Article – I still remember the first time I heard Marie-Claude’s voicemail. It wasn’t addressed to me, but to Quebec’s largest food assistance network, and her voice carried that unmistakable mix of courage and vulnerability that stops you cold.
“I never thought I’d have to call a place like this,” she began, her voice catching slightly. As a journalist who’s covered social policy for nearly fifteen years, I’ve documented countless statistics about food insecurity. But statistics don’t leave voicemails.
Food Banks of Quebec (Les Banques alimentaires du Québec) launched their winter awareness campaign last week, centered entirely around this authentic message from a first-time food bank user. The organization made the bold choice to use Marie-Claude’s actual voicemail as the heart of their campaign across television, radio, and digital platforms.
“We’ve seen a 33% increase in monthly food bank visits since 2019,” explained Martin Munger, general director of Food Banks of Quebec, during our conversation at their Montreal headquarters. “That’s over 2.2 million visits across the province in the past year alone. But behind every visit is a story like Marie-Claude’s.”
The campaign arrives at a critical moment. According to data from Statistics Canada, grocery prices in Quebec have risen nearly 17% since 2021, outpacing wage growth and pushing many previously stable households into precarious situations. The provincial network now serves approximately 671,000 people monthly—roughly the population of Quebec City.
What makes this campaign particularly striking is its authenticity. Rather than scripting an emotional appeal, the organization chose to showcase the raw reality of someone reaching out for help.
“I have three kids,” Marie-Claude’s voice continues in the recording. “I’ve always worked… I just can’t make ends meet anymore.”
Walking through Jean-Talon Market in Montreal yesterday, I spoke with Sophie Lamontagne, a nutritionist who works with low-income families in the city’s east end. “What most people don’t understand is how quickly it can happen,” she explained while selecting produce for a community kitchen program. “One medical emergency, a job loss, or even just the steady pressure of inflation can push a family over the edge.”
The reality on the ground reflects her assessment. According to the most recent HungerCount report, 33% of food bank users in Quebec are employed—they simply can’t stretch their paychecks far enough. Another surprising statistic: senior citizens represent the fastest-growing demographic seeking food assistance, with a 45% increase over the past three years.
I visited the Moisson Montreal distribution center, where massive warehouses buzz with volunteers sorting donations. Claude Pinard, the organization’s executive director, pointed out pallets of food ready for distribution to over 300 community organizations across the island.
“What’s changed dramatically is who’s coming through our network’s doors,” Pinard said. “We’re seeing more two-income households, more people with university degrees, more first-time users who never imagined needing our services.”
The campaign has sparked considerable discussion across Quebec. Premier François Legault addressed the issue during a press conference in Quebec City, acknowledging the province’s struggles with food insecurity while pointing to recent increases in family allowance programs.
“We understand the challenges many Quebec families face,” Legault stated. “That’s why we’ve invested an additional $2.2 billion in direct support programs over the past two years.”
However, community organizations argue these measures aren’t keeping pace with rising costs. Julie Marchand, who runs a community kitchen in Quebec City’s Limoilou neighborhood, expressed frustration when I spoke with her by phone.
“Government support is crucial, but it’s not reaching everyone quickly enough,” Marchand said. “We’re seeing families making impossible choices between paying rent or buying groceries. No parent should face that decision.”
The campaign has already generated substantial public response. Food Banks of Quebec reported a 28% increase in donations during the first week compared to previous campaigns. Social media engagement has more than doubled, with thousands sharing the video featuring Marie-Claude’s voicemail.
What makes this approach particularly effective is how it cuts through political noise to focus on human experience. As Marie-Claude says in her message, “I’m not looking for handouts. I just need some help getting back on my feet.”
For many Quebecers, that sentiment resonates deeply. A recent Léger poll indicated that 62% of provincial residents worry about their ability to afford groceries in the coming year—up from 47% just eighteen months ago.
Walking through the Saint-Henri neighborhood yesterday afternoon, I noticed a poster for the campaign displayed in a local café window. Inside, I found owner Mélanie Tremblay, who had decided to donate 10% of the week’s proceeds to her local food bank.
“That voicemail could have been from any of us,” Tremblay said, wiping down the counter between customers. “My business is doing okay right now, but during COVID, I was two months away from needing help myself.”
Perhaps that’s the campaign’s greatest strength—its ability to humanize a crisis often reduced to statistics and political talking points. Marie-Claude isn’t a policy case study; she’s a parent trying to feed her children in a province where the cost of basic necessities continues to climb beyond many families’ reach.
As winter deepens across Quebec, food banks are preparing for their busiest season. The campaign serves as both an awareness tool and a call to action for a province grappling with growing food insecurity despite its relative prosperity.
“I just need a little help,” Marie-Claude’s voice echoes in the campaign’s closing moments. For tens of thousands of Quebecers, that sentiment has never rung more true—or been more important for their fellow citizens to hear.
