The Childhood Hunger That Never Leaves
Dr Angie Morrill still remembers asking her older sister why they sang the Patty Cake nursery rhyme so frequently during their childhood. The response was simple yet devastating: "Because we were hungry." This revelation stayed with the now 60-year-old enrolled citizen of the Klamath Tribes, casting new light on what she had previously considered happy childhood memories.
A Life Shaped by Food Insecurity
Dr Morrill's early years were marked by persistent food scarcity, though her mother worked hard to create joyful moments around what little they had. She recalls her mother crying in the kitchen when she couldn't afford milk and her stepfather borrowing $5 for food from relatives. One particularly stark memory involves her younger sister proudly asking for a stranger's unwanted eggs from a buy-one-get-one-free offer at the grocery store.
"When you are poor, you make choices about what food to buy, how much to eat, what bill to pay," Dr Morrill explains. "Choices you make when there aren't really any good choices."
The family's situation fluctuated throughout her childhood in Portland, Oregon. Things temporarily improved when her mother and siblings received $43,000 each from the sale of tribal land under the federal termination policy that officially dissolved the Klamath Tribes in 1953. However, this windfall didn't last, and the family soon returned to relying on food stamps.
Intergenerational Patterns of Hunger
Dr Morrill's understanding of hunger spans generations. Her mother had grown up in the same neighbourhood, herself experiencing food insecurity as one of six Native children in a poor household. She would tell stories about eating Jell-O for dinner and hiding fruit from charity boxes in her sock drawer.
This intergenerational poverty taught Dr Morrill early lessons about scarcity. "Those stories – and my own experience as a hungry kid – taught me not to ask for treats or fast food, not to order much at a restaurant," she recalls.
Even after earning her doctorate and securing professional positions, food insecurity remained a recurring theme in Dr Morrill's life. As a single mother to her son Leroy, she relied on SNAP benefits and WIC programmes while studying at the University of Oregon. She remembers having to ration ingredients, sometimes withholding her son's favourite foods to use them in future meals.
The Persistent Struggle in Adulthood
After resigning from her job directing Oregon's largest Indian education programme earlier this year, Dr Morrill found herself once again applying for SNAP benefits. She appreciated a programme that allowed recipients to pay half price for fresh produce boxes, through which she discovered new foods like leeks.
However, the bureaucratic process proved challenging. She was required to provide bank statements and have a friend vouch for her irregular income from consulting, teaching, and occasional quilt sales. "It was intrusive and humiliating," she says of the experience that ultimately led her to cancel her benefits.
Despite these challenges, Dr Morrill maintains perspective. "I don't like to think of what I don't have or how hunger has left its mark on me," she reflects. Now learning the Klamath language and working on an Indigenous feminist horror film, she values her life and community standing as an educated elder.
Dr Morrill concludes with a powerful observation about systemic failures: "I'm not ashamed of using food stamps; I'm angry at how our government plays fast and loose with our survival." Her story stands as a testament to resilience in the face of persistent food insecurity that transcends generations and professional success.
