Donovan making Benne Wafers for Husk in 2014.
Lisa Donovan has been my pastry hero pretty much since I set foot in Nashville and sampled her goods while she was baking at Husk. I loved Donovan's Chocolate Church Cake so much I just had to write about her — that profile ran in the Scene not long before she left the restaurant to work on other projects, including writing. Today, her hero status skyrockets — she just dropped a bomb in the form of a powerful, heartbreaking and inspiring essay penned for Food & Wine's Communal Table series.
In the piece, Donovan shares just a fraction of the long list of assault, harassment and sexism she's faced through her years in the food industry and admits that — even though she's comforted by the fact that people are starting to take seriously all the abuse that's been ignored for years (decades, even) — she's also still discouraged. It's an honest admission that hasn't been addressed by very many women in the current sweep of #MeToo think pieces. Here's an excerpt:
As more and more sexual assault and harassment claims are broadcast, something continues to strike a deep and very unsettling chord in me. Even as someone who has been assaulted, harassed, and told to play by rules that were never right and who definitely wants to see these things continue to be brought to the brightest light so that it gets washed out of all of our ingrained acquiescence, I am somehow left feeling more desperate than ever. As I champion these women for their testimony and bravery, I am left with a totally breathless exasperation and a deep feeling of hopelessness. I am not a hopeless person. Up until yesterday, I couldn’t quite put my finger on why it never lets up, even as things seem to be unfolding in front of our very eyes, every minute of every tedious day of this exhausting year.
From there, she. goes. in. The essay is a passionate call to action. Donovan doesn't ask but rather demands that people — both men and women — own up to the roles they have played in this newly uncovered storm of horrible, damaging behavior.
Our industry is too great, full of too much goodness and, yes, beauty, to succumb to its weakest links. We are people who feed others, we give of ourselves daily, we continue conversations about the health of our planet, the health of our community and the sustainability of our foodways systems. We spend a great deal of our careers working toward making real progress and change. We are fighters, every single one of us.Chefs are not cowards. And I will not be afraid to say that this blind spot, this one spot where ego—and absolutely a lot of fear—seems to shine too brightly that some perhaps can’t see past it. And, I am not just speaking about the men who look the other way. I am talking about the women, too, who have made it comfortably easy for men like these to continue controlling the narrative, to have the power and to allow them to “let” you feel as if you have just enough of it to not rock the boat.
And though it's all tied to her own experiences in the culinary world, this anger and this advice applies to every industry — the music industry, the film industry, the 9-5 corporate world. THIS IS EVERYWHERE. And as Donovan writes: "Five women complaining are not enough. In our culture, it takes more than 20 women for a story to be heard and believed. And even then, sometimes, it is still not enough."
Read it here. Read the whole goddamn thing. Do not skip a word.
Nashville's so lucky to have you, Donovan.
