At my workplace, we’re currently hosting a food drive, complete with colorful bins decorated by students urging us to SCARE HUNGER and donate non-perishable foods for the local food shelf. As is my habit, I find myself glancing at the donations. Why? Because I genuinely enjoy food—it’s like a guilty pleasure for me. So, I walk by these bins multiple times a day, admiring the offerings.
Wow! Our school community has some pretty sophisticated grocery shoppers. The bins are overflowing with “fancy” items—lots of organic selections and some interesting alternatives to the usual mac and cheese or spaghetti. I spot rice pasta, artichoke hearts in seasoned oil, gluten-free crackers, olive tapenade, and yes, quinoa. I look at those bins like a cartoon character eyeing a delicious meal.
Earlier this week, while checking out the donations, one of the organizers stood nearby. I exclaimed something like, “Look at all this amazing food!” She smiled widely in response, saying, “I know! The parents here are incredible.”
Just then, another woman strolled past. She smiled at us, the kind of smile you share with people you see often, then added, “Too bad they won’t know what to do with most of it.”
For a moment, I was stunned. I was sure I heard her correctly, but it took a moment for the words to register. It lingered in the air like a colorful film on a puddle.
I couldn’t help but inquire, “What do you mean?” I needed clarification, just to ensure I hadn’t misunderstood.
The woman paused, turned toward me, and casually rested one hand on her hip while holding a couple of folders in the other. She continued smiling. “Those families won’t know what most of that is. I mean, really, quinoa?”
Yep, she meant what I thought she did.
Those families.
The last time I visited the local food shelf was in February. Eight months ago, I finally received some overdue child support from my ex-husband. Though it wasn’t much, it made the difference between buying groceries and relying on a food shelf. For that, I’m truly grateful.
Those families.
I still remember my first visit to the food shelf. I drove by countless times, trying to muster the courage to pull in. I would tell myself, “I can’t do this,” and continue on to my empty fridge and bare cupboards. Eventually, desperation outweighed my pride.
Those families.
Once you overcome the hardest part—stepping through the door—visiting the food shelf isn’t as daunting as you’d think. It may not inspire spontaneous singing or high-fives, but it’s a manageable life experience. Sure, there’s that blush of embarrassment when filling out paperwork, sharing your life story with strangers. You discuss how you ended up in this situation, how you earn money, and how you allocate your expenses. But you get used to the heat in your cheeks and learn to avoid too much eye contact. Eventually, you may even feel comfortable at the food shelf.
Those families.
I quickly discovered that food shelves are akin to treasure hunts—it’s hit or miss. Some days, the shelves are stocked with gems: Annie’s Mac and Cheese, organic marinara, fresh veggies, whole chickens, even brie from Trader Joe’s just past its expiration date. Other days, you’re left scrambling to reach the minimum weight requirement for your cart. You might find dented cans of creamed corn or produce that’s seen better days. But hey, when you’re in need, you can’t be picky, right?
Those families.
I visited the food shelf five times over about 11 months. I confided in only one friend about it. When I told my kids, I expected laughter, anger, or embarrassment. Instead, they quietly helped me put the groceries away, occasionally exclaiming “Yum!” or “Gross!” I can still vividly recall many meals I prepared with those shelf goodies—oven-roasted chicken with rosemary potatoes, turkey chili, French toast, and more mac and cheese than I care to admit. One of my favorites was an organic risotto with mushrooms and olive oil.
Those families.
In that moment, I wanted to confront the woman in the hallway, to shake her and yell, “YOU CLUELESS, PRETENTIOUS PERSON! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE TO WALK INTO ONE OF ‘THOSE’ PLACES AND BE ONE OF ‘THOSE’ FAMILIES! YOU’VE NEVER HAD TO SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE AND ADMIT YOU NEED HELP! YOU’VE NEVER LOOKED AT YOUR KIDS, HIDING TEARS BECAUSE YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO FEED THEM! YOU KNOW WHAT? ‘THOSE FAMILIES’ WILL BE SO GRATEFUL FOR THIS FOOD. THEY WILL SAY SILENT PRAYERS AS THEY PACK IT UP AND BRING IT HOME TO FEED THEIR LOVED ONES. AND THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW IT FEELS TO BE THANKFUL FOR SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS FOOD!”
But all I could manage was, “I like quinoa.”
To which she replied, “Well yes, of course. You’re not one of those families.”
If only she understood.
For more insights on this topic, check out this post on our other blog.
Summary
This article reflects on the author’s experiences with food insecurity and the misconceptions surrounding those who rely on food shelves. Through personal anecdotes and observations, it highlights the importance of empathy and understanding toward individuals in need, particularly regarding the types of food they may receive and appreciate.