

SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.


Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.

A volunteer with Forgotten Harvest loads food into a vehicle at a mobile pantry April 14, 2020 in Detroit, Michigan.
People shouldn’t have to rely on food pantries to feed themselves or their families.
I run a food pantry. I’m proud of the work we do. But if lawmakers passed a liveable minimum wage or invested more in programs like SNAP, people wouldn’t need to rely on pantries like mine.
Pantries are a critical piece of the anti-hunger puzzle, but they’re filler pieces. Government nutrition programs—with the infrastructure and funding to get the job done—should be the centerpiece.
I grew up on food stamps, called the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP. My mother worked hard, but her wages were too low to meet our basic needs. Sometimes we felt embarrassed pulling out the stamps at the register—I worried kids would talk about me at school.
We know what works. We saw how hunger decreased during the pandemic when it had been forecast to skyrocket because we invested in the well-being of families.
But the aid was a blessing. It helped keep us from hunger. Even still, food stamps weren’t designed to last the whole month. Most months, we had to travel long distances—often outside our county—to find food pantries so we could get by.
SNAP is the nation’s most effective anti-hunger program, feeding nearly a quarter of all U.S. children. The program reduces hunger by about 30%; improves long-term educational, health, and economic outcomes for children; and helps address systemic racial disparities in poverty.
SNAP is the first line of defense in a down economy. In fact, food insecurity fell to a record low of 10.2% in 2021—in the middle of the pandemic—due to the pandemic-era boost in SNAP benefits. But now that those benefits have expired, nearly 13% of us experience food insecurity.
For many Americans, wages are simply too low. To meet basic needs in South Carolina, where I live, two adults with two children must earn over $21 per hour. But our state minimum wage is just $7.25.
A person would have to work 106 hours a week at that wage to afford a modest two-bedroom apartment here. Actually, the minimum wage isn’t enough to cover the average rent for a two-bedroom apartment anywhere in the country.
Over 44 million Americans rely on SNAP to combat hunger. Yet some members of Congress are proposing cutting the program by a whopping $30 billion over the coming decade. South Carolina alone, which is among the top 10 states with the greatest food insecurity, would suffer $400 million in cuts.
That would be devastating for families like mine.
I’m a single mother with three kids. At age three, one of my sons was diagnosed with autism, and I couldn’t find affordable daycare that could accommodate his needs. Every week, I had to leave work at a moment’s notice to help him or rush him home. I couldn’t sustain employment. I needed help during that challenging time, and SNAP provided it.
I now run a food pantry, Food for All, where I’ve seen that I’m far from alone.
I listen to the stories of people who come here and share my own to ease their feelings of embarrassment. I breathe a sigh of relief with them when they tell me, “Now I can afford my medication,” “Now I can make rent,” or “Now I don’t have to choose between feeding my child and getting her new shoes.”
But other times, I have to watch those who’ve waited in long lines for an hour be turned away because the food has run out. I can’t possibly get enough food donations to meet the enormous need.
But I won’t give up. None of us can.
That’s why I continue to fight for robust funding—and against the proposed slashing—of SNAP. People shouldn’t have to rely on food pantries to feed themselves or their families.
We know what works. We saw how hunger decreased during the pandemic when it had been forecast to skyrocket because we invested in the well-being of families. We must do that again.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
I run a food pantry. I’m proud of the work we do. But if lawmakers passed a liveable minimum wage or invested more in programs like SNAP, people wouldn’t need to rely on pantries like mine.
Pantries are a critical piece of the anti-hunger puzzle, but they’re filler pieces. Government nutrition programs—with the infrastructure and funding to get the job done—should be the centerpiece.
I grew up on food stamps, called the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP. My mother worked hard, but her wages were too low to meet our basic needs. Sometimes we felt embarrassed pulling out the stamps at the register—I worried kids would talk about me at school.
We know what works. We saw how hunger decreased during the pandemic when it had been forecast to skyrocket because we invested in the well-being of families.
But the aid was a blessing. It helped keep us from hunger. Even still, food stamps weren’t designed to last the whole month. Most months, we had to travel long distances—often outside our county—to find food pantries so we could get by.
SNAP is the nation’s most effective anti-hunger program, feeding nearly a quarter of all U.S. children. The program reduces hunger by about 30%; improves long-term educational, health, and economic outcomes for children; and helps address systemic racial disparities in poverty.
SNAP is the first line of defense in a down economy. In fact, food insecurity fell to a record low of 10.2% in 2021—in the middle of the pandemic—due to the pandemic-era boost in SNAP benefits. But now that those benefits have expired, nearly 13% of us experience food insecurity.
