Member-only story
Accepting Food Stamps Doesn’t Make Me a Mooch
The myth of the impoverished mooch distracts and divides us, all to protect the rich and under-taxed
The cashier tells me my total, and I hold my breath as I swipe my WIC card through the machine. It pays for a portion of my vegetables, a gallon of whole milk, and a dozen eggs. Next, I run my EBT card, which covers the remaining groceries, leaving just the shampoo and toilet paper. I pay for those with my debit card.
My eyes are trained on the credit card machine, but I can sense the man in line behind me shifting impatiently each time I run a new card. I feel like he’s judging me. I wonder if the cashier is judging me too, or if she sees this enough that she doesn’t care. She’s older and has kind eyes, so maybe she’s been in my shoes before. Maybe she just knows how to mind her own.
WIC and EBT are what keep food in my cabinets. I usually use self checkout to avoid these sorts of interactions, but today I’m alone with my toddler and want help bagging up my groceries and getting them in the car.
I want to tell the man behind me how I stretch every single one of the few hundred dollars EBT gives us; how I plan meals based on what is provided by WIC; how we eat leftovers for lunch and whatever fruits and vegetables are on…
