Under a new project, locally sourced food is part of a food assistance program for members of the Lummi Tribe in northwest Washington.

The Food Distribution Program on Indian Reservations is a federal program providing meals in the form of commodity boxes for low income residents. But food boxes have neglected to include culturally relevant food for the diversity of reservations across the country, instead providing options like catfish and buffalo.

Lummi Nation is part of a pilot providing a locally caught option: sockeye salmon.

Billy Metteba, food sovereignty project manager for the Lummi Nation, said salmon is food his ancestors ate and members of the tribe know how to prepare, unlike buffalo.

"Shifting the mind frame, the mindset to food sovereignty, we should be in charge of saying what is appropriate for our people," Metteba asserted.

The U.S. Department of Agriculture awarded eight tribes, including the Lummi Nation, $3.5 million for a demonstration project to provide local food options to the Food Distribution Program on Indian Reservations. This fall, sockeye salmon became available for the northwest Washington tribe.

The Food Distribution Program on Indian Reservations is meant to supplement meals for participating households. However, a 2016 study found the program was the sole or primary source of food for 40% of those households.

Jake Garcia, public policy manager for Northwest Harvest, said many folks from the Lummi Nation have spoken to his organization about the program's inadequacies.

"The economic insecurity that they experience, the food insecurity certainly; all these different pieces are indicators for economic success," Garcia explained. "They're directly tied to your food and so when that program is insufficient and not meeting the needs of the folks on the reservation, that's a real problem."

But Metteba acknowledged the allowance for more locally sourced foods in the program is a good sign.

"When they funded this program it's like giving us access to go out and harvest our own food that we've always harvested for as long as I can remember, for as long as my grandparents can remember," Metteba emphasized. "It's important that we pass this down to our kids because without this, without fighting for something, it eventually will be lost."

The original demonstration project was funded through the 2018 Farm Bill. Tribal leaders across the country hope lawmakers in Congress will broaden the project in the 2023 Farm Bill.

By Mary Hennigan for The Arkansas Advocate.
Broadcast version by Freda Ross for Arkansas News Service reporting for The Arkansas Advocate-Winthrop Rockefeller Foundation-Public News Service Collaboration.

As a Fayetteville food pantry volunteer and someone who supplements trips to the grocery store with local assistance methods, the way Jen Cole experiences the struggle for food access is twofold.

While Cole, 55, forfeits her favorites of fresh mushrooms, pomegranates and herbal teas at the grocery store, she also helps serve people she said she wouldn’t expect to see at the food pantry: nurses and firefighters.

“If a car breaks down, if you have an illness — that’s it. You’re in the food pantry line,” Cole said. “But you’re working poor, so you can’t afford to miss your job to get in that line. That’s a huge problem.”

When the Advocate first interviewed her in July, Cole earned a minimal monthly income as a part-time chef for a local homelessness-assistance organization in addition to funds she received for her disability, a heart defect that restricts her ability to work. In total, Cole stretched about $1,600 each month among medical costs, rent, her phone bill and groceries.

Cole became unemployed on July 26, about two weeks after her initial interview with the Advocate. After receiving a letter from the Arkansas Department of Human Services that said she would lose her Medicaid insurance because of the income she made at her $11/hour, part-time job, Cole chose to prioritize her health and leave.

Cole later told the Advocate she was heartbroken to leave her job, but there was no way she could give up her health insurance with her disability. Now, instead of spending a portion of her income at the grocery store, Cole said she will rely on government assistance and her local food pantry.

“I’m barely going to be able to shop,” she said.

Cole, who lives alone in Fayetteville, was one of approximately 560,000 Arkansas households that live below the ALICE (Asset Limited, Income Constrained, Employed) threshold of financial survival, according to United for ALICE, a nonprofit composed of United Way organizations and other groups dedicated to research and solutions about poverty.

Nearly one in three households in Washington County, where Cole lives, are considered ALICE and struggle to afford basic needs like food, according to United for ALICE. Statewide, 47% of Arkansas’ 1.2 million households fell below the ALICE threshold.

The ALICE population’s ability to access food is also likely connected to Arkansas’ high rate of food insecurity. Ranked second in the nation, more than 567,000 Arkansans experienced food insecurity and struggled to find access to healthy food in 2022, according to Feeding America data released in May.

