A History of Hunger
I have written many words about these mountains, their stories, the lost history of struggles won and hardships overcome. My research and digging has taken me from to ‘ and put me in the shadow of . I have sung the praises of , cursed’s soul, and told tales of ’s bravery. I have shown you mine disasters, labor wars, corruption, murder, and the importance of solidarity in the face of such evils.
Like so many of the people here, I am a product of these mountains, and was born in the very heart of coal country — Pike County, KY — where the once captivated the nation with their killing. While I was rarely close to my father, like almost all of us who grow up here, I can remember him returning home covered in coal dust. I have played in creeks catching crawdads and hellbenders, I’ve eaten squirrel brain gravy with black pepper and onion, and the first time I ever saw my mother (and grandmother) get in a fistfight with a stranger was at the Ralph Stanley Bluegrass Festival.
Yet, if you were to ask me what binds the people of Appalachia together, I would not tell you it is any of those things. We are not bound together by our food, our origins, or even our too-often-forgotten history. Hell, we ain’t even bound by the coal anymore — King Coal only comes around to dirty up our water these days.
There is a thread though…
A line that has been running through this place since the first bit of anthracite coal was discovered in our dirt and thus damned us to our fate. A thread first spun by isolation, then rewoven into a rope with which to strangle our people by King Coal, and connects all of us in the hills regardless of race, creed, union conviction, or scabbin’ intention. This thread has been both scourge and teacher to our people, plague and promise, and has pulled as many tears from young mothers as a mine collapse. It has put more men to work in the pits than all the barons of industry put together.
This thread runs all the way back from the Melungeon folks, through the Tinker Pinks, Italian folks, Polish folks, Black folks, German folks, the Scots and the Welsh who looked out on the same foggy mountains I do now. A thread extending through every mining camp, small town, and backwoods shack that stretches from one end of the coalfield to the next. A maker of heroes. A maker of outlaws. A maker of cutthroats and fearless souls who traded years of their lives not for the scraps of the oligarchs, but for the day it could keep their children free of this scourgin’ thread.
Sid Hatfield once, in the height of the Coal War, armed himself and gathered good men to raid company stores in hopes of severing this thread — for it is a curse of these mountains to be broken…
Revenuers once locked us up for trying to escape it any way we could…
I speak of that old killer, that old shame-bringer, the beating stick that the rich man uses to put the poor back in line…
Hunger.
The have proposed a bill to cut 230 billion dollars in funding to the .
My mother used food stamps to keep us alive when I was a boy. Most of my friends’ parents were in the same boat. All manner of folks in this neck of the woods rely on SNAP to feed their children, to buy formula for babies, to put food in the bellies of their families in the face of overwhelming poverty. Without this assistance, they will starve. They will do without what they need to grow up and live a healthy life.
You want to take food from the mouths of our children so you can put money in the pocket of the rich man? That is your plan? That is your intention? I suggest, Old Sons, you go take a long gander at the history of the scabs that came to our Appalachia and tried to steal food from our young’uns back then. See how that worked out. Take a long gander, Mr. Fine Suit — perhaps drain a slurry pond or two so you can look ’em in the eye when you ask that.
You, the descendants of coal operators, scabs, and Gun Thugs, wish to take the goddamn food out of our babies’ mouths so we’ll fall back in line and be good little Tinker Pinks out front of your ? Show that ol’ King we’re the grateful serfs of old, huh?
I’ve got bootlegger and organizer blood in my veins. What say you, Appalachia? You think they got a right to make your children do without food? You think they got the sand in their britches to pull this off?
FILL YOUR HANDS!
I am Coyote Wallace.
This is Dispatches From Appalachia,
And today we are taking a whole mess of yellow dogs and rotten sonsofbitches to task with A History of Hunger in the Mountains.
