The food and hunger crisis in the U.S. draws many diligent and faithful individuals and organizations to fill the gap. All throughout the country, non-profits, churches, and other organizations are engaged in food assistance to try and help our neighbors who might otherwise go without. The question that comes up for many is, “how do we do this well?”
The Come to the Table team at RAFI explores this question daily in our partnerships, with food assistance programs and farmers, and our advocacy for a more sustainable and just food system. This drew us to the work of Rebecca de Souza, professor and author of Feeding the Other: Whiteness, Privilege & Neoliberal Stigma in Food Pantries. Below is a Q&A with Dr. de Souza that touches on her work with food pantries.
What made you interested in researching the area of food and dignity?
I first became interested in studying hunger because I saw it unfolding right in my own neighborhood. One frigid winter day in Duluth, Minnesota, my husband and I drove past a church and saw hundreds of people standing in line carrying laundry baskets. These individuals had been waiting for hours in freezing temperatures to receive food from Ruby’s Pantry, a charitable food organization. This scene began my journey trying to understand why people go hungry in one of the richest countries. I grew up in India, where, even as part of the middle class, the harsh realities of poverty were inescapable. Seeing food lines in America made it clear to me that the same system that harms people in the Global South also harms people in the Global North. The forces of capitalism and exploitation create scarcity and suffering across the world. Over the last two decades, my work has focused on questions of basic needs—specifically, how the absence of essentials such as food, housing, and healthcare affects the health and well-being of communities. Over time, I have come to understand that these deprivations are not simply the result of individual choices but are shaped by the national and global distribution of material and political resources. The fight against hunger is the fight for restoring the dignity, deservedness, worth, and value of human beings.
Why is dignity important when discussing food justice and assistance?
Dignity is important because people using food pantries and food assistance programs consistently tell us it is. I did not set out to study dignity, but the people I spoke with emphasized it repeatedly. Dignity is at the heart of what it means to be human. When dignity is denied or compromised, people are made to feel subhuman- they are reduced to their “need” rather than recognized for their full worth. Hunger carries a double burden: the material struggle to put food on the table and the emotional toll of stigma and shame that undermines dignity. When discussing the quality and quantity of food, people frame their concerns in terms of dignity. In fact, in my field of communication, we often say that food itself is a sort of language that communicates meanings. Receiving poor quality food can lead one to feel devalued, unseen, and disrespected. The manner in which food is provided—whether with respect, choice, and care or with indifference and judgment—can affirm or undermine a person’s sense of worth. When we distribute low-quality or nutritionally void food, we send an unspoken message about whose health and well-being matter. Recently while conducting research interviews, a woman who had experienced housing and food insecurity shared how, when she sought help, the volunteers made her “feel like a lady.” She said, “No one had treated me like a lady in a long time.” Her words speak to something deeper than just receiving assistance—they reveal the profound impact of being seen, respected, and treated with dignity. In a world that often strips people of dignity and respect when they fall on hard times, these acts of citizenship and care can be transformative.
Can you talk about the relationship between capitalism and charity and the impact capitalism has on emergency food assistance?
This requires a lengthy answer, but I’ll try to distill some key points. Hunger and food insecurity are first and foremost symptoms of deeper structural inequalities driven by capitalist systems including poverty, the lack of income, low-wages and unstable employment, racism, residential segregation, unaffordable housing, systemic debt, and inadequate social safety nets, among others. Framing the issue as “hunger” obscures the root causes and shifts the focus to charitable food distribution. Over the past five decades, we have seen the rise of food pantries and increasingly complex charitable food banking systems. Food banking as a solution to hunger has not happened in a vacuum but in the context of the profit-driven interests of large agribusinesses. Big food corporations profit enormously from the food banking system. They save on landfill costs by offloading surplus or unsellable food products, claim tax credits for their donations, and benefit from government buybacks of commodities that are funneled through the food banking chain. All the while, these corporations get to market themselves as champions of “social responsibility.” This arrangement allows corporations to maintain their profit-driven practices while positioning themselves as benevolent actors in the fight against hunger. It’s a model that ultimately sustains the status quo reinforcing a charity, rather than a rights-based approach to hunger. In short, what we have today is a corporate-backed charitable food distribution model that does little to challenge the economic and policy failures that keep people food insecure in the first place.
In what ways might communities of faith play a role in upholding dignity in the food system? What should inform them or motivate them?
