SNAP and the "Sturdy Beggars"

Over and over, we hear the same refrain in policy and media: Are people taking advantage of the system? Are there those who could work but won’t? Are taxpayers being cheated? It is a damaging and corrosive narrative and it must end.

Lately, that debate has exploded into public view thanks to the longest federal government shutdown in U.S. history. With the shutdown came uncertainty for millions: children, seniors, people with disabilities who rely on SNAP found themselves wondering whether they would get their benefits. Even as I type today there is not certainty that people can get the most basic need... food

In the 1500s, the English Poor Laws introduced a term to our lexicon “Sturdy Beggars. These mythical individuals were imagined to be able-bodied people who were deemed idle or unwilling to work, and therefore undeserving of relief. The Poor Laws carved social welfare into “deserving” vs “undeserving” categories. The mindset? If you’re poor and unworthy you get chastised or even in legal trouble; if you’re poor and worthy you get help. That division lives on today even if the language has changed.

Today, when we talk about SNAP or any safety net program, subtle echoes of that old language persist. There’s an underlying assumption: someone, somewhere is getting something they don’t deserve. And that “someone” casts a long shadow over everyone in need.

The Cost of a Suspicious Mindset

During the current shutdown, states warned of delayed or reduced SNAP payments because federal funding was caught in the impasse. Many communities began prepping for increased demand at food banks, not because the economy had suddenly shifted, but because the safety net was at risk. The fear of abuse, of the “undeserving”, became real when the system risked collapsing under politicized delay.

We spend enormous time, energy and money worrying about “cheating” or “who’s getting something they shouldn’t,” even though evidence of abuse is minimal. Meanwhile, during the shutdown, the question was not “who is trying to exploit” but simply “who will starve if this drags on.”

A Personal Story

My mother, my brother and I in the food stamp days.

This has always been more than politics or systems to me. My mother used food stamps when I was a kid. They weren’t a hand-out: They were a lifeline. Without them we would’ve gone hungry. Yet even when she was on her deathbed, she refused to say she had used them. The stigma was that strong. It wasn’t “I needed help” as much as “I needed help, and I’m ashamed to say so.” And we were EXACTLY the success story these programs should cheer, but we don't. We just pretend it didn't happen or we act like we were bad and then got better. It's corrosive.

That shame is the legacy of the “sturdy beggar” narrative. It doesn’t just shape policy; it shapes hearts, families and identities. It teaches us survival is suspect. It makes the act of receiving help feel like failing.

Retiring the Myth

If this shutdown has taught us anything, it’s that the stakes are too high for us to keep operating on suspicion. Millions of people flagged as “undeserving” by default assumptions are also people flagged as “needs” when the system is at risk of closing. The same system that hunts for abuse can leave thousands scrambling during disruption.

It is time to finally retire the myth of the sturdy beggar. To build policies and communities that start with trust, rather than distrust. That start with dignity, rather than suspicion. That recognize most people are trying to thrive, not cheat.

And if we’re honest, the shutdown has forced us to reckon with that truth: when the safety net is weakened, it’s rarely the imagined clever cheater who falls first. It is the children, the seniors, the workers one pay-check away. The myth of the “undeserving” becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy of neglect.

Let’s shift our focus. Not on the imagined 2% who might exploit the system, but on the 98% who are simply trying to survive, and on the millions who would fall if we continue to build walls rather than bridges in how we help.