If one place underscores just how dire America’s hunger problem has become during the pandemic, it is here—in the middle of the breadbasket that supplies food from coast to coast. The ranks of Americans fighting hunger are projected to swell some 45% this year to more than 50 million. . Hundreds of Minnesotans waited in line for hours.
“It’s been hard,” she said. “We’ve had to dramatically change how we eat.” About one-third of those relying on food shelves, large-scale and emergency food distributions now are doing so for the first time, according to Feeding America, the nation’s largest hunger-relief organization. In parts of Minnesota, that number is closer to 70%. With the nation pitched in a fierce debate over entrenched and systemic inequalities, the most basic divide—who eats well and who goes hungry—is becoming more acute every day. Even before the pandemic, the U.S. already had the highest number of people who couldn’t afford a basic energy-efficient diet among the world’s 63 high-income countries. “We are no longer projecting a surge—we are experiencing a surge in food insecurity,” said Allison O’Toole, the chief executive officer of Second Harvest Heartland, provides truckloads of food to distributions like the one in Mankato. During the pandemic, about a 10th of American households reported they haven’t had enough food in a given week. That’s a shocking figure for the world’s richest country. It’s more than double pre-Covid figures and the highest since comparable government data starts in 1995. In contrast to the Dust Bowl years of the Great Depression or the rationing of World War II, the crisis has nothing to do with food supplies. The U.S. is in a time of historic abundance, with plentiful grains, meat and dairy, so much so that farmers have been plowing over excess crops and dumping milk. But lockdowns have snarled supply chains, and food inflation is projected to rise at the fastest pace in almost a decade. Meanwhile, unemployment, low wages and reduced working hours are diminishing purchasing power—all of which are disproportionately impacting women and minorities, as is food insecurity. Demand at Minnesota’s food banks is up 65% this year, and groups like Second Harvest Heartland say the peak has yet to come. The federal government’s $600 weekly supplement to unemployment insurance, which helped millions weather job losses and pay household bills, came to an end last month,and Congress can’t agree on a replacement. Donald Trump issued a stopgap measure to provide $300 a week in federal support to most jobless-benefit recipients, but the funds are only slowing moving into Americans’ wallets. Americans are unlikely to be suffering from all-out starvation, which plagues parts of Asia and Africa. But many people in the U.S. cope with food insecurity by skipping meals, just not eating enough or eating the cheapest food available. That kind of diet can be calorie dense, but lead to malnutrition. For children, malnutrition can have lifelong consequences including stunted growth and even impaired cognitive development. That’s all playing out right in the middle of abundant food production, even despite government and private aid. In a pre-Covid world, it was among the most food-secure states. Now one in eight people in the state is projected to struggle with hunger. Minnesota is home to beef giant Cargill Inc., Cheerio-maker General Mills Inc. and Spam-producer Hormel Foods Corp. All three companies have been donating to food banks. And the Trump administration just dedicated an additional $1 billion to its program known as “Farmers to Families Food Box Program,” which is buying surplus supplies to deliver to food banks and other organizations. The emergency pop-up that Traxler attended was held in partnership with that program.