This combination of factors, as well as rising housing costs, has led Sylvia Blain, CEO of the Arkansas Hunger Relief Alliance, to believe more people are falling into the ALICE designation.

“When it comes to food insecurity, if you can’t raise your income, then you’re going to have to limit the amount of food you’re purchasing,” Blain said.

The ALICE population may buy in bulk, use pick-up grocery services to avoid in-store impulse buys and steer clear of name brands to keep their bills affordable. They may also favor inexpensive ready-to-eat meals, though these often have a higher starch content and can lead to health problems, Blain said.

‘Time is money’

A person’s grocery budget can often be the first place where changes are made when money gets tight, said Grant Williams, executive director of Potluck Food Rescue.

“I think [food] is the only budget item that’s relatively within your control,” Williams said. “The reason people have cars is because they need transportation; gas is something out of their control. Rent is something as well mostly out of their control. When you stack up everything you have, you can’t really negotiate on food.”

Other contributing factors, like transportation costs to travel out of a food desert for nutritious food — and the time it takes to do so — can keep grocery budgets somewhat rigid, Blain said.

“You can buy beans and rice instead of steak and carrots, but you have to have access to beans and rice,” Blain said. “So if you’re living in a food desert and you’re having to travel to purchase those foods, then you’re adding to the bottom line. … Time is money. Our ALICE folks work two and three jobs.”

The Arkansas Hunger Relief Alliance in 2022 found that 62 of the state’s 75 counties have an identified food desert, which means residents have to travel more than one mile to access fresh, nutritious food in an urban setting and more than 10 miles in a rural setting.

Blain, who said she was once considered part of the ALICE population as a single mom juggling two jobs and college coursework, remembers the stress of staying up late to plan meals and work through her budget.

“It took a lot of time, it took the whole family and even putting responsibilities on children,” Blain said. “I wasn’t necessarily proud of the fact that [my oldest son] was making us dinner.”

Cole said she scours the local free refrigerator program for fresh vegetables, receives a few options a week from Meals on Wheels and hits her preferred food pantry once a month. Cole often scores discarded vegetables like eggplants and zucchini that, as a trained chef, she knows how to incorporate into her meals easily.

When the food pantries provide Cole with more food than she can eat, like when they supplied her with a “gigantic rack of ribs,” she cooks for her neighbors in Hillcrest Towers, a public housing apartment complex.

“We’re going to spread the love, and I will share with my food-insecure neighbors,” Cole said. “It’s a share-the-love thing. … There’s no way I’m eating all those ribs, but I’m going to cook them because they were given to me.”

Cole doesn’t own a car, and she said she will occasionally accrue additional expenses by using ride-share services, like Uber, to get around. She said she uses public transportation often and is lucky to have access to a route that gets to her food pantry.

“But not everybody’s going to be on that route,” Cole said. “We need more bus routes, and I feel like that would help us get [access] to some of the food.”

Stigma

When members of the ALICE population make it to the food pantry, they can be plagued by a stigma that leads them to believe their request means taking food away from someone else, Blain said.

While Blain said this is a misconception, Cole said she’s experienced these thoughts herself.

“I almost feel bad using [the pantry] because their need has gone up so bad, but they remind me I’m a human too, and I need food too,” Cole said.

The same thoughts are true for some members of the ALICE population who visit the faith-based organization The Helping Hand of Greater Little Rock, said executive director Gayle Priddy.

Priddy runs a team of volunteers and a small paid staff who help residents in Pulaski County in Central Arkansas receive food. Each month, anyone with a valid ID can visit the organization in exchange for a bag of groceries. During a trip to the operation in June, bags were bursting with bread, cereal, proteins and produce.

“We have a few people who are embarrassed by it and don’t want to admit it,” Priddy said. “I would say it’s less than 1% — when you start asking them about their income and how they’re doing, they’d rather not take the food than answer those questions.”

Fears of rejection and the unknown are also strong for people within the ALICE population, Blain said.

“If you apply for food stamps, and you’re turned down because you have more than $2,000 in the bank, then you might not ask again because that was hard enough and then you got turned down,” Blain said. “…A lot of people we would define as ALICE are not accustomed to asking for help at pantries. They don’t understand the system…and that lack of knowledge would keep them away.”

