A Note From Jennie: Hunger Leaves A Mark

When we talk about hunger we tend to, understandably, focus on food: meals missed, refrigerators empty, funding lost or restored. 

 

But hunger leaves a deeper mark that often goes unacknowledged.

 

Recent reporting from NPR has helped bring national attention to what many of us in the hunger-relief field have long known: food insecurity creates lasting, psychological stress. Even when access to food improves, the fear, anxiety, and shame that come with uncertainty do not simply disappear. Hunger changes how people think, how they plan, and how safe they feel in their own lives. 

 

In my 13 years of advocating for food security, I see the mark hunger leaves every day. I see it in individuals I know, who continue to worry about their next meal even after receiving food. I see it when a new policy threat sends people into a panic before anything officially changes—people who live in constant fear of one more cut, one more loss, one more unexpected expense. And I see it when relief finally comes, not always as celebration, but at times as tears. 

 

As a licensed therapist, I have spent much of my career working with individuals and families navigating chronic stress and trauma. One of the clearest lessons I’ve learned—in both clinical and hunger-relief fields— is that instability itself causes lasting harm. When people are constantly bracing for the next loss, their nervous systems never get a chance to rest. Heightened stress becomes a constant state of living. 

 

Mental wellness programming rooted in this understanding recognizes that mental health and food insecurity are deeply intertwined. Addressing hunger in a meaningful way requires intentional design, with input from people who are experiencing it. We cannot fully address one without considering the other. The feedback we receive from the neighbors we serve is critical to the structure of our programming: 

 

Consistent food distributions, shelves stocked with staple groceries, and maintaining a warm, dignified experience created by volunteers and staff are not “extras” at Beyond Hunger—they’re our standard. It’s what anyone coming through our doors can expect each time they visit us and is crucial in building trust and providing a sense of relief. 

 

Food insecurity doesn’t just take meals off the table. It takes away a sense of control, creates shame around asking for help, and keeps people in a constant state of vigilance. 

 

When someone receives food support during a moment of crisis, no matter the reason, they are often carrying far more than hunger. Reducing the immediate stressors of figuring out how to get food, how to afford it, or how to leave home safely can create space to breathe. Volunteers frequently tell us that these moments of support are marked by long conversations, tears and hugs. Those reactions are not just gratitude, they are release. 

 

We all rely on our safety nets to give us stability and meet our needs: our savings, jobs, families and spouses, and, for many, resources like SNAP and food pantries. Any threat or attack on these safety nets causes fear and trauma that weighs heavy on the mind and body. Our nervous systems remember what it feels like to live under constant uncertainty, especially when policies can change at a moment’s notice. Trusted, consistent resources to meet our basic needs become a small but powerful anchor against that instability. 

 

We saw this during last fall’s government shutdown, when many people visited a food pantry for the first time in their lives. The concern wasn’t only about food, but about how quickly life could unravel. Although the shutdown may feel like an isolated moment in time, the true impact is much deeper and less visible: the fear that circumstances can change overnight becomes a constant stressor. 

 

Creating food security is at the heart of our work; work that is most effective when it works in tandem with federal-level resources. For example, when a family can rely on both a monthly SNAP allotment and groceries from our pantry, there is an irreplaceable feeling of stability and hunger-relief. And when one is under attack, the work of the other is not enough to fill the gap. 

 

Hunger is not only a physical experience, it’s a psychological one. When people know that the food they need will be there every day, something powerful happens: constant vigilance begins to ease. Stability allows people to focus on their families, their health, and their futures. 

Addressing hunger, therefore, is more than filling empty plates. It is about restoring a sense of security and dignity that allows people, and communities, to truly thrive. 

 

Federal nutrition programs are a lifeline—and they work best when they are reliable. 

We invite you to: 

When we advocate for these programs, we are advocating not only for food—but for dignity, mental well-being, and the chance to heal. 

 

With gratitude,

Jennie Hull, CEO