I Realized My Own Privilege When I Spent $600 on Baby Formula

And I’d do it again

The national baby formula shortage may be waning, but I promise you, for anyone with formula age babies, the anxiety associated with that scarcity mindset isn’t. A perfect storm of pandemic hoarding, pandemic supply chain issues, a national formula recall, and ultimately the shutdown of Abbott Laboratories, a large producer of the popular formula brand Similac, has led to an unprecedented baby formula shortage.

As the grandmother to a 10-month-old, I went from zero to full-blown panic in the time it took me to scour the web looking for any reputable online seller of the particular formula she uses.

Money was no object.

And that’s the issue.

Is it time to panic?

Yes.

As far as I was concerned, it was absolutely time to panic. When I read about the shortage, I had been on my way to Walmart for a few things anyway and decided to check on their formula inventory.

That’s when it hit me — shit is real. Walmart usually has four shelves packed with different types and brands of formula, and their shelves looked like the day after Black Friday.

I hastily pulled my phone from my bag and began googling right there in the baby formula aisle.

Yes! Enfamil’s website still had some. I immediately ordered $200 worth because I could.

By the time I got home from Walmart, Enfamil had sent me an email canceling my order due to low inventory.

Panic overload.

I decided to get on my laptop because this mission was too important to trust to my tiny phone screen and aging eyesight.

I spent another hour looking for formula online and scored another dozen and a half cans.

$400 more spent on formula because I could.

In a perfect world, my granddaughter will be weaned off formula in the next few months, but she has enough to get her there.

Was that necessary?

Believe it or not, my daughter, mother to the granddaughter whom I’d just saved from starving to death, spoke those words.

She reminded me my granddaughter would be off formula very soon, and if it got that dire, she’d call the local WIC office from where she gets monthly benefits, stating, “They’re not going to let any babies starve to death. They must have cans to put away for this kind of situation.”

My daughter is a college senior and, as Director of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion for the student government association, is passionate about the subject.

“Do you know how many mothers and fathers can’t just get on their phones and drop $600 on a baby formula to make sure their babies eat for the next couple of months? How must it feel to panic like you did but not have the money to do what you just did?”

I deserved to be shamed, and that’s not even what my kid was trying to do. She was driving home the point that my perpetuating the behavior that led to this baby formula shortage was a perfect example of inequity.

“Don’t hoard baby formula. This is to avoid increasing the lack of supply on shelves. All babies are important and need to eat.” ~American Academy of Pediatrics

Now what?

I know how vital DEI work is. The foundation of that work is that equity isn’t about making sure everyone has the same thing — that’s equality. Equity is recognizing we don’t all start from the same place and must make adjustments to correct the imbalances.

But that shit starts at home, and I blew it. And I blew it as a Black woman who is well aware of the injustices all around us, no less.

But the idea that my baby granddaughter may go without was inconceivable. There was no way I’d allow that to happen.

But what makes my granddaughter different from other babies who still need formula?

Money.

I had the means to make sure my granddaughter had what she needed. She didn’t start from the same place as every other baby. Sure her parents are young and in school with barely paying jobs, but that baby has a support system with means.

And by aggressively demonstrating that I was part of the problem, not the solution.

The takeaway

There is a takeaway, but it’s complicated. Inequity sucks. It does. It’s systemic, and it’s not going anywhere. Everything in my body wants to say, “but it’s not my fault,” but I can’t utter the words because it’s all our fault. Did my baby formula hoarding result in another baby going hungry? I don’t know, and I care. I truly do. I can’t emphasize that enough. But in my tunnel vision, all I cared about was my own family, and I had the means to do just that.

The very definition of inequity.

The least I can do is acknowledge that. The least we all can do is recognize the inequity in our systems and try our hardest not to perpetuate the actions that add to those systems.

But if I’m being honest, I’d do it again.

*Any baby formula left over after my granddaughter weans will be donated to the local WIC office to ensure it gets to where it’s most needed.

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