At Least my Welfare Benefits are Liquid
I’m poor. But, thankfully, I’m not hungry. Food stamps don’t offer me the ability to eat much, or the foods I would prefer, but I get to eat. My diet rarely branches past cheap starches and cereals, or anything that’s palatable and priced to move. It wasn’t always like this. I’ve worked in a variety of food industries over the past decade (cooking, farming, butchery, to name a few), and one of the greatest perks of these jobs was the copious amount of free or discounted food. It was lovely. Now that I’m writing, I don’t have these luxuries, so I’m back to paying for my meals like everyone else. I’m always looking for opportunities, but I have yet to find a writing gig that can match the $12 per hour I was making. Hence, food stamps. Though, I suppose my life would be easier if I lowered my standards.
If money were of no concern to me (wouldn’t that be swell), I would buy organic produce and sustainably raised meats from my local farmer’s market, buying everything else from one of Berkeley’s several independent grocers. I am a firm believer that my physical, cultural, and economic environment is affected by the foods that I choose, so how and where I spend my money is a critical decision. If I eat an apple, I want to eat an apple; Not a pesticide glazed apple from other side of the Earth. I’m happier knowing that the money spent on that apple will go into the hands of the farmer who grew it, rather than a farm conglomerate or a massive distribution company. If the money stays local, it’s more likely to be spent local, and this will bolster the Bay Area’s economy. On a long enough timeline, that dollar will end up back in my wallet, and I won’t have to keep using food stamps. I will prosper as the economy prospers, and one day I will be able to afford a few luxuries, like visiting a doctor. Thankfully, I can avoid some of these future trips to the physician by eating healthier foods. The only problem is that I can’t afford to eat healthier foods.
Comparing the prices of an orange, from conventionally grown to organic, there is a notable price increase. If I wanted to buy either of these from a farmer’s market, I’m likely to pay around 150% to 200% more (there is a reason Palo Alto has a market but not in East Oakland doesn’t). In the middle of March, I bought 5 orange from the North Berkeley market for $9. On a monthly food budget of $150, those oranges constitute two days worth of food expenditures. I don’t regret my decision, but let’s be clear; this purchase was one of luxury rather than sustenance. Fiscally speaking, my action was irresponsible. I could have bought a 5# bag of organic navel oranges from my local grocery store for $5, but these are grown in Florida by a large farm conglomerate. I bought these too, but this demonstrates part of the dilemma I’m trying to highlight; on a smaller budget, frugality trumps ethics. At the market, my money went from my wallet into the hands of the man that grew the orange. They weren’t cheap, but farming isn’t easy. Regardless of my ability to pay, the price is fair. The $5 I spent on the bag of Florida oranges will be divided amongst distributors, shippers, wholesalers, marketers, the administrators of the farm cooperative, with whatever portion of my money that is left over going to the farmer, after taxes. Considering all of these factors, food prices ought to be higher if food producer are to have a living wage. A lot higher. But what about all of us on food stamps?
One of the amazing things about industrialized food production is that more can be produced, faster, and with fewer people. Even with all its inherent imperfection, this is still amazingly positive. In the US, people generally spend less than 6% of their income on food. In Australia, it’s 10%; in Brazil, it’s 24.7%; in Indonesia, it’s 43%. My budget is closer to Brazil, but it could be worse. If it weren’t for my food stamp benefits, I couldn’t afford to eat or live in the Bay Area (ethically or otherwise). I am grateful for the blessing I have, but this doesn’t change the facts: the food I eat affects my health, and the food I eat is determined by my ability to pay. For $30 per month, I can sustain my life on white rice and pinto beans, but an anemic diet is going to create health problems and make my stay on this earth brief. Add another $40, and I can eat industrial vegetables. Another $40, and I can add industrial fruits. With the money I have remaining in my $150 budget, I can add some meat and dairy, but these are going to be spread through the month in portions that make them seasonings to a meal rather than a functional part of it. This is enough to sustain me, and it can be done inexpensively. But eating cheaply has some major caveats. Along with my discounted meal, I will ingest my share of pesticides, herbicides, fertilizers, hormones, steroids, stabilizers, preservatives, genetic modifications, and other such enhancements. But what can I really do about it? Money offers option, so mine are limited. This is my reality.
Of course, I have the option of growing my food. I have done this, and it’s wonderful. Tending to your own crops is like caring for and raising a child, except when he’s ready to leave the house you eat him. The sense of satisfaction and gratification is tremendous, but similar to child rearing, farming is a full time job. It’s amazingly labor intensive, and it leaves little time for anything else. For me, producing my own food is impractical. There is always the option of a garden, but for that I would need dirt, dirt requires space, and space costs money. But if I had money, I wouldn’t have food stamps. Now we’re back where we started.
Eating decently on a budget takes some creativity. I have to make some concession (I can’t remember the last time I had a steak), but I can ensure that I get the nutrition I need. Luxury items like ice cream, beer, or anything for the grocery store deli are saved for special occasions. But to be honest, I’m alright with that. What bothers me isn’t that there are foods that I can’t afford, it’s that the one I can come with thing I don’t want. I understand that being poor also means that I have fewer options. Fine. Does that mean that my vegetable should be seasoned with RoundUp? That I eat genetically modified foods without my knowledge? Should I accept that my hormones will be altered because the cows passed their supplemental steroids and antibiotics into the milk? Must I financially support industries that can only function if their workers live in poverty? Do I give the little money I have to businesses that are completely at odds with my ethics? I shouldn’t, and I don’t have to if I can afford it. Which I can’t.
