COMMENTARY:
My mom played a game with me at the grocery store when I was a kid. I had to guess
how much everything in our shopping cart would cost.
In my head, I would multiply the cost of onions by the weight of those in our bag. I’d add it to the cost of a pack of tortillas. I’d hold that number in my head while my mom threw in rice, cheese, tomato sauce, eggs, Hamburger Helper and milk, which she would later chide me for finishing midweek.
I loved this game. It gave me something to do and made me feel helpful. Many times my
estimate came within a few dollars of the total at the register.
I remember feeling my mother’s anticipation as we approached the mini conveyor belt
and the cashier. Would my estimate be correct? In retrospect, I can see that she was
actually feeling anxiety.
The items would ring up, the dollar amount increasing with each scan and beep. People
lined up behind us with their carts. It felt to this child like we were all staring at the digital
dollars in an episode of The Price is Right.
When I got my math wrong, and we blew our budget, it was my mom’s turn to play a
game: what needs to go back. The attention turned from the digital total to her. People
watched her choose which items to surrender. I was watching, too. The silent staring
continued as she paid. There weren’t cell phones back then, so all there was to do while
waiting was watch.
My mom would pull out a little booklet of multi-colored paper money to pay. I loved
flipping through it and one day accidentally tore one of the papers out of the booklet,
thereby nullifying its value. I stopped after that. When she got it out, I also felt the heat
of people's eyes.
Kids are not immune to their caregivers’ anxiety. They’re not immune to people’s judging
eyes. They’re not immune to shame. They are actually more vulnerable to those
feelings. My math skills sometimes weren’t good enough to save us from those feelings.
Even today I sometimes get overwhelmed at grocery stores and double-check my bank
account before paying.
As New Mexico’s state legislators, including me, prepare to gather in the Roundhouse
on Monday to shore up our state’s Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP)
because the president is withholding money and making people go hungry to win a
political fight, I want to share this: When you choose to target, shame and blame people
who are struggling to feed their kids, you are not a protector of our society’s children. It’s
quite the opposite; you are attacking our youth.
When you carelessly and casually attack families, you raise a generation of kids who
may not understand why they are flooded with shame when they enter grocery stores.
Today, the girl who was once honing her math skills by helping her mom avoid shame is
a state representative who represents many people on SNAP. If that’s you, hear this: I
will fight so you don’t have to feel anxious when you arrive at that grocery conveyor belt.
I will fight to ensure the money will be there so you can feed your children.
I implore us, as a society, to drop the shame. We all may someday need the same
compassion we decide to show others today.
Sarah Silva, a Las Cruces Democrat, represents District 53 in the N.M. House of
Representatives.
Sarah Silva's opinions are her own and do not necessarily represent the views of KRWG Public Media or NMSU.