For many Americans, wages are simply too low. To meet basic needs in South Carolina, where I live, two adults with two children must earn over $21 per hour. But our state minimum wage is just $7.25.
A person would have to work 106 hours a week at that wage to afford a modest two-bedroom apartment here. Actually, the minimum wage isn’t enough to cover the average rent for a two-bedroom apartment anywhere in the country.
Over 44 million Americans rely on SNAP to combat hunger. Yet some members of Congress are proposing cutting the program by a whopping $30 billion over the coming decade. South Carolina alone, which is among the top 10 states with the greatest food insecurity, would suffer $400 million in cuts.
That would be devastating for families like mine.
I’m a single mother with three kids. At age three, one of my sons was diagnosed with autism, and I couldn’t find affordable daycare that could accommodate his needs. Every week, I had to leave work at a moment’s notice to help him or rush him home. I couldn’t sustain employment. I needed help during that challenging time, and SNAP provided it.
I now run a food pantry, Food for All, where I’ve seen that I’m far from alone.
I listen to the stories of people who come here and share my own to ease their feelings of embarrassment. I breathe a sigh of relief with them when they tell me, “Now I can afford my medication,” “Now I can make rent,” or “Now I don’t have to choose between feeding my child and getting her new shoes.”
But other times, I have to watch those who’ve waited in long lines for an hour be turned away because the food has run out. I can’t possibly get enough food donations to meet the enormous need.
But I won’t give up. None of us can.
That’s why I continue to fight for robust funding—and against the proposed slashing—of SNAP. People shouldn’t have to rely on food pantries to feed themselves or their families.
We know what works. We saw how hunger decreased during the pandemic when it had been forecast to skyrocket because we invested in the well-being of families. We must do that again.
I run a food pantry. I’m proud of the work we do. But if lawmakers passed a liveable minimum wage or invested more in programs like SNAP, people wouldn’t need to rely on pantries like mine.
Pantries are a critical piece of the anti-hunger puzzle, but they’re filler pieces. Government nutrition programs—with the infrastructure and funding to get the job done—should be the centerpiece.
I grew up on food stamps, called the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP. My mother worked hard, but her wages were too low to meet our basic needs. Sometimes we felt embarrassed pulling out the stamps at the register—I worried kids would talk about me at school.
We know what works. We saw how hunger decreased during the pandemic when it had been forecast to skyrocket because we invested in the well-being of families.
But the aid was a blessing. It helped keep us from hunger. Even still, food stamps weren’t designed to last the whole month. Most months, we had to travel long distances—often outside our county—to find food pantries so we could get by.
SNAP is the nation’s most effective anti-hunger program, feeding nearly a quarter of all U.S. children. The program reduces hunger by about 30%; improves long-term educational, health, and economic outcomes for children; and helps address systemic racial disparities in poverty.
SNAP is the first line of defense in a down economy. In fact, food insecurity fell to a record low of 10.2% in 2021—in the middle of the pandemic—due to the pandemic-era boost in SNAP benefits. But now that those benefits have expired, nearly 13% of us experience food insecurity.
For many Americans, wages are simply too low. To meet basic needs in South Carolina, where I live, two adults with two children must earn over $21 per hour. But our state minimum wage is just $7.25.
A person would have to work 106 hours a week at that wage to afford a modest two-bedroom apartment here. Actually, the minimum wage isn’t enough to cover the average rent for a two-bedroom apartment anywhere in the country.
Over 44 million Americans rely on SNAP to combat hunger. Yet some members of Congress are proposing cutting the program by a whopping $30 billion over the coming decade. South Carolina alone, which is among the top 10 states with the greatest food insecurity, would suffer $400 million in cuts.
That would be devastating for families like mine.
I’m a single mother with three kids. At age three, one of my sons was diagnosed with autism, and I couldn’t find affordable daycare that could accommodate his needs. Every week, I had to leave work at a moment’s notice to help him or rush him home. I couldn’t sustain employment. I needed help during that challenging time, and SNAP provided it.
I now run a food pantry, Food for All, where I’ve seen that I’m far from alone.
I listen to the stories of people who come here and share my own to ease their feelings of embarrassment. I breathe a sigh of relief with them when they tell me, “Now I can afford my medication,” “Now I can make rent,” or “Now I don’t have to choose between feeding my child and getting her new shoes.”
But other times, I have to watch those who’ve waited in long lines for an hour be turned away because the food has run out. I can’t possibly get enough food donations to meet the enormous need.
But I won’t give up. None of us can.
That’s why I continue to fight for robust funding—and against the proposed slashing—of SNAP. People shouldn’t have to rely on food pantries to feed themselves or their families.
We know what works. We saw how hunger decreased during the pandemic when it had been forecast to skyrocket because we invested in the well-being of families. We must do that again.