For those who would like to understand what is happening at Columbia and every other social work school in the country, it is the education of a profession with advocacy as one of its primary tenets. There is no such thing as radical Social Work because all Social Work is, at its core, radical. It would be like differentiating between a dark night and night. They are one and the same. I can understand the confusion; when you drum up the image of a Social Worker, you probably visualize a female in a cardigan, holding a cup of tea, and saying things like, “How does that make you feel?” You may not be picturing policymakers, directors, members of Congress, researchers, and community organizers. The fact that social workers are often found in private practice, hospitals, agencies, and other micro or direct practice areas doesn’t negate that they create significant political and social change. The only thing that changes for us is who the client is: an individual or family? A community or social movement?

It’s also evident that the author is cherry-picking transparent information about the social work profession’s history, glossing over the ‘radical’ work of the early pioneers and the oppressive practices of ‘friendly visitors,’ something that Social Work has had to grapple with internally. Ignoring the rest of the NASW code of ethics and the social work profession’s mission also fools the reader because it’s half the story. Nothing has shifted in the social work profession; new theories have emerged, and contemporary practice has developed. However, the challenge of self-reflection, accountability, and becoming a change agent has always been what social work school encourages their students to learn in addition to all those treatment modalities and therapeutic practices. We are also not a profession of lazy individuals who just didn’t want a PhD. in Psychology. Social Work and psychology are as different as psychology and sociology. Many of us choose it because it allows more versatility and freedom than the psychology of sociology and many complete PhDs and DSWs in Social Work.

So, to answer the burning question, nothing new is happening at Columbia’s School of Social Work, but I will ask what is happening at the NYTs that any idiotic opinion without research or effort to speak to literally any social worker is considered to be a finished piece on Social Work? Give me a call; I offer free consultations, but if you want to learn something, join my class or one of the hundreds of others taught around the country and get to know some of the fantastic, versatile, and critical thinkers who are social work students and the incredible professors who are doing precisely what they need to be a social worker who educates social workers.

Humanity

I have witnessed the realities of toggling between over-criminalization and medicalization throughout my life, and both hold significant consequences. I have come across many individuals that continue to be beaten into shame over their humanity, driving honest expressions and personal truths to become secrets that get buried beneath the masks worn to ensure others are comfortable. Over a decade ago, I lost my soulmate to the consequences of prohibition. Every year since then, I have either lost someone I loved or witnessed someone I adore lose their will and self-determination because of incarceration or involuntary commitment.

Although I am not my diagnosis, I am a woman with attention deficit disorder that closely mimics traits of autism; that continues to battle through depressive episodes; who self-medicates; and despite familial history, runs from the reality of a bipolar diagnosis. Regardless of attempts to camouflage or mask this, I have never fit the mold of what is expected in my family, relationships, academia, or workplaces.

Since 1991, I have challenged every authority I encounter with inherent disdain. I cannot begin to count the number of peers I have angered by pointing out inconsistencies and contradictions in social work theories and the Code of Ethics. I have always known that my nature to protect is triggered when those who intend to help cause unintentional harm or if someone intentionally causes harm or discriminates against those I love.

Observations and Commonalities

Throughout this session, I have come to realize that any time I hear ignorant comments that allude to “Texans are getting [evil policies enacted] what they deserve [electeds]” – I get into protection mode. Honestly, the audacity. These folx have zero idea of how gerrymandered the State is or the level of voter suppression residents are subjected to, now with enhanced stakes of misdemeanors and third-degree felonies for participating in civic duties.

I have the natural tendency to disrupt and challenge. Although each of us was warned about political games that ensue before the session started, at this point, I inherently cannot comprehend the purpose of playing. Due to the legislation that survived both chambers, I foresee my greatest fears unfolding before my eyes, laying the groundwork for heightened emotional silos and justification for secession over future federal intrusion. Given that I am on the brink of burnout, disappointed, frustrated, and angry – I have had enough of mindless games. Personally, in order to feel truly safe in this State, I need total abolition and overhaul of every fascist piece of legislation codified.

Over the last 2 months, I have been pondering what the Legislature would look like if the culture acknowledged and supported neurodiversity. This thought led me to realize the existence of these inherent problems within the social work profession itself. What would these cultures look like if practitioners and representatives truly acted as if they respected, listened to, and amended ‘rules’ and policies to reflect neurodiversity? What would occur if we genuinely took the time to understand our intention and treated others as humans before intruding into their lives and assuming we know best?

It might be depression, but the ability to utilize neurodiversity and lived experience to genuinely create change both within social work and the legislature is often negatively compounded by unequal power dynamics that prohibit true transparency or accountability, and by normalization of toxic environments or dehumanizing behaviors that often lead to reactivation of trauma responses.

Power Dynamics.

Throughout the session, I have become a true fan of Representative Crockett, to the point I read and tracked every bill she proposed. I was bewildered to witness bureaucracy kill many of her bills, regardless of how well written and the positive impacts that could have occurred with passage. For instance, a few no-knock bills were introduced this session, and I cannot fathom why the bill that would produce actual change was sidelined. I noticed how instead of prepping future staff and Representatives alike with knowledge and passage of the legislative torch, many seem to hold on to their power with no intention of setting others up for success.  I wish there were no reelection fears because I feel that many of the Freshman and Sophomore Representatives would have met these terrible bills with full force in Committee and on the House floor. Why are we playing games that uphold the power of fascists?

Transparency and Accountability.

Is the purpose of the Legislative body to propose and implement good policy or play games with the lives of Texans? Given that Democrats do not have the numbers to truly fight the Legislature’s nature of party-line voting on the floor (the irony), it was disheartening to witness power dynamics transition to bills escaping from Democratic-chaired committees. I can hear you all now, “Oh, they have to move some of these bills forward if they want to become the Chair next session” – NO! If that is the case, pass the least harmful ones to Texans, C’MON! I cannot fathom how someone could disagree with an amendment that would make a bill less-soulless simply because of the political party they represent. The amount of spite witnessed throughout this political game, and perpetual grudges contradict serving and meeting the needs of Texans.

I am tired of seeing ‘progressive’ bills without actual substance – it feels like fraudulent claims of progress. It would be beneficial to have absolute transparency because I have a hunch that many bills were created solely for reelection and a good headline rather than implementing good policies. On the accountability front, given that some Legislative officials participated in the 2021 insurrection, I want to know what accountability looks like for those who attempt to dismantle democracy, and I hope it is reflected in 2022 election outcomes. I want more action and less talk – for both social work and the Legislature to be about what they claim. The last thing Texans need is clout chasing social workers and officials. Each of these groups is supposed to set their emotions aside and self-correct so others may learn, yet, time and time again, ample opportunities are provided to do better, and we fail.

Normalization of Toxic Environments.

Anyone and everyone who engages in the Legislature is forewarned about the culture of harassment – which came to light as allegations of a lobbyist using substances to facilitate sexual assault arose. Regardless of the ‘outcomes,’ this toxic culture and the inability for those without power to come forward and report harassment or misconduct due to career-related repercussions is a longstanding issue. For instance, since 1973, Representative Senfronia Thompson has led the fight to speak out against harassment and was repeatedly warned and socially ostracized for giving a speech on personal privilege. I feel that these common issues only received the attention they deserved this session because, for the first time, those who work within and adjacent to the Legislature could not go out to public bars in droves and had to remain in the Capitol. There must be a culture shift to automatically believe and support those who disrupt toxic behaviors or environments and set everyone on course to what we demand.

Dehumanization.

Once dehumanization begins, no matter how minuscule an instance, it will flow into many other areas of life and practice as abuse. Since January, when dehumanizing language is included in bills and introduced in Committee hearings, it becomes interwoven into multitudes of policies that harm all Texans.

Trauma Responses.

Given the neurological diversity of this state, I cannot comprehend the intentional containment of environments and systems that do not allow for or provide ample support and time to process. How is anyone expected to recharge, operate, and continue working while some Texan’s humanity is being debated on Legislative floors? From harmful and outright fictitious testimony to overt attacks – the emotional toll of the Legislature is amplified for those with emotional, behavioral, or mental health differences.

Socialized and Structural White Supremacy

Every system in place, including those intended to serve, help, or reduce harm, is rooted in white supremacy – which must be considered in every circumstance where intervention or change is sought. Even though each of us was warned about the Legislature and realize the historical harms, I expected better than:

• Hyper-focus on individual freedoms, regardless of how they endanger others;
• Option rather than requirement of virtual testimony;
• The assumption that constituents can take off work, travel, afford a hotel to participate in the legislative process;
• The fact that there is no predetermined order of when bills will be heard in committee;
• Lack of notification or alert systems for when it is your turn to testify, coupled with a lack of interpreters to timely respond as needed;
• Sitting through hours of testimony in packed Committee rooms that do not allow water and snacks or have adaptable podiums or furniture;
• The ability to revise 3-day posting rules or even forfeit Committee hearings on bills;
• Circumventing the public’s ability to view new legislative language in bill substitutes before a hearing;
• Political silos that impact voting on the House floor, and even when your own ‘party’ holds you back; and
• The normalization of ‘small incremental wins;’ taking 6 years (or three sessions) to pass legislation; there being nearly 500 ways to kill a bill and only one way for passage; norms that often gut important intentions, causing folx in this exclusive highly environment to wait for another 2 years to add amendments.

Within the Legislature and social work, professionalism and savior complexes are painfully apparent. The assumption that a social worker or representative could possibly “speak for those without a voice” better than they could themselves if given the proper opportunity is socialized white supremacy. Throughout this experience, I have noticed cultures that give in to ego, notoriety, covert and overt narcissism, and privilege. Regarding the lived experience of generational racism, within the Legislature and social work, there is this inability of white folx to keep quiet and admit ignorance that creates tension when crucial questions are asked – causing avoidance and adoption of assumptions over asking clarifying questions.

There is an overwhelming need to end ties with the perpetual illusion of helping without genuine introspection of one’s intentions. At this point, it is not enough to do better – we have no choice but to act and be better. To me, this means ending the tethering to carceral systems because how can a social worker or representative be trusted and effective if they continue to associate with systems that cause inherent harms?

How can we pass open-carry legislation while we still have not come to a head with our racist upbringing and continuation of racist policies? I fear Texas is moving towards statewide stand your ground laws that could justify blatant racist shootings… and end up in outright civil war.

How to Manage

I am thankful that I entered this internship with three humans that I love and could remain grounded alongside, despite my personal tantrums. Before the session began, I self-reflected with my eclectic accountability team to reaffirm where I need growth, which helped alleviate some of my bullheaded nature. Also, I took every precaution to ensure my mental health remained intact for as long as possible by being remote, in nature, and with my dog.

During the chaos, there were common themes around trust, connection, and neurodiversity: Trusting my gut (in all regards), specifically trusting that I know what I need, and not guilting myself for recovering. This work is mentally and emotionally draining – at any moment, the limited amount of time allowed for basic needs to be met could be immediately interrupted, and your feet are then held to the fire with unrealistic tasks and deadlines. For what felt like an eternity, Criminal Jurisprudence and Insurance bombarded the House’s floor calendar – resulting in my total mental breakdown. It was interesting to witness that once stress alleviated a bit, how quickly depression set in. Let me make this clear; it is not that neurodiverse folx cannot handle working within the Legislature (I biasedly feel we are an unparalleled asset) — no one should be unnecessarily subjected to toxic nonsense that could be easily resolved or mediated.

