Hunger Close to Home

I recently heard of local Little Free Libraries being turned into Little Free Pantries as food insecurity rises. Those who maintain the libraries are removing the books and stocking the roadside boxes with pantry items and grocery staples instead. Neighbors looking out for neighbors, one can of soup at a time. The definition of community.

Not just on the Key Peninsula, but across our country, millions of Americans are tightening their belts as food prices increase and federal assistance dwindles. The latest reductions to SNAP, the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, mean many households now receive less help at a time when every trip to the store costs more. For rural and semirural communities like ours, the ripple effects are immediate.

On the Key Peninsula, we don’t have the same safety nets that many urban areas do. We don’t have multiple grocery stores, walkable neighborhoods, or public transit. When SNAP benefits are cut, KP residents can’t always make up the difference by traveling to another store to find deeper discounts. Instead, the shortfall lands on our small but mighty network of local food assistance programs.

In the October issue of Key Peninsula News, executive director of Food Backpacks 4 Kids Zaida Woodworth reported a 42% usage increase in the organization’s food pantry over the course of the previous year. Other local food banks are facing the same rising demand and are working to stand in the gap to assist those in need.

As federal funds shrink, our charitable food system steps in, but it cannot replace what’s been lost. Food banks and assistance programs operate on donations and grants, and a surge in need is difficult to manage. Rural hunger is often harder to spot, masked by long driveways and the pride of self-reliance. But it’s here. Many of us have heard the stories of local seniors deciding between prescriptions and groceries, parents skipping meals so their children can eat, and neighbors who once donated to the food banks now using those services.

Immediate hunger isn’t the only danger faced by many of our neighbors. Food insecurity affects a student’s ability to learn, adults’ ability to work, and the long-term health of everyone who experiences hunger. It undermines the stability that allows communities like ours to thrive and prosper. It’s not just a question of calories; it’s a question of dignity.

But there is good news even in tough times. The people of the Key Peninsula have proven through wildfires, winter storms, and a pandemic that we take care of one another. Our network of local help is strong, but it will need reinforcement from all of us in the coming months. What can you do to help?

Donate money or time. Every donation, big or small, is put to good use at our local food banks. Bulk orders and wholesale discounts help charitable food systems maximize their purchasing. A $20 donation can fill a child’s backpack with food for a weekend.

Spread the word. Tell your neighbors and friends where help is available. Many who need food assistance, especially for the first time, are hesitant to seek services and may not know where to start. Reducing the stigma is just as important as raising funds.

Advocate for your neighbors. You have a voice and the power to use it. Let your representatives at the local, state, and federal levels know that rural communities like ours need robust nutrition programs and that SNAP remains a lifeline for your neighbors. Policy decisions in Olympia and Washington, D.C., may seem remote, but their impact is felt in kitchens across the Key Peninsula.

When I think of community, this is what comes to mind. It’s not enough to live side by side; I want to ensure everyone has a seat at the table.

I stopped at a converted Little Free Library today on the way to pick my daughter up from school. I added rice, pasta, tuna, cereal, and a few of my family’s favorite treats to the shelves. As I pulled away, I prayed that my small donation would help a neighbor who might be hungry tonight and worried about their next meal. A small effort can go a long way.

Meredith Browand is a mother and activist who lives in Purdy.