Blake Lively showed up behind the counter of a Connecticut donut shop, smiling, baking, and joking with customers—and suddenly, she’s being accused of staging a PR stunt. The timing, critics say, is suspicious. The smiles? “Fake.” Her hair? Not tied back enough. Her existence in public? “Inappropriate.”

But here’s the truth: Blake Lively is not on trial. She’s not the defendant. She’s the woman who came forward.

Blake is in the middle of a legal firestorm—yes. She has accused director Justin Baldoni, Wayfarer Studios co-founder Steve Sarowitz, producer Jamey Heath, and others of sexual harassment and orchestrating a coordinated smear campaign against her. In retaliation, Baldoni filed a $400 million defamation lawsuit not just against her, but also her husband Ryan Reynolds, her publicist, and The New York Times. That’s four men, a corporate studio, and millions in legal firepower aimed at silencing one woman.

And yet—she’s the one being called “phony.”

In the PEOPLE comment section, some mocked her for smiling in public. “Tie your hair back,” one user scoffed. “Phony-baloney,” another said. “Working in a donut shop acting happy, when we are all seeing your nasty side is not convincing for me,” one wrote, conveniently ignoring that Blake isn’t accused of anything criminal.

Blake Lively is the plaintiff in a case about what was done to her. And still, in 2025, we expect a woman who alleges abuse to disappear, to be quiet, to hide, to be traumatized visibly or not be believed at all. This is the cultural double standard: if she smiled, it wasn’t that bad. If she looks strong, she must be lying. If she goes outside, she must be manipulating the press.

Let’s not ignore what one user put bluntly but honestly: “She’s trying to find joy in normal things.” Because she should.

Meanwhile, Justin Baldoni is vacationing in Hawaii. Sarowitz, worth billions, is untouched by headlines. Their wealth quadruples that of Blake and Ryan’s combined. Their power is institutional. Blake, in contrast, stops by Rise Doughnuts in her hometown and chats with fans—and suddenly, she’s “putting on an act”?

When women in high-profile legal disputes smile, bake, or breathe, people say it’s PR. When powerful men disappear behind silence and legal teams, no one flinches.

Another commenter, clearly defending her, wrote:

“Some people in the comments acting like Blake isn’t allowed to do anything or go anywhere. Sorry to the haters, but life doesn’t stop for her just because you want that to happen so badly.”

Exactly. Blake doesn’t owe anyone her grief in a visible package. Healing doesn’t look like isolation. It doesn’t have to be tears and darkness. Sometimes it’s cupcakes. Sometimes it’s donuts. Sometimes it’s showing up with flour on your hands and laughing for five minutes before the lawyers call again.

No woman should have to apologize for finding joy amid legal trauma—least of all one fighting a legal machine far bigger than herself.

So no, Blake Lively isn’t staging a comeback. She doesn’t need to. She never left. What she’s doing is surviving—out loud, in public, unapologetically.

And after everything she’s been through, she deserves that donut—and more.