The Old-Timey Lesson
Hunger and food insecurity have long been scourges of the people of the Appalachian Mountains. These twin plagues can largely be attributed to factors like the remote nature of the region itself, poverty resulting from few economic opportunities, and environmental impacts upon traditional agricultural means of living. For a time, our people were able to sustain themselves with the bounty of the mountains, but resource-extraction-heavy industries (i.e. coal mining) would soon make that an impossibility, given the destructive nature the work has upon the surrounding land.
When King Coal moved into the region, he brought with him Company Stores — and to the eyes of the hungry Appalachian, this access to readily shipped goods seemed a blessing. Before the railways could carve their way through the mountains, flatboats were the only way many goods could be transported to remote mining communities, and only King Coal could afford to book such passage.
So what do you think happened to a man when he lost his job? Hmm? What do you think happened when he got caught talking about unionizing? What do you think happened when he died digging their coal?
The Company Store would no longer serve his family. And with no social safety nets to support them — they starved to death.
Some — largely the libertarian contingent — will say that communities will come together in such times to take care of the poor. Churches will donate food and clothing. Well-to-do families will engage in charity. That the burden of helping those in the grimmest of circumstances is entirely dependent upon the handouts of those with generous hearts.
Hmph!
You know what the Gun Thugs used to do when they’d put a family out from their company home and cut them off from the Company Store? They’d forbid the other employees or their families from providing them with food or shelter under threat of receiving the same blacklisting. Part of the punishment, you see, was that we had to watch as our neighbors and friends starved in the elements or fended for themselves the best they could.
The old song from the 1930s — “” by Walter Seacrist — mentions how starvation was used to keep my people in line. How the operators and Gun Thugs would laugh at the little children and mothers begging for bread on the streets, and how they would kick them down for getting in the way with their begging. Starvation was so much a part of our people’s daily lives that it became woven into the songs we sung to ourselves around the campfires as we endured their rule.
Even after the Gun Thugs were vanquished — even after the right for actual money instead of was won, and after the last of the rifles of the Coal Wars had fallen silent in the mountains — such hardship persisted. Throughout the 1940s and ’50s, Appalachia continued to sink into the cold waters of poverty. Eastern Kentucky, for example, saw unemployment rates of over , while in some areas of Appalachia, 50% of the population lived beneath the poverty line. Many of the homes lacked power, running water, flushing toilets, or heating systems. The region was woefully lacking in any and all infrastructure needed for the betterment of the lives of the people who lived here.
Efforts had been made in the ’30s, loosely, with the creation of the and a series of New Deal initiatives. But these efforts — while certainly helpful — ultimately fell short of alleviating the rampant poverty that had taken hold in the region. As the years went on, the increasing disenfranchisement of the Appalachian people, combined with a cycle of poor educational opportunities and little hope for betterment, created a riptide of destitution from which few in the mountain states could escape.
Hunger and despair loomed over our people like some foul dragon from the days of myth — and that is fitting enough. For it would take a man from Camelot to strike the lethal blow against this beast of hunger.
SNAP to Attention: The Feeding of the Poor
On May 29th, 1961, the from the federal government, Mr. and Mrs. Alderson Muncey of McDowell County, West Virginia, were issued their food coupons. Alderson was a coal miner, and when he could no longer work for King Coal, he was discarded. The food stamps that would soon feed the Muncey family were the result of an executive order by John F. Kennedy himself. They were given $95 worth of food to feed a 15-person household for one month.
Poverty in the region had become a national embarrassment, and after touring Appalachia, Kennedy vowed to put an end to the level of rough living that people here were forced to endure. The Munceys were part of a pilot program that Kennedy hoped to implement across the nation. For whatever faults history might assign to President Kennedy — his dalliances, his privilege — he was a man who cared deeply about starving children and families gripped by hopelessness.
Sadly, he would not live to see the plan come to fruition.
President Kennedy’s dream of defeating the scourge of poverty, however, would not go quietly into the night. With the nation still mourning his assassination, the newly appointed President Johnson went before Congress on January 31st, 1964, to request that the Food Stamp Program be made a permanent fixture. Among the stated goals of the were strengthening the agricultural economy and improving nutrition among low-income households. In practical terms, the legislation sought to bring Kennedy’s pilot program under Congressional control.
