Part 2: When the System Fails to Protect Our Most Vulnerable Neighbors

It’s easy to feel helpless when the problems feel this big. But support doesn’t always mean grand gestures. It starts small, relational, and human.

In the last post, we talked about how our bodies respond when the world feels unsafe and how we go into fight, flight, freeze, or fawn when systems we rely on (like federal pay, food programs, or housing stability) start to crumble. This week, I want to take that conversation deeper. Because while uncertainty affects all of us, it doesn’t affect us equally.

When systems fail, the people already standing on the edge are the first to fall. In this situations, those at the edge are the immigrants, BIPOC communities, people with disabilities, and low-income families. These are our neighbors, coworkers, and classmates. They’re the folks keeping our hospitals clean, caring for our elders, stocking our groceries, raising children, holding two or three jobs, or quietly holding up entire households on hope and grit.

So let’s talk about why protecting marginalized communities right now is not just moral, but also necessary for collective survival.

Why It Hits Harder for Marginalized Communities

When government programs freeze or benefits get delayed, it’s not just “inconvenient.” For many families, it’s existential.

• Immigrant and undocumented communities already face food insecurity at nearly 40%, far higher than U.S.-born populations. And fear of enforcement means many avoid help even when they qualify.

• BIPOC families experience higher rates of housing instability, unemployment, and underemployment. So even a small disruption in aid can set off a chain reaction: missed rent, missed meals, missed opportunities.

• Low-income workers (especially hourly and gig employees) don’t have the cushion to absorb unpaid furloughs or government shutdowns. Their nervous systems live in chronic fight-or-flight.

• People with disabilities often depend on programs that are directly tied to federal stability such as medical coverage, accessibility supports, and transportation stipends that can vanish with budget cuts.

This is what systemic oppression looks like in real time. Not always dramatic, but devastating in its quiet, everyday way.

How We Can Start Helping — One Question at a Time

You can begin with one simple, powerful question:

“What do you need right now?”

Ask it with sincerity. Ask it without assuming you know the answer.

Sometimes the need will be material (food, transportation, childcare, cash). Sometimes it’s emotional (someone to listen, validate, or just sit beside them without trying to fix it). Sometimes it’s advocacy (using your voice or privilege to push for change when theirs can’t safely be heard).

Here are a few small but real ways we can help:

• Share verified resources (food banks, community fridges, mutual aid networks). Not everyone can navigate official systems safely.

• Offer rides, meals, or translation support for folks who can’t access those services directly.

• If you have the means, donate to local mutual aid groups that support undocumented or disabled residents. They often fill the gaps official programs leave behind.

• Check in with your people. Even a “thinking of you” message can remind someone they’re not invisible.

Collective Compassion: Why It Matters

When marginalized communities are protected, everyone becomes safer.
Because safety is not a limited resource, it’s something we expand together.

Compassion isn’t just a feeling, it’s a form of resistance! When we care for each other in a system that keeps trying to divide us, we’re saying, “You deserve to exist in safety, no matter what papers you have, how your body works, or what your bank account looks like.”

And that message? It’s revolutionary.

Fact Check

If you read this and thought "It's not all about race” or “Don’t make this an oppression olympics!” Get ready to fact check me on why I have named these populations as marginalized. You ready? Here I go:

Immigrant & undocumented-adjacent communities

• Research shows that among immigrants globally, food insecurity is very common (~38.6%) and is linked to worse mental health outcomes (higher distress, lower positive mood) than among non-immigrants. ScienceDirect+3PubMed+3AJP Monline+3

• In the U.S., immigrants face added burdens: legal/immigration fear, language/cultural barriers, less access to services. When food, housing, benefits get unstable, the stress is magnified. CLASP+1

• Example: Undocumented or mixed-status families may technically “qualify” for some assistance (or know someone who does) but they avoid applying because of fear of enforcement or stigma. That means the “safety net” has gaping holes. CLASP+1

• Mental-health impact: The uncertainty of “Will my family have enough?,” “Will we be asked questions?,” “Will my kids be safe?” piles on constant trauma. It’s not just “stressful,” it’s survival anxiety + cultural/historical trauma.

BIPOC & marginalised low-income communities

• Housing instability, food insecurity, and paucity of affordable, safe resources disproportionately affect BIPOC communities. When the system tightens by cutting  benefits, shutdowns, program delays those already in weaker positions are hit first.

• There’s a link between housing instability and increased anxiety/depression in youth: e.g., research shows youth who face housing instability are more likely to have anxiety (OR ~1.42) or depression (OR ~1.57). arXiv

• When a program shuts down or funding is cut (like federal mental-health support grants) the lack of access hits BIPOC communities that already have less infrastructure. Brennan Center for Justice+1

• Example: A BIPOC single parent working nights at a gig job whose child is in school for lunch programs. When lunch funding is threatened, that parent doesn’t just worry about the child’s belly. They worry “Can I keep working? What happens if I miss work? Will my kid get bullied because they bring only a snack?” That’s trauma compounding trauma.

Low-income folks, federal employees, benefit‐reliant populations

• The recent government shutdown means huge uncertainty: programs delayed, benefits threatened, state programs stretched. Ambrosia Behavioral Health+3NCSL+3Forbes+3

• Example: Federal employees who are furloughed or working without pay — their identity, security, rhythm, social networks get disrupted. For people who have known stability (job + income) and now don’t, the mental health fallout is real.

• For folks relying on SNAP, WIC, school-lunch programs: when those feel shaky, what used to be “okay for now” becomes “what if I won’t be okay next week?” The chronic threat becomes normalization. Oversecurity becomes insecurity.

• Mental-health impact: That constant state of uncertainty activates the fight/flight/freeze/fawn systems. The nervous system goes into survival mode all day. Concentration, memory, mood, physical health all suffer.