Great documentary about hunger in America

Last night, Tom and I watched and were very moved by A Place at the Table, a new'ish documentary about hunger in America. You may recall my mention of this film a few months back on the day many of us bloggers dedicated our day's post(s) to this very issue. Here's mine if you'd like to read it anew or again. At that time, A Place at the Table hadn't been widely released; it wasn't until yesterday that we received it from Netflix, and last night, watching it was all I wanted to do. Not surprisingly (to me at least), I was simultaneously moved to tears, inspired, enraged, disgusted and ashamed. The documentary reminds us that in the 1970s, following public galvanization about the degree of hunger weakening America (then a smaller problem, in terms of numbers, than today), Food Stamps and other anti-hunger legislation were passed; they so adequately addressed the needs of American poor that the U.S. actually did effectively end hunger.

Today, as the rolls of hungry children and adults grow -now 50 million American citizens are hungry- we do nothing more than wring our hands and hope that another soup kitchen or food pantry pops up because otherwise, "government would overstep its bounds and spend taxpayers' hard-earned money." This is all hogwash. As the documentary makes abundantly clear, soup kitchens and the like, while wonderful, critical and from a true source of sincere christian* outreach, help mostly on a day-by-day or week-by-week basis. They don't change the system that keeps people entrenched in poverty and hunger, they don't address the food desserts that lay waste to many of our communities, they don't make people permanently un-hungry, and they certainly don't address wrongfully subsidized industries like agri-business, factory farms (CAFOs) and monoculture farming of corn, soy, wheat (the latter degrades the land and makes certain foods sinfully cheap and others disproportionately expensive).

That discussion is critical but it's the meta-picture; if you only talk about policy and systems, the individuals get lost. They become faceless, nameless sufferers rather than men, women, boys and girls who are hungry and who are struggling with the many repercussions hunger wreaks: cognitive delay; stunted physical growth; shame; stigma; and so forth. Those among us who suffer most become some of society's most invisible, and this is a tragic and a moral failure.

Barbie, a single mother of two in a poor part of Philadelphia, and Rosie, a 5th grader from a tiny town in CO, were the two individuals in A Place at the Table who most stood out to me. Barbie's strength and determination were humbling, her daily struggles terrifying and her love for her children enormous. I truly can't imagine the horror of wondering where I'd find food for my hungry children, of having to look them in the eyes when they pleaded for food and reply "there isn't any." Rosie, a darling, bright-eyed young girl, seemed so hopeful yet so, simultaneously, resigned. It pained me to hear her articulate the often-daily hunger that makes it hard to pay attention in school, hard to learn, and embarrassed about not having enough. She said that she writes "focus" on a sticker on her desk but despite her efforts to do so, sometimes looks around her classroom and sees a banana where her teacher stands, apples where her classmates sit. What on earth are we doing, now and for our future, by letting this happen?

Feeding ourselves is an elemental part of living, yet most of us take for granted the ability to do so regularly and with little thought. Of course I'll have breakfast, lunch and dinner. Probably some snacks and treats here and there. But for too many of us, counting on all that is a pipe dream, a wishful plea almost not worth entertaining.

The U.S. is the richest country in the world, and we produce more than enough food for everyone. Yet the number of malnourished, undernourished and seriously in need is higher than ever. I look at the complete dysfunction in Congress and at that those members who wish to gut funds for food stamps, WIC, school breakfast and lunch programs and on and on, and I am, again, disgusted and ashamed.

*with the lower-case "c" I mean to imply the general belief, held by many faith communities including those not officially Christian, in helping those in need and treating those less fortunate with dignity and respect; akin to the difference in Catholic vs catholic.

Monday

What a nice day. I swear, y'all, the weather makes such a difference. To me, and to everyone else. People are nicer, calmer, they're smiling, bodies relaxed. I sure am, mine sure is. I had a few hours alone with each of my  little boys, a rare treat, time that is special not least because it's easier and also a bit of time for me too. A huge vat of strawberries, rhubarb and lemon is macerating now; an absolutely wonderful jam, I'll put it up tomorrow. I putzed in the garden and gleaned great joy from each and every perennial rebirth I saw. Perennials are like the Post Office in the best of times; no matter the weather, they're coming back. Perhaps slowly, perhaps even late, but steadily and consistently with little attrition. Despite the fact that everyone but me can grow both rhubarb (a perennial; so hearty it's sometimes considered a weed) and basil (an annual that I only ever hear is SO easy to grow but at which I fail most every year), I am otherwise a perennial-grower success story and cheer each plant on as if it's another of my children. The lilies have emerged like proud soldiers at attention, the marjoram and sage never really went away. The Astilbe bat their leafy eyelashes in a shy yet flirty way; the fern's fiddleheads consider unfurling. Hello, Columbine shoots, welcome back Bleeding Hearts. As if old friends have returned, another year advanced in age, experience and comfort, I welcome them all, happily envisioning the festive scene in my yard days, weeks, months from now.

