Part of the Voice I Almost Lost – Blog #33
by Alana Pierre Curry
There is something sacred about the way parents protect their children from what they do not have.
Soup and sandwiches.
Casseroles that stretch.
Small treats tucked into lunch boxes.
I became that kind of parent.
The kind who learns how to turn one pound of ground beef into a meal that feeds everyone.
The kind who knows how to add cheese, pasta, and seasoning to make something hearty enough to feel like abundance.
The kind who smiles at the dinner table so children never count the dollars behind the meal.
I did not receive SNAP benefits when my children were younger. But I did receive support at different points in my life. WIC. Medicaid. Programs that filled gaps quietly so that I could keep moving forward.
When my daughter was a toddler, I applied for Section 8 housing. I remember the woman telling me the waitlist was five years long. Five years.
I could not believe it.
Five years felt like a lifetime when you are trying to stabilize a household.
And yet, five years later… At exactly five, I received the call. It was finally my turn to apply.
By then, I was over the income limit. Not by some large margin. Not because life had suddenly become easy. I was simply…over.
I often think about that moment now.
About the parents who are still waiting.
About the parents who qualify for SNAP today and are trying to shield their children the way so many before them have.
There is a quiet heroism in stretching a grocery budget.
There is strategy in casseroles.
There is intention in ground beef and shredded cheese and pantry staples that can become three different meals.
And yet, those very items…the ingredients that allow families to cook, stretch, and sustain…have become increasingly expensive.
Ground beef.
Cheese.
Fresh produce.
Basic proteins.
Parents are not trying to game the system. They are trying to keep their children from feeling hunger.
Recently, I ordered grilled chicken nuggets at a fast food restaurant, trying to make a healthier choice. I wanted to add a side salad. The salad cost more. The fries? No additional charge.
Think about that.
Healthier choices cost more.
And then we turn around and debate restrictions on SNAP, telling families what they should or should not buy, without addressing the cost realities they face.
If a parent on SNAP is told certain items are off limits, but the healthier alternatives cost more, what are we really saying?
Are we encouraging health?
Or are we increasing burden?
It is easy to talk about restrictions in policy language. It is harder to sit at a kitchen table and look at a grocery receipt.
Parents do not need lectures. They need stability.
They need programs like SNAP to function as they were intended…to help bridge gaps so that children can grow without carrying adult worries.
I think about those casseroles now differently.
They were never just about food.
They were about shielding.
About dignity.
About resilience.
And when programs like SNAP are debated or threatened, I do not think first about budgets.
I think about parents at kitchen tables, quietly stretching meals and protecting their children from knowing they are poor.
That protection is an act of love.
And policy should honor that.