Brewed Awakening

Dark Roast. Dark Times.

America, we need to talk.

Sometimes, a news story comes along that shakes us to our very core; a story so dark, so dystopian, so drenched in the tears of injustice that we can no longer be content to just go about our day, blissfully unaware.

This is that story.

Across 75 Starbucks locations, over 1000 baristas have risen up against tyranny. No, not because of wages. Not because of unsafe working conditions. Not because someone ordered a Pumpkin Spice Latte in May.

Brace yourself.

They are striking because they have been FORCED to wear…

solid black shirts.
And dark pants in black, khaki or blue denim.

I know. I’ll give you a moment.

These brave baristas are rising up against the dress-code machine, refusing to be silenced. Or WORSE…professionally coordinated. Clearly, asking employees to wear clean, solid color shirts in a food-service job is one step away from full-blown fascism.
Make that, one goose-step away.

And Starbucks? Oh, they tired to distract us with their little, “We’re giving you all two FREE black shirts,” stunt.
Please.
You know who else gets free clothes?
PRISONERS.
This is basically Guantanamo.

And where, pray tell, is the media on all this? Where’s the outrage? Where is the Anderson Cooper montage set to dramatic piano music. I want hashtags. I want candlelight vigils. I want Hollywood actors doing dramatic readings of the new dress code at protest rallies.

I mean, if a barista can’t wear a tie-dye tank top and distressed shorts to make your triple caramel macchiato, are we even FREE?

This is the greatest human rights violation since, well, human rights.
You see a green apron.
I see a swastika.

But I’m glad I’m alive to see this. Really glad, for this is a moment we’ll tell our children and grandchildren about. They’ll sit at our feet, wide-eyed, clutching their venti babyccinos and ask, “MeeMa, what did YOU do during the Great Barista Oppression of 2025?”

And we’ll look off, into the distance, a single tear rolling down our cheek and whisper,
”I reposted a meme. I used the hashtag.”

I only hope the red-shirt/khaki wearing employees of Target don’t get wind of this. Those pour souls have been living in silent “uniform” servitude for decades. I actually wore a red polo shirt and khakis into Target once.
Big mistake. Huge.
I was stopped three times by other customers, asking for help. One lady asked me where the bathroom was. I told her. I don’t even know if I was right. I didn’t care. I was corrupted by the power of the red and beige.

So, yes, STAND TALL, you brave barista warriors.
THIS is your Selma.
Your Stonewall.
Your Boston Tea Party. Well, coffee party.

And may history NEVER forget the day you refused to wear something you already owned.