The Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program made my first two years of college possible. I’m fully supporting myself through school, and in those early years the only reason I could reliably afford real, nutritionally decent food was SNAP.
But I didn’t apply because the system found me, or because the program was easy to understand. I applied because my partner was already enrolled — and she told me what it was, how to do the paperwork and why I should. That’s not a system. That’s a coin toss.
There’s a basic mismatch on college campuses: need is widespread, but enrollment is not. At UO, 39.5% of students face food insecurity, yet many who likely qualify for SNAP never use it. That gap isn’t unique to Eugene. Nationally, the Government Accountability Office reported only 41% of likely eligible college students were enrolled in SNAP in 2024.
The largest driver is possibly social. “Students aren’t taught to prioritize food, so they wave it off. There’s this myth of the hungry college student:
that all we need is ramen or iced coffee. In a lot of ways, it’s a cultural expectation that you’re broke,” Jessica Brannan, a second year planning, public policy and management and economics major, said. The problem starts with what students think they’re supposed to tolerate.
But suppose you refuse the myth. Another part is identity. So students don’t enroll because they didn’t see themselves as the kind of person who’s supposed to use it. SNAP gets filed in students’ minds as a program for a permanent “other,” rather than a short-term support designed for moments when income is low.
Part of that gap is plain bureaucratic friction. Brannan says most college students “never really had to deal with that intense of paperwork, and direct interaction with the government.”
UO’s Assistant Director for Food Security Madeline Hagar told me the costs aren’t abstract: “I think it is difficult to understand how much stress and worry is associated with food insecurity… Additionally, people’s ability to concentrate degrades, which can impact their academics, work and relationships. Prolonged food insecurity can also lead to health complications like type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure and heart disease.”
That misunderstanding suppresses enrollment among students who could benefit immediately, and it does measurable harm to nutrition, focus and wellbeing.
SNAP is “a program that we collectively pay into that is designed to give people extra purchasing power so they can buy the nutritious foods they need,” Hagar said.
Not to mention, Hagar says because SNAP is “an entitlement program, everyone who is eligible is served, unlike discretionary programs that can run out of funding.” Basic Needs is working on two fronts: access and stigma.
On access, they reduce transaction costs — time, confusion, documentation hurdles — by providing navigation support, eligibility clarification and warm handoffs that move students through enrollment rather than leaving them to self-manage a complex process.
On stigma, they utilize a peer to peer network. Julia Morrill, assistant dean of students and director of the Basic Needs Program, told me they “train students who are peer advisors… (like) FIG advisors,… RAs… students at the Financial Wellness Center and Duck Nest… students who are interacting with other students and might have a conversation.”
Through this network, Morrill says they “try to help students understand that this is a program that is meant to help people get the nutritious food that they need in order to function and be successful in their lives.”
So here’s the ask: if you think you might qualify, apply. The odds are better than you think.
If you’re unsure, talk to Basic Needs and let them help you figure it out quickly. Visit them either at Oregon Hall, or this Wednesday, Feb. 18, from 10 a.m. – 2 p.m. in the Crater Lake Rooms (145/146 EMU) for the SNAP Fair they’re putting on.
You don’t have to hit rock bottom to use a stabilizer. After all, “it’s normal… we’re all human, we all need (food),” Morrill said.
Imagine a world a few years from now, where SNAP is no more remarkable than a scholarship application. When more future doctors, teachers, engineers and managers remember SNAP as the reason they could eat while becoming who they are, that shift has political consequences. A generation that experiences SNAP as temporary support during college carries that understanding into careers and families, continuing the loop of normalization.