• After being quarantined for a year, it took preparation for me to be around others – and I got out of going in by being virtual most of the session, to be completely honest.
• Connecting with offices and stakeholders (via email, phone, zoom, or in-person) on bills I love was restorative – the reminder that there are like-minded folx in the Legislature staying true to disrupting, challenging, and fighting.
• Not having stemming stuff or my dog and being forced into stiff, uncomfortable “professional” clothing caused me to essentially move into our building (recreating my safe, comfy space) towards the end of the session when I was not fully remote.
• It was astonishing how well the intern team at the LSG worked together. Part of that was recognizing what the other(s) needed and adopting roles to keep the machine rolling (floor reports, our capacity to continue working, etc.). It was essential to acknowledge and give space when we all started operating out of survival mode. For instance, before the budget week began, the LSG disclosed what we need from others when we are at our worst.
• Watching nonsensical television or specific shows helped me tap into my emotions to self-regulate, meaning I did not necessarily have to bottle everything up. Having something to disassociate with dramatically helped my introverted nature – like bawling alone to ‘This is Us’ and ‘Good Doctor’ on Hulu. Without this, I would have taken on my peers’ emotions and the ship would have truly sunk for anyone I interacted with regularly.
• Managing through the last few weeks of session looked like: truly being secure within myself; realizing that I am not my degree, career, or job title – I am a human; refusals to subject myself to toxic environments or people; enjoying the simple things; and being in nature.

Discovery

I can say that working in an environment that forces you to operate on the bare minimum and burns you out helps you refocus on what you truly need and reimagine any and every possibility (career and life). Since January I have discovered that my tendency to disrupt occurs when I am forced into toxic environments that normalize trauma bonding or when I hear, “it has always been done this way.” Regardless of how minuscule or dire the circumstances may be, I have realized that this intrinsic nature to challenge is unapologetic, and usually unintentional activism.

This experience at the legislature I have discovered:

• The need to educate the legislature and social work about harm reduction and remind others to see the humanity in everyone and every moment before jumping to preconceived notions or career titles (human first, social worker second).
• Personal commitments of: refusing to continue negative cycles, disrupting problematic systems and challenging normalized or overlooked behaviors – to scream about transparency and accountability until it is actualized in every aspect of policy and social work.
• I am not the one to work within a system and adhere to nonsensical rules – I am an activist to the core regardless of the masks I try to wear.
• The indescribable benefits of surrounding oneself with those that challenge, disrupt, and force me to hold myself and others to a higher standard.
• To remain firm in non-negotiable boundaries, flexible enough to compromise on what is up for grabs, and grounded enough to double down and fight when policies infringe upon the right to pursue happiness.
• That I am more bold and unapologetic than I could have ever fathomed.
• My capacity, even in the worst of times.
• That I am the exact person I present to the world, even amid chaos.
• There are no consequences to standing alone, however uncomfortable it may be in the moment.
• I know what I need, and what I will never tolerate ever again (in my relationships and work).
• The freedom to truly be myself is not risky; it is the safest I have felt and my authentic display of humanity is exactly what is needed in this society.
• What others perceive as faults or successes are merely representations of my continual evolution in growth. I am a combination of every decision made and human that I ever loved… and I am… or we are.. absolutely fucking perfect.

Last week I kept receiving “happy graduation” texts, and to be honest… my first thought was, “GET ME OUT OF HERE!” I could include some cliche quote about “not being able to connect the dots until you are far enough away to look back” – but let us get real… I have zero intention to look back (goodbye, past) and intend to run with what I have experienced and learned full throttle into whatever this new life unveils.

by Chelsea Dalton Pederson, intern in the Texas Legislative Study Group

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

It all started decades ago when reports about climate change started to gain traction. That made oil folx mad because it would mean that they would have less money. Two brothers, Charles and David Koch, needed to keep making oil money, which meant that they had to control the courts, legislative policies, and minds. In response, they started funding think tanks, training programs, and all kinds of media investments to help show people that “it was okay if they were being poisoned and robbed” because money is great. Over the decades organizations like the Heritage Society, Federalist Society, Heritage Foundation, Prager U [NOT A UNIVERSITY], and American Legislative Exchange Council have been training “conservatives” to prioritize freedom of the individual over the community and constituents. Their biggest gains were in the establishment of the “Tea Party,” a small but vocal and increasingly violent-racist faction of the Republican party that laid the groundwork for conspiracy theories and riots to overturn free and fair elections.

Thanks to this echo chamber, they were able to build a system that does not take ‘no‘ lightly. This system has been churning for a few decades now and finally found the right candidate to make authoritarian progress that would protect them from being good neighbors and stewards of the Earth. Donald Trump lost the 2020 election, and like the dirty side of a hurricane, took the Texas Republican party with him.

17 congressional Texas Republicans voted to object to election results in Pennsylvania and Arizona, at least one Texas House member (a co-sponsor of Texas’ SB 7 that sought to place new restrictions around the voting process) was present at the January 6th coup. One member (the “author” of HB 6, the Texas House counterpart of SB 7) volunteered to participate in a lawsuit to overturn election results despite no “conceivable justification” of fraud for mail-in voting. As of this writing, there has been no accountability for a failed coup or for supporting those who fan the flames of authoritarianism.

All of this history culminated on the night of May 29, when Texas House Democrats took the uncommon step of breaking quorum to prevent the heinous SB 7 from passing. The saga of HB 6/SB 7 is a real roller coaster and I highly suggest reading about it here. But, I just want to share a few moments that stand out from my perspective.

• HB 6 was heard for public comment in a committee hearing, but when the Chairwoman of the Texas Legislative Black Caucus asked to be recognized to speak, Chairman Cain suddenly ended the hearing “on accident.”
• A 22-hour hearing was held for HB 6, ending somewhere around 5 am. The Chairman of the House Elections Committee left the room and was absent for many voting rights groups’ testimonies, which was only permitted in person and limited to 3 minutes.
• SB 7 (a related, but different bill, with different objectives and different policy content) was completely stricken and replaced with HB 6 as a committee substitute. Committee members received the substitute mere minutes before being asked to vote on it.
• SB 7, as HB 6, was rushed out of committee and then was hastily passed through the Senate then the House
• After 10 days (TEN DAYS) of being in the conference committee, where 10 members of the House and Senate were tasked with agreeing upon bill language, the final version of SB 7 maintained drafting errors.
• On a holiday weekend, with only 3 days left on which the legislature could act on this legislation, the conference report was released. It included 20 new provisions that had never been discussed when the bill moved through the legislative process, over 40 new pages.

As a policy analyst for the Legislative Study Group covering the House Elections Committee, this situation gave me a few new gray hairs. I had to analyze which good language had been stripped from the bill, and which new out-of-bounds-provisions were a real nightmare or simply a nuisance. As I read through each line of the bill, my anger and fear grew, as a former election judge, volunteer deputy voter registrar, and general lover of democracy. I think some of that came through in my analysis:

“Documented voter fraud in Texas is rare, but SB 7 is a 67 page ode to voter suppression steeped in racism and the baseless Big Lie touted by former President Trump and his anti-democracy followers. Since 2018, only 45 people have been arrested and only half were prosecuted for some kind of vote fraud in Texas…Instead of enacting systemic changes that would actually provide its stated intent of increased election security and access, the bill will create “gotcha” law that will criminalize honest mistakes and decrease access to the ballot box for many … In short, SB7 is the next step in the war on democracy perpetuated by fact-free election fraud claims.”

In short, the bill (and it’s not dead yet) would have codified authoritarianism. Waking up to go to work and having to analyze legislation that intentionally criminalizes the beautiful humanity of voter engagement was very difficult for me. In retrospect, I probably take in more history of authoritarian regimes, climate change and cults than the average Texan. But, I think that it’s important that we look at the full landscape of what and how the state of democracy is functioning.

This is where I want to tell you about the importance of not joining a cult. No one wakes up and decides to leave their family, life, and world behind and says “Gee, I’d love to join a cult today.” People join cults because they are looking for something, or someone, to bring some salvation. These people see something that others outside of the group do not see and seemingly have the answers to make the world make sense or make it all better. Then the behavioral control (isolation from one’s environment and social circle, debilitation through sleep and calorie deprivation, degradation of a person’s sense of self, induced crisis, extensive indoctrination sessions, rigid daily rules, and alternation of harshness and leniency in discipline) sets in gradually over time. Folx sometimes do not realize what is happening until some drastic event happens and even then some choose to ignore it. They join because they believe it is something good, and it is used against them over time to feed someone else’s goals. My experience showed me that a cult doesn’t need to be a defined institution for the parallels to be drawn to what I experienced this legislative session.

As attacks against democracy increase, humanity is debated, and the world suffers from warming temperatures, many of us look for leadership in government to help right the ship. However, politics is full of politicians who are flawed humans – there are no heroes in this fleet. No one is coming to save us, and the politicians we are fans of are going to disappoint us. The only hope we have is in community, by getting involved in the local level; by knowing what your Justice of the Peace thinks about evictions and property owners; what your Court of Appeals thinks about housing and substance use scams; and what your County Commissioners want to do about greenhouse gas emissions; or even BE that local leader.

During the month of May, I had aggravating bills to analyze through the breakneck deadlines the House works with, as more bills were piled on an already 90-bill calendar. There is not time to sleep, eat well, talk to your loved ones, or in general, to be a human. Something my wonderful therapist reminded me is that I am not my job or this career, and if I want to continue doing this work I have to stay in touch with my humanity. I know that trying to change systems and ask for accountability is hard work and that this work can make me feel simply crazy. Through this experience I have discovered that going forward I am going to look at ways I am being programmed to further someone else’s agenda. If I am to be sleep deprived and hungry I want it to be on my own accord, because I am working towards something, not participating in a manufactured crisis.

Folx leave cults by being empowered to think for themselves. If we’re going to get out of the death cult of capitalism – whereby corporations poison us, our air, and our water – we need to get connected deeply into our local and state systems… and learn to rest and take naps.

by Joy Fairchild, Policy Analyst at the Texas Legislative Study Group

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

Finding a light at the end of the tunnel, or even along the way to keep going, is not always easy. Reflecting on my experience working in the Texas legislature, as a part of the Texas Legislative Study Group Caucus (LSG), emotional intelligence has been a key aspect in how I got through a rough session, have grown personally and professionally, and sustained my mental health throughout these past 140 days.

Self-awareness

As social workers, we are taught to be aware of how we move in the world. Developing self-awareness is about doing the work regularly, especially in the rough spots, to understand how the world is impacting us as we move through the world. Jumping headfirst into legislative work where you are eating, sleeping, and breathing policies that impact social, racial, and environmental justice takes a toll. It is not always easy to process emotions while working long hours under tight deadlines due to the Texas Legislature operating under a biennial system. Knowing that I am a perfectionist in my work, often holding myself to unreasonable standards, makes this work essential. I was hard for me to admit I could not take on learning, understanding, and analyzing the Texas budget (the policy area I asked for), with a GDP now ranking over entire countries at 9th in the world, on my own.

