September is Hunger Action Month in the U.S. It’s a special time of year when Food Banks all across the United States, in conjunction with Feeding America, ask Americans to take action (donating, volunteering, advocating, sharing, etc.) to fight domestic hunger.
I, however, have the privilege of helping Food Banks tell their stories and raise funds to feed people every day. I oversee the Food Bank program at Russ Reid, and have the honor of leading a great team that works tirelessly to ensure our Food Bank partners are successful. But that’s not the only reason why Hunger Action Month is important to me.
I grew up in a lower-middle class family. My parents worked hard, but could never seem to get ahead. Money was always tight. The kind of tight that causes daily arguments over things like whether to fill the gas tank or buy your toddler a new pair of shoes she really needs. The kind of tight that brings neighbors together when one only has milk and the other only has pancake batter – but they know that together they can feed their children for the night. The kind of tight that pushes relationships to their breaking point.
By the time I was in middle school, I began to realize that our situation was different from other kids around me. You see, my mom was a teacher’s assistant at a very nice private school in southern California. She took that job so that I could get the best education possible without us having to pay for it. We lived in a series of tough neighborhoods – she sacrificed everything she could to make sure I got a good, safe education. But she didn’t make a lot of money in the process.
By the time I got to high school, things were worse. For years my father had hidden a gambling addiction. It got so bad when I was in high school that there was no longer a way to hide it. Reality came crashing down on us when one day a sheriff’s deputy showed up at our door with eviction papers. The mortgage on our house hadn’t been paid in over 14 months.
We had 3 days to leave. 3 days.
My mom and I packed the car with all the essentials that we could fit, loaded my little brother and sister into their seats – and left everything else. We moved in with my grandparents for a short time. But they could hardly take care of themselves, let alone feed and shelter four extra people.
The four of us picked up our gear and moved on, living in a series of low income neighborhoods around LA. One I remember vividly. It was a tough place. I slept on the floor in the living room so my brother and sister could have a bedroom with a bed. The apartment faced a busy street in a bad neighborhood. One afternoon my sister was out on the street playing when a car stopped just about 20 yards from her. The window opened, and my 9 year old sister watched in horror as our neighbor lady was shot in the chest.
When I think back on days like that, I’m amazed we got out of there alive. My heart breaks for people in communities like that all over the country who are stuck – who don’t have the resources or the ability to pull themselves out of generational poverty and save their families.
At 15, I got a job washing dishes in a local restaurant. Homework became less important than making enough money to help cover the rent and utilities, pay for groceries, gas for the car and the daily emergencies that seem to plague low-income families. Once a week the owner let me make a large pizza to take home for the family. He did that just to be nice to the young kid who washed dishes. I don’t think he had any clue that sometimes that was what helped us get through the end of a week.
From time to time a bag of groceries would show up in my mom’s locker at work – a gesture of goodwill from caring co-workers.
Other times, people at the school where she worked would take up donations and buy us grocery store gift cards. I’m not gonna lie – it felt a little like Christmas on those days.
But that only lasted for so long.
Then the day came that my mom had so forcefully tried to avoid. She cried on the drive – the entire 35 minutes to South El Monte, a town just east of Los Angeles. As we passed through the security gate and parked our car that’s when I realized why she was so upset. We were at the LA County Welfare office.
She had brought us there to apply for food stamps (what’s now referred to as SNAP).
Food Stamps . How could that be? We’d been poor, but not that poor. She was ashamed. I think I was too. We weren’t the kind of people who used food stamps. My mom was hard-working. I had a job too. It’s just not who we were. BUT…what did I know. We had no way to make ends meet. We needed those extra resources to put food on the table and still be able to afford all the other expenses. The reality is, we were the kind of people who needed food stamps.
I remember the first time we actually used food stamps at the grocery store. I was sure that everyone in the store knew. When someone glanced our way, I was certain it was because they knew we were poor. And they were ashamed to have us in the same grocery store where they shopped.
Around that same time we had been going to a church that’s just a few miles from the Russ Reid offices where I now work in Pasadena, CA. One Sunday a month they’d host a free lunch for everyone who attended services. You can bet we never missed one of those!
We’d play a “game” on the weekends. My mom would pick up several copies of the LA Times. We’d lay out the various coupon sections across the table and look for the best deals possible. I didn’t understand the odd fascination as a kid. But now, as a parent with two young children, I understand this wasn’t a game at all. It was fear. A fear that caused her many sleepless, tear-filled nights and daily panic attacks. But she knew that clipping all of these coupons, and pairing that with food stamps, free groceries, and her check at the end of the month meant that we might just be able to get through the month ok.
Ultimately, my family recovered from this situation. My mother finished the college education she had put on hold when she got pregnant with me at 18…and finally secure employment as a teacher. This meant not only a steady, larger paycheck, but benefits, and enough of a financial cushion to cover those all too often “unexpected” expenses.
Fast forward nearly 20 years, and here I sit today. I can tell you with certainty that I know what it’s like to go to bed hungry. To think all day about where your next meal will come from, and whether or not you’ll have a safe place to sleep at night. To feel helpless and hopeless because every time you turn around something else has gone wrong.
But I also know what it’s like to experience the generosity of strangers. A warm smile, a kind word, and a bag of food when you have nothing left. A hand outstretched, offering not to solve your problems, but to provide enough help so that you can start to solve them on your own again.
This is why I’m so proud of the work that our 70+ Food Bank partners do on a daily basis, and of the work my incredible team does every day to ensure our Food Bank partners have the funds they need to feed our hungry neighbors all across the U.S.
The need is large – and growing. Food Banks can’t do it alone. That’s why I hope you’ll take a stand today and find a way to participate in Hunger Action Month. Share your own story. Make a donation to your local Food Bank. Volunteer. Engage your company to provide support to a Food Bank near your office. There are countless ways to get involved.