Guest blog: Dignity and respect – a personal perspective

Sarah is the pen-name of one of the people who have been active in the Poverty Alliance's Taking Action on Rural Poverty project.

I remember the moment, seared in my mind, when I came to the realisation that there was nothing else that I could do now other than to go to the local foodbank. 

It was not something that had entered my thought-horizon until now.  It was just the next pragmatic step required in a string of unpleasant things to try and survive our new perilous journey. 

 I hadn’t planned this journey.  I was a teacher – something that was inextricably interlinked with who and how I saw myself.  Cancer had other plans though – it snuck up on me without fanfare, threatening the fundamental elements of my once-familiar life.  The familiar saying was indeed apt: “When Mum has cancer, everyone in the family has cancer”.  Now we were all dealing with cancer and no income – all of us – my husband (carer for our autistic children), my precious children and myself.  

I remember the deep sense of embarrassment that first time I went to the local foodbank.  When I think back now, I realise that the fact that I still looked ill – recovering from surgery, bald, swollen from chemotherapy - felt like it perhaps gave me a more visible and justifiable reason for being there.  I noticed though, as time went on and my hair grew back, I felt more uncomfortable about my ‘right’ to be there.  It was less visibly obvious, but the need remained the same, nonetheless. 

Over time, I began to get to know the volunteers and I found some sense of solidarity perhaps in knowing that there were other people who were also bravely fighting their own unique battle.  I was not alone in our difficulties.  My visits over time often helped somehow to make me feel grounded - connected.  It is not only about meeting the basic human need for food and sustenance – it is about so much more than that.  These encounters are about human connection and empathy, dignity and so much more. 

 Long-term side-effects of my cancer treatment have meant that I’ve been unable to return to work.  I continue, like the ever-increasing numbers of people now, to need access food provision.  I value these interactions, but never completely become entirely comfortable about needing this.  I was reminded of my own vulnerability the other day. 

I was in our local food pantry, just at the end of going round the shelves.  A large delivery was being brought in and I, rather awkwardly, just stood back and waited – there was fresh fruit and strawberries (one of the few foods my autistic son eats).  Out of courtesy I would never take anything until I was sure that it had been put out.  However, a volunteer said to me loudly and aggressively – “Well - can I help you?” – the implication being that I should move on - tough-luck that I had missed this delivery and I wasn’t getting any ‘more’.  In that moment, despite countless previous positive encounters with so many empathetic volunteers, I felt deeply humiliated.  I could feel the other people there all looking at me.  I mumbled that I was waiting for the delivery to be unpacked as I was hoping for some strawberries and that I didn’t want to take things out the delivery containers.  Despite this, the volunteer told me, loudly (as if I was somehow not intelligent enough to understand) that I couldn’t take items out the delivery.  I could feel myself becoming more and more mortified.  If I had been able to simply leave and not return, I would have.  I sat in the car and cried.  I realised that the fragile sense of dignity that is built up over time can be damaged in one off-hand, uncharitable encounter.   

The messages of dignity and respect, whether spoken or unspoken, can have a profound effect, particularly for those of us who find ourselves  in the unenviable position of needing to access emergency food provision.  Volunteers use so much more than their words to communicate with us.  When I was teaching, the quote: “Who you are speaks so loudly I can’t hear what you are saying”, was always a useful reminder to me.  I would ask that you be mindful of this too.