I didn’t want to let down my supervisors and cohort who I admire by “pushing off” my work onto them. I didn’t want to let down the LSG and the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work. I didn’t want to let down all the people in Texas who the budget impacts. It didn’t matter to me that my cohort had been prepped on how budget week is a team effort. I felt shame and struggled processing my emotions in response. While the work was done, I didn’t feel good about it and even more about myself. I was hard on myself and that could be seen by anyone around me. Dr. Brené Brown’s work on vulnerability and shame really summed up where I was in those moments and how I moved forward.

Self-regulation

Once I allowed myself to be vulnerable and share how I had been feeling, things got better. I was reminded being assigned to the budget has historically led other students to experience their own breakdowns. Not only was I no longer feeling alone, but I was better prepared to begin the process of reflecting on my own to move forward.

One of the ways I did this was by practicing humility. I reached out to show gratitude and acknowledge how my reactions could have impacted those around me, my cohort. I acknowledged where my not asking for help could have harmed them. I thanked them for the grace, love, and care they showed me in words, deeds, and actions. I acknowledged the shame and self-doubt that I allowed to encompass me was not who I am, it would not define me or our work, and through this experience I identified positive ways to move forward.

Motivation & empathy

Social workers belong in political work. I truly believe we belong working on budgets that impact individuals, families, communities, organizations, and more. We are uniquely qualified to be in this space because we not just understand how systems interact, but look for these interactions as well. In the hope of preventing the person who takes on this role after me from experiencing the emotions I felt, I am working on guides, spreadsheets, and templates to provide them with to remove some of the areas that caused unnecessary additional stress.

Just because things have always been hard doesn’t mean it needs to keep being as hard. I chose to turn my problem and dark moment into something good for those who come after me. I also used this experience to inform how my cohort may be feeling during rough spots and recognize when it wasn’t the right time to ask them for feedback because they may not have the space. Often this was my cue to listen and help them process and recognize where I may be able to adjust to help them.

Social skills

I also made a point to pay attention to how I said things. When looking for feedback because I was unsure or noticed I wasn’t feeling good about something, I would preface statements with “The Story in my head”. It is important to me that while I address how I am feeling that I am not hurting anyone. One of the other ways I worked on being purposeful with my words was in affirmation statements. One my colleagues came up with the idea of affirmation bags for the LSG staff. Knowing how much being given affirmations adds value to my self-esteem I made a point to take time to think of how each person adds value to the world. This experience and cohort helped me to grow, and I wanted to be sure to this was expressed to them. When I asked for their feedback or expertise in a policy area, I made a point to implement this. I wanted to be sure my actions showed I heard them and valued their opinions and feedback.

This experience was a once in a lifetime opportunity for me, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. My personal growth and skills I learned will help me in all aspects of my life and already have. Following the Texas Senate and House meeting in conference over the budget, I had roughly 24 hours to complete another analysis on the Texas budget. This time the process was smoother, the finished product was easier to read, and I was proud of what was accomplished. The biggest difference wasn’t the additional time learning the budget, it was that I asked for help right away and used the templates I had already started working on to give the next cohort.

I may have stayed up all night, but I didn’t experience waves of self-doubt, inadequacy, or shame. Being a perfectionist with my work can and has served me well in a lot of ways but being vulnerable and letting go of unrealistic expectations has done so much more. This is how I will be able to continue working towards good policy and advocating for change, regardless of how harmful a situation may be. Thank you to my Austin Legislative Internship Program cohort and program director Dr. Suzanne Pritzker, LSG executive director Brittany Sharp, and field supervisor Monica Faulkner for everything this session.

by Audrey Erwin, intern in the Texas Legislative Study Group

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

As a professional Sickle Cell advocate, there is nothing that supersedes the lived experience. Living with a chronic illness every day gives a perspective that can never be acquired by those who do not suffer from the disease. I was born with Sickle Cell Disease. Sickle Cell Disease (SCD) is an inherited genetic blood disorder, the most common in the United States. It is characterized as a condition that causes the blood cells to be malformed and break down, thus causing pain and other complications. As a child, I suffered from more frequent bouts of pain, a hallmark of the disease called a vaso-occlusive crisis, than I do as an adult. I suffered a stroke at the age of two due to complications of SCD.

SCD is an unpredictable disease that can strike at any moment, and as a student in primary and secondary school, I missed a lot of classroom time due to being hospitalized. Despite missing a lot of days of school, I always earned good grades. I was privileged to graduate with honors from high school and with my undergraduate degree. From then on, I continued to excel and progress in my studies, regardless of the prescribed limitations that many wanted to put on me. I took advantage of every opportunity I was given to educate my school on SCD. I coordinated presentations, authored papers, and even hosted blood drives – I still do it in graduate school; I am doing it now in this blog post!

Let me take this time to encourage anyone who is reading this. Do not let anyone tell you what you can and cannot do. If you want to achieve it, go for it. If one door closes, just try another door. I would love to see where those teachers and administrators are now and tell them all the wonderful things I accomplished and prove to them that they were wrong.

DIVINE PROVIDENCE

In my last post, I mentioned that I am a person of faith. I strongly believe in Divine Providence and the intervention of God (whomever that may or may not be for you). I am here today due to a myriad of events that have worked together for my good. It all started when I met Tonya Prince, the Executive Director of the Sickle Cell Association of Houston. I met her several years ago at the Sickle Cell Disease Association of America, Inc. National Convention. We instantly connected and began to collaborate on several sickle cell advocacy projects. Soon after meeting Tonya, she introduced me to Texas State Representative Jarvis Johnson while attending another national sickle cell event. When I first met Representative Johnson, I would not have guessed that in 2021 that I would be interning in his office.

While searching for MSW programs, I stumbled upon the University of Houston’s MSW with a Political Social Work focus. Instantly, I became intrigued and knew I had to apply. I also found the information for the Austin Legislative Internship Program and was sold on the placement. I applied to and was accepted to both programs. When I learned that I was selected to be an Austin intern, I knew the only person I wanted to work for was Representative Jarvis Johnson. Dr. Pritzker, the director of the Austin internship, attempted to manage my expectations and informed me that it is not customary for interns to request where they are placed, and that I may not be able to work specifically on SCD related legislation. None of that mattered. After his accomplishments for the SCD community in Texas, I was adamant that I wanted to work in his office, regardless of if we get the opportunity to pass SCD bills.

LEGISLATIVE VICTORIES

Fortunately, during this 87th Legislative Session, Representative Johnson filed two bills dealing directly with SCD and one resolution. He also joint authored and coauthored several pieces of legislation that would expand access to healthcare. Sadly, one SCD bill never made it out of its respective House committee, but the other bill was voted out of committee unanimously and passed the House with bipartisan support. Unfortunately, the latter bill died in its Senate committee. The filed resolution was adopted and sponsored by Senator Borris L. Miles, who is the senator who represents me, and lives with SCD as I do.

Although the bills directly concerning SCD did not get signed by the Governor, I am still happy to have had the opportunity to staff the legislation and gain this once-in-a-lifetime experience. At the beginning of the session, my Chief of Staff told us that we must learn how to “redefine wins.” Of course, everyone wants every bill that they file to pass. However, this is not a perfect world, and sadly bills will die. I came with high hopes that more of the SCD and other bills that I worked on would pass, but they did not. However, I have learned to review and redefine what is viewed as a victory. To file bills and get them in committee hearings and educate the Legislature about these topics is a win. I am honored to have worked in Representative Jarvis Johnson’s team with brilliant and passionate people.

SINE DIE (emphasis on DIE)

I am so looking forward to SINE DIE, the last day of the legislative session. I have been honored to work for my member, along with my coworkers and cohort. I enjoyed meeting new people, with whom I hope to maintain an indelible bond. However, I am excited to move on to new endeavors. I will be honest to say that as someone who has a chronic disease, this internship was unlike any other experience. SCD patients experience chronic fatigue, and the demands of this placement honestly began to weigh on me. During these 140 days (about 4 and a half months), my health has always been a looming concern. I always had a slight worry in the back of my mind that I would get sick and not have the capacity to finish the assignment. I have worked in the federal, county, and state-level government in various positions. Nothing compares to working for a legislative session. The demands, long hours, and unpredictability of the scope of work were something that the leadership appropriately warned my cohort about well before we arrived. However, it does not make sense until you actively live through it. There were many nights I went home contemplating quitting, thinking that I could not handle the pressure. I would go home thinking I am slowing my office down instead of being an asset. However, I know that by sine die, I contributed all I had to offer.

I have never been so challenged in my life. I do not say this to be negative. I say this to underscore the fact that I survived. Despite living with a chronic disease, regardless of the odds, I made it! I have committed to being an example for those with SCD and other rare and chronic diseases. If they see I can do it, they can too. I want to inspire others like me who are disabled that although framers of the state and the Legislature did not create spaces like these with us in mind, we can and should insert ourselves in the process to make sure we represent those who look like us. Representation does matter. I was reflecting a few days ago; during this session, I have not met any staffer or member who was disabled. Not saying they do not exist here; I observed I had not met any. I often wonder if they feel like that these opportunities are unreachable.

I am incredibly humbled for the small part that I played in this legislative session on impacting the lives of thousands of Texans who suffer from SCD. I am happy to take a lifetime full of pain and despair and turn it into hope and healing for those in this state. Although new to Texas and not sure if this state is my home after I graduate, I am happy to have the opportunity to change the narrative around SCD and for those who survive every day with a chronic illness.

by André Harris, intern with Rep. Jarvis Johnson

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

Cutting off access to emotions is a bad place for a social worker to be. Most people in the profession are there from true passion and care for the people society chews up and spits out. For me, not feeling the anger and pain is losing touch with my purpose.

I’ve often been told the toxic environment of the legislature is something I will have to process after session, and I agree. Keeping in touch with the emotions caused by the truly unjust and reprehensible actions taken by the Texas Legislature impacts my ability to do the job. And the people of Texas need the job done, even if we lose.

I went back to Houston for the first time last weekend since before the legislature started hearing bills. I saw friends and family members who all wanted to know how my prestigious internship at the Capitol was going. I really didn’t know what to say to them, and the few times I shared, my honest experience quickly turned into angry rants.

But how am I supposed to say it’s going well?? This session has been particularly ugly, and people have no idea the rights they have lost in all the shameful efforts to codify the Trump regime:

• Some of the most egregious voter suppression laws since Jim Crow
• Legislation specifically targeting and punishing cities who defund their police as a response to the Black Lives Matter movement
• Anti-critical race theory bills trying to prevent children from being educated on racism in this country
• Even more restrictive laws prohibiting abortions, past 6 weeks, before many women even know they are pregnant
• School takeover bills giving schools an “accountability” rating, but really with the goal of punishing them without giving them more resources to succeed
• Lack of federal Medicaid expansion or even a substantive effort to keep people from getting dropped off their existing Medicaid
• The adoption of permitless carry and an overall lack of any improvements to gun safety

I’ve always believed hope is the only thing that keeps social workers going. Police reform was a legislative issue that was really giving me hope this session. Although law enforcement agencies (and CLEAT, the Combined Law Enforcement Associations of Texas, working behind the scenes to sabotage policing reform) made it clear ending qualified immunity would never be an option, many good bills were filed addressing policing reform. However, watching the sunset bill for the Texas Commission on Law Enforcement get killed, alongside other TCOLE reform legislation, due to complaints from certain interested groups killed all my hope for seeing any meaningful anti-racist policing reform legislation this session.

