The SNAP disruption is just one part of a food security crisis for LGBTQ2S+ Americans<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The U.S. government shutdown ended late on Wednesday, but many LGBTQ2S+ people are still facing hunger amidst the return of the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP). The federal program provides funds for approximately 42 million Americans to buy nutritious foods at grocery stores. While some states<\/a> issued full or partial November SNAP benefits during the weeks-long government shutdown, other states issued none. Experts have suggested<\/a> that there may be delays as states that dispersed partial benefits correct payments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Even as SNAP benefits are restored, food banks are still indicating<\/a> record demand. Food banks are much less efficient<\/a> at distribution than SNAP: the program\u2019s beneficiaries receive a debit-like card with funds to use at grocery stores, which is quicker and more convenient. On average, the food bank network can provide only one meal for every nine<\/a> provided through SNAP.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Like many marginalized communities in the U.S., LGBTQ2S+ people have felt the extreme impact of the SNAP crisis. A 2025 report from the UCLA School of Law\u2019s Williams Institute found that approximately 2.1 million LGBTQ2S+<\/a> adults rely on SNAP. That\u2019s 15 percent of LGBTQ2S+ adults, compared to 11 percent of cisheterosexual adults. Queer and trans Americans\u2019 greater dependence on SNAP can be largely attributed to economic injustices such as wealth gaps<\/a> and employment discrimination<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Emily Hickey works as the Pride in Aging<\/a> case manager at Chicago\u2019s Center on Halsted<\/a>, which serves the city\u2019s LGBTQ2S+ community. Hickey says food banks aren\u2019t enough to support the community. \u201cOne needs to find a pantry with hours that are compatible with their schedule, coordinate transportation and then potentially wait in long lines due to high community need at this time,\u201d she says. \u201cMany food banks have delivery programs for seniors and those with disabilities; however, they often have wait-lists and it can take some time to get connected. SNAP funding is essential.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But irrespective of the SNAP disruption, data shows that food insecurity disproportionately affects queer and trans people. According to a 2025 study in the Food and Nutrition Bulletin, 6.7 percent<\/a> of LGBTQ2S+ people are food insecure in the U.S. The reality is worse for trans people and LGBTQ2S+ people of colour, with 9.8 percent and 9.5 percent experiencing food insecurity respectively.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Tweetie Fatuesi serves LGBTQ2S+ Pacific Islanders as the community services director at the United Territories of Pacific Islanders Alliance Washington<\/a> (UTOPIA Washington). \u201cMany of our community members experience higher rates of poverty and unemployment,\u201d she says. \u201cThis makes consistent access to healthy, culturally relevant food a challenge.\u201d Even as SNAP benefits return, queer and trans Americans continue to face systemic disadvantages around food security.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Food access has been a long-term crisis for marginalized communities in the U.S., but these communities also have a history of resilience on this issue. In 1969, the Black Panther Party (BPP) launched the<\/a> Free Breakfast for School Children Program, which provided free meals and basic healthcare to tens of thousands of Black children through the 1970s. The free breakfasts drew the ire of then FBI director J. Edgar Hoover, who called them \u201cpotentially the greatest threat to efforts by authorities to neutralize the BPP and destroy what it stands for.\u201d FBI raids of these efforts to feed children were commonplace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A disturbing echo of these violent acts can be found in the weaponization of food access through the SNAP disruption. While refusing to<\/a> fully fund SNAP during the government shutdown, Trump blamed Democrats, telling reporters<\/a> last month: \u201cWhen you\u2019re talking about SNAP, if you look, it\u2019s largely Democrats hurting their own people.\u201d By suppressing food access like the many government leaders before him, Trump starved communities for his own political agenda. The move parallels the U.S.\u2019s historical starvation of<\/a> Indigenous communities by destroying food sources like the buffalo population<\/a> and forcibly removing<\/a> Indigenous people from their lands, causing them to rely on a majority white-led government for nutrition.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Yet despite all odds, LGBTQ2S+ Americans aren’t backing down from the fight for food justice. Center on Halsted has collaborated with food pantries like Greater Chicago Food Depository<\/a> to offer fresh produce and pantry items at the centre\u2019s multiple locations in the city. Working with local hunger relief organization Nourishing Hope<\/a> and HIV resource centre the HUB<\/a>, Center on Cottage Grove provides Instacart-style delivery of free groceries once a month, allowing community members to order food items online for pickup. Center on Addison, which serves LGBTQ2S+ seniors, provides lunches three times a week through the Golden Diners Program, in partnership with the City of Chicago. \u201cRegardless of who\u2019s in office, Center on Halsted will continue to support community members and turn no one away who\u2019s in need of our services,\u201d says Hickey. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Meanwhile, on the west coast, UTOPIA Washington provides food for and beyond the LGBTQ2S+ Pasifika community. In response to the COVID-19 pandemic, in 2021<\/a>, the organization launched Makeki Village Market<\/a>. The market is open three days a week, distributes food at schools and provides culturally relevant foods to queer and trans Pacific Islanders, though everyone is welcome. In light of the SNAP crisis, UTOPIA Washington started collaborating with other food pantries to feed more people. Despite the Trump administration\u2019s funding cuts, the Makeki now serves over 500 households.<\/p>\n\n\n\n UTOPIA Washington also runs the Fa\u2019ato\u2019aga program<\/a>, which allows community members to grow their own produce on shared farming space during the spring and summer. Fa\u2019ato\u2019aga provides a pathway to what Fatuesi calls food sovereignty<\/a>, or the community\u2019s ability to sustainably provide food for itself and not have to rely on oppressive colonial institutions for nutrition. \u201cOur vision is to create pathways where food access is not just about survival but about dignity, culture and community resilience,\u201d says Fatuesi.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In New York City, a LGBTQ2S+ food liberation group was recently created after co-founders Kadie Radics and London Dejarnette met at a local Butch Monthly <\/a>meetup. Last week, the new NYC Queers 4 Food Justice<\/a> coordinated a mutual aid distribution at Ginger\u2019s, Brooklyn\u2019s oldest lesbian dive bar. When the group announced the event at the iconic Sapphic bar, other organizations came forward to help. Lola, a period and sexual wellness store, donated organic, cotton-based menstrual products. A barber from a local gender-neutral barbershop offered donation-based haircuts. Within days of the announcement, NYC Queers 4 Food Justice had raised $4,000 to distribute food, Visa gift cards and health and sanitary products at Ginger\u2019s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The BPP\u2019s legacy of advancing intersecting human rights and food security can also be seen in the work of multiple Black queer- and trans-led organizations today. New York City\u2019s Black Trans Liberation<\/a> offers weekly community dinners, paired with political education and free produce. The Brooklyn-based Okra Project<\/a>, which disperses food to Black trans, non-binary and gender-expansive people, recently expanded its holiday grocery fund to support people during the SNAP crisis. The fund distributes $400 to each recipient to buy groceries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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