Thanksgiving, Gratitude, and the Truth About Food Access

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite food holidays. There is something really special about the smell of cinnamon in the oven and a table crowded with people you love. It is a day built around sharing. A day built around having enough.

But every year, right around this time, I am reminded that “enough” is not something everyone gets to enjoy.

When we think about Thanksgiving, most people imagine abundance. Turkeys, pies, long grocery lists and leftovers for days. But for many families, this holiday shines a light on the pressures they feel all year long. Rising food prices make it harder to prepare a special meal. SNAP benefits often run out before the month does. Families feel stretched even when they are already doing everything they can.

Food insecurity is not always loud. It does not always look like empty cupboards. Sometimes it looks like quietly choosing the cheaper option at the store. Sometimes it looks like skipping ingredients because they no longer fit the budget. Sometimes it looks like a parent checking and rechecking a grocery list, hoping it will somehow work out.

Thanksgiving should not be a test of how creative someone can be with limited resources. It should be a celebration. A pause. A chance to breathe and enjoy something warm and familiar.

That is why community fridges, cupboards, gardens, and mutual aid groups are so important right now. They help families fill the gaps that the system leaves behind. They help make sure the holiday can be about togetherness instead of stress. At the cupboard, we have been trying to stock holiday foods this month whenever we can. Cranberry sauce runs out as fast as it goes on the shelf. Stuffing mixes disappear in minutes. Pumpkin puree might as well be gold.

What I love most about working in food justice around Thanksgiving is how generous people become when they think about what a meal means. Not just the calories. Not just the ingredients. The feeling of sitting at a table and being fed. The feeling of saying “I made this for you.”

Food carries memory. It carries culture. It carries comfort. And everyone deserves that, not once a year, but always.

This season, my gratitude goes to the volunteers who show up even when it is cold. To the families who share their stories with us. To the growers and donors who help make our shelves look fuller than our budget ever could. And to the communities who remind us, again and again, that no one should have to face hunger alone.

I hope this Thanksgiving brings warmth to your table and peace to your home. And I hope we keep working toward a world where every family can sit down to a meal without worry.