I think about Ms. T (Rep. Senfronia Thompson) every single day lately. When she was first elected to the Texas House of Representatives, Black people weren’t even sitting on juries. I think about Mickey Leland, Irma Rangel, Chairman Garnet Coleman, and all the legislators who created additional access points for young people and social workers to have a voice in this state. These legislators fighting for equity and rights for the most vulnerable people in this state, who have spent years tolerating outright racism and blatant attempts at oppression to keep fighting for our future. And even more staffers and policy analysts who are never remembered but were the driving force behind huge social change. Every time I find myself entering a dark headspace thinking about how recent legislation will impact the people of Texas, I think about all the people who came before me and how they never gave up on making the world a better place, no matter the cost to them.

On the last day to hear Senate bills in the House, the bill banning trans kids from participating on gender-affirming sports teams (SB 29) was scheduled to be heard on the Major State Calendar. This bill in particular pushed me over the edge. I was formerly a mental health caseworker for kids and young adults, and I couldn’t stop thinking of my wonderful trans and queer clients who already go through so much they shouldn’t have to. Just when I had really hit peak hopelessness, the Democrats killed the bill by stalling until the midnight deadline. SB 29 dying was the relief I needed, and on top of it, the Democrats stalled by reading our work, the floor report prepared by the Texas Legislative Study Group, on the last bill of the night.

Texans are being severely let down by our government, and we are letting down democracy. The representatives elected to office by in large represent the opinions of Trump supporters because they are the most civically engaged group and they participate in local politics. It’s seriously disappointing how many friends and acquaintances regularly post on social media about federal political issues or protest police brutality yet have no idea what is happening in their own state. Something must be done to remedy the disconnect between what happens nationally and the laws at the state level that impact every single day of our lives.

If you care about the future of our society, I beg you to get involved in local and state politics. Redirect all your attention and energy from the federal level to the state level. Talk to your state representative. Pay attention to who is running and when elections are happening. Get bad politicians out of office and replace them with people who look and sound like the people of Texas and believe in progress! Texas will not continue to move forward if we continue to neglect state politics and fail to hold representatives accountable for their actions.

By Cassidy Kenyon, intern in the Texas Legislative Study Group

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

“When white Americans tell the Negro to lift himself by his own bootstraps, they don’t look over the legacy of slavery and segregation. Now I believe we ought to do all we can and seek to lift ourselves by our own bootstraps, but it’s a cruel jest to say to a bootless man that he ought to lift himself by his own bootstraps. Many negroes, by the thousands and millions, have been left bootless as a result of all of these years of oppression and as a result of a society that deliberately made the color of their skin a stigma and something worthless and degrading.”

– Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. MLK on Genuine Equality – NBC News

CULTURE SHOCK

The quote above is one of my favorite quotes by the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Although these are words from 1967, they have merit 54 years later. I am the only Black man in the UH Graduate College of Social Work Austin Legislative Internship Program. I say this not to highlight the differences I have with my other esteemed colleagues, but to inform the reader of the unique lens through which I view this experience. Being a Black man navigating this legislative session has been highly challenging, yet extremely rewarding. The Texas Legislature did not plan for people like me to be working in it when it was constructed. I can even feel the deliberate exclusion of people who look like me 133 years after its opening.

I received my undergraduate degree in Social Work from Fayetteville State University in Fayetteville, North Carolina, in December 2019. My alma mater is a Historically Black College/University (HBCU). I lived in the Deep South my whole life. Although born in Michigan, I lived 12 years in Georgia and 16 years in North Carolina before moving to Texas in August 2020 to start graduate school at the University of Houston. Pro-Blackness is all I know. For my whole life, Black culture and community enveloped me. Someone who looked like me always surrounded me. The times I experienced racism were always outside of my “beloved community.”

In my short time as a Texas resident, I have witnessed overt racism and bigotry like never before. While living in Austin for this internship, it was the first time I can recall in my life where a prominent Black “beloved community” didn’t surround me. Although I have seen and experienced discrimination, racism, and bigotry, I have never had to constantly grapple with it in the way I do as an intern at the Texas Legislature; the rhetoric, the culture. There’s no other way to describe this other than a culture shock.

I find it incongruous that every time the Texas House of Representatives convenes, it begins with an invocation. Many members tout their Christianity and deep faith in their legislative biographies and say very little about their legislative abilities, emblematic of the bills they pass. Immediately after the invocation, bills are debated and passed in the House, which directly conflicts with the faith to which they just pledged allegiance. I, too, am a man of faith and cherish my convictions. However, I do not believe that one should legislate their faith and religious beliefs. In a state as diverse as Texas, it is absurd to assume that all 29 million are Christians.

“Evangelicalism, white supremacy, and politics are all intertwined, and politics are all intertwined, and the Texas Legislature is the perfect example of this issue. This group of policymakers has highlighted several nonissues while ignoring topics such as racial and social injustice and inequity. The murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd in 2020 didn’t seem to impact conservative, evangelical lawmakers, who sadly are in political control. Instead, attacking Critical Race Theory and African American studies, voting rights, and abortion became a priority for this Session.

Many days I feel like I do not belong. Sometimes I think that accepting this internship was a mistake because what can I do to dismantle this system? I am fortunate enough to take advantage of an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to help change the narrative. Although not a native Texan, I have drawn inspiration from figures such as the late Mickey Leland, Barbara Jordan, and other current legislature members, such as the member for whom I work, the distinguished Jarvis Johnson, and the eminent Senfronia Thompson. They have taught me, indirectly, to continue the fight and that progress is similar to dripping water. Although change is desired to happen overnight, it often comes as the result of perseverance. One of my favorite quotes says: “Dripping water hollows stone, not by force, but through persistence.”

SHAKING IN MY BOOTS

Oh! That’s right. I don’t have any boots. As a low-income, bisexual, disabled Black Man in the State of Texas, many would tell me to “pull myself up by the bootstraps,” but fail to realize I don’t have any boots; I was never given any and never given the access to acquire them. Certain buzzwords like “personal responsibility” or “God-given right” seem to be the magic words sprinkled on issues to make them indisputable. Many conservatives believe that everyone should take personal responsibility for their outcomes in life, ignoring the legislative responsibility they possess that can influence equity. The Legislature is the right place to change issues; sadly, some policymakers create problems instead of fixing them.

Conservative lawmakers who are advocates of personal responsibility should take time to learn that personal responsibility is not a cure-all. There are structural barriers that hinder people of color, non-Christians, disabled people, and people with different sexual and gender identities. Privileged individuals believe that all people must do is pull up their bootstraps because, in essence, that’s all they have had to do or are even capable of doing to have opportunities presented to them. Due to centuries of white supremacy and bigotry, people of color and those of differing sexual and religious backgrounds must work doubly hard to get just a fraction of the opportunities that those in the majority enjoy.

The Texas Legislature, in many ways, has proved this to be accurate, whether consciously or unconsciously. While examining legislative intent, countless bills during this 87th Session illustrate that those who look like me and identify like me were not considered. During the internship, I have seen gun rights increased, while limitations are placed on voter’s rights, Medicaid expansion is again rejected, and abortion bans are passed. These issues have had a significant impact on me. I have never been so scared and hopeless in my life. The stress of wanting my member’s bills to pass, however, knowing that politics would probably kill most of the good legislation that could help millions of Texans weighs heavy on me.

Just as the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, many Americans, especially Black Americans like me, don’t have boots due to the centuries of oppression we’ve faced. Fairness and equity are two principles that should guide all lawmakers, regardless of partisanship. Understanding centuries of injustice should guide policymakers on both sides of the aisle to ensure that “justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

THERE IS HOPE

You might feel a bit depressed by reading the words mentioned above; however, I always believe that hope is imminent. All my experiences have not been negative. There have been some outstanding bills that passed one or two chambers and might make it to the Governor’s Desk. There have been strides made in protecting maternal/child healthcare, foster children, youth experiencing homelessness, to name a few. Progressive members are working as hard as possible to ensure that their constant drip of legislative victories erodes the stone.

Personally, in my capacity as an intern, I was able to help assist several constituents in matters dealing with state agencies where we were able to intervene and see positive outcomes. I was also privileged to staff two bills and one resolution concerning Sickle Cell Disease. (The real reason why I’m here. I will share more in my next blog post).

I believe that there is hope. I cling to it. I wake up every day actively working toward and looking for it. I am wild enough to think that there are many streams of dripping water here that will wear a hollow in the stone. Many of them are in my cohort, work in my office, and work in other offices at the Legislature. As a person of faith, I wholeheartedly believe that we will see “mighty floods of justice and an endless river of righteousness….”

by André Harris, intern with Rep. Jarvis Johnson

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

A part of me feels as though I came into the session with a naïve mindset, big googly eyes enamored with the idea of change and of finally having a path to the power necessary to make a meaningful impact. Slowly, that mindset has been changing, as this experience adds more fuel to my fire in the ways that we need to become more involved as communities of color and as LGBTQ+ communities to ensure all voices are being heard. These issues are important to me, and the ones that strike me the most as a former teacher are those that will affect our children if passed. This all has also made me realize that as a social worker, I must be more involved on the local level to educate our communities on why it is important to be present and support our representatives in local and state elections, and not only make our voices heard during federal elections. Early voting for local elections taking place this spring in Texas had a low percentage of registered voters going out to vote, a stark contrast to the much higher turnout rates in Fall 2020’s federal elections.

The time-frame that our State Senators and Representatives meet does not help constituents be able to travel and testify for or against bills that will impact their daily lives. Texas has a part-time legislature, one of only a handful of states where the legislature meets every other year, meeting for just 140 days every two years. I can speak from experience: This was exactly the experience I had four years ago with the bathroom bill, formally known as SB 3 which was a legislative priority that ultimately failed in the 85th session. I felt privileged to have the opportunity to take off work to express my opinion on the bill, but not everyone has that chance.

Not only was this true for me then, but recently it became more evident during the hearing of House Bill 4042 in the House Public Education committee. This bill, if passed into law, would not allow students who are transgender to play in their respective gender-identifying sport. There were a total of 77 people who registered to testify, among them, 63 people testified against this bill. This does not include those who registered for or against the bill; the number of those who registered against the bill was also more overwhelming than those for the bill.

One testimony in particular that I heard was from an advocate who spoke on behalf of a student. The advocate explained that due to the student already having spent many school days taking trips across the state to Austin to plead for civil treatment with the numerous other anti-trans bills this session, the student could not miss another day. It is a failure by our elected officials to have our students aware that their government does not protect them and their rights. We are showing our younger generations that our government will not always work towards the improvement of their lives, their liberty, or their pursuit of happiness. She is one of many students who, despite not even being able to vote, understands the seriousness of the power elected officials have on altering her life. In consequence, she needed to take time off from school to come to the Capitol and tell her story. I can only imagine the toll that it has taken on her, despite barely even having started her life already to have such a need to come and fight for her own rights.

