The Rebellion of... Make Your Own Damn Dinner!
- Nov 27, 2025
- 5 min read
Cleaning. Meal planning. Grocery list writing. Grocery shopping. Slicing, dicing, thawing, marinating, baking, braising, and flower arranging! These are just a few of the thousands of holiday tasks that too often fall into the invisible workload - the things that seemingly get done by magick, yet are very real withdrawals from someone’s Emotional Bank Account.
Too often, that “someone” identifies as female. Maybe that someone is also called “Mom” or “Wife”. Perhaps they are a daughter, biological or by marriage, especially if you grew up in a traditionally cultural household like I did. In all cases, they are expected to put the needs of others in the family above their own, and that can happen at the expense of their physical, mental, spiritual, and financial wellbeing.
The invisible workload actually has a very visible price. This Thanksgiving, millions of women will pay that price while the rest of the family joins a Turkey Trot, watches the parade, cheers on their favorite football team, or otherwise gets to do whatever the fuck they want.
She will tell herself it’s what’s expected. If her family is happy, then she’s happy. It’s what the women before her have always done. A generational inheritance of validation via sacrifice.
However, there are some women who are disinterested in perpetuating this legacy of kitchen languishing. Here are 3 stories of women who found the rebellion of “Make your own damn dinner!”
The first is someone I grew up with. We’ll call her K. For as long as we’d been friends, her dream was to get married and have a family. She eventually found the guy she wanted to spend forever with and moved across the country to live with him.
As they settled into life together, they would frequently host game nights with his friends. You can probably guess who prepared dinner and did the clean-up for those events. Her significant other was a real piece of [REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED] but I digress. Anyway…
K got damn tired of not just doing the cooking, serving, and cleaning, but also of doing the shopping. The guests did not pitch in, either with food or expenses. So, she set out a jar during one game night and informed folks that things were changing. Whatever funds were put into the jar would be used to purchase supplies for the next game night meal, and ONLY those funds would be used. No money? No food. PERIODT.
Perhaps they didn’t think she was serious. A few dollars found their way into the jar, just enough for a pack of hot dogs. True to her word, that’s exactly what was served at the next game night - a single package of hot dogs. No buns. No toppings. No sides. No fucks given.
After the shock and sadness dissipated, folks very quickly added to that food supply jar or offered to bring a dish the next week. I can’t tell you how things continued in their relationship as we went our separate ways not too long after, but I am glad that she at least stood up for herself in this situation. Which brings us to…
Zucchini: The Vegetable That Ended a Relationship. If we’re being historically accurate, it wasn’t the zucchini itself that ended the relationship, but the buying of said vegetable.
I worked incredibly long hours while in theater and was supposed to have a day off, but ended up being called in. At this point, I’d probably worked at least 80 hours that week. I was exhausted on all levels.
My then-boyfriend and I were going to make dinner after I finished work, so we at least had a little time together before I went home. All I needed him to do was get the goddamn vegetables from the store. I had made this VERY clear.
Can you guess where this is going?
Tired, hungry, and emotionally raw from yet another toxic workday, I finally arrive at his apartment. Had he done the grocery shopping? No, he had not.
“It’s not a big deal. We’ll just go together. I thought it would be more fun that way.”
Fun for whom???
Should I have just left and gone home at that point? Yes. Was I caught in a cycle of unhealthy one-sided relationships (not just romantic) that did not consider my needs and were draining the very essence of my soul? Also yes, but I didn’t understand those concepts at this point in life. I still had a very long journey to get to where I am today.
Anyway, we headed the few blocks to the grocery store, but it was past 6pm on a Sunday and the nearest entrance was now closed, so we had to walk 2 more blocks to the complete opposite side of the building in order to get the fucking zucchini all because this lazy shit couldn’t go out by his damn self.
Was he apologetic? Did he understand why this was a withdrawal from my already overdrawn Emotional Bank Account? Did he do anything to ameliorate the situation?
No. No. No. This was not the first incident where I'd been far more parent than partner, but it would be the last. His unreliability and repeated lack of consideration were the final straws that ignited The Epic End Fight, which was a doozy thanks to his incandescent temper. sigh... I sure know how to pick ‘em.
Finally, to end this on a good note, there’s a woman I know named Susan. She is many things: a successful businesswoman, an inspirational coach, an author, loving wife, and caring mother. She is also fully over the unpaid emotional and physical labor of the invisible workload.
A few years ago, her family was getting out of hand in the Thanksgiving group chat, with everybody wanting something different. Were they doing the cooking, shopping, or prep work? No, but they had very strong opinions on what should be available for their holiday dining experience.
The complaints far exceeded the contributions and after one gripe too many, she firmly announced, “THANKSGIVING IS CANCELLED. Make your own damn turkey!” Susan then booked a last-minute solo trip to Maine, stayed at a lovely B&B, and ate the most delicious blueberry pie you can imagine. All. By. Her. Damn. Self.
Was the family on much better behaviour after her return? Yes. Were they tripping over themselves the next Thanksgiving to make sure she was supported? Perhaps not entirely, but the shift in behaviour was still significant. Last I heard, Thanksgivings and holidays in general were now running smoothly at her house.
The moral of the story is that these women were tired of being tired. They were no longer going to be treated like some damn house elf that magickally made dinner appear. They were setting boundaries and rebelling against the trope of the doting significant other who exhausts themselves to prove their value, as if partnership somehow stopped at the dinner plate. NEWSFLASH: It doesn't.
This holiday season, consider where you can also rebel against that lumpy, dry-ass, raisins-in-the-potato-salad brand of patriarchy and if you see any of that happening, call it out! Sometimes it takes a serving a shame for folks to change their behaviours, especially ones that are so deeply ingrained in society.
Do you have any "fed TF up" stories from holidays? We'd love to hear them! Now if you'll excuse me, there is a gingerbread cheesecake waiting with my name on it. Thank you for being here and I am grateful for your embrace of our rebellious ways. Happy Turkey Day!
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