On September 28, 2025, a new Republican-backed law dramatically reshaped the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP), raising alarms among experts, anti-hunger advocates, and the millions of Americans who rely on food aid to get by. The consequences of these changes are already reverberating across the nation, with Maine’s food pantries offering a revealing snapshot of the challenges ahead.
SNAP, commonly known as food stamps, is the country’s largest anti-hunger program, helping more than 22 million households stretch their grocery budgets. But the latest overhaul brings stricter work requirements, tighter benefit calculations, and a heavier administrative burden for states—while federal funding for food banks has also been slashed. The result? More families may find themselves scrambling for help just as local food pantries face their own crises.
According to CBS News, experts estimate that around 2.4 million people—about 6% of all SNAP participants—could be cut off from benefits each month under the new law. Even more striking, as many as 22.3 million households may see their monthly assistance shrink. For families already struggling with high grocery prices and rising poverty rates, every SNAP dollar counts. “You are looking at households that don’t have a lot of extra wiggle room in their budget, so that makes every SNAP dollar very precious in extending that food budget,” said Carolyn Vega from Share Our Strength.
The new law expands work requirements, mandating that adults up to 64 years old must now work, train, or volunteer at least 20 hours a week to qualify for food aid. Previously, this rule applied only to those aged 18 to 54. Veterans, former foster youth, and homeless adults—groups that were previously exempt—must now also comply. Those who don’t meet the requirements can only receive food stamps for three months within a three-year period, a policy that many advocates say will disproportionately affect the most vulnerable.
Gina Plata-Nino from the Food Research & Action Center voiced deep concern: “Just off the bat, those are veterans, youths aging out of foster care—think about what it means to be unhoused, trying to get a job when you don’t have a place to shower. Again, these populations are going to be worse off.”
But the changes don’t stop there. The law also alters how benefits are calculated. Households can no longer deduct utility costs like internet when determining their level of aid. Vega explained, “Roughly 65% of participating households will see their benefit drop by an average of $10 a month.” She added, “It’s a relatively small amount but for a household facing rising grocery cost and facing tough decisions, $10 can make a difference.”
States are also being handed a bigger share of the bill. By fiscal year 2027, states must pay 75% of SNAP administrative costs, up from 50%. And if a state has a high error rate in payments, it will face even steeper costs starting in 2028. Vega warned, “It’s uncharted territory. We do worry some states might decide they can’t take that level of liability and won’t participate in SNAP.”
Some states, including Pennsylvania, have already announced they will begin enforcing stricter work rules as early as November 1, 2025. However, tracking the impact of these changes may become harder. The U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) recently announced it would stop its annual food security report, which has long been the nation’s primary measure of whether families have enough healthy food. Vega criticized this decision, saying, “I don’t see how it’s redundant—the USDA puts out the only report on food insecurity. It just indicates to me that they don’t want to see the results of the reconciliation bill.”
Nowhere are the effects of these federal shifts more visible than in Maine, one of New England’s most food-insecure states. In rural Waldo County, about one in seven people were food insecure in 2023, according to an Associated Press analysis of U.S. Census Bureau and Feeding America data. Local food pantries, like Neighbor’s Cupboard in Winterport, are the last line of defense for many families.
Phylis Allen, the 78-year-old director of Neighbor’s Cupboard, spends her days scouring stores for affordable eggs, potatoes, and other staples. “$2.82 a dozen,” she said with satisfaction after finding a deal on eggs at Sam’s Club. Every Wednesday, Allen and her small band of volunteers—some in their 80s—distribute heaping bags of food to 25 to 30 families. The pantry is a hive of activity, with cans stacked high and volunteers like Keith Ritchie, 89, and Betty Williams, 88, helping out week after week. Ritchie remarked, “You see a lot of people you know. I don’t know anybody’s name, but I don’t need a name. I just look at their faces.”
But the charitable food network in Maine is under strain. In March 2025, the Trump administration cut more than $1 billion from two key USDA programs: the Emergency Food Assistance Program and the Local Food Purchase Assistance Cooperative Agreement Program. These programs provided free food to food banks and funds for local food purchases. “I can watch the availability of federal food going down every month,” Allen told The Maine Monitor.
With SNAP facing $186 billion in cuts, Feeding America predicts that food pantries will see a surge in demand. Yet, the infrastructure that delivers food aid is fragile. Nearly 600 hunger relief agencies in Maine rely on volunteers, with over 75% operating with no paid staff, according to Good Shepherd Food Bank. The volunteer corps is aging, and younger people are less likely to step in, often citing work and family pressures. “I would categorize it as being an overwhelmed and overworked society,” said researcher Quixada Moore-Vissing. “The rising costs of everything, and in particular the cost of housing, means that people have to work more.”
At Neighbor’s Cupboard, Allen faces a constant struggle to find volunteers strong enough to haul heavy boxes and drive through Maine’s harsh winters. After losing one volunteer to a family emergency, she joked, “Find me a hunk with a truck.” She found one in 67-year-old Bryan MacLaren, but he too had to step back for knee surgery. The challenge is ongoing.
Since March, food supplies from Good Shepherd have been cut by half or more. In late August, the food bank allowed pantries to turn away visitors who don’t live nearby—a sharp departure from its long-standing philosophy of “food for all.” Allen, however, remains defiant. “We will keep serving everyone,” she wrote in an email to The Maine Monitor.
As the nation faces a new era of food aid under tighter budgets and stricter rules, the people on the front lines—recipients, volunteers, and pantry directors—are bracing for harder times. The ripple effects of these decisions, made far from the grocery aisles and pantry shelves, are only beginning to be felt in communities across America.
