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As Financial, Food Needs Fall Through Cracks, Community Rises to Meet Them

As the COVID-19 pandemic and accompanying economic disaster drag on, many need help beyond what the government and charities can provide. That’s where mutual aid comes in.

By Sarah E. Komar

FAYETTEVILLE, Ark — When Candace Green was fired as part of pandemic-related cutbacks in October, she felt scared and alone. The 45-year-old single mother has little surviving family, and her paycheck from her data input job in the records department of Washington Regional Medical Center was the only source of income for her and her daughter, 17.

Green hoped she could find some relief through government assistance. Then, her application for the federal Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, commonly known as food stamps, was denied in November because her final pay stubs showed income too high for her to qualify.  She was told it would be months before her unemployment application was processed and she could start receiving payments — assuming she even qualified.

“I was told at that time that it would be 14 weeks before my case would even be looked at, because that’s how backlogged they were,” Green said. “And then, once it’s looked at, it could take up to six weeks to start receiving any kind of benefits. Honestly, I just started crying when she told me that…but there was nowhere for her to guide me.”

As Green sent resumes to 138 potential employers and fell behind on her rent and car payment despite working three part-time cleaning and retail jobs, she felt increasingly hopeless. But one day, desperate and not knowing where to turn, Green looked to social media and found a saving grace in an unexpected place: two Facebook groups of Northwest Arkansas neighbors who would soon change her life.

The groups, “Y’ALLIDARITY! – NWA Mutual Aid” and “West Fayetteville Mutual Aid,” are among hundreds that have sprung up around the U.S. since the pandemic began, in which members ask for or provide direct assistance — or both. Unlike traditional charity, mutual aid is reciprocal and takes a horizontal organizational approach focused on building community resilience. Mutual aid networks are also not beholden to wealthy philanthropists or large corporate donors.

Green connected with neighbors who donated the money she needed to pay her December rent and maintain the emergency payment plan she had arranged with her landlord. They also guided her to her closest “Little Free Pantries” and to a local food bank, which helped her save on groceries.

Fear and Uncertainty

A “little free pantry” near the corner of North Avenue and the Razorback Greenway stands empty on March 4, 2021. Throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, some participants in the Northwest Arkansas mutual aid movement have made a routine of stocking them as they become empty, which can happen in just hours. Members of Facebook groups keep each other apprised of the status of the pantries around the region. // Photo by Sarah E. Komar

A Columbia University study published in October 2020 revealed that the U.S. poverty rate increased from 15.3% in February to 18% in September, despite an initial decrease spurred by CARES Act stimulus funding. 

Amid one of the worst economic crises in U.S. history, millions have found themselves on months-long waiting lists for unemployment insurance, SNAP benefits, rental assistance and other aid provided by now-overwhelmed government agencies or non-profits. Others don’t qualify for such assistance, or need additional help to make ends meet. 

Mutual aid has helped fill in the gaps for many, like Green. The community assistance she received helped relieve some of the stress she had experienced from worrying how she would support her child.

“[My daughter] could see and understand the emotion I was going through,” Green said. “She has a part-time job, so she would bring over stuff to eat, or offer to help me with bills, which, as a mom, breaks your heart. I told her to spend it on herself; let me figure out the adult stuff.”

So Many Stories

Green’s story is far from rare, said Alicia Johnson, 32, a UA doctoral student and mother of three. Johnson is currently one of the most active members of the “Y’ALLIDARITY” group, which married couple Luke Gould and Michelle Miesse started on March 13, 2020, as the pandemic hit Arkansas. Within a week, over 3,500 people had joined the group. It now boasts a membership of over 6,000 members, some of whom provide assistance weekly or even daily.

Since late November, when Johnson decided to get more heavily involved in the movement, she has spearheaded several large-scale mutual aid endeavors. She maintains a Google form for locals to request financial assistance, organizes a monthly community food drive, and creates Facebook fundraisers to which community members contribute. Johnson then distributes the funds, fulfilling requests for help with food, car payments, utility bills and other expenses.