As adults, we are all well too familiar with this issue of how our government tries to regulate our rights. Parents spoke on behalf of their children, on how this bill would hurt their children on many levels, but most importantly their mental health would be on the line. Schools are already underfunded when it comes to mental health, and we do not provide sufficient services and resources. But our state wants to take away rights from parents and tell them that they are wrong when it comes to their children. To put it blatantly, so much for “small government.” A pediatrician speaking on behalf of the Texas Pediatrics Society testified against this bill – as a medical authority in this field, the pediatrician testified that no evidence could back up the claim that transgendered girls have an advantage over cisgirls when playing sports. In addition, advocates from the Texas Association of School Psychologists, Intercultural Development Research Association, and the National Association of Social Workers- Texas Chapter testified against this bill.

Legislators are not listening to testimony, however, as HB4042/SB 29 was voted out of the House Public Education committee this past week. Do we want our government to put on paper and adopt harmful legislation that does not consider the lives that are being put into play with their decisions, without at least taking advisement from the very experts of the matter? The repercussions will be dire for all the children who already feel like outsiders rather than being able to live an innocent and care-free life.

Although we may be living in a red state, it does not mean that all constituents should not be heard. This is one of many examples of anti-trans bills that are being considered this session. My blog post does not include the anti-trans amendments that Republicans also have tried to tie to bills being heard on the House floor, thankfully those have not been successful. We are not sworn enemies, we are all American and Texans, everyone should be protected under the law regardless of political agendas. We should not allow oppressive bills to continue to grow in numbers. Change can only happen with an uprising of communities becoming aware of how to use their voice and being politically involved in our local and state-level elections. I truly believe that when we as social workers continue to advocate and unite all of our constituents in this great state, we can create a movement for more humane and just laws to be passed that will not hurt any of our lives and the lives of our children. They are watching our every move, one day they will be in our shoes. This is the time in our history that will define their futures and the future of our country. We must continue to fight the big fight for unity rather than division. Our society has engraved fear in our communities throughout generations. By reinventing what political differences should look like within the walls of the Chamber we can be one step closer to every person’s right to have their own life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. Representation will always matter.

by Lyssette Galvan, intern with Rep. Mary González

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

Always working. It can wear you down. At this point my emotional state is that of a honey badger who just doesn’t give a shit. My personality is that of a spiteful, rabid racoon fighting an alley cat over a piece of garbage. At this point in the session, that is what it feels like we’re doing. Everyone is just fighting each other over garbage.

Thursday, March 5th

On Thursday March 5th, the House fought over a particular piece of garbage. A bill that would allow the state to take over the largest school district in the state, Houston ISD. A terrible bill that died on the floor from a POO (Point of Order) as it rightfully should have. In retaliation, the author of that bill came back on the mic to announce that due to this POO, the House Committee on Public Education (Pub. Ed.) would reconsider the vote of SB 29, the senate’s trans youth sports ban that had failed to garner the necessary votes to pass committee just two days prior. I had turned in for the night by that point, a rare moment where I was able to catch a full 8 hours of sleep and missed this announcement.

I arrived to work bright and early Friday morning as usual. Several coworkers were already there printing out the day’s Legislative Study Group floor reports meant to be delivered to the Sergeant at Arms. As I was waiting for the last reports to be printed and stapled so I could deliver them, my coworker and friend Phoung Nguyen, who is assigned to Pub. Ed., called in a rush and explained that she was driving in because the committee was reconsidering SB 29. I was crushed.

I’ve mentioned in my previous post I am a transgender non-binary person. My pronouns are they/them or he/him and I present fairly masculine to the point that I get some unwanted attention when I happen to utilize the female restroom. I wasn’t out in high school as trans or queer, but I did participate in cross country and long-distance track. My senior year I was the team captain for cross country and led the women’s team to regionals that year. Sports were a big part of my high school years, as they are for many youths. I learned a lot about leadership, self-discipline, and how to properly take care of my body. I loved cross country and the comradery I built with my team.

As a non-binary trans person, I’m not sure which team I would’ve asked to compete on if I was out and had a choice during high school. But I would hope that whatever decision I made would have been met with acceptance and respect. As a social work student, you come to expect that from everyone because one of the core ethical values social workers follow is respecting the inherent dignity and self-worth of a person. At the Texas Legislature it is very obvious that is not a value some legislators follow.

Friday, March 6th

Friday, March 6th, I rushed into the committee room for Pub Ed. It was packed with activists and lobbyists eager to see what the new vote would be. Phuong was sitting at the front and I joined her. What followed was a conversation that is making me question if I want to pursue a career as a policy activist for the LGBTQIA+ community. An amendment had been added to the bill that would allow a study to be conducted of the “problem” of transgender athletes competing in public school sports. There is no “problem.” You also cannot adequately study something that you have outlawed. Transgender youth already face higher levels of bullying and harassment from peers and teachers than their cisgender counter parts. They face mental health issues, such as depression and suicidality, at four times the rate of their cisgender peers. 40% of transgender youth will either seriously contemplate, attempt, or commit suicide before their 24th birthday. A bill like SB 29 is not solving a problem. It is a bill disguised as a solution, but in reality is only promoting the hateful and harmful rhetoric that transgender youth are not welcomed in society.

In closing remarks before the vote, Chairman Harold Dutton, a Democratic representative from Houston stated that he didn’t know much regarding the issue of transgender youth in sports yet “the bill that was killed last night affected far more children than this bill ever will. So as a consequence, the chair moves that Senate Bill 29 as substituted be reported favorably to the full House with the recommendation that it do pass and show the chair voting aye.”

I cried when the votes were being tallied up. 8 Ayes and 5 Nays. I haven’t cried over a bill all session. Not when I listened to hours of testimony on HB 1399, another anti-trans bill, or when SB 29 held public testimony in its Senate hearing. The blatant disregard for the children and youth not just in Texas but around the world that would read articles about the bill and its hearing. See the video clips of the vote on social media. It broke my heart. I am still angry. I’m part of that 40% statistic. At 20 years old, my religious beliefs were at war with my gender identity and sexual orientation. I hated myself. Many transgender youth struggle with that self-hate, and to have your state reps disregard your existence in such a public setting? Horrifying.

This session in particular, transgender youth are facing attack after attack. Several states have outlawed medically affirmative gender care for transgender youth, such as reversible puberty blockers that provide just a few more years for a youth to fully come to a decision on if they want to medically transition or not. If you’re already struggling with hating yourself, what do you think happens when you see powerful parts of the rest of the world hating you back?

I hate having such a shameless, disgrace of a man have such an effect on my feelings. For the most part I’ve shoved that Friday in the back of my mind to deal with later. There are still other bills to analyze, phone calls to make, and floors to watch. I numb down to a honey badger to put off the floodgates I know are going to open as soon as I have time to breath.

Today…

SB 29 is sitting in Calendars right now, waiting to see if it will get a final chance to allow space for problematic and harmful conversations to take place. One calendar remains for this session to hear Senate bills in the House on 2nd reading. I’m not sure what’s going to happen or how I will react if it gets placed on that Tuesday calendar. With our work winding down, I’m worried I won’t be able to compartmentalize like I have been. I know my fellow LSGers will provide a safe space for me to fall back on. Or maybe they’ll be holding me back from storming the floor and giving those reps a piece of my mind. Guess I’ll find out if it gets placed on that calendar.

By Maddox Hilgers, intern in the Texas Legislative Study Group

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

The reality is, I steamrolled though various types of dilemmas on any given day. I simply did not have the capacity to recognize what was happening in the moment and process in the manner I am used to. The demanding and fast-paced nature of working under the pink dome often leaves me too drained to evaluate the intersectionalities of my day-to-day life.

With pursuing a Master of Social Work degree at the UH Graduate College of Social Work comes adherence to six core values set by the National Association of Social Workers. These core values are meant to guide social workers’ decisions to help us serve our clients with their best interests in mind.

Let’s start with: SERVICE

Social workers are trained to put their own interests and opinions aside in order to help others overcome social problems. In the Capitol, the more prominent ways this can be seen are by finding solutions for constituents in need, filing or supporting bills that can make a positive impact on Texans, or blocking legislation that can harm Texans.

The aftermath of Winter Storm Uri provides innumerable examples of service. Many Capitol employees provided resources to those impacted, distributing water, working on legislation to prevent a wide scale electric fail from happening again, and working with constituents who received exorbitant energy bills. Elected officials’ job is to serve the people they represent; however, how everyone interprets service can leave room for prioritizing one’s own desires over the needs of a community.

Next is: DIGNITY AND WORTH OF THE PERSON

Social workers are held accountable to respect the inherent dignity and worth of every person. Think Namaste. We learn how to treat each individual respectfully, with consideration of internal and external stressors and motivations, while also allowing each person to determine what is best for them without judgement or stigmatization.

To be honest, this value appears in small, broken bits, adhering to antiquated hierarchies and acceptance of a status quo that serves those in power. Even though every staffer, intern, and elected official is in a position of high privilege, we all face how racism, sexism, ableism, and every other ism were the building blocks of our current social landscape. Those with the most “worth,” are also those with the most power, leaving the interests of all minority groups left to hitchhike to the finish line.

Any deviation from the accepted structure results in some form of backlash. For example, when members structure their offices in non-conventional ways, staff and other members are quick to exclaim why it will not work compared to the traditional hierarchy. When freshman members opt not to sit on the sidelines all session, others retaliate to show them their place. Dignity and worth come with an invitation-only disclaimer.

Now we discuss: IMPORTANCE OF HUMAN RELATIONSHIPS

Social workers understand that relationships are instrumental in creating change. One of the biggest downsides of relationships at the Capitol, however, is never really knowing which relationships are genuine and which are strategic. Strategic relationships are beneficial because they can provide avenues of support for controversial bills, but result in guarded behavior.

Strategic relationships are developed between members, lobbyists, activists, community members, and staffers. Having good relationships with lobbyists can mean an avalanche of information, steady support, and donations. Bonds between members could help pass or block bills in various ways. Staffer relationships could mean receiving an inside scoop, getting a bill farther along, food on a never-ending day, invitations to events you would not otherwise know of, and having a wealth of others’ wisdom and knowledge at your fingertips. Constituents and community partners give insight into what is important to Texans, painting a real picture of what needs to be changed.

Time for: COMPETENCE

Within social work, we work within our areas of expertise and continuously strive to increase our professional knowledge. In the Capitol, competence is often associated with title, regardless of someone’s performance or expertise. Representatives often lay out bills outside their scope of professional practice and attempt to repudiate those who have spent a lifetime becoming true experts on the topics. Regardless of background, interns and junior staffers are often not considered equipped or capable of handling policy work, discussions with stakeholders, or understanding the dynamics surrounding them. Again, competence is seen as a quality bestowed upon those in power.

Second to last we discuss: SOCIAL JUSTICE

Social workers are expected to challenge social injustice and pursue change with vulnerable populations in mind. Being aware and informing others of oppression and valuing diversity is at the core of facilitating systemic change, since every fabric of our communal quilt was threaded with past lives that did not value justice for all.

