I Receive Food Stamps

I go grocery shopping with my Maine EBT card palmed in my hand. I hide it from other shoppers. I pray nothing will malfunction on the register, drawing attention to my method of payment. I feel shame every time.

I am tired of being ashamed. I am tired of holding my tongue while I listen to people insult me, not knowing that as I stand there in my carefully washed clothes with my textbook in hand I am holding in my pocket a card that they equate with lazy, dirty drug addicts.

I am tired of feeling badly about needing a little help.

I left my parents home at eighteen years old. For nine years I worked multiple jobs, many times pulling in between fifty and sixty hours a week. I didn't receive help from the state. I paid my rent. I purchased a vehicle. I paid taxes. And after working two or three jobs each week I often volunteered at wildlife rescues and arts programs. I was busy.

But I grew afraid that I would spend the rest of my life as a number in a corporation.

I wanted something more. I wanted to be able to come home from work and be proud of what I accomplished. I wanted to be able to do something I am passionate about. For me that means teaching, and to teach I needed an education. So I went back to school.

For the last three years I have taken full time classes. I have worked between twenty and thirty hours a week. More during the summers.

But last year my wife got really sick. The medical professionals have yet to solve the problem and because of it she can't work. We had a series of freak circumstances that caused us to move into a place an hour and a half away from school, increasing our travel expenses. Meanwhile we are both struggling to keep our grades up and praying we will still be able to follow our dreams.

I was counting meals, putting off eating dinner just so I knew I wouldn't be hungry again before bed. There were many weeks we fed both of us on less than $30. Honestly, I was scared. I'm not being dramatic. I have no interest in dramatizing the issue. We were counting pennies, borrowing from some wonderful friends and family. And something had to give.

We signed up for food stamps and (one of the most humbling experiences of my life) we went to food pantries. When faced with the choice between asking for help and starving we chose to eat.

I haven't felt a lot of pride in my country the past few years, but I am grateful to my country. I am grateful to live in a country that cares about people. Cares about the less fortunate. About folks who can't always pay their bills in a competitive economy. A country that protects its citizens when they are unable to protect themselves.

Our unemployment rate here in the state of Maine is currently at 7.0%. 18% of Maine citizens get food stamps (according to MPBN news today). Over half of the people who receive food stamps in this state work. They are working and still aren't able to purchase their own food, or are unable to purchase enough food to keep themselves fed all month.

They are people like me. People who are working, going to school, spending hours attempting to build a career in a difficult climate.

So when you decide to insult people who get food stamps, to generalize them all as "moochers" and "lazy" and "addicts" I am asking that you think about me. Twenty four hours ago I wouldn't have said that. I didn't want to be thought of in relation to food stamps and welfare. But yet another glance at my Facebook wall where more and more of my friends keep posting negative comments about food stamps drove me to admit it.

I receive food stamps. Hopefully I won't have to for long. But for now, I do.

A few people I know who are or have been homeless have said to me, "It only takes a blink of an eye to end up where I am."

I hope you never find yourself in a position where you have to receive food stamps. But more than that, I hope the program still exists if you do.