Andrew Crispin shares what it was like to rely on food banks when he was a child.
When I was in elementary school, I didn’t think it was unusual to have groceries delivered to your home by local church groups. It was exciting to come home from school and see a box of food at my front door that my mom would never buy at the store – some of it was even name brand!
But my mom wasn’t OK with it. She said we were on a “list” of poor people that needed help. And it was true, we did. My single mom worked two jobs to ensure we had enough food on the table for my siblings and me. Growing up poor and herself, my mom felt a deep sense of shame and failing. For me, being “poor” became part of my accepted identity. For a long time, I didn’t think I would be anything other than that.
There is a deep-rooted sense of shame in being poor in America with a consistent pointing of the finger at the individual – at my mom – for being poor rather than a societal failing due to lack of investment in social safety nets.
Now that I’m on the other side, my family couldn’t have done it without food from our neighbors, my grandparents, local church groups or the food pantries we visited. It meant we had school lunches, dinners, and holiday meals, even if we couldn’t choose the food we were getting from charity. The kindness and support from our community ensured we were fed.