Wednesday, Oct. 1, the federal government shut down for 43 days — halting services and cutting off aid to millions of families, including students at the College of William and Mary who suddenly found themselves struggling to meet basic needs.
The shutdown, caused by a congressional budget impasse, left federal agencies without funding. Newton Family Professor of Government C. Lawrence Evans explained that the federal government faces strict deadlines for passing bills to fund government programs.
“If [appropriations bills] don’t pass by the last day of September, then in theory, the discretionary portions of the federal government are no longer funded and need to shut down,” Evans said.
For Mara Cox ’26, a geology major, the impact was immediate and physical. Their Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program benefits expired in August, and with the shutdown blocking their ability to reapply, Cox found themselves rationing groceries and skipping meals.
“I stopped eating much out of fear of when I would be able to purchase groceries again,” Cox wrote in an email to The Flat Hat. “I began to panic and not be able to think clearly.”
It was not the first time they had faced food insecurity, but this time felt lonelier.
“It was a really scary and shame-filled moment to be an independent adult but not know where my next meal would come from,” they said.
Cox’s story is not unique. As the shutdown dragged through October and November, students across campus experienced delays in federal benefits, disruptions in food access and uncertainty about where to turn for help.
According to Evans, the issue goes deeper than budgeting.
“Shutdowns have been kind of on the table as a possible strategic ploy really since [Newt] Gingrich’s era in the mid-1990s,” he said. “This has just continued and gotten worse over time as the parties have moved apart.”
The shutdown did not just disrupt federal aid; it revealed cracks in the College’s own safety nets, too. With no clear direction from leadership, students stepped in to support each other.
One of the most visible responses came from Food for All, a student-run mutual aid group that operates two pantries on campus.
It is built for discretion — no ID checks, no sign-in sheets, no questions. Students can walk in, grab what they need and leave. That anonymity, Food for All President Rachel Touse ’26 said, is intentional.
“Since we’re students, it makes certain things really difficult, like having a bank account or figuring out leadership turnover every year,” Touse said.
Unlike other Virginia schools where staff help oversee pantry operations, the system at the College is entirely student-led — a model that brings both flexibility and strain.
Where Food for All offered staple supplies and anonymity, the Wesley Foundation served something warmer.
“We have our food rescue program,” Wesley Student President Helen Tiffin ’26 said. “If there’s an event on campus, we’ll take the food that’s left over and keep that in our free food fridge on top of our large group leftovers.”
To sustain the efforts of organizations like FFA, students turned to more formal institutions, including their own student government.
Sen. Jason Zheng ’26, chair of the Senate Policy and Student Rights Committee, introduced S.B. 333-07: Food for All Continues Act — a bill allocating $800 to Food for All to help restock pantry shelves during the shutdown.
“Food access is a human right,” Zheng wrote in an email. “Disruptions — whether federal furloughs, climate-induced disasters or supply chain breakdowns — almost always hit vulnerable households first and fastest.”
According to Zheng, the need for increased food access on campus was growing even before the shutdown. In fall 2023, the Sadler pantry saw 88 visits, while the Wesley location served 145 students. One year later, that number climbed to over 250. Zheng further explained that without the support of the Student Assembly, Food for All would have lacked the means to provide essentials to its patrons.
“Moreover, Food for All does not qualify for OBAC funding, which meant that without Student Assembly support, the organization would not have any stable campus-based mechanism to cover operational needs, such as restocking essential goods — and the fact that Food for All distributed over $1,500 in food and hygiene products per semester — made Student Assembly funding essential to ensure the continuity of basic needs in supporting all students, staff, and faculty alike,” Zheng wrote.
The $800 helped bridge that gap. Beyond canned goods and pasta, the group also stocks toiletries, period products and ready-to-eat snacks.
“Those are the things people don’t always think to donate,” Touse said. “Outside funding really helps us fill in those gaps.”
From mid-October to mid-November, the group collected 1,753 lb. of food — its largest drive yet.
For some students, the shutdown offered a window into how much dysfunction they were willing to accept or challenge.
Hunter Steele White ’27, a government and religious studies major and chancellor of the Theodore Roosevelt Society, expressed moral urgency.
“Shutdowns are a frightening political tool,” he said. “I think we’ll continue to see shutdowns as long as our leadership isn’t focused on unifying the American people.”
White believes the government shutdown did little to fix the problems legislators hoped it would address. Instead, he believes this political move harmed the American people.
“The shutdown didn’t accomplish anything meaningful,” White said. “All I know is that people are hurting.”
Robert Ryder ’26, a senior double majoring in computer science and English, and a former Theodore Roosevelt Society executive member, said the moment mostly reaffirmed what he already suspected.
“I think it confirmed a lot of the cynical impulses I had before,” Ryder said. “I didn’t see much of the personal effects.”
He recalled a trip to Roosevelt Island during fall break, only to find it closed.
“I thought to myself, well, s—, this changes my plans, doesn’t it?” he said.
Still, Ryder resisted disengagement.
“Maybe there’s opportunity,” he said. “I have a lot of hope, even within the brokenness.”
That hope, he added, is rooted in the very dysfunction others decry.
“The more broken the system is, the more room there is for our generation … to come in and fix it,” Ryder said. “That’s kind of exhilarating.”
For Tiffin, that realization came quietly, not through a missed benefit or a protest, but a blank Zoom screen.
She had signed up for a Peace Corps webinar, part of a long-anticipated application process. The screen stayed dark.
“It wasn’t until ten minutes in that I realized the government’s shut down,” she said. “No one’s on the other side of this.”
What followed was a wave of delays: background checks, visa processing and financial aid.
“It’s already a stressful and uncertain time,” Tiffin said. “And this added just another thing to hold.”
That moment of pause did not lead her to bitterness. Instead, it led her back to Wesley, where she leads with quiet resolve.
“Part of radical love and radical solidarity is loving your MAGA neighbor, too,” she said.
The group’s pinned Instagram post echoes that same commitment.
“Please know that you are beloved and not alone. The best thing we can do in this moment is to love our neighbors — especially our neighbors who are most marginalized. Wesley will continue to embrace our campus community with radical love, reconciliation, and justice for all — more so than ever before,” the post read.
For some, that love meant returning to campus pantries.
“I was embarrassed to need the help at the time,” Cox said. “But I want to encourage people to utilize whatever resources you need.”
They said they have only been able to attend college thanks to the support of their community.
“Attending college as an adult with health struggles has been a difficult journey,” they said. “That said, nutritional needs are a human right and should never be something that can be taken away for bureaucratic reasons.”