America — the best of America, the best of what we represent and who we are — had begun to take a stand against starvation in its streets.
The program proved wildly popular among the public, and throughout the 1960s and 70s it saw robust expansion. As the program reached more communities, more people came forward to take the help they desperately needed. By 1971, over from the government. Children were being fed. Families could hold onto a shred of dignity. And by all accounts, the program was working.
By 1974, the program was providing aid to over 18 million people.
That’s a whole lot of folks who would have otherwise gone without.
While the early ’70s proved a period of growth for the program, concerns about the cost of feeding so many people began to arise. This ushered in the balancing act between accessibility and accountability that has plagued the program ever since.
The, passed on January 11, 1971, established uniform national standards for eligibility and work registration requirements. It required that allotments reflect the cost of a nutritionally adequate diet, limited household contributions to 30% of income, instituted outreach requirements, and authorized the Department of Agriculture to pay 62.5% of specific state administrative costs. It also expanded the program to U.S. territories including Guam, Puerto Rico, and the Virgin Islands, and provided $1.75 billion in appropriations for fiscal year 1971.
This was followed by the, passed on August 10, 1973. It required states to expand the program to every political jurisdiction before July 1, 1974, extended eligibility to drug addicts and alcoholics in rehabilitation centers, and introduced semi-annual allotment adjustments, bi-monthly issuance, and the ability to use food stamps to purchase seeds and plants for growing food.
With the rise of the 1980s came a sweeping series of cutbacks aimed at gutting the program, led by the Reagan administration and a Congress eager to slash what they saw as government “fat.” These cuts included new income eligibility tests, a shift from biannual to annual allotment adjustments, mandatory periodic reporting, retroactive budgeting, the inclusion of retirement accounts as resources, and optional state-level job search requirements — all designed to throw as many people off the program as possible.
The Republicans seemed to love the idea of returning children to hunger in order to save a few bucks — and buy a few more bombs.
These cuts proved deeply unpopular. In the wake of the backlash, modest efforts were made to “recognize the threat of severe hunger in America.” By 1987, there were marginal improvements to the program and small increases in funding — but not nearly enough to repair the damage that had been done.
Thus, the stage was set for one of the longest-running battles in American politics: whether or not we should feed the poor.
Back and forth the country’s two parties would pull and tug. There was the. There was the rise of. There was the F and the . On and on it went — rebuilt and torn down, rebuilt and torn down.
The seemingly simple matter of putting food in the bellies of the American poor would remain a hot-button issue for decades to come.
Where We Stand Today
So concludes our history lesson. If you would like further history, then I cannot help you on this matter. For I aim not to speak of the past, but of the present — and the dreadful collusion of wicked souls that cloak themselves in the American flag while taking from the most vulnerable of American people. I will not be kind in my rebuke of such forces. I will not be proper in my speech. And if I am honest, my beloved Coyote-Fam, I am mad as a wet hornet over this rotten development.
The GOP’s reckless plan to cut $300 billion from the program stands to endanger farmers, rural communities, and — most of all — the poor families who simply wish to have enough food to stay alive. There is no moral ground on which these cuts can be argued. There is no goodness in any man who would take food from the people of Appalachia — or any corner of America — simply because he delights in his service to the oligarchy.
I wonder now — have any of those rotten Republican bastards ever known hunger?
Do they know that a child’s scream is different when it is hungry than when it is hurt or frightened? Do they know the shame that comes with looking at an empty refrigerator and wondering how the hell you’re going to feed your family that night? Has even one of them ever sold something they valued just to make it through to the next payday?
Pardon my French, but on behalf of every parent who might need help feeding their babies…
Who the fuck do you think you are?
Firstly — since I know all you rotten, red-hat-wearing bastards only care about the money — you do realize that your little plan will destroy small-town grocers and farmers, right? You understand that if they do not sell as much food, they will not be able to keep as many people employed as they previously did?
Because I don’t think you do.
I don’t think you’ve thought any of this through.