Social justice can be seen as a motivating factor for many at the Capitol, in every category of profession or life that walks through the halls. Social injustice is also seen in the same fashion. We have seen voter suppression bills, anti-abortion bills, bills leaving individuals vulnerable to losing access to fair trials, bills compromising children’s best interests, anti-trans bills, bill criminalizing vulnerable populations, and many, many other bills that put the interests of a few above the right to life of many.

Throughout the 87th Legislative Session, it has been difficult to watch committee hearings where people fight tirelessly for their rights. Discussions and votes on the floor of the House of Representatives have made me go numb, as I watch my rights, and the rights of every other Texan, being voted against. It is a long, uphill battle. Even so, I have heard a chorus of voices strengthened and invigorated to keep on fighting for a Texas with inclusion and justice for all.

Finally … Wait for it … INTEGRITY

Social workers must behave honestly, responsibly, and in line with our ethical standards. Integrity is tricky to define within a politically-charged profession. Many face the dilemma of having to choose between sticking to their values and ethics or bending them in the hopes of passing more bills that can help Texans. It is so easy to get caught up in the game that we can forget to check in and re-evaluate if we really intend to be making the decisions we are making. At what point is bending our values wrong? What if I have years’ worth of alliances built with people, but they decide to kill a bill advancing social justice, or bring back up a harmful bill simply because someone offended them? How does that make me look?

At first glance, it may appear as though I would be aligning with someone who will only hurt others. However, forming a relationship with someone who supports opposite viewpoints could keep one of my good bills from being killed. Their support of a bill of mine could result in more members voting for the bill to pass. The Capitol is full of reciprocated favors, we just never know when someone is blowing smoke or may change their minds.

It seems as though everything in the world of politics is fair game when it comes to others’ lives. I have heard a good number of people say that working in politics is not like House of Cards or West Wing. Although I have yet to witness someone being intentionally thrown in front of a subway train to prevent exposing a scandal, I have seen behavior that puts a pit in my stomach and leaves me wondering how so many people incapable of managing their emotions are elected into positions that will impact millions of people.

My last point: ADVOCACY

Advocacy works y’all! Be loud and proud of the values you believe in and the changes you want to see happen. Let your local, state, and federal elected officials know how these bills impact your life. Learn who the stakeholders are and get them involved. Politics has taught me that if the people in power have the last say, then it is my job to find out who those in power listen to. This is where my natural inclination to include statistics and speak eloquently with proof does not get the job done. Creating change from within requires personal stories that tug at people’s hearts. Finding financial benefits to the changes we want to see can help.

It would seem as though having stories, proving financial benefit, and even sharing statistics that prove success would be enough to get our message across. But in the challenges it poses for our social work values, politics is not governed by logic or common sense. Politics is governed by using our collective voice in our local elections, complaining to every office we can call, informing others of the power they carry as constituents, learning about how to shake things ups, and demanding equitable representation and changes in policies through strikes and protests. As many paved the way for us to experience the freedoms of today, we must continue to take the path less travelled to create an even brighter future for those watching us with admiration and hopeful hearts for the freedom to fully live without fear of discrimination, assault, poverty, incarceration, and death for simply being born.

It is always the right time to be the change we want to see in the world.

by Jax Gheorghe, intern with Rep. Penny Morales-Shaw

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

I’m fortunate to be at the center of where change happens. I work with people in power that want to make a difference and advocate in a way that can transform people’s lives. However, sometimes it is true that ignorance is bliss. The pure hatred, lack of care, and disrespect for people that I witness on a daily basis has exhausted every cell in my body.

When I was preparing to write this blog post, I couldn’t decide what to talk about. Should I talk about how major voter suppression bills have gained momentum or how legislatures care more about what trans kids can and cannot do more than they care about the nearly 200 lives that were lost in the recent winter storm because of their lack of leadership. Or we can also talk about how leaders want to take a women’s choice away through abortion restrictions or how legislatures are imposing a state-wide ban on homeless camping while claiming to be devout Christ followers.

I can’t help but think about how all of these issues have one very specific thing in common. We know that issues of abortion, voter suppression, and camping bans impact the majority of Texans. However, the group that would be most impacted by these atrocious and abhorrent bills are Black and brown people in our communities

It seems as though issues brought forth by Republicans are issues that are especially prominent in communities of color. Homelessness, for instance, is not only an issue of poverty in America but also race. African Americans have been and continue to be disproportionately represented in the homeless population. Heavy policing, mass incarceration, the gentrification of black communities, and structural and systematic racism still play a significant role in the disproportionate homelessness rate. Despite only representing 13% of our nation’s population, African Americans make up 40% of the total homeless population. Poverty and mental illness, the two main causes of homelessness, are rampant amongst African Americans. African Americans are 2.5 times more likely to experience poverty than white Americans and as a result are more likely to report severe psychological distress (Mental Health America, n.d. & NAEH, 2020).

Let us also look at abortion rates in America. Low-income women and women of color have higher rates of abortion as compared to white women. A 2011 report by the CDC stated that African American women have the highest abortion rate in the country.

Voting rights, although on first glance seems like an issue that does not involve race, Black and brown people have been and continue to be disfranchised in our democracy. Elected officials imposed poll taxes on Black and Mexican American laborers before casting a ballot. Many eligibility requirements that were enforced by local election officials resulted in Black Americans, women, and Hispanic voters having unequal access to the ballot box. While the poll tax was later banned in 1922, Texas has a continued history of disenfranchising Black and brown voters by closing down polling sites in counties with the largest growing Black and Latino populations.

These bills are not just an attack on Texans, they’re an attack on Black and brown people in this country. It’s not a coincidence that this same population continues to be at the center of these issues and of all the restrictive and abhorrent bills that members have been trying to pass these past few weeks. However, as I look around at who is in power, I am still surrounded by white men here at the Capitol. How ironic is it that white men are responsible for creating bills that will impact the lives of the same Black and brown people they have oppressed and disfranchised for centuries? White men create problems in communities of color and then ensure that these communities stay in cycles of poverty through racist policies. I believe this is important to highlight because the longer I am in session, the more I understand the dire need for representatives with lived experiences. We need representatives who have seen issues that communities of color face firsthand and are willing to look at the implications of ALL policies on black and brown individuals. We need to advocate for these communities because every issue we discuss here at the Capitol disproportionally impacts these communities 10 times more than their white counterparts.

This unprecedented session has been much more difficult than many anticipated. I can’t fathom how exhausted advocates and people of color have been these past few months fighting for human rights, fighting for having personal autonomy, and fighting to simply be treated with dignity and respect. This fight is still not over yet. If bad bills are going to pass because Republicans are the majority in the House, it is our responsibility to at least minimize the impacts of these bills in our communities. Playing defense is one of the most exhausting and draining tasks at the Capitol. The horrendous bills introduced heavily impact not only you yourself but also those you dearly love. This job is far beyond just a job. It is a fight for human lives, it is a fight for freedom.

So to the question “How do you like this session so far?”, I am exhausted, like many others. I have a deeper understanding of policy that impacts Texans and an even deeper resentment for members that have little to no care for human beings and their neighbors. This session has deepened my love for advocacy, for being a voice to the voiceless, and for understanding intersectionality of issues discussed here under the dome.

by Tsion Amare, intern with Rep. Rafael Anchia

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

Myself and the other 12 University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work legislative interns are often asked the impossible, with impossible time limits. However, every time, we have risen to the occasion through the support that we are able to offer one another. I have often struggled with feeling confident in my intelligence, but through this experience and the people that are surrounding me, I have truly been able to see what I am capable of. I see all the ways that I have been able to succeed, the way the work myself and the other 12 interns do is necessary, needed, appreciated, valued and matters.

However, I do experience struggles still. I still feel as if I have something to prove, and I still often question almost every day if I am failing or if I am succeeding in my role. There are often times when I am proud of the things that I have accomplished and times when I feel I could have done better. I find that I am my biggest critic and often don’t let myself celebrate the wins because I feel as if there is always more to be accomplished. However, being surrounded by 12 social workers every day and having their support, acknowledgement, and understanding, it’s hard not to feel recognized for the things you have accomplished and the growth that you have experienced. We have all supported each other in one way or another, and that has been what’s held many of us together thus far.

Thing being my first legislative session, I have had a lot of questions. The ones that sit with me the most are if our voices really matter, are constituents and stakeholders’ concerns heard, taken seriously, and addressed? I have witnessed many times where concerns are addressed, and then changes are made to a bill. However, sometimes even small changes are not made, or changes only address one of the many concerns that were brought to a representative’s attention. From my perspective, stakeholders’ concerns often can be easily reflected in a minor change to the bill due to how small the concern is, all while keeping the intent of the bill the same. I will admit sometimes the representatives do a great job addressing all of the concerns that are brought to them and end up with a bill that has bipartisan support and creates good policy changes for the state.

On the other hand, there are oftentimes bill that are just so bad, that there is no fixing. Such as anti-trans bills or anti-abortion bills. When it comes to the testimony that takes places for bills such as these, they are long and they are painful to sit through. Hundreds of people come to testify on these bills, many for and many against. The brave people who come to testify against these bills, my heart often aches for them because I question if their words will truly change the minds of those who support these terrible bills. One witness who testified against an anti-trans bill that would classify providing gender-affirming care to transgender youth as child abuse was a 4th grader, a trans youth, and in her testimony she said, “I don’t like spending my free time asking adults to make good choices.” Her testimony was among many others that made a mark on my heart, however, it seemed to have had no impact on the 18 Republicans that voted the bill out of the Texas Senate.

Votes like this, on partisan lines, make me question even further if our voices matter. Another anti-trans bill, that passed the Senate with again 18 Republican votes, would ban transgender students from participating on sports teams that match their gender identity, including collegiate sports. After this, the bill moved to the House of Representatives’ Public Education Committee  chaired by Representative Harold Dutton (D). There was a vote on this bill on May 4 and the bill died 6-5-1. However, since I initially drafted this post, Rep. Dutton re-opened the bill for a vote a few days later, apparently as a consequence for one of his bills being killed by fellow legislators on a point of order, the day prior. During this re-vote, Representative Dutton shared some choice words and voted yes, whereas he had previously voted no on the same bill. The final committee vote on this bill was 8-5, meaning that it passed the committee and is now eligible to go to the House floor for consideration.

One piece of slightly good news is that the NCAA has spoken out against the bill, stating that it will not hold events in states that discriminate against trans students. Having an organization with as much power that NCAA has come out against bad legislation has proven effective in the past. In 2017, North Carolina passed anti-trans legislation that the NCAA spoke out against and the NCAA placed a ban on holding championship events in North Carolina until the legislation was repealed. After 6 months, North Carolina did just that, and the NCAA returned to having championship events held in the state.

Another reason that leads me to question if our voices matter is the fact that Texans overwhelmingly support universal background checks, but lawmakers won’t pass legislation requiring that. Additionally, most Texans do not support permitless carry of firearms, however a bill that would allow this recently passed out of the Texas House 82-58. Things like this make you question the process that is in place.

While oftentimes I have felt discouraged through the process, at the end of the day I also see the times where our voices do matter. If you aren’t deep in the process and knowing things that are happening being the scenes, if may be hard to believe that on some days. But behind closed doors, your voices and your words are brought up in conversation, people’s minds are changed, maybe not right away, but eventually. Sometimes you just have to know where to look. For example, expansion of Medicaid has been supported by most Texans for years, however it is just now beginning to receive bipartisan support in the Texas House.