Room for improvement

Arkansas has hundreds of food-assistance programs statewide, including regional food banks and local food pantries. The Arkansas Hunger Relief Alliance works in partnership with these organizations, as well as advocating for better access.

In March 2023, state Sen. Jonathan Dismang, R-Beebe, brought forward legislation to raise the resource limit for SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program), commonly known as food stamps. Dismang argued the existing asset limits discouraged poor Arkansans from saving enough money to become financially stable because they might lose reliable access to food in the process.

While Dismang’s initial proposal sought to raise the resource limit to $12,500, the bill was amended to $5,500, up from its previous $2,250 for most families. The bill is now Act 675 of 2023.

Blain said raising the limit further would be key to helping the ALICE population because they are often the ones who do not qualify for assistance.

Feeding kids at school is another important factor to the multi-pronged effort of solving hunger, Blain said. Free at-school meals take some pressure off families who struggle financially. 

This summer, Arkansas was one of three dozen states to participate in a federally funded meal program called the Summer Electronic Benefit Transfer. Focused on feeding children while school is out, eligible students received $120 on a card that can be used at participating grocery stores and farmers market booths.

Blain also called on state officials to incentivize local farmers to grow and sell produce locally, year around.

“We’re missing a whole section of our food system,” Blain said. “One of the things that at the state level we could do is incentivize that level of economic development. It will only strengthen our agriculture industry."


Mary Hennigan wrote this article for The Arkansas Advocate.


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About one-third of the population in Los Angeles does not have reliable access to healthy food, so leading philanthropic organizations are teaming up with Los Angeles County to launch a new Office of Health Equity.

Data from the University of Southern California-Dornsife show food insecurity is up from 24% in 2022, linked to high food prices and the end of a pandemic-era boost in CalFresh benefits.

Paula Daniels, incoming executive director of the Los Angeles County Office of Food Equity, will head up the new office when it opens in January.

"We have a food-insecurity rate of about 30%," Daniels noted. "You have that, and yet you have that paradox that at the same time, we are right next to the largest agricultural-producing region in the country."

Market Match is a program helping people with CalFresh benefits afford more fruits and vegetables from local farmers' markets. The office wants to expand the concept to other public food programs such as meals for schools, seniors and people experiencing homelessness. They want to establish more mission-driven "food hubs," connecting smaller and mid-scale farmers to communities of need.

Daniels also wants to ensure public feeding programs can provide locally sourced, culturally relevant menus.

"In 2022, I was part of getting $100 million in the California budget to give to school districts so that they could buy more locally sourced climate-smart and fair-labor food and support smaller farmers," Daniels recounted. "If you take concepts like that, what can we do in L.A. County? "

The office will work to implement the multi-prong action plan developed by the Los Angeles County Food Equity Roundtable.


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The number of older Americans who live alone, because of self-isolation or losing a spouse, is increasing. These factors can prevent them from receiving healthy meals.

The nonprofit Meals on Wheels delivers individually packaged hot food to older homebound Illinoisans who may also be recovering from an illness or surgery.

CEO of the Meals on Wheels Foundation of Northern Illinois and the Community Nutrition Network, Andrea Proulx Buinicki, said remote eating sites throughout Illinois are available to serve this demographic - with free admission.

"Each of our 23 sites throughout suburban Cook, Will County, Kendall County, and Grundy County offer an in-person congregate dining experience in our senior cafes," said Buinicki, "so that you can have a nutritious meal and you can engage with new friends."

Buinicki said hunger impacts everyone, but the older demographic is often forgotten.

The Illinois Department of Human Services says that before the pandemic, nearly 9% of Illinois seniors were food insecure.

And research unveiled an almost 60% increase in older adult food insecurity during COVID-19.

Buinicki said volunteer meal delivery drivers are an important source of daily socialization for older Illinoisans who live alone. She said the volunteers do more than bring a hot meal to those in need.

"One, it's the nutritious food that people need to thrive," said Buinicki. "But the second reason is that it's an important social connection. And it's an opportunity for people outside of the maybe immediate family, or outside of that household, to put eyes and ears on someone who might be isolated from other people."

Buinicki said their clients look forward to a visit every single day.

Currently, the organization is looking for volunteers who can help drive meals to seniors for a couple of hours Monday through Friday in their community.

Community Nutrition Network oversees the Meals on Wheels program in Illinois.