Most families and individuals who request help from Johnson are facing unemployment or other pandemic-related financial struggles, she said. Many are in an aid gap, having not yet received government benefits or assistance from traditional non-profits, or needing additional funds to supplement it. 

“A lot of…people are in the middle,” Johnson said. “Meaning they’ve applied [for assistance] but they don’t have [it] yet. Or they had [it] before, and there was some kind of issue with the group they were working with. Like, if it was food stamps, there was a typo somewhere and they got booted out and so now they have to wait three weeks to get back in. That’s a common theme for many.”

Each month, Alicia Johnson organizes a Facebook fundraiser, distributing donations to community members who request assistance with food, rent, utility payments and more. In February she began posting a breakdown of the month’s donations and distributions to the “Y’ALLIDARITY! – NWA Mutual Aid” Facebook group. Johnson hosted her first fundraiser in December 2020, after she was inspired to get more involved in the mutual aid movement following a Thanksgiving dinner she and her husband hosted for neighbors in need. // Infographic courtesy of Alicia Johnson

Paying it Forward

Springdale resident Thomas Tulensa, 36, has experienced both sides of the mutual aid coin. When the video producer and promoter had to quarantine for two weeks, he and his wife struggled to feed their three children. 

Tulensa contacted Walt Kelly, who in late 2020 launched a grassroots food delivery service funded by community donations, The People’s Pantry NWA. After Kelly delivered food to  Tulensa’s family and they discussed the food insecurity he had witnessed, Tulensa decided to join his direct assistance efforts. 

Tulensa, who is Marshallese, has provided a critical bridge to other residents from the Marshall Islands, whose community has been decimated by the COVID-19 pandemic, Kelly said. Tulensa produces videos for PPNWA, publicizes the group’s mission to his substantial social media following, and encourages his more stoic neighbors to ask for help. 

Thomas Tulensa, 36, of Springdale, and Walt Kelly, 48, of Fayetteville, make grocery deliveries to food-insecure Northwest Arkansas residents for The People’s Pantry NWA, a mutual aid food assistance organization Kelly founded and operates using community Venmo donations. // Photo courtesy of Walt Kelly

“There are a lot of foundations and organizations out there. They even have them for Marshallese,” Tulensa said. “But the thing is, Marshallese don’t reach out, because a lot of [them] are shy. This is our culture — we tend to hide our problems.”

Almost every day, Marshallese residents message Tulensa asking for help, and he refers them to Kelly. Since he began working with PPNWA, an estimated 50% of people the organization responds to are Marshallese, Tulensa said. After experiencing food insecurity first-hand, he feels grateful to have a chance to meet the needs of others in his community.

Green, too, is getting back on her feet. In late January she got a full-time job at PeopleReady, a Fayetteville temp agency. She is “still playing catch-up” on her rent and car payments, and has kept one of her part-time jobs for extra income. Despite balancing responsibilities, Green makes time to provide whatever mutual aid she can.

She posts PeopleReady job opportunities in Facebook groups. During the snowstorm that swept the South the week of Feb. 14, she helped Johnson and other volunteers donate hot, home-cooked meals to the Fayetteville Salvation Army Emergency Shelter. She plans to contribute further as she becomes more financially stable, and hopes to stay involved in the mutual aid movement after the pandemic ends.

“If it wasn’t for people who did that for me, I would be absolutely lost,” Green said. “So I would absolutely love to just give someone else the piece of mind that I received.”

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One thought on “As Financial, Food Needs Fall Through Cracks, Community Rises to Meet Them

  1. As Financial, Food Needs Fall Through Cracks, Community Rises to Meet Them
    As the COVID-19 pandemic and accompanying economic disaster drag on, many need help beyond what the government and charities can provide. That’s where mutual aid comes in.

    By Sarah E. Komar

    FAYETTEVILLE, Ark — When Candace Green was fired FROM BLAH BLAH as part of pandemic-related cutbacks in October, she felt scared and alone. The 45-year-old single mother has little surviving family, and her paycheck from her data input job in the records department of Washington Regional Medical Center was HAD BEEN the only source of income for her and her daughter, 17. RIGHT? THIS WAS THE JOB SHE WAS FIRED FROM? MAKE CLEAR.

