Food Stamp Recipient Writes Epic Letter After Being Harshly Treated and Judged By Customer
We have all come across those chain emails and heard those second-hand stories about how someone saw someone else pay for their lobster, steak, and other goodies at the grocery store with food stamps, and then watched them walk out and get into a nice Lexus or Cadillac or whatever.
Even if those stories are true and not embellished to fit their agendas, arguing by anecdote is not a good way to get a point across. There are millions of people on food stamps in this country, and there are a lot of hoops and red tape to jump through to even get approved for food stamps. The overwhelming majority of those people legitimately qualify for them, and are not committing fraud or otherwise gaming the system.
But of course that doesn’t stop many conservatives who think the food stamp program should be abolished from believing that people who are poor enough to receive food stamps and other benefits are somehow morally depraved. They look at being poor as a personal shortcoming. Kind of the same way most of us would look at a criminal, in other words. They simply wish to judge the poor and don’t seem to recognize that life is complicated. It isn’t black and white. There are many, many circumstances that go into why people, at some point in their lives, may have to rely on food stamps and other such programs.
Here is a letter that should be shared widely that will counter-act all those emails and Facebook posts we see about those lobster-buying, Lexus-driving food stamp recipients. It was authored by Sue Bulger and published recently in the Star Tribune, a newspaper in the Minneapolis area.
To the irritated lady at the Cub Foods, I should have told you to your face that you were being presumptuous.
This is an apology to the lady behind me in line at Cub Foods in Edina on a recent Sunday night. This is also a reminder to me and to others who have ever slipped into believing that we are just a little better than others we encounter.
We were at the checkout, and just as the cashier started ringing me up, I saw you come to the line with a small order in your basket. My first apology is that I could not let you go ahead of me, but the checkout process had already begun.
My second apology was for pulling out my pile of discount coupons for the order, and especially when one required the manager’s assistance. I know I was holding you up.
And then I swiped my payment method and you lost your patience. It was EBT — “food stamps.”
I did not observe you, but my daughter was with me packing the groceries and saw it all: “EBT: Yeah, right,” you muttered, with that look of disgust that would have shattered someone feeling just a little bit of shame over needing food stamps.
As we walked to the car, my daughter told me what had happened, and I sensed her resolve about having made the right decision to work for social justice as she starts her senior year in a social-work program.
We talked about you all the way to the car, and about how sorry we felt for people who were judged because they depended on support from others. But my real apology is that I did not make eye contact with you and get out of the car to talk with you as you got into your car right next to mine.
Instead, I did what many people would do: I felt ashamed and humiliated and angry about your ignorance.
If I’d had the guts to talk with you, I would have told you about my disabled 28-year-old son living with us. We have never asked for public support for him.
But recently we have decided that it is our responsibility to introduce him to the programs that will have to support him when we are no longer here to care for him. We started small: He is eligible for food support, and he agreed to receive it to be able to feel that he is contributing his share to the food bill, since he is unable to work.
I know we looked like people you might think need EBT: a bit unkempt in sweatpants and T-shirts. If I’d had the guts to talk to you, I would have told you that I’d just had an emergency surgery and that my daughter came home from college five hours away to help for the weekend because my husband had scheduled surgery two days after mine. I haven’t been able to put on real clothes yet, and I can’t lift a bag of groceries.
I thought I could handle your disdain, since I am a professional working at a local corporation where I am surrounded every day by people who respect me and care about me. But it still made me feel a little dirty — unworthy — and I still went home and cried in the privacy of my shower so my family would not know I was hurt by you.
I am sorry I did not tell you all of this in person. What my daughter and I resolved is that we will never let my son (her brother) go to the store alone with his Electronic Benefits Transfer card and be subjected to this humiliation.
We all have our stories, and no one is any better than another. Everyone deserves the respect they want for themselves, even if they use an EBT card to pay for their groceries.