OUT ON THE HILL is the official blog of the Victory Congressional Interns. Views expressed do not necessarily reflect those of LGBTQ+ Victory Institute. Learn more about the internship at victoryinstitute.org/vci.
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One of the first pieces of advice a Victory Institute panelist gave me upon my arrival to DC was “Be your most authentic self.” These words have stuck with me since, with the meaning impacting me differently among the various circles and sectors I have involved myself with during my eight weeks here.
I have always had a big personality. I have this fire for life and enthusiasm for the little things. Even taking the metro or going out in the rain brings me joy and excitement. Whether it is my fire sign zodiac, my intense ambition, my excitement for life, I have always had big traits. But growing up as a queer kid in a small conservative farm town in the middle of nowhere, I felt the pressure to make myself smaller. Growing up in the church, I heard all the reasons why I need to hide my queerness and my power as a woman. In middle school, my lunch table would discuss how women cannot be pastors, to which I innocently remarked, “I don’t see why women can’t be.” One girl at the table went home to tell her mother, and the next week, when I thought I was coming over for a play date, I was sat down and shown every passage in the Bible that showed “women can’t be in positions of leadership, women can’t teach, women must serve their husbands every needs, etc…” That messed with my head for a while. Even as a kid, I was very academically inclined and possessed strong leadership skills. I felt like I had limitless possibilities for my future, and after that day, I questioned everything about my identity and my power.
This blog post is not a religious trauma dump, nor is it a diss on Christianity. It is simply one of the many stories that told me I could not amount to much as a woman, much less as a queer woman, that I experienced in my childhood.
In one of my first Gender, Women’s, and Sexuality Studies classes during my first year of college, I read The Body Politic by Abra Fortune Chernik, and going into my senior year now, that essay still sticks with me. There are many points to get out of her essay about her struggle with an eating disorder. Something I will never forget from her work is her feminist take on why the beauty standard in our society is for women to be small, more girl-like than womanly. Chernik writes, “Time goes by quickly. One day we will blink and open our eyes as old women. If we spend all of our energy keeping our bodies small, what will we have to show for our lives when we reach the end?” Society has always pushed me to be small, not only my body, but my voice, my personality, my queerness, my power. My favorite line from her work: “Who disputes the ocean’s fullness?”
I think about that line often. I aspire to be like the ocean: powerful, beautiful, dangerous, and a home to so many wild and amazing creatures. I took a weekend trip to Virginia Beach while I was here, and the connection I felt to the ocean was spiritual. Someone told me I was brave, for they would never go in the ocean because they do not know what is underneath. Yet, I was reminded by moving with the waves and letting the salt soak into my skin, that the odds of being attacked by a shark are 1 in 3.5 million, while the odds of my experiencing sexual assault on my college campus are 1 in 4. I would rather be with the sharks. I want to be with the beasts and the gentle giants of the ocean simultaneously.
My first week on the job as a legislative intern, I tried to make myself small and kill my authentic self. I wore exactly what I thought other interns would wear, and I tried to hide in the office and not contribute to conversations. I thought, “No one wants to talk to me. I am just an intern. I am in the way.” Then I remembered: be your most authentic self. Be as full as the ocean. Take up your space. In just the little things, even.
That first week, I took out my septum piercing, I shaved my legs for the sake of professionalism, and I wore painful heels that left blisters with each step. The following week, I wore my septum ring and received compliments from other staffers for it. I switched out the heels for a new pair of Doc Martins. One morning, I debated whether adding a bow to my hair was professional. When I ended up wearing it, the first thing a staffer said to me in the office was how she liked my bow. As I did the little things to be my most authentic self, I felt more comfortable in the office, getting more work done and interacting instead of hiding from the other staffers.
And so, I will repeat it again. The biggest takeaway from my Victory Congressional Internship: be your most authentic self. As my time here ends, I will forever be thankful to the LGBTQ+ Victory Institute for letting me grow into myself and own my queerness. I have never experienced a more welcoming group of people, especially from the Victory Staff and my fellow interns, some who I hope to stay in touch with for years to come. As I return to my hometown, I refuse to make myself small any longer. I refuse to dim my light or stifle my queer joy. I will enjoy the many beauties of Iowa: our stars, sunsets, the fireflies in the fields, the fresh air, country music… and not let memories in my town stop me from enjoying its wonders any longer. I am reclaiming my story and, as Victory says, I will lead out loud. I am so proud of how much I have grown this summer, and this is only the beginning.