    Green hoped she could find some relief through government assistance. Then, her application for the federal Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, commonly known as food stamps, was denied in November because her final pay stubs showed income too high for her to qualify. She was told it would be months before her unemployment application was processed and she could start receiving payments — assuming she even qualified.

    “I was told at that time that it would be 14 weeks before my case would even be looked at, because that’s how backlogged they were,” Green said. “And then, once it’s looked at, it could take up to six weeks to start receiving any kind of benefits. Honestly, I just started crying when she told me that… SPACE ON EACH SIDE OF ELLIPSES but there was nowhere for her to guide me.”

    As Green sent resumes to 138 potential employers and fell behind on her rent and car payment despite working three part-time cleaning and retail jobs, she felt increasingly hopeless. But one day, desperate and not knowing where to turn, Green looked to social media and found a saving grace in an unexpected place: two Facebook groups of Northwest Arkansas neighbors who would soon change her life.

    The groups, “Y’ALLIDARITY! – NWA Mutual Aid” and “West Fayetteville Mutual Aid,” PUT HER IN THIS GRAF. NEEDS A TRANSITION: GREEN FOUND Y’ALLDIARITY AND WEST FAYETTEVILLE MUTUAL AID, WHICH ARE BLAH BLAH are among hundreds that have sprung up around the U.S. since the pandemic began, in which members ask for or provide direct assistance — or both. Unlike traditional charity, mutual aid is reciprocal and takes a horizontal organizational approach THIS IS JARGON. WHAT DOES IT ACTUALLY MEAN? focused on building community resilience. MARKETING TALK. MAKE IT REAL.
    Mutual aid networks are also not beholden to wealthy philanthropists or large corporate donors. MAKE IT CLEAR WHO BENEFACTORS ARE

    Green connected with neighbors who donated the money she needed to pay her December rent and maintain the emergency payment plan she had arranged with her landlord. They also guided her to her closest “Little Free Pantries” and to a local food bank, which helped her save on groceries.

    WE NEED TO HEAR HER VOICE HERE

    Fear and Uncertainty

    A “little free pantry” near the corner of North Avenue and the Razorback Greenway stands empty on March 4, 2021. Throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, some participants in the Northwest Arkansas mutual aid movement have made a routine of stocking them as they become empty, which can happen in just hours. Members of Facebook groups keep each other apprised of the status of the pantries around the region. // Photo by Sarah E. Komar

    A Columbia University study published in October 2020 revealed that the U.S. poverty rate increased from 15.3% in February to 18% in September, despite an initial decrease spurred by CARES Act stimulus funding.

    Amid one of the worst economic crises in U.S. history, millions have found themselves on months-long waiting lists for unemployment insurance, SNAP benefits, rental assistance and other aid provided by now-overwhelmed government agencies or non-profits. Others don’t qualify for such assistance, or need additional help to make ends meet.

    Mutual aid has helped fill in the gaps for many, like Green. The community assistance she received helped relieve some of the stress she had experienced from worrying how she would support her child.

    “[My daughter] could see and understand the emotion I was going through,” Green said. “She has a part-time job, so she would bring over stuff to eat, or offer to help me with bills, which, as a mom, breaks your heart. I told her to spend it on herself; let me figure out the adult stuff.”

    So Many Stories

    Green’s story is far from rare, said Alicia Johnson, 32, a UA doctoral student and mother of three. Johnson is currently one of the most active members of the “Y’ALLIDARITY” group, which married couple Luke Gould and Michelle Miesse started on March 13, 2020, as the pandemic hit Arkansas. Within a week, over 3,500 people had joined the group. It now boasts a membership of over 6,000 members, some of whom provide assistance weekly or even daily. GOOD DETAILS

    Since late November, when Johnson decided to get more heavily involved in the movement, she has spearheaded several large-scale mutual aid endeavors. She maintains a Google form for locals to request financial assistance, organizes a monthly community food drive, and creates Facebook fundraisers to which community members contribute. Johnson then distributes the funds, fulfilling requests for help with food, car payments, utility bills and other expenses. GOOD DETAILS

    Most families and individuals who request help from Johnson are facing unemployment or other pandemic-related financial struggles, she said. Many are in an aid gap, having not yet received government benefits or assistance from traditional non-profits, or needing additional funds to supplement it.