Getting food to people is an essential and challenging task, but too often the conversation is about numbers, poundage, and statistics. While giving out food is crucial work, as people of faith, we are called to ask deeper questions: What does it mean to offer food with dignity? How do we honor humanness and self-worth in the process? Dignity in food assistance looks different in different contexts. For some, it may be a discreet drive-thru; for others, it may take the form of a shared meal, a gathering, or a dinner party! But at its core, dignity means offering good food without shame. It means recognizing the inherent worth of every individual, seeing them not as recipients, numbers, or cases, but as people with stories, struggles, joys, and strength. Dignity is about opening communicative or dialogic spaces where people feel seen, heard, and valued, where people are not positioned as givers and receivers, but as equals with voice. Dignity is about restoring peace—peace of mind, a sense of safety, and a place where people can rest knowing that they do not have to prove anything, because you already believe they are worthy. Upholding dignity in the food system also means bearing witness to people’s struggles and advocating for systemic change. In a system that strips people of dignity and blames them for their own hardship, faith communities must serve as a counterforce—offering not just aid, but a new narrative rooted in deep witnessing. They must see, listen, and refuse to accept the myths of personal failure that capitalism perpetuates. I believe that communities of faith remain among the last powerful shields against the relentless forces of capitalist devastation that can offer care and resistance in the face of systemic inequality.
You discuss the difference of language with dignity, how can our language impact the level of dignity in the food system? How should we listen for indignity in the food system?
I typically talk about three ways in which people are harmed in food assistance spaces: shame, suspicion, and surveillance. These are also the three phenomena that we must watch and listen for that greatly impact dignity. Indignity in the food system arises when we reduce systemic issues to individual failings—when we shame people for their situations (including food choices) without considering the larger forces that shape those situations. Indignity creeps in when we are constantly suspicious of people who need assistance, as though their need for help is inherently suspect or unworthy. For example, imagine a parent trying to put food on the table. If, instead of simply receiving the food, they are first required to fill out an intake form justifying their need and then endure countless other cross-checks to ensure that they are not getting “more than they deserve”. These surveillance strategies can strip people of dignity, turning a moment of necessity into an experience of scrutiny, obligation, and shame. Indignity occurs when we fail to recognize the complex humanity of those we serve, seeing them only through the lens of need rather than as whole individuals with agency, critical consciousness, and decision-making abilities. Admittedly, the system that is in place is already burdened with shame, suspicion, and surveillance due to longstanding policy decisions. But as communities of faith, we have the opportunity to create a different kind of space, one that seeks to lighten the social and emotional burdens that people carry when they walk through our doors. What are we doing to create an atmosphere of dignity from the moment someone arrives? What can we say or do preemptively to ease the shame, suspicion, and surveillance people encounter so they do not have to constantly prove themselves as worthy and deserving?
One framework you use throughout your book is the idea of pantry volunteers being “Samaritans” and you suggest the idea of working more toward the concept of “citizenship.” Can you speak to that a little further?
This shift in mindset from “Samaritan” to “citizen” is crucial within food assistance spaces. The “Samaritan” model sees those in need as passive recipients of charity, reliant on the goodwill of others. In contrast, the “citizenship” frame acknowledges individuals’ basic human right to food and other basic needs, as well as people’s right to belong. This is a paradigmatic shift that requires us to rethink the power dynamics and move toward a system where people in need are seen as equals, deserving of not just food, but respect, resources, and a voice in the decisions that impact their lives. Many folks turn to the parable of the Good Samaritan to justify their engagement in food assistance work. Volunteers will say, “Oh, I get so much more than I give.” And to be quite honest, this is probably true. Across the board in charitable and fundraising domains, there is a tendency to center the generosity of the giver, while the needs, voices, and lived experiences of those on the receiving end are rarely heard. This framing turns food assistance into a one-sided transaction, focusing on the act of giving rather than recognizing the complexity of what it means to receive charity. In a recent research interview, a food assistance recipient told me, “But I no longer needed to be shamed, criticized, condemned, or saved… I wasn’t about being somebody’s Good Samaritan.” Powerful words that are still ringing in my head. I don’t believe this person was rejecting care; rather, they were rejecting the idea of being a vessel for someone else’s need to do good works. Some might call this person ungrateful, but in reality, they were expressing something deeper—they didn’t want or need to be part of someone else’s act of goodness. They weren’t rejecting help; they were rejecting the feeling of being an accessory to another’s charity, a passive recipient in someone else’s story of generosity. They wanted to be seen, heard, and supported on their own terms—not as a project, but as a person with rights and dignity. This is a powerful act of citizenship! Can we do this at food pantries? Are we strong enough to move beyond food distribution to produce, empower, and facilitate citizenship? Dignity in the food system isn’t just about giving out food; it’s about fostering spaces where people feel seen, heard, and respected—not as passive recipients of charity, but as individuals with agency, worth, and a rightful place at the table.
To learn more about dignity and its impact on food assistance join Come To The Table for our Food & Dignity Webinar event featuring Dr. Rebecca de Souza. Join us virtually on April 16th from 12:00-1:00 p.m. to learn more and have the opportunity to engage with Dr. de Souza and the Come To The Table Team. To register and to learn more visit, click here.