the modern lifestyle design gals like Ayesha Curry, Carla Hall, and now, Meghan Markle are carrying the mantle of homemaking as a form of self and community love—not something in service of submissive obedience.

Meghan said it best in the show, “We’re not in the pursuit of perfection, we’re in the pursuit of joy.” She talks about self-care and wellness in such a gentle and beautiful way, a way that encourages women to take their own self-care seriously.

What I don’t think any of us were expecting was the amount of pure hatred seething from the pores and thin-lipped mouths of primarily white TV critics. In her essay “Meghan Markle's show critics don't think Black girls can be princesses,”

Danielle Cadet

calls a spade a spade: “The truth is…we don’t want to watch Black women live a life of ease in an expensive and aesthetically pleasing home. We aren’t allowed the luxury of time. We aren’t allowed to have the time to spend making our homes beautiful; to step away from caring for our kids or hire help. God forbid we have the luxury to not need to work.” Luckily, the show has been renewed for another season, and this is just another reminder that Black women are not a monolith and the haters will forever be mad. So you might as well give them a show.

This Week’s Story

Coincidentally, in episode 7 of With Love, Meghan, Meghan is making dumplings with her friend Vicky Tsai. They want to flip the dumplings from the pan onto a heavy plate, but one of the producers says it might be too heavy. Tsai then says, “That’s okay, this is where we use our boxing muscles!” Our writer this week, Gabriella Opara, in grieving the death of one of her favorite aunts, takes up baking. But baking isn’t for the weak, and she soon realizes that another hobby, boxing, is the secret sauce to reconnecting with her inner child. Enjoy indulging in this one ❤️

How I Found My Love of Boxing Through Baking

by Gabriella Opara

I was 9-years-old when I did a full roundhouse kick for the first time. I’d finally nailed the move after six months of practicing my Taekwondo routine at home. Unfortunately, I quit Taekwondo days later after my coach insisted on moving our training away from the school grounds and over to a dingy field that I felt was unsafe. As the only girl on the team, my vote didn't count, and I couldn't care less. I left. I started swimming and participated in most track and field events—javelin throw, hurdles, running, high jump, and shot put—until I was 12.

Years went by, and I decided to leave sports alone and focus on my academics. The closest I got to sports was through moments of reminiscing when people asked if I played sports. Those comments always amazed me because I dressed nothing like what a typical sportsperson dressed like at the time, and I hardly watched any sporting events—besides the Olympics.

As I got older, I became more interested in crafts and creativity: a random video of the process of creating glass art would catch my eye or a picture of a cake that looked like a shoe. Although one thing was true: I could not bake. I’d failed Home Economics practicals several times in high school. I was uninterested in cooking and would rather have someone do it for me. But I remained fascinated with baking videos on YouTube for years, especially How To Cake It by Yolanda Gampp.

Whenever I needed a break or a feast for my eyes, I’d watch Yolanda Gampp. At some point, Instagram's algorithm intervened and stopped showing me her videos, and I became enthralled by Adenike Ponnle's cake artistry instead.

However, by 2021, I got so busy with work that I forgot about my fascination with artistic cakes! But after a close aunt’s death, a drive to reinvent myself in 2024, led me back to cakes in a completely different way.

As I grieved, I reflected deeply about how my aunt had lived her life, realizing she did so unapologetically with such enviable zest. She was expressive, loud, determined, and unbothered. It was hard to imagine she was gone, and I’d never hear her voice again. Then, I remembered how many people have said I sound exactly like her. A few had mistaken me for her when they heard my voice over the phone.

So, I decided to emulate an aspect of her life: self-care. This became my first-ever New Year's resolution. Before 2024, I was never one to set New Year's resolutions. I’d always been a goal-setter, believing resolutions were made by people with weak resolve. I didn't have the faintest idea on how to start. So, I got my big girl pants on and did what I knew how to do: brainstorm. Then, I remembered, I love those cutesy cakes I used to see on my feed from Yolanda and Adenike. I like pastries, and art makes me happy. Bingo—I was officially in my self-care era, and buying a new oven was one of my top priorities for the year.

I got the oven. I got the ingredients. I scoured YouTube for recipes. Then got down to business… until I couldn’t. Surprisingly, baking requires a lot of stamina. I quickly realized I was short of it. As someone who considered herself fit, I was shocked! Frankly, adulthood had caught up with me, and here I was, kneading dough with weak wrists, wondering where all my strength had gone.

I enjoyed baking and didn't want to stop, but I needed to get stronger. A friend suggested that going to the gym might help. But that was so unappealing. The idea of running on a treadmill or lifting weights didn’t move me. Then, my friend sent me pictures of boxing gloves, and it was a light bulb moment. I love full-body movement. I remembered how much I loved taekwondo practices when I was younger. I felt a thrill go through me and realized that my love for martial arts had been reawakened.

Once again, a new interest had me scouring YouTube for tips and tricks. Apparently, skipping is the entry level to boxing. A good boxer is a good skipper. A quick foot is a fast fist.

I got down to business, and a week later, I was doing pushups, pullups, jumping jacks, and burpees. I watched calisthenics and pilates videos, and created a unique workout routine that I know by heart now. I told my friend about my progress, and she went into in a flurry of worry, “Why would you choose boxing? Won't you get hurt? Wouldn't you break your wrists? How does baking lead to boxing?”

“Well,” I said, “this is the most fun I’ve felt in years. I look forward to waking up every day just to train my body to box. I’m strengthening my wrists. And I’ve never felt lighter. I can stand in the kitchen for hours and knead a big batch of dough without getting tired.”

Indeed, it took about five weeks of a consistent five-day workout routine to build my stamina again and get fit enough for shadow boxing. It took a few more weeks to get used to the footwork.

But by June, I was boxing for the first time and baking more batches of cakes, cookies, and bread. Five days a week, I was improving my boxing techniques via Sylvia Nasser and Precision Striking, and on the weekend, I was baking alongside Remi Idowu and Preppy Kitchen.

I laughed easily, my brainstorming sessions became quicker, my ideas got better, I looked forward to every day, and every new pain in my joints felt rewarding. Eventually, I stopped feeling so much pain after my exercises—I decided it was time for me to up the ante.

I got a punching bag, boxing gloves, and a new jump rope. The day they got delivered, I felt like a little kid unwrapping presents on Boxing Day. Christmas came early for me last year.

The first time I hit the punching bag after setting it up in my home, I felt a sense of achievement. The eight-year-old me that beamed at correctly executing a roundhouse kick was proud of me for not forgetting myself. That little girl was smiling up at me, happy that I’d not let adulthood color my life with worries. She was glad that I didn’t let gender bias stop me from doing what I love.

And if I were to have tea with my younger self, she'd come rushing into the café, telling me about how she discovered she is ambidextrous at guitar practice. She'd look at me wide-eyed and ask me how I've been. And I'd tell her I’ve rediscovered myself. I’m carefree.

The Audacity of Black Women Baking

or participating in life's slow luxuries while Black

This Week’s Story

How I Found My Love of Boxing Through Baking

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