When the Fridge Is Full but the World Is Hungry
Before I lay down for bed after a long day, I find myself planning Sunday dinner. What will I cook? It’s become my routine to prepare two meals—one for my son and something different for myself. Sometimes we order takeout. I don’t cook as much as I used to since Im now a widow.
I used to take joy in cooking for my husband. Now it feels more like a chore. Still, I keep the freezer and pantry full out of habit. I’ve always had a quiet fear of running out of food, so I overbuy. We went from a family of six to just two, yet my shopping habits haven’t changed.
Then my thoughts drift—like they often do—to the state of the world. Another crisis, another blow to families already stretched thin. SNAP benefits are reportedly on hold for November 2025. That once “magical” EBT card, the one that could buy bread and milk, is now just a piece of plastic—powerless to feed the many who depend on it.
No, this doesn’t directly affect me. But emotionally, it does. I can’t stop thinking about the children who will go to bed hungry, about mothers forced to choose between paying rent or buying groceries. I imagine people standing in long lines at food banks, only to discover there’s little left when they finally reach the front.
I’ve seen the harsh comments online: “Get a job.” “They shouldn’t have kids if they can’t afford them.” Words that sting because they reveal how divided we’ve become.
But here’s what many don’t realize: SNAP benefits don’t simply reflect economic need—they reflect inequality. Households headed by women—disabled, unemployed, low wage earners, older women, and caregivers—are more likely to need this assistance because of historic and structural gaps in wages and support.
In fiscal year 2023, about 39% of all SNAP participants were children, 42% were adults between 18 and 59, and 19% were age 60 or older.
Looking at race and ethnicity, roughly 35% of participants identified as White (non-Hispanic), 26% as Black/African American, 16% as Hispanic/Latino, 4% as Asian, and 1% as Native American—with about 17% not reporting race.
That means many of the people we might reflexively think of as “other” are in fact part of the broader American family of struggle. And when SNAP is disrupted, those interconnecting layers of disadvantage—age, gender, race, and working-poor status—feel the impact most keenly.
And then comes the domino effect. When one mother can’t pay rent because she had to buy food, her landlord may fall behind on the mortgage. Stores lose revenue, raise prices to compensate, and the cycle deepens. Federal workers miss paychecks, some receiving only partial wages. Yet, somewhere, a new president is building a ballroom in the White House—while millions wonder how to keep food on the table and heat in their homes.
I keep thinking, what if? Because so much of what we once took for granted feels uncertain now.
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