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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What song could be more fitting to tie together my blog themes of flowers and folk songs than Pete Seeger’s “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” This song speaks to my experiences as a Victory Congressional Intern: full of flowers and time that slips past far too quickly.
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time passing.
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time ago.
Where have all the flowers gone?
The girls have picked them every one.
Oh, When will you ever learn?
Oh, When will you ever learn?
My mom used to sing me this song to sleep, and every time I would cry. I would mourn for the time lost, the land laid bare, the movement of life. My little toddler brain could not handle the idea that life could move forward in such altering ways. To be completely fair, I have not moved far past those fears. I still toddle after time as it speeds ahead desperately grasping at whatever I can hold on to. It is for this reason that I cannot quite comprehend how fast time has passed and how this program has come to an end so soon. The flowers have bloomed, the Spring heat has come and gone and come again, and here I stand having to say goodbye to a place and people that I have found home in.
While my time on Capitol Hill has been a rollercoaster of ups and downs, I feel that I have settled into the swing of things at my Congressional office and struggle with the thought of leaving it behind. I have had the opportunity to do things I never would have expected. I have attended briefings, sorted through press clips, made recommendations on bills for the Congresswoman to cosign, written 30+ pages of constituent outreach letters, drafted form letters, researched abortion and transgender healthcare statistics, met the CEO of TikTok, faced the threat of possible extremist protestors, and so much more. While this is not what I see myself doing forever, it has been fascinating while it lasted. I accomplished what I set out to do and more. I have gained a stronger understanding of our political system and connected with folks in our office and beyond. I know I can leave this experience having gained much from it, even if the learning process was not always graceful.
Beyond my time in the office, I have discovered much about myself living in a new city. Washington, D.C. is entirely different from Middlebury, Vermont, namely in the fact that the people outnumber the cows. There are so many free and incredible things to do here, particularly in the queer community. I have made a community quilt with a femme art collective, made connections at queer friending events, attended incredible lectures and events that have reshaped my view of the world (namely a talk put on by female founding members of the Black Panther Party), and gone to countless gardens and parks to take in the flowers and the joys of Spring (something unheard of in the mud season of Vermont). I feel that I have grown roots here, and hope to return someday in the not too distant future.
The roots I have settled in Washington, D.C. have been a place of budding growth. There are many lessons that I have learned in my time both on Capital Hill and off. While in some ways a trial by fire, I have grown in my ability to maintain professionalism on tough constituent phone calls and keep calm in times of stress. Coming in I felt confident in my ability to shake off rude encounters, but I swiftly discovered that the aggression some people call with wears down on me. I had to discover strategies to manage the tough emotions those calls bring up, coordinating with my supervisor and fellow interns to pass off the phone when I started getting too affected. This, while something I judged myself harshly for at first, was a sign of true growth for me. Admitting where my weaknesses lie and developing strategies to get tasks done while respecting my own boundaries is a critical workplace skill. While I hated having to figure that out, I know that I have grown from it and can take that with me to whatever I take on next.
As for where I will go from here, the answer seems to be a little bit of everywhere. Two days after this program ends, I am traveling to Ireland and the UK for a month. I have no set agenda other than experiencing travel at a time in my life where I have nothing tying me to any particular place. From there, I will be preparing myself to head to grad school in Beijing, China where I will be studying China Studies: Law and Society. While my future is still un-set and unsettled, I know I will take the experiences of this program with me wherever I go. The professional and personal skills I developed, the connections I have made, and the confidence I have built in myself as someone who can succeed in the world outside of academia will carry me in whatever I pursue next. I know that the knowledge I gained on Capitol hill will fuel my advocacy, activism, and international conflict transformation efforts as I move through the rest of my life.
Despite my toddler interpretations, Pete Seeger’s song is not simply a song of mourning, it is a call to action. Seeger, a blacklisted folk musician in the McCarthy Era, wrote the song in protest of the Vietnam War and the death it brought in its wake. It would not honor the spirit of the song to limit it to pitying the passage of time, so instead I will use it as a call to action. I will not mourn the flowers, instead I will keep moving forward and sew the seeds of new growth in my life. I will continue to fight to combat the injustices experienced by the LGBTQ+ community and beyond. Hopefully, there will be no end to the flowers we bloom.