I think your Orange Master gave you an order, and like well-trained dogs eager for the biscuit, you came running when called. I think you do not care one lick for small business. I think you care not one lick for small towns. And I know, for goddamn certain, you don’t give a raven’s wet shit whether or not good American people lose their jobs.
Secondly — is the Republican Party not supposedly the Party of Christ? Do they not wreath themselves in the Good Book and talk endlessly of the importance of its virtues? Would one of you sons of scabs like to tell me where the fuck you think it says in that good book that you should ever starve a child? Where is this story of Jesus starving a baby that you must surely be guided by? I would like to see it. I would like to read it for myself. I’ve more than a passing interest in the ol’ Good Book, bein’ a mountain boy and all.
Here, let me show you…
Proverbs 19:17 — “Whoever is generous to the poor lends to the Lord, and he shall repay him for his deed.”
What about Proverbs 22:9?
“Whoever has a bountiful eye shall be blessed, for he shares his bread with the poor.”
Maybe you’d prefer to look up a few on your own time — if you can touch a Bible without bursting into flames. Here, I’ll make some quick recommendations for you: try out Luke 11:41 or Matthew 25:40, and once you have — provided your eyes haven’t run down your face like that damned scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark — then you can explain to me about taking food away from the poor.
What you fail to realize, in your arrogance and your cruelty, is that the people you take this food from are not parasites, like you imply. They are not a burden. They are not a weakness. And they are not any less human than you just because they are poor. My family has lived in these mountains for a long time, and there have been times when the stamps saved us. My mother was a helluva worker — broke her back working to keep a roof over my head — and she still needed stamps to keep us fed.
Let me be real quick, Congress-folk — my mother was not a fucking parasite.
My Sprat — who, a single tear from, is worth more than every breath you dogs will ever breathe — was forced, when she was younger (and before she came into my life), to get on food assistance in order to take care of herself and her younger half-brother. She was not a parasite. She was not a freeloader or a fraudster. And I do not wager a single one of your number has the stones to tell any parent that their child is a ‘parasite’ or a ‘burden.’
We are America, goddamn it! We feed the hungry! We take care of our poor! We look out for one another and protect those in our midst who need protecting — from the likes of those who would do them harm or deprive them of liberty. You, who dine on the finest of meals and drive expensive cars, who own multiple homes, who have stock portfolios and vacation on sunny beaches — you would tell my people they should starve to give tax breaks to your wealthy friends?
Where are your morals?
Where the fuck is your character?
Do you have no souls? Are you truly so depraved and without empathy that you would go through with such a plan to appease your crooked masters? Have none of you considered what the backlash to this will be?
My people once fought and died to feed their families. My people have traveled miles underground where the sun will never touch, while the mountain groans its displeasure at their presence — just to keep their children alive. They’ve fought revenuers. They’ve fought Gun Thugs. And they may well fight you, if it were actually your hand reaching across their table. Any parent would. Any good person who cannot stand the thought of a single child starving in America would.
You have damned yourselves with those votes to make these cuts. You have forfeited your place in the halls of liberty, betrayed the sacred duty of stewardship over the Great Experiment that is democracy, and become cravens. You are not men. You are not women. You are not even fit to call yourselves Americans so long as you would starve a child.
We will see your ilk defeated. We will see your terrible works undone. But for every single family — and for every single child of those families — that will go without until we do…
…that’s on your soul.
Forever.
We will defeat you — for this, for all the cruelties, for all the mindless hate and the callous disregard for dignity. We will defeat you and we will retake our country. We will drive you back into the shadows where you belong. We will take your seats in the House. We will take your places in the Senate. We will cast out your judges. We will rip apart your insidious DOGE, and as God is my witness above — we will restore decency and compassion to our country.
Not for me.
Not for the Left.
Not for the Liberals.
Not for the Cause.
Not even for America itself.
But we’ll do it for our children —
and their children.
You bet your bottom dollar on that…
…if your Orange Daddy will let you.
Solidarity Forever.
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