More Students, Families, and Seniors Are Turning to Food Banks in Quebec

A senior, who had worked his entire life, calls a food bank in Montreal. He tells staff he is embarrassed and only needs a few basics—milk, bread, something to get him through the week. Shortly after, a mother arrives, explaining that she has started eating less so her children can eat more. A student juggling two part-time jobs comes in near closing time, apologizing for the trouble. The rent increase was higher than expected, and after covering transit and utilities, nothing is left.

Such encounters now account for the growing share of those showing up at food banks in record-breaking numbers. In March 2025 alone, there were nearly 2.2 million visits across Canada—the highest ever logged.

Quebec is no exception. A recent report commissioned by Food Banks of Quebec, which supports roughly 1,400 local community organizations in the province, shows monthly requests for food assistance surpassed 3 million last year—a jump of 37 percent since 2022. These unprecedented numbers raise serious questions about whether the system can keep pace, especially as the organization projects monthly visits to climb to nearly 4 million by 2028.

“There’s no light at the end of the tunnel whatsoever,” says Matias Duque, director of philanthropy for Canada’s largest food bank, Moisson Montréal. “Demand is not going down.” Over 2024 and 2025, Moisson Montréal distributed 23.7 million kilograms of basic goods—including meat, pantry staples, milk, fresh fruits, and vegetables—valued at $187 million.

Duque blames housing, transportation, and food, expenses that dominate most budgets, for driving people to food banks. “They’re all increasing much faster than people’s wages.”

The profile of those seeking help has also shifted. People with mortgages and dual incomes, once a rare group, now appear with growing frequency. A study conducted by Université de Montréal found that, of the new users city researchers followed, 40.3 percent had a university degree. The study also found that nearly half—46 percent—arrived in a state of “severe food insecurity,” a category so acute that it can mean going an entire day without eating.

Guillaume Cliche-Rivard, a member of Quebec’s National Assembly and Québec Solidaire’s point person for issues involving homelessness, says a humanitarian crisis is unfolding, affecting a broad segment of society. “People lining up outside food banks are not who you think,” he says. “Traditionally, those facing homelessness and food insecurity have had mental health or addiction problems. We’re now seeing people who are working.”

A new Statistics Canada report confirms food insecurity is spreading beyond the poorest households into the middle classes, drawing in fully employed people whose paycheques no longer stretch far enough. “Every single income bracket is affected negatively,” says Duque.

The Statistics Canada report also surfaced a striking finding: Quebec stands apart. The province posts lower rates of household hunger than most of the rest of the country. A 2021 University of Toronto study reached the same conclusion, ranking Quebec lowest among the provinces.

Véronique Beaulieu-Fowler, director of philanthropy at Food Banks of Quebec, attributes this to Quebec’s social policies, which tend to be more generous, particularly toward single parents and families with children. Subsidized day care, extended parental leave, family benefits, and targeted income-support programs reflect a model in which Quebec steps in early and often, doing more to absorb everyday costs than other provinces. Quebec also posts some of the country’s highest life expectancy, scores better on national happiness surveys, and, according to G15+, a coalition that tracks quality of life in the province, has the lowest income inequality among a dozen comparable jurisdictions.

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In other words, social safety nets matter. But Quebec shouldn’t congratulate itself just yet. While indicators suggest the province is doing something right, social assistance programs are being outpaced by the rising cost of living. While it’s true the Coalition Avenir Québec boosted funding for food banks, one-off cash infusions, unmoored from any broader strategy, function largely as crisis management. It does little to stem the forces pushing more people to food banks in the first place.

“The data shows Quebec doing better,” Duque says, “but our food banks are still not able to feed everyone. Right now, regardless of province, nobody is able to answer 100 percent of the demand.” With children accounting for 35 percent of those receiving aid from the Food Banks of Quebec network, the predicament amounts to a collective failure.

Overwhelmed, food banks have started reducing the size of baskets or even implementing waiting lists. “It’s a real challenge because we weren’t built to do this work at this level and for this number of people,” says Beaulieu-Fowler. Unsurprisingly, nearly 70 percent of organizations are reporting food shortages.

Food banks are keenly aware they are a stopgap and are pressing for measures that will narrow that gap. “Food insecurity is a symptom, not a cause,” says Beaulieu-Fowler. Quebec may be in a stronger position than other provinces, but the CAQ’s record is eroding that advantage. The party’s failure to fund more social and affordable housing, refusal to enact province-wide rent freezes, and stricter rules around lease transfers—a form of de facto rent control that limits hikes between tenants—have hurt renters. Comprising up to 63 percent of the city’s urban population, they now face an affordability crisis that has been effectively off-loaded onto food banks never meant to absorb it.

Beaulieu-Fowler wants the coming provincial campaigns to reckon more directly with poverty. Many Quebecers are one financial shock away from falling short. “We’d like to hear what the parties have to say.”

As the situation drags on, Duque worries about shrinking generosity. “At Moisson Montréal, we raised slightly more this year than last year,” he says, “but we’re working twice as hard because people have less disposable income. Even with public funding, we rely upwards of 90 percent on donations.”

Food bank visits represent only the visible edge of the problem. Because of stigma, the true scale of vulnerability is far greater than numbers suggest. “People will do many things before coming to us. They’ll borrow money, pool meals,” Beaulieu-Fowler says. “We’re the last resort.”