I read a comment by a woman the other night who claimed to not understand how food stamps work, but said, “I know they sell their food stamps for drugs … .”
Well, before I knew it, I was telling her to, “Stop saying SNAP recipients are drug users. Period.”
I continued with how statements like that are hurtful and deceitful and assume that poor people can’t have the same values as non-poor people. I didn’t care at that point. I didn’t, for once, stifle my annoyance at the bias and went all in. And here’s the thing: I didn’t feel bad for it. She replied with an, “I didn’t say that. You just chose to interpret it that way.”
Yeah, I was way off base with my interpretation of, “They sell their food stamps for drugs.”
I wanted her to know that what she said wasn’t okay. I’ve heard enough about all of it. I’ve heard enough about poor people being criminals. I’ve heard enough of shaming the poor and the ridiculous assumptions that just because you’re struggling with a lack of financial resources, it means that you are unable to live a righteous life. I’m done with it.
Someone else had quickly commented on the post with a, “I know that you don’t understand or mean to upset anyone” line. It took everything I had in me to not scream in capital letters, “B.S.! She knew exactly what she was saying! And she didn’t care!”
Looking Like a Butthead?
Where was the pat on the head for the people she offended with her uppity take on SNAP recipients? Where was the, “Oh, what you said was wrong” comment? Why does she deserve to be reassured that she didn’t look like a butthead for saying that? Because you know what? She did. She did look like a butthead when saying that.
I don’t know when the change took place with me. I grew up as that kid who wouldn’t cut through someone’s yard because I didn’t want them to come outside and yell at me. I’ve always been a rule follower. I don’t like to upset people because then they might not like me, and I don’t like it when people don’t like me. But there are times when I don’t give a dang about whether people like me or not. I will sacrifice my feelings of comfort every time to stand up for what I believe in. And believing that shaming the poor has to stop is something that I feel in my soul.
I spoke online to a group of folks in Florida yesterday morning as part of a Mother’s Day service. Since my presentation was about my work, I began thinking about how embarrassed I used to be when Mom would make me go to the store with the food stamps. Back in the day, food stamps came in a book like raffle tickets and in denominations, so you had to count the stamps out to pay for your groceries. And you were given the change, which I’m sure was a pretty big deal back then. I hated those food stamps. It didn’t matter if I used them or if I stood there as Mom did, I was always embarrassed to be poor.
I remember when the black-and-white generic brand came out. I couldn’t stand it when Mom would buy anything in a black-and-white package. In my young mind, people didn’t buy cheaper goods to save money; they bought discounted goods because they were poor, and I hated having those packages in our shopping cart.
Raising Kids Differently
Mom was always working. When I was a teenager, she would leave instructions on the kitchen counter for me to cook supper for the family. I hated that, too. I didn’t like that I had a mom who had to work instead of staying home and doing the things that most of my friends’ moms did for them.
My memories from childhood and the attention being on Mother’s Day brought me full circle. A lot of my childhood experiences have dictated how I have done things with my kids. The memory of counting out those food stamps when I was a kid kept me from pressing my kids to use the SNAP card at the grocery store. I have made every attempt to raise my kids in a way that reflected middle-class values and a dream of a different life. We talk a lot about what I wish I would have known when I was growing up so I can help to steer them in a different direction. I’m honest about how being a single parent is the reason for our struggles, and I am constantly enforcing better decisions with relationships.
But, at the same time, I am pointing out the inequities in the systems that create the poverty trap. I have to educate them about it because the world is constantly telling them that there’s something wrong with and untrustworthy about people in poverty. They’re hearing all the time that there’s shame in not being able to get ahead, so I have to counter that with pointing out the strengths that have grown out of it.
I apologized to one of my kids the other night when we were talking about how she has grown up so quickly. I told her that I knew her life hasn’t been the prettiest and that I was sorry for not being able to turn it around earlier. She told me that she has a great life and really doesn’t want everything she asks for. It was the same kid who, last night, suggested I write about how celebrating Mother’s Day during the quarantine wasn’t any different from celebrating it when we didn’t have any money because we couldn’t do anything special then either.
She said it so matter-of-factly that it caught me off guard, and they have no idea how great a gift it is to be their mother.
Stay safe. Stay six feet apart. And stay kind or stay quiet.
Amy Jo
