Billionaires, Beans, and the Battle for Basic Dignity
Finding Calm When the Doughboy Knocks
When the Dough Boy Knocks: Choosing Calm in a System Designed for Chaos
Tonight, I saw a TV ad that made me pause.
An elderly white couple stood in their kitchen, debating what to have for dinner. Suddenly, the Pillsbury Doughboy rang their doorbell—balancing on a tube of crescent rolls stacked on a can of refried beans. What followed was a makeshift enchilada recipe with crescent dough, canned beans, and chopped jalapeños.
It was cute. Quirky. Harmless on the surface.
But as I watched, I felt a tightness in my chest.
Because beneath the charm was a quiet truth: this is what survival looks like now.
A growing number of elderly Americans are getting by with canned beans and dollar-store staples, while their Social Security—the money they paid into for decades—is at risk of vanishing.
And then I saw something else:
A video shared by Senator Cory Booker.
In it, Trump stands in the Oval Office with two billionaires—one of them Charles Schwab, not the company, but the man himself. The other remains unnamed in the clip, but what they have in common is chilling: they each profited enormously from a single day of market chaos.
Schwab made $2.5 billion, and the other man made $900 million—nearly $3.4 billion total in one day, all while everyday Americans watched their 401Ks bleed out. Trump had manipulated the stock market by crashing it with tariffs, only to lift them later—using his chaos as leverage to hand these men the keys to an obscene payday.
All this took place in the seat of American power.
And the combined money they made that day? Enough to feed 2 million children for a year.
And I felt that surge of anger again—the deep, bone-weary, helpless kind. The kind that whispers: This isn’t fair. This isn’t humane. This is theft disguised as leadership.
But lately, I’ve been trying not to let that anger take me over.
Earlier tonight, I told my mom, “I don’t want Trump to make me mad.”
Because I know how easy it is to hold onto hate—like drinking poison and expecting it to hurt him. But it only eats away at me.
She looked at me gently and said,
“Well, what about when we all pray for the Pope, or someone we love, and they get better? We send love—and it works. Maybe the hate we feel for Trump could do the opposite…”
I paused. I appreciated her hope. The way she still believes in the physics of love.
But I told her what I truly felt:
“For some reason, I don’t think it works that way. Or if it did—he’d already be irrelevant.”
Trump doesn’t seem weakened by collective anger. If anything, he thrives on it.
And while my anger doesn’t touch his power—it does touch mine.
Because I’m realizing something:
No matter how mad I get, it doesn’t diminish his power. But it can diminish mine.
So instead, I’m learning to feel it—then transform it.
✨ Here are five benefits of choosing conscious energy over political rage:
1. You Stay Grounded in Reality, Not Rage
Anger can blind us. But clarity helps us name injustice without being consumed by it—and that’s where real power lies.
2. You Protect Your Emotional Ecosystem
Chronic anger raises cortisol, messes with sleep, and weakens the immune system. It also steals time from the people we love. Letting go of it is an act of self-preservation.
3. You Reclaim Your Power
Trump thrives on outrage. His chaos is his currency. When we step back from that storm, we stop fueling the machine.
4. You Channel It Creatively
Whether it’s writing, activism, mutual aid, or even turning crescent roll commercials into blog posts—when we channel our emotion, we alchemize pain into impact.
5. You Model a New Kind of Strength
Resisting hate doesn’t mean being passive. It means choosing courage over collapse. It means remembering who you are—even when the system forgets who it should serve.
Tonight, I’m thinking of crescent roll enchiladas and billionaires in the Oval Office.
Of dignity and crumbs.
Of the illusion of order and the reality of theft.
But more than that, I’m thinking about the quiet revolution of not letting them steal my peace too.
If you’re feeling it too—if you’re tired but still standing—just know this:
You’re not alone. And you’re not powerless.
