Amid the month-long government shutdown, 25 states filed a lawsuit against the Trump administration on Oct. 28 for refusing to fund the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP. 

Arkansas, despite ranking first in food insecurity, was not among them. Beginning on Nov. 1, millions of Americans, including thousands of Arkansans, face the possibility of losing access to food assistance from the nation’s largest anti-hunger program.

Misleading narratives about those who rely on food assistance only worsen the crisis, fueling stigma that distracts from the real issue: millions of Americans, including working individuals, parents and students, still struggle to afford food. 

According to the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, more than 38% of SNAP recipients nationally are in working families. In Arkansas, over 64% of participants are in families with children, and 27% are in working households and more than 45% are in families with members who are older adults or are disabled. 

Yet, despite these facts, misinformation persists that food stamp recipients are unemployed or unwilling to work — a narrative that is not only false but deeply damaging to our communities. 

Led by Democratic attorneys general and governors, the lawsuit argues the federal government is legally obligated to fund SNAP, which Congress made permanent in the 1960s. If successful, it could force the USDA to use its $6 billion contingency fund to provide partial payments to the 42 million Americans who rely on the program.

Painting recipients of food stamps as lazy or undeserving ignores the reality that many are doing everything right — working long hours, raising children, pursuing education — and still falling short. These misconceptions target vulnerable communities and marginalize the lived experiences of millions who rely on SNAP out of necessity, not choice. 

The SNAP lawsuit reveals how the shutdown has become more than a political standoff—it’s a tool that endangers the most vulnerable. 

Access to a meal isn’t a privilege reserved for debate; yet, access to food assistance is being determined by those who have never had to skip one.

Hunger doesn’t discriminate—it cuts across age, race, and income level. And when the conversation shifts to who “deserves” to eat, we’ve already lost sight of our shared humanity. 

 In Arkansas, where food insecurity already affects one in five residents, the consequences of these cuts are personal. 

Wendy Holbrook, assistant vice president for Student Affairs at the University of Central Arkansas, said, “The fact that Arkansas is already number one in food insecurity means that this crisis will hit us very hard.” 

At UCA’s Bear Essentials Food Pantry, it served over 1,000 individual shoppers — 90% students and 10% faculty and staff in 2024. 

College students, often overlooked in discussions about poverty, are among those who rely on food assistance to make ends meet. 

Between tuition, housing and part-time jobs that barely cover essentials, many turn to SNAP and campus pantries out of necessity. 

If benefits are delayed or denied, the consequences are immediate: empty fridges, skipped meals and a growing distrust in the government benefits meant to protect Americans. 

Whether one side of the aisle agrees with the politics behind SNAP or not, the program exists to prevent hunger. Cutting it during a shutdown not only corrupts that mission, it risks turning a temporary political impasse into a long-term crisis. 

When a state already leading the nation in food insecurity faces cuts to its most critical safety net, the impact is severe. For thousands of Arkansans, SNAP isn’t a handout; it’s the difference between dinner and an empty plate.