    “A lot of…people are in the middle,” Johnson said.
    IF YOU HAVE TO INCLUDE THIS MANY BRACKETED WORDS JUST PARAPHRASE “Meaning they’ve applied [for assistance] but they don’t have [it] yet. Or they had [it] before, and there was some kind of issue with the group they were working with. Like, if it was food stamps, there was a typo somewhere and they got booted out and so now they have to wait three weeks to get back in. That’s a common theme for many.”

    Each month, Alicia Johnson organizes a Facebook fundraiser, distributing donations to community members who request assistance with food, rent, utility payments and more. In February she began posting a breakdown of the month’s donations and distributions to the “Y’ALLIDARITY! – NWA Mutual Aid” Facebook group. Johnson hosted her first fundraiser in December 2020, WHAT WAS IT? after she was inspired to get more involved in the mutual aid movement following a Thanksgiving dinner she and her husband hosted for neighbors in need. // Infographic courtesy of Alicia Johnson
    Paying it Forward

    Springdale resident Thomas Tulensa, 36, has experienced both sides of the mutual aid coin. When the video producer and promoter had to quarantine for two weeks, he and his wife struggled to feed their three children. GOOD SOURCES

    Tulensa contacted Walt Kelly, who in late 2020 launched a grassroots food delivery service funded by community donations, The People’s Pantry NWA. After Kelly delivered food to Tulensa’s family and they discussed the food insecurity he had witnessed, Tulensa decided to join his direct assistance efforts.

    Tulensa, who is Marshallese, has provided a critical bridge to other residents from the Marshall Islands, whose community has been decimated by the COVID-19 pandemic, Kelly said. Tulensa produces videos for THE FOOD PANTRY (AVOID ALPHABET SOUP WHENEVER POSSIBLE) PPNWA, publicizes the group’s mission to his substantial social media following, and encourages his more stoic neighbors to ask for help.

    Thomas Tulensa, 36, of Springdale, and Walt Kelly, 48, of Fayetteville, make grocery deliveries to food-insecure Northwest Arkansas residents for The People’s Pantry NWA, a mutual aid food assistance organization Kelly founded and operates using community Venmo donations. // Photo courtesy of Walt Kelly

    “There are a lot of foundations and organizations out there. They even have them for Marshallese,” Tulensa said. “But the thing is, Marshallese don’t reach out, because a lot of [them] are shy. This is our culture — we tend to hide our problems.” GOOD INSIGHT. THIS IS WHY YOU SEEK DIVERSITY IN SOURCES. EXCELLENT JOB

    Almost every day, Marshallese residents message Tulensa asking for help, and he refers them to Kelly. Since he began working with PPNWA, an estimated 50% of people the organization responds to are Marshallese, Tulensa said. After experiencing food insecurity first-hand, he feels grateful to have a chance to meet the needs of others in his community.

    Green, too, is getting back on her feet. In late January she got a full-time job at PeopleReady, a Fayetteville temp agency. She is “still playing catch-up” on her rent and car payments, and has kept one of her part-time jobs for extra income. Despite balancing responsibilities, Green makes time to provide whatever mutual aid she can.

    She posts PeopleReady job opportunities in Facebook groups. During the snowstorm that swept the South the week of Feb. 14, she helped Johnson and other volunteers donate hot, home-cooked meals to the Fayetteville Salvation Army Emergency Shelter. She plans to contribute further as she becomes more financially stable, and hopes to stay involved in the mutual aid movement after the pandemic ends.

    “If it wasn’t for people who did that for me, I would be absolutely lost,” Green said. “So I would absolutely love to just give someone else the piece PEACE of mind that I received.”
    GOOD JOB BRINGING IT BACK TO GREEN.

    THANKS FOR THE GOOD REVISION.

    Like

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