What If the Food Bank Was a Symbol of Abundance, Not Desperation?

When you picture a food bank, what comes to mind?

For many people, it’s a dimly lit space with long lines and low spirits. It’s a last resort. A place you go when things have gotten really bad. It's where you end up when you’re out of options.

But what if that image is wrong?

At the Port Angeles Food Bank, we’re working to flip that script entirely.

Because here’s the truth: our food bank is not a place of scarcity. It’s a place of abundance.

Every week, we see fridges full of fresh produce and dairy, shelves stocked with bread, canned goods, and nourishing staples. We see volunteers laughing while sorting apples. We see parents choosing groceries with dignity. We see kids picking out their favorite snack. We see community—real, thriving, hopeful community.

This is what abundance looks like.

Shifting the Narrative

The old story says the food bank is for “those people.” People who failed, or fell, or just can’t quite make it work.

That story is rooted in shame.

It's a narrative that isolates and divides, and it keeps people from reaching out even when they’re hungry.

But hunger isn’t a personal failing. It’s the result of broken systems—of wages that don’t cover rent, of healthcare that drains savings, of grocery prices that keep climbing.

And if you’re navigating those realities, walking through our doors doesn’t mean you’ve hit rock bottom. It means you’re doing exactly what any smart, resourceful person would do when food is tight: tapping into what your community offers.

That’s not desperation. That’s wisdom.

We’re Building a New Model

At the Port Angeles Food Bank, we want to build a place where everyone feels welcome. Not just those who are out of options, but those who want to be part of something bigger. A place where accessing food isn't cloaked in shame, but rooted in mutual support.

Whether you come to pick up groceries, volunteer your time, make a donation, or just stop by to ask a question—you’re part of the abundance we’re creating.

It’s time to stop seeing food banks as the end of the line. They are part of the solution. And in communities like ours, they are also a vision for the future: where people take care of each other, where food is shared freely, and where dignity is the default.

So let’s stop whispering about food insecurity.

Let’s talk boldly. Let’s show up. Let’s reshape the way our community sees this work and the people at the heart of it.

Because the food bank isn’t a symbol of desperation. It’s a symbol of what we can do when we believe everyone deserves enough.