More than half of LGBTQ+ adults in Massachusetts faced food insecurity in 2024, according to new research, highlighting a persistent gap in access to affordable, nutritious food. The findings also reveal why support services aren’t always reaching the people who need them most, from privacy worries to the quiet sting of stigma.

Essential Takeaways

  • A stark gap: 54.9% of LGBTQ+ adults experienced food insecurity in 2024, compared with 33.3% of non-LGBTQ+ adults.
  • The problem grew: Food insecurity increased among LGBTQ+ adults between 2022 and 2024.
  • Help isn’t always accessible: Pantry use and SNAP participation stayed broadly unchanged despite rising need.
  • Privacy matters: Embarrassment, self-reliance and fear of being identified can deter people from seeking support.
  • Practical solutions: Gift cards, delivery, curbside collection and online ordering could make assistance feel safer and easier.

More than one in two LGBTQ+ adults struggled to get enough food

The headline figure is difficult to ignore. In 2024, 54.9% of LGBTQ+ adults surveyed in Massachusetts experienced food insecurity, compared with 33.3% of non-LGBTQ+ adults, according to research published in JAMA Network Open.

That means food insecurity wasn’t simply present at a higher rate among LGBTQ+ residents. It was also substantially more common, even after researchers considered demographic and economic differences. The result paints a picture of households making difficult decisions around the kitchen table, with affordable, nutritious food increasingly out of reach.

The study drew on responses from 9,174 adults who took part in the Massachusetts Statewide Food Access Survey between 2022 and 2024. Reporting from the Harvard Pilgrim Health Care Institute said the disparity persisted across the period examined. [2], [4]

Why income alone doesn’t explain the gap

Food insecurity is often discussed as a straightforward consequence of low income, but the research suggests the reality is more complicated for LGBTQ+ adults. Economic pressures matter, of course, yet they didn’t fully account for the difference between LGBTQ+ and non-LGBTQ+ participants.

Austin R. Waters, the study’s lead author and a research fellow at the LGBTQ Health Center of Excellence, said the findings point to additional barriers affecting LGBTQ+ people. The study therefore shifts the conversation beyond wages and food prices towards discrimination, social support and whether services feel genuinely safe to use.

That distinction matters. A food pantry may technically be available, but if someone worries about being recognised, judged or outed, access on paper doesn’t necessarily translate into help in real life. [3], [5]

Assistance exists, but people may still hesitate

Researchers found that food pantry use and participation in the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP, remained relatively stable while food insecurity increased. In other words, demand appears to have worsened without a matching rise in uptake.

Among LGBTQ+ adults who didn’t use food pantries, common reasons included wanting to remain self-reliant, feeling embarrassed, worrying that other people might find out and struggling to locate or navigate services. Several of these concerns became more pronounced over time, according to the study.

There’s a familiar human tension here. People may need support but still feel that asking for it exposes them to scrutiny, even when the service itself is designed to help. That quiet emotional cost can be just as significant as a form or eligibility check. [4], [6]

What could make food support easier to use?

Participants offered solutions that sound refreshingly practical rather than grand. Grocery gift cards, home delivery, curbside collection and online ordering could reduce the visibility and logistical effort involved in getting help.

Support with SNAP applications could also make a difference, particularly for people who find official processes confusing or time-consuming. Digital options may be useful, but they need to be paired with clear information and alternatives for anyone without reliable internet access.

The strongest message is that services should be shaped with LGBTQ+ communities, not simply aimed at them from a distance. As Brittany Charlton, senior author and an associate professor of population medicine at Harvard Medical School, noted, assistance programmes need to address stigma and practical obstacles as well as financial need. [2], [5]

A community-informed response is the next step

The findings arrive as many households continue to deal with high food costs and policymakers debate the future of food assistance. That wider pressure makes targeted, inclusive support even more important, particularly for communities already facing discrimination in housing, employment and healthcare.

For organisations designing food programmes, small details could have an outsized effect: confidential collection points, inclusive forms, discreet packaging, online booking and staff trained to understand LGBTQ+ experiences. None is a magic fix, but together they can turn a service from technically available into genuinely usable.

Food insecurity isn’t only about what’s missing from the cupboard. It’s also about whether people feel safe enough to reach for help. [3], [7]

It's a small but important shift: make food assistance more private, practical and shaped by the people it serves.

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