Caroline Fanning reports
Few Americans will deny the existence of poverty in their own country. From the holiday food drive to the homeless woman begging in the park, we are frequently reminded that even in the world's wealthiest nation, people struggle to meet their basic needs. Nevertheless, while most Americans will acknowledge the existence of poverty, few understand the ways in which it functions. Yet, poverty is not a complex phenomenon. After just a few weeks of answering calls for the National Hunger Hotline, a USDA-funded referral service for people in need of food and other forms of assistance, my own understanding underwent a significant metamorphosis: from vague awareness to informed comprehension. The following is an account of observations made and truths learned.
One of the first things to strike me was the number of callers who didn’t know their zip code and/or county. I realized that most of them were new to their respective areas and that they had yet to memorize their new addresses. While there are many explanations for why so many of our callers would be on the move, the effects are pretty straightforward. Imagine a family that has spent every penny to pursue a job opportunity in a distant city. With two weeks to go before the first paycheck arrives, with no family and/or friends to rely upon and with no knowledge of local resources, it suddenly becomes clear why they might be hungry and homeless, even if only for several weeks. More often than not, however, our callers are people for whom hunger and homelessness are constant threats.
In a presidential campaign dominated by national security and the war in Iraq, little mention was made of America's working poor. Their plight, however, is quickly becoming a national crisis, especially as more Americans join their ranks. For those living from paycheck to paycheck, all it takes is an illness in the family, car trouble, or a hurricane (Florida suffered four last fall) to destroy a family's financial solvency. When that happens, people who had once been self-sufficient are suddenly left dependent on government programs (if eligible) and local charities.
Furthermore, they are often forced to choose between food, rent/mortgage payments, utilities, and health care.
Of course, not all of our callers are gainfully employed. We get plenty of calls from people who have been born into and grown up through the welfare system, and their situations are often worse than those of the working poor. What I have found, however, is that the greatest emotional toll comes from dealing with the latter. This has nothing to do with a generic distaste for so-called con artists who squeeze the system; I am aware of the social structures that prevent people from achieving sustained self-sufficiency. Rather, I am merely inclined feel more strongly for people who are audibly frightened, which — except in emergency situations — our welfare callers seldom seem to be. Their skin has been toughened by years of struggle, and while they call for help because they need it, I rarely doubt that they'll find a way of getting by.
The working poor are different. Having placed their faith in the American system, they feel cheated when it fails them. What is more heartbreaking, however, is the sense of panic, helplessness, and shame in their voices. They are terrified of what will happen to them and their families. They feel as though they've lost control of their lives, and finally, they are humiliated by the prospect of dependency on the government and on others.
As USDA statistics illustrate, poverty in the U.S. is far more pervasive than most people probably realize. In 2003, 12.7 percent (nearly one in eight) of all Americans were living in hungry and/or food insecure households. What is more significant, however, is the way in which such numbers arise. After four months of working at the Hotline, I now understand how easy it can be for people — including myself — to fall upon hard times and to descend into poverty as a result. While such an awareness is likely to spawn fear, a more constructive approach would be to view it as a source of hope. If middle and upper-class Americans were to appreciate how they themselves are not immune to unexpected hardship, they might be less inclined to judge those who have already fallen. Indeed, they might be more inclined to speak out against poverty and to add their support to the efforts of those already working to build a more economically just nation.
Caroline Fanning is a Program Assistant for WHY's National Hunger Clearinghouse.
