Human Rights Shabbat: The Right to Food
This text was written by Jack Monroe (The Bootstrap Cook), delivered in the House of Commons in June 2013.
‘This morning, small Boy had one of the last weetabix, mashed with a little water, and a glass of tap water to wash it down with. Where’s Mummy’s breakfast? He asks, all blue eyes and two year old concern. I tell him I’m not hungry, but the gnawing pains in my stomach call me a liar. But what else can you do? What else can you do – when you’ve turned off your heating? That was in November 2011, it went off at the mains and I parked furniture in front of it to forget that it was ever there, to alleviate the temptation to turn it on. What else can you do, when you’ve turned everything off at the wall sockets, when you become obsessive about unplugging things, down to the green LCD display on the oven, mockingly flashing away. You learn to go without things, you unscrew the light bulbs. You turn the hot water off and pretend the freezing cold shower is ‘invigorating’, but it shocks you every time. You sell the meagre DVD collection for an even more meagre sum, your son’s toys, everything you own.
But poverty isn’t just having no heating, or not quite enough food, unplugging your fridge and turning your hot water off. Poverty is the choking, sinking feeling when your small boy finishes his one weetabix, and he says: More Mummy? Bread and jam please Mummy? And you’re wondering how to carry the TV and the guitar to the pawn shop, and how to tell him that there is no bread and jam. I’m Jack Monroe. That was an excerpt from my blog, from July 2012. I’m a 25 year old single mother to a 3 year old boy, and I was unemployed for 16 months. I’m one of the lucky ones. I have no TV, no heating, and no car, and many evenings have gone by with no dinner, but I’m one of the lucky ones.
Because, around six months ago, I was referred to my local food bank for help. I had been attending a support group for single mums on a Wednesday, and to be honest I only went for the free lunch. One of the women who ran the group noticed that my son and I always had seconds, and thirds, and quietly asked me if everything was okay. I lied, and I said that I was fine. Because that’s the trouble, when you have holes in your socks and holes in your jeans, and your collar bones are jutting out of the two jumpers you wear to keep warm – you tell everyone that everything is okay. Because you think if you admit to skipping meals, to feeding your child the same cold pasta with tomatoes for four nights in a row, you worry that you might lose him, that he might be taken into care.
And in the cold, in the despair and desolation, your son is the only thing that stops you stepping off the flyover you walk over every day. So you say you’re fine’.
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This year in particular, many are facing extreme hardship. Our Jewish texts and values are founded on justice and fairness and we must strive for social justice wherever we can. Therefore, on the Shabbat of the 10th and 11th of December we are inviting you to consider the human Right to Food, a right which 8.7 million adults and children in the UK lack.
As one of the richest countries in the world, it is unacceptable that millions of people in the UK struggle to access the safe, nutritious and sustainable food they need. This struggle has become even more pertinent in the face of the Covid-19 pandemic.
The right to food does not just mean the right to be fed, nor does it mean the reliance on charitable food provision. Rather, it means that the UK government needs to ensure that all of its policies and decision making, especially around work, welfare, and immigration, guarantee that all people at all times can afford adequate food and that additional support is provided for those who might need it, for example, like the provision of meals on wheels or school meals.
If you want to read more: Rene Cassin Right to Food resource pack.