When I was born my parents lived in a flat so small that it now legally can’t be rented out as a dwelling. A bit later, when we moved out of that shoebox, they started fostering, so there was a revolving door of children with varying degrees of trauma and need. As a child I found it difficult, but as an adult I think it really helped me be empathetic and optimistic about the power of love and stability.

I used to be young and idealistic and believed I could change the world. Now I concentrate my efforts on one part of the world I might be able to change. I laser-focus on one person or one issue, and try to make a dent in it. My partner works in news and I end up getting saturated by it, so I bought a pair of ear defenders to walk around the house in because the news makes me so furious and depressed.

I’ve had success, but I’m still haunted by the fear of being hungry. Once you’ve lived it it never leaves you. I hoard food – I never throw anything away, I insist on taking leftovers home from restaurants, and that’s because it wasn’t a choice, it was a set of terrible circumstances.

I’m a big gay butch dyke on the internet who’s sometimes vegan and has a little quibble about their gender every now and again, so I’ve heard every insult by now. People nag me about my weight, my cooking, my tattoos, my hair, my sexuality, everything. I can deal with all that because I’m still doing my job and I kind of like myself. But when people start saying things about my family and friends, who never asked to be in the public eye, I lose my temper. I go full lioness.

I went to Baptist church as a kid, and became a Sunday school teacher. I was kicked out of my church for being gay and I lost my faith. Now, I believe that there’s something, but I haven’t done too much assessment on what it is.

I’ve had to learn to say, “I’m sorry, I haven’t budgeted for any more unpaid work this month,” which is a nice way of saying, “Fuck you, pay me!” I don’t mind doing things for free for charity, but when it’s a conference at which people are paying a grand to attend and they can’t afford to pay their speakers, I do think: “You might want to look at your bottom line, mate.”

Party politics are quite upsetting. I’ve been a member of the Labour party, the Green party, the Women’s Equality Party, the National Health Action Party and now I’m not a member of any. I like Ed Miliband, but there was one time at Labour Party Conference when I asked the question: “What are you going to do about the rise of food banks?” This was 2013, so food-bank use was probably half what it is now. He responded: “Well when we get in power…” and I just exploded because I thought: “People are hungry now. There are things you can do now.”

Tin Can Cook by Jack Monroe is out now. Buy it for £6.15 at guardianbookshop.com