The Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP, has been the country’s primary bulwark against hunger for more than sixty years. Twelve percent of the population—nearly forty-two million people—rely on the program to eat. This includes at least 10 percent of the population in twenty-two states and 15 percent or more of the population in eight others. Moreover, 39 percent of recipients are children, 20 percent are adults over the age of sixty, and 10 percent are disabled.
Data also shows that more than half of adult recipients with children in their household are employed and earn an average gross salary of $1,059 per month. White households comprise the largest percentage of beneficiaries.
But SNAP is not really about numbers: It is about people who do not have enough money to buy nutritious food for themselves and their loved ones. This is why food justice activists consider the government shutdown and the cuts to SNAP benefits so devastating.
Despite two late-October court orders to fully reinstate people’s SNAP allotments, the Trump Administration has said it will fund only half of people’s customary benefits.
Unsurprisingly, this leaves significant gaps in food access. In response, a massive number of mutual aid and community efforts are helping keep people fed in all fifty states.
For example, several Massachusetts farmers are providing free bread and produce to people in need, and Taco John’s—a Midwestern food chain—is providing free burritos to anyone who requests a “community special.” New Disabled South, a Georgia-based disability justice organization that operates in fourteen states, raised $75,000 to help people buy food during the SNAP cessation and federal shutdown, according to director Jamie Moeller. Already, Moeller wrote in an email to The Progressive, 359 people have been awarded grants of between $100 and $250.
As community initiatives make waves, a bipartisan array of state lawmakers has also stepped up. California’s Democratic Governor Gavin Newsom fast-tracked $80 million in state aid to food banks, and Colorado Democratic Governor Jared Polis asked the state’s general assembly for $10 million to fill pantry shelves. Louisiana’s Republican Governor Jeff Landry declared a state of emergency and urged lawmakers to release “stabilization funds” to keep food flowing. Likewise, Republican Glenn Youngkin of Virginia launched the Virginia Emergency Nutrition Assistance Initiative in his state and directed $1 million in state funds to food banks. The governors of states including Connecticut, Minnesota, New Mexico, New York, West Virginia, and others have also initiated stop-gap measures.
Despite these actions, food justice advocates stress that neither charity nor short-term fixes are what’s needed to end hunger or ameliorate poverty.
Joel Berg, CEO of Hunger Free America, calls the Trump Administration “lawless” in its cutoff of SNAP. “It is vital to note that the GOP blocked a Democratic bill—the Continuing Appropriations and Extension Act, 2026—that would have kept the government open and reduced massive health care premium spikes for tens of millions of Americans,” Berg tells The Progressive. “Trump and his Congressional puppets would literally rather Americans starve than obtain affordable health care.”
Crystal FitzSimons, president of the Food Research and Action Center, is focusing on the cascading human and economic toll that the loss of benefits will unleash. “When SNAP benefits are stopped, it forces millions of people to make impossible decisions, such as whether to pay for food or for other necessities,” she says. “Food banks will be overburdened by demand and will be unable to meet the need. For every one meal provided by a food bank, SNAP provides nine. Food retailers will see an immediate and significant decline in their revenue, which could result in reduced hours of operation and staff layoffs. Our nation’s farmers will also see a significant loss of revenue.”
For their part, food pantries and soup kitchens are doing all they can to mitigate suffering and keep up with the growing demand.
Iris Sharp, co-director of the FAST Blackfeet Food Pantry in Browning, Montana, says that since the shutdown began, the pantry has scrambled to help people on the Blackfeet Nation. “We normally see about 400 families a week,” she says, “but in the last month we’ve seen a lot of new faces, some of them federal workers who now have no income. People have been put into panic.”
Although the pantry is not a tribal program, Sharp tells The Progressive that the staff see their mission as increasing food sovereignty and security for the entire 11,000-member Blackfeet Nation. “We see food as medicine,” she says. “We do our own bison hunt, purchasing some animals from local ranchers and using some from the tribal herd. Hunters Against Hunger donates their kill to the pantry, and we buy produce from local Hutterite colonies in Montana. We also get some food rescues from stores that donate just-expired products that are still good and can be distributed quickly.”
The pantry expects to receive the meat of three bison over the next few weeks, along with locally-sourced beef. “We prioritize bison since it is a traditional food,” Sharp says. “We teach people how to prepare it, share recipes for other traditional foods, and teach people to grow their own fruits and vegetables, care for plants, and make traditional healing teas to use when they are ill.”
Already, she adds, the pantry has exhausted its budget for 2025. Nonetheless, she says that a small silver lining has emerged. “People are facing an economic crisis, yes. But at the same time, I’ve recently seen this community come together in heartwarming ways. Ranchers, food producers, and community members, most of whom have very little, are donating to us. People inside and outside of the Blackfeet Nation have been supportive.”
Like Sharp, Alexander Rapaport—executive director of Masbia, a network of three kosher food pantries and soup kitchens that serve people in Brooklyn and Queens, New York—has seen an uptick in demand for food. “We have an app that allows people to make appointments to pick up food packages at five-minute intervals, nine hours a day, six days a week,” he explains. “We call it a digital breadline. The app has a tag that indicates first-timers, and over the past month, we’ve seen a huge increase in newcomers who want what we provide: fruits and vegetables, grains, and protein.”
Rapaport attributes this proliferation of clients to the government shutdown as well as the pervasive fear among SNAP recipients that they will have no benefits until the government reopens. Federal workers, he says, are a particular priority. “People who had jobs with the government are now without an income, so they are coming to us,” he tells The Progressive. “They never expected to be in need, and when they come in, they’re jittery, unsettled. We feel it is especially important to make sure they are welcomed and have a positive experience.”
He says that Masbia is bracing for an unprecedented volume of requests and says that he is also worried that the shutdown and SNAP suspension—even if it is partial—will have a ripple effect, disrupting the volume of sales in mom-and-pop stores and supermarkets.
He’s not alone in his worries. Reverend Juan Carlos Ruiz, pastor of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, tells The Progressive that, over the past ten months, he has seen the demand for the church’s food distribution rise from 800 to 1,200 families a month. “We expect it to get to 1,500 [families],” he says. “We do as much as we can and have already expanded our weekly hours from four to six a week.” The church also runs a small pet food pantry.
Maria, a fifty-year-old mother of six who requested her last name be withheld, says that she comes to Good Shepherd every Saturday. She tells The Progressive that she cannot work outside the home because she cares for two disabled adult family members. Her husband, she says, does what he can: working construction when it is available, cleaning office buildings, and collecting and redeeming bottles and cans for money. Their $1,200 monthly rent consumes most of his earnings, Maria explains, adding that because they are immigrants, they are ineligible for SNAP or other government assistance. “We rely on the kindness of the church,” she says.
On the day we meet, the line at Good Shepherd is more than a block long, but Maria and her teenage daughter say that this is not unusual. “We constantly worry about having food,” she shrugs, “so we have to be patient.”