T and I dined al fresco tonight, a meatless picnic dinner that was an acknowledgment of today's blogger movement against hunger in America (use what you have rather than buy new and risk waste), and, thusly, a terrific opportunity to clean out the fridge and freezer. The evening was gorgeous, the dinner perfect in its casual, tasty mien.

Food bloggers against hunger in America

Yesterday, as Oliver thrilled in the sugary, chocolaty concoction that was his perfectly rendered eclair, I watched him with joy. I loved buying this treat for him; his happiness erased any hesitations I may have had about the $5 price tag on this artisanal, for-no-reason, mid-morning snack. We sat on the ground, in the sun, his little body nestled in the crook of my crossed legs, my arms around him, my fingers catching any stray chocolate pudding so that he wouldn't have to miss a bite. This morning, Jack asked for a toasted bagel with sour cherry jam; Oliver preferred oatmeal with blueberries and brown sugar. Tom ground and brewed fresh coffee; he and I ate bowls of different cereals. Mine was topped with almond milk, his with that from a good old cow. I felt a deep sense of satisfaction as I looked around at my family, all healthy, all able to eat until they were full and sated, no one left without in any way.

While I feel a tremendous sense of pride in my children's varied and adventurous palates and gratefulness that I can offer them meal-time choices to appease their culinary desires, I also feel very acutely that "wow, this is only possible because T has a good job and we are fortunate enough to never worry about whether or not we'll have food." Such is not nearly the case for too many of our fellow Americans, and this is a heart-wrenching travesty with serious ramifications.

According to Feeding America, 46.2 million Americans lived in poverty in 2011. In America, per the Department of Health and Human Services, a family of four falls below the poverty line if their total household income (annual) falls below $23,550. That's $5,887 per person per year, or $16 per person per day. This meager amount must cover food, shelter, clothing, education, school/work supplies, transportation, living expenses and so forth.

Also during 2011, according to Feeding America, 50.1 million lived in food-insecure homes; 16.7 million of those were children. The USDA defines food insecurity as meaning “consistent access to adequate food is limited by a lack of money and other resources at times during the year.”

Though related, food insecurity and poverty are different issues, affecting different populations (socio-economic, geographic, racial, age) differently. For example, although the national food insecurity rate is 14.7%, 19.2% of Mississippi families are food insecure. Again in contrast to the national food insecurity rate of 14.7%, an enormous 36.8% of homes with children headed by single women were food insecure during 2011.

As a mother for whom my children's health is paramount, I feel sickened to my core when I think what it must be like for moms who have to watch their children suffer the pangs of hunger, who have to tell their kids that she's sorry but there's just not anything for breakfast today. The stress of that would be crushing for me, and it would be compounded by the fact that I'd know just how detrimental inadequate nutrition is for a growing body and a developing mind.

When my boys are hungry, they are less able to concentrate, less able to handle frustration and challenge. They're more susceptible to tears and/or anger being the response to difficulty of any sort. When I watch them devour breakfast each morning, as if they haven't eaten for days, I know that that healthy, hearty intake will sustain them through the early hours of school and recess, until snack-time comes and refuels them. But what if instead of that, there was nothing? What if the growls in their bellies had to be ignored? What if their next meal was unknown and that very thought prevented them from focusing on play, social interactions, learning?

You read about these horrifying statistics and then you read about how much food Americans waste every day, month and year: 33 million tons (40%) of food each year according to the National Resources Defense Council and Ira Flatow of NPR. This interview transcript about food waste in the US is beyond sobering, and the disconnect it illuminates -between hunger and waste- is heartbreaking. Surely we as a nation can do better.

So today, on behalf of Food Bloggers Against Hunger, consider what it'd be like to have just $4 a day to feed yourself and your family. What sorts of food can such a minuscule amount buy? Mostly empty calories with no real nutritional benefit unless you really shop with effort and an eye towards bargains and creative cooking. There's certainly no room for treats like that I could give Oliver yesterday. That would never include options at breakfast because it may not be enough for breakfast at all. Today, consider just how little some have, how close to the edge of extreme hunger many live. Consider taking some action, no matter how small: sign a petition, watch A Place at the Table, call your representatives, speak out against the current Farm Bill which makes corn syrup cheaper to buy than an apple.

Here's another petition, from No Kid Hungry. Signing only takes a second!

Visit The Giving Table to find out more about Food Bloggers Against Hunger and today's event and what you can do. And, here's The Giving Table's Facebook page.