Another example is one that I was able to be a part of this session. There was a bill that at first glance was a seemingly good bill. It was voted out of committee 8-1 and while writing my analysis of the bill, I had planned on rating it favorably. However, before I did so, I wanted to figure out why there was one person who voted against this bill that I thought was good legislation. As I researched this, I was told that this representative had spoken with disability rights groups who were against the bill, and that the bill had the ability to do harm to individuals with disabilities. I was thrown off at first, but then I reached out and spoke to two different organizations and they told me all the different ways that this bill could negatively impact individuals with disabilities. After these conversations I rewrote my analysis and rated the bill unfavorably. I listed all of the ways it would impact those with disabilities and why disability rights groups were against it. The morning the bill was set to be heard on the floor, I received a call from the office of the author of the bill wanting to know more about why disability rights groups were opposed to it. I gave them all of the information that I had, and when the bill was being heard on the House floor, an amendment was added to the bill that improved the bill substantially.

Without getting into contact with these groups, I would have never known that this bill, that was put forth with good intention, actually had bad consequences. I also would have put a favorable recommendation on the bill, and it very well could have passed as originally written, creating bad outcomes for individuals with disabilities. However, as advocates reached out to people who knew the knowledge behind the bill, they made their voices known, spoke to legislators, and warned them of their concerns and the outcomes that this would have on their vulnerable community. By these groups having their voices heard, bad legislation was amended, to a bill that can now help individuals with disabilities.

I hope that this shows people just how important our voices are, that they do matter, that they are heard, and that they can make change. We should not be discouraged by the many that try to silence us, it should make us louder.

By Victoria McDonough, intern in the Texas Legislative Study Group

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

For a political social worker, this can look and feel more complicated. Instead of being out in the field, meeting people where they are, providing direct services, we dress up in our suits and spend our days talking to other people in suits about how to solve the problems that other social workers are meeting head-on. Especially in the Texas House of Representatives, promoting social justice can feel like repeatedly running into a brick wall.

Nearly 200 people died because of February’s winter storm, and the House has so far prioritized restricting where state agency leaders may reside and easing energy companies’ financial stress over providing direct aid to impacted communities or regulating the industries that failed them (without testimony from any parties not financially involved in this failed system, I might add). Over 100 people were killed by Texas police in 2019, yet the State Affairs committee voted out legislation that would punish cities for reforming and reallocating their police budgets to strengthen public safety and trust. Climate change is bringing increasingly extreme and dangerous weather to our state and the globe, yet many legislators would choose to divest from private companies that support reducing our reliance on fossil fuels and maintaining higher efficiency standards instead of promoting that practice.

In this position, I don’t have much power to say what’s on my mind. This isn’t going to help. This will make the problem worse. This will end up killing people. Et cetera. The legislature is a challenging workplace in which to practice integrity. Social work values implore us to meet people where they are, learn with others, and appreciate the diversity of perspectives that exist in any community, including a community of state representatives known for its extreme fiscal and social conservatism. At the same time, we have an obligation to promote social justice and serve vulnerable communities more than we are called to appeal to the needs of these legislators. In this work, I have had to figure out ways to communicate that bring my audience in and don’t step on too many toes, even when both my head and heart are telling me to speak more boldly.

There seems to be a personal version of this value, integrity, that has to do with sticking to your principles and a professional version that is more focused on achieving goals, neither of which can I conclusively say is more “morally” correct. It’s like that eternal philosophical battle between prioritizing the means versus the ends. There is absolutely an argument for both, and choosing one over the other seems to be more an issue of personal preference than moral conviction, at least from my privileged point of view as someone with few direct experiences with marginalization.

I think in circles around things like this all the time. I surprised myself earlier this session with how easily I was able to compromise my beliefs to write a more politically favorable bill analysis, figuring if I was more direct, some legislators might be turned off from our organization entirely based on my personal (fact-based, to my credit) perspective. That’s how I justify it, anyway, and what are values if not extremely personal and ambiguous justifications for our actions? Do the legislators who make verifiably untrue statements with the goal of pleasing their constituents exhibit any less integrity than I do when I compromise my beliefs to appease the powers that be?

Of course I would like to think so, but wouldn’t everyone?

by Hannah Hall, intern in the Texas Legislative Study Group

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

The George Floyd Act addresses qualified immunity by creating a cause of action for deprivation of rights; requires corroboration for the testimony of undercover police officers; adds a duty to intervene and to render aid; prohibits chokeholds and limits lethal force to imminent threat of serious bodily injury or death. It also ends arrests for many non-jailable fine-only violations and mandates creation of a progressive disciplinary matrix establishing different disciplinary actions for policy violations and violations of law by police. The law would call for these actions to be developed through a statewide process with stakeholders using evidence-based practices.

Chairwoman Thompson, who holds the 2nd longest tenure in the Texas House of Representatives with over 40 years of service, laid out the bill before the committee, emphasizing that the George Floyd Act is not about defunding the police, but about the sanctity of human life. Then George Floyd’s brother, Travis Cains, came to the witness stand and described to the committee what it was like to watch his little brother publicly lynched by the police in 8 minutes and 46 seconds.

His story was one of over a hundred shared with the committee that day. Dozens of witnesses followed, many described the violence inflicted on their families by the police. As Celeste Brown, family member of Darrel Zemault Sr. stated, “families who are victims of police brutality should not have to stand up here and re-hash our trauma to get you guys to see us as human beings. But we must and we will.”

Barbara Coats and Ali Amron were there on behalf of their son, Jamail Amron. According to articles recording the event, he was out one night and had taken cocaine and then called 911 for help. When the police came, they injected him with a sedative. Jamail fell onto the ground. An officer then put his foot on Jamail’s face and neck for several minutes. Jamail vomited and suffocated.

Maria Cordero and Romona Casas told the story of Jorge Gonzales. During his arrest for a class C misdemeanor, an arrest that would not occur under the George Floyd Act, his neck was broken. He was not given medical treatment or taken to the hospital. Police had to hold his head up for his mugshot and then placed him in the “drunk tank” for 21 hours.

Bernice Roundtree told the story of San Antonio police department officers walking into her house, saying “what’s up,” without identifying themselves or their reason for being there, and then shooting her teenage son Charles Roundtree. The officers left him on the floor to bleed to death while forcing the other children out of the house. If the police officers had rendered aid, her son would still be alive today

The family of Alex Gonzales stood before the committee only a few months after his death at the hands of the Austin Police Department. While Angel Gonzales and her mother showed unmatchable strength speaking out against the injustice in the face of unfathomable loss, the cops who shot him are still walking free.

Brenda Ramos told the story of her son Mike Ramos, who was shot by Austin Police Department multiple times after it was known he didn’t have a gun: “I just don’t understand why they kept screaming at him when he said he was scared. I just don’t understand why they couldn’t talk to him like he was a human being. Like he mattered at all.”

Many witnesses described their children being shot in the back while trying to leave:

Marian Tolan was slammed against a garage door by police officers as they accused her son Robbie Tolan of stealing his own car. He was shot by the police as she was restrained.

Pamela Barnes’s son Adrian Barnes was leaving a party at the home of an off-duty police officer when the officer shot her son in the back as he drove away from the party.

Deborah Bush’s son Marquise Jones was shot 9 times in the back after walking away from a fight that broke out in a drive-thru. As Ms. Bush eloquently stated, “Families will never be able to heal because we turn on the TV and see another one. Another one. Another one.”

Family after family stood and told similar stories about police violence. Across these stories, no officers stepped in to help. Few of the officers were permanently terminated. Most civil cases were dismissed using qualified immunity or were fought in the courts until the family couldn’t afford to fight any more.

The most intensely symbolic moment came when Trina Miller testified about the death of her son Tre’Shun Miller, who was brutalized by Arlington Police Department. He was beaten to death by Robert Coleman, who was then put in charge of the subsequent investigation. As she ran past the two minute mark telling the story of her son’s death, Chairman James White attempted to cut her off, but she continued her story. She described Tre’Shun bleeding out while many first responders refused to render aid to her son; the officer who refused to render aid later received a reward. While staff attempted to remove her and Texas Department of Public Safety officers came to the room, people stood in front of her. The Sergeant-at-Arms stopped DPS from intervening and allowed the family to finish giving testimony on the murder of their son.

The room was filled with suffocating pain and anger and gut-wrenching stories from people who lost their mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, daughters, sons, and friends. While representatives on the committee and those watching were brought face-to-face with this pain for 6 or 7 hours, it is these people who must spend the rest of their lives missing their loved ones. Family members robbed from them at the hands of state sanctioned violence, each death entirely preventable. The George Floyd Act is not about politics, it is about the stories of people who are deeply suffering a pain they will never heal from.

Through the George Floyd Act, we were able to hear some atrocities of what Texans have suffered as a result of police brutality empowered by qualified immunity. Many witnesses who were victims of police violence or whose family members were victims were kept from justice by qualified immunity. Several civil rights attorneys, including Gary Bledsoe, the president of the Texas NAACP, described the failings of qualified immunity. For example, cases against police officers fail if there hasn’t been a similar case in the past. The rights violation in both cases has to be almost identical; differences that have led to case failure include things like the victim sitting up instead of lying down. When no case can be established in which it wasn’t used, qualified immunity is used de facto.

Many police officer representatives testified against ending qualified immunity, reasoning that it punishes good police officers for the actions of bad police officers. They also tried to say that ending qualified immunity would lead to recruitment issues. However, as Vice Chairwoman Bowers pointed out, “good cops have nothing to worry about from this bill.”

The truth is that many police officers who may conduct themselves ethically on the line of duty are complicit in the system that produces and protects bad cops. We heard stories of a police officer shooting a child, then the police department putting this same officer in charge of his own subsequent investigation. In this case, the entire department is complicit with enabling a bad cop. Multiple officers stood by while an officer had his foot on the mouth and nose of Jamail Amron while he was unconscious due to drugs injected by the police, and he died as a result. Every officer on the scene and all those who came after corroborating different testimony than the bystanders are complicit with enabling a bad cop. Families taking their case all the way to the Supreme Court and winning because the conservative fifth circuit court dismissed appeals. It is not just the actions of bad police officers that enable state-sanctioned violence. It is police chiefs, city courts, county courts, the fifth circuit, and many more who propagate and continue the vicious cycle of white supremacy in policing. These entities must be held accountable if good police officers are to stop being punished for the actions of bad cops.

Nothing will ever help the families of loved ones lost through the completely preventable deaths created by state sanctioned violence. Ending qualified immunity will not bring back these human beings sacrificed to the regime of white supremacy. But the George Floyd Act is a start to making sure more lives are not unjustly robbed, and honestly, it’s the very least we can do to bring any semblance of justice for these families who have suffered so much.

Throughout the hearing, I frequently thought of protests over the summer after George Floyd’s death, especially the chants of “silence is violence.” In that committee room on March 25th, I saw firsthand just how much silence truly is violence. The silence of police officers complicit in the deaths of Black and Brown people, the silence of the courts refusing to bring about justice, the silence of government doing nothing to fix qualified immunity, and the silence of 8 minutes and 46 seconds are all the cause and product of state-sanctioned police violence enabled by white supremacy. Families of victims stood in front of state representatives, many not even shedding a single tear despite all their pain, and boldly sent the message that they will not be silenced and they will not go away. It was truly a privilege to witness their testimony, I will never forget the stories and pain from the George Floyd Act.

