I have been just privileged enough to not have had most government assistance in my life, so far. Having two, full-time working adults in the household has kept us above benefit assistance level and yet, somehow still below the state’s estimated annual cost of living. We are not rich by any means and also not fully secure but managing. We manage too well for help and remain too stretched for stability — it is an odd place to be.
With the most recent government shutdown — more notably the notice of SNAP benefits ceasing on Nov. 1 I had a visceral jolt for what that could mean for families who have been reliant on such assistance. I felt sympathy thinking of friends, family, neighbors, and strangers who were going to have to face such struggle. I was consumed with pain at the thought and then I had the opportunity to see people step up and lend a helping hand.
I watched as my social media timeline bloomed with compassion — people organizing food drives, churches reaching out to those in need, neighbors offering groceries, rides, or even just a simple recipe. The kind of collective care our state has become known for — branded as the Oklahoma standard. And for a moment, I was proud to see how we had come together to help our neighbors and beyond — I thought this is what we do, this is who we are.
Then I read the comments on those post.
For every post calling for kindness there were ten times the comments filled with cruelty. People calling others lazy, selfish, and irresponsible — as if poverty is a moral failure. Saying SNAP recipients deserve whatever struggles they will have to face. Arguing that two meals a day from school is enough for kids to be okay.
Since when did we decide that two institutional meals and a growling belly by 5 p.m. was acceptable for a child? Since when did we agree that the key components of survival — like food — is a privilege and not a right?
The absolute disillusionment that was iterated throughout comments was perplexing to say the least and downright heartbreaking. The worst part of this for me was watching people I know — who I grew up with, people I might pass in the grocery store, or see at community events — speak so callously about other human beings. Talking about others as if they are lesser and unworthy of basic necessities. People who seemingly misunderstand how close each of us are to having to face the same struggle — one job loss, one medical bill, one emergency. I don’t know when we came to a point where we were comfortable deciding who deserves food. I don’t know when we decided the ability to keep a fridge stocked became a badge of virtue. I don’t know when the general populations consensus became helping your neighbor was contingent on them passing some imagined moral test and how needing help with food meant that they failed.
SNAP exists because wages have not kept up with inflation for several decades. It exist because housing and rental costs continue to increase with childcare somehow still being less affordable than either. We live in a country where most full-time workers still fall short of affording some basic needs. And yet, for some reason, we have found ourselves turning those who suffer the most into the bad guys.
That being said, mixed in with the venom was slivers of what I love about people — somehow through that black, gooey, abyss of toxicity and warped views a vague glint of light still shined through. Responses filled with quiet, unshakeable resilience and hope. People refusing to let cruelty have the final word. People meeting viciousness with compassion, brutality with mercy, inhumanity with humanity — taking the advice of the best of humans and turning the other cheek. People choosing to show up with bags of groceries, warm meals, open hands — those are the people I choose to believe in.
I choose to believe in the people who have stretched their last dollars to feed their kids and now stocks the community fridge. I believe in the teachers who buy classroom snacks because they know some of the students won’t have anything beyond the school meals. I choose to believe in those who have had to use SNAP, even just once, to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and do whatever it takes to get through a hard season.
Beyond everything else I believe that more of us will choose kindness over cruelty — even when it is inconvenient, even if it challenges our assumptions — despite how much more of the latter we may see. I believe that who we are as a collective is good and at the end of each day, I hope we each remember who we truly are.