72% of Texans support this criminal justice reform legislation. On the Federal level, the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act of 2021 was voted through the U.S. House of Representatives and is soon to be heard by the U.S. Senate. I hope the passing of federal legislation can spur legislators in Texas to make much needed changes ending qualified immunity and starting the process of holding our state government accountable for crimes committed by police officers. Until then, silence is violence and without justice there will be no peace.

By: Cassidy Kenyon, intern in the Texas Legislative Study Group

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors

When I finally had a moment, I watched the video. Rather than finding it amusing, I was profoundly offended, and in my Asian-ness, I said nothing. At that moment, I was like water, formless. I did what has generally been expected of me all my life. I put someone else’s opinion, thoughts above my own. This behavior is somewhat a reflex for me. To never offend, confront, or make anyone feel uncomfortable at the cost of my discomfort. It’s just what Asians do. We assimilate.

In a 1971 interview on the Pierre Berton show, Bruce Lee, a Hong Kong American martial artist, described his life’s philosophy by saying:

“Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves. Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle, and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot; it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow, or it can crash. Be water, my friend.”

–Bruce Lee

Lee’s teaching highlights a common mindset of many Asian Americans. A mindset formed in response to ideologies that perpetuate images of the model minority, enhance the sexualizing of Asian women through the pejoratively-termed yellow fever, and selectively leave out parts of American history that deny anything else other than a European White American history.

Now my friend who sent this message had no ill intent, no racist thoughts. She just found the joke to be funny. It is just as simple as that. However, in light of what is happening in this country – a global pandemic, a very contentious presidential election, The Black Lives Matter movement, an immigration crisis, the Capitol insurrection, and the rise of Asian hate crimes, to list a few of the significant issues we are facing – I found this to be relatively insensitive. It took me a few weeks to process it and grapple with my reaction to it in the context of all that has happened. I found myself deeply saddened, extremely emotional, and fearful.

But as an Asian American immigrating here when I was six years old, wanting to fit in while not fitting in, I lived a life that existed between two worlds, oceans apart. At home, I was Vietnamese in every traditional sense. My parents would chastise me if I spoke in English in our home or “acted” American in any way. At school, I just wanted to assimilate into the “American” culture. I wanted to be white. I wanted to have blonde hair. I wanted blue eyes. In this desire to fit in, I kept my head down, did my work, and excelled as a model minority. Even when my family and I faced discrimination, I said nothing. Through the teasing and bullying in my childhood, I said nothing.

This year, I will turn 50 years old. I am educated. I have two degrees and am working on my third. I’ve had three different careers, a beautiful marriage, and beautiful children. I love my life, and I finally feel safe and secure. I would say that I have succeeded in the American dream. So when I watched as senior Asian Americans were being attacked and Asian American women were targeted and killed, it shook me. All the safety of what I thought assimilating would provide was lost. I was once again a foreigner.

As I process all of these things, I said nothing, or instead, this time, I said little. I remember mentioning something about the increase in Asian hate crimes to my fellow legislative interns, and someone said, “I didn’t know.” Early this year, these crimes went unreported by major news outlets. As the incidences of Asian hate crimes rose, the news media began to give these stories coverage. I don’t know for a fact, but I would hasten to guess that most Americans still would not know about the racial attacks against Asians if asked.

Five days after the Atlanta Spa Shooting, our University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work legislative intern group met for a virtual Advocacy class with Dr. Pritzker. In checking in, she asked us to share how we all were doing. I couldn’t hold back the pain of my history and talked about my feelings over the shooting and other Asian hate crimes. My professor and my fellow social workers opened their hearts and mind to my feelings, creating a safe space for dialogue. Without words, they allowed me to express my fears, and in doing so, I acknowledged my history and moved towards finding my place and my voice in this area of political social work. In a private conversation later, Dr. Pritzker encouraged me to get involved with advocacy groups around the Texas Capitol engaging in advocacy on behalf of Asian American communities. She suggested that seeing how others were acting to help advocate for change may help me process my own feelings.

When working during the Texas Legislative session, there is a definite balance and parallel attention you have to give to what happens on the national stage and what is going on in Texas. It is an interesting dynamic to pay attention to in performing your job here as an intern. Here in Austin, minimal talk about Asian hate crimes is heard, as so many are distracted by the recent energy crisis. However, as I began work that next week, Representative Gene Wu of District 137, in Harris County, filed HCR 66, a Texas House resolution condemning racism against Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders.

During a Texas House Public Education Committee meeting, where Representative Wu was present, this time, I took the opportunity to say something. I hesitated at first, resorting to my old patterns of saying nothing but then I realized if I didn’t speak up, I would forever regret that moment. I approached Rep. Wu and thanked him for filing the bill and told him what it meant to me. He invited me to sit down, and we spoke with such a knowing connection to our collective history. There was a nod, a look, and an utterance of complete understanding in our short conversation. He ended by saying, “we can no longer afford to be silent.”

In absolute agreement, I realized that it is not just enough to be not racist, but that to work towards equality truly, we have to be anti-racist, which means for me, if I see something, I must say something. I have been silent all my life. If you ask me about my feelings, I will speak of love and equality and oneness to my being’s depths. However, it’s not enough to feel it; it’s not enough to live without hate. It is not enough if we want an equal tomorrow. If you see something, say something.

I should have said something to my friend. I should have told her that I was offended. I should have told her it was not funny. I should have told her those types of jokes hurt those who do not have the privilege to speak and defend themselves. Perhaps this conversation is one to come in my future. For now, here’s what I am doing to live my truth. I will report hate incidents, donate to support victims and their families, and volunteer in organizations that seek to keep people safe and educate the public. Help fight against hate; if you see something, say something.

By: Phuong Nguyen, intern in the Texas Legislative Study Group

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

The George Floyd Act addresses qualified immunity by creating a cause of action for deprivation of rights; requires corroboration for the testimony of undercover police officers; adds a duty to intervene and to render aid; prohibits chokeholds and limits lethal force to imminent threat of serious bodily injury or death. It also ends arrests for many non-jailable fine-only violations and mandates creation of a progressive disciplinary matrix establishing different disciplinary actions for policy violations and violations of law by police. The law would call for these actions to be developed through a statewide process with stakeholders using evidence-based practices.

Chairwoman Thompson, who holds the 2nd longest tenure in the Texas House of Representatives with over 40 years of service, laid out the bill before the committee, emphasizing that the George Floyd Act is not about defunding the police, but about the sanctity of human life. Then George Floyd’s brother, Travis Cains, came to the witness stand and described to the committee what it was like to watch his little brother publicly lynched by the police in 8 minutes and 46 seconds.

His story was one of over a hundred shared with the committee that day. Dozens of witnesses followed, many described the violence inflicted on their families by the police. As Celeste Brown, family member of Darrel Zemault Sr. stated, “families who are victims of police brutality should not have to stand up here and re-hash our trauma to get you guys to see us as human beings. But we must and we will.”

Barbara Coats and Ali Amron were there on behalf of their son, Jamail Amron. According to articles recording the event, he was out one night and had taken cocaine and then called 911 for help. When the police came, they injected him with a sedative. Jamail fell onto the ground. An officer then put his foot on Jamail’s face and neck for several minutes. Jamail vomited and suffocated.

Maria Cordero and Romona Casas told the story of Jorge Gonzales. During his arrest for a class C misdemeanor, an arrest that would not occur under the George Floyd Act, his neck was broken. He was not given medical treatment or taken to the hospital. Police had to hold his head up for his mugshot and then placed him in the “drunk tank” for 21 hours.

Bernice Roundtree told the story of San Antonio police department officers walking into her house, saying “what’s up,” without identifying themselves or their reason for being there, and then shooting her teenage son Charles Roundtree. The officers left him on the floor to bleed to death while forcing the other children out of the house. If the police officers had rendered aid, her son would still be alive today

The family of Alex Gonzales stood before the committee only a few months after his death at the hands of the Austin Police Department. While Angel Gonzales and her mother showed unmatchable strength speaking out against the injustice in the face of unfathomable loss, the cops who shot him are still walking free.

Brenda Ramos told the story of her son Mike Ramos, who was shot by Austin Police Department multiple times after it was known he didn’t have a gun: “I just don’t understand why they kept screaming at him when he said he was scared. I just don’t understand why they couldn’t talk to him like he was a human being. Like he mattered at all.”

Many witnesses described their children being shot in the back while trying to leave:

Marian Tolan was slammed against a garage door by police officers as they accused her son Robbie Tolan of stealing his own car. He was shot by the police as she was restrained.

Pamela Barnes’s son Adrian Barnes was leaving a party at the home of an off-duty police officer when the officer shot her son in the back as he drove away from the party.

Deborah Bush’s son Marquise Jones was shot 9 times in the back after walking away from a fight that broke out in a drive-thru. As Ms. Bush eloquently stated, “Families will never be able to heal because we turn on the TV and see another one. Another one. Another one.”

Family after family stood and told similar stories about police violence. Across these stories, no officers stepped in to help. Few of the officers were permanently terminated. Most civil cases were dismissed using qualified immunity or were fought in the courts until the family couldn’t afford to fight any more.

The most intensely symbolic moment came when Trina Miller testified about the death of her son Tre’Shun Miller, who was brutalized by Arlington Police Department. He was beaten to death by Robert Coleman, who was then put in charge of the subsequent investigation. As she ran past the two minute mark telling the story of her son’s death, Chairman James White attempted to cut her off, but she continued her story. She described Tre’Shun bleeding out while many first responders refused to render aid to her son; the officer who refused to render aid later received a reward. While staff attempted to remove her and Texas Department of Public Safety officers came to the room, people stood in front of her. The Sergeant-at-Arms stopped DPS from intervening and allowed the family to finish giving testimony on the murder of their son.

The room was filled with suffocating pain and anger and gut-wrenching stories from people who lost their mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, daughters, sons, and friends. While representatives on the committee and those watching were brought face-to-face with this pain for 6 or 7 hours, it is these people who must spend the rest of their lives missing their loved ones. Family members robbed from them at the hands of state sanctioned violence, each death entirely preventable. The George Floyd Act is not about politics, it is about the stories of people who are deeply suffering a pain they will never heal from.

Through the George Floyd Act, we were able to hear some atrocities of what Texans have suffered as a result of police brutality empowered by qualified immunity. Many witnesses who were victims of police violence or whose family members were victims were kept from justice by qualified immunity. Several civil rights attorneys, including Gary Bledsoe, the president of the Texas NAACP, described the failings of qualified immunity. For example, cases against police officers fail if there hasn’t been a similar case in the past. The rights violation in both cases has to be almost identical; differences that have led to case failure include things like the victim sitting up instead of lying down. When no case can be established in which it wasn’t used, qualified immunity is used de facto.

Many police officer representatives testified against ending qualified immunity, reasoning that it punishes good police officers for the actions of bad police officers. They also tried to say that ending qualified immunity would lead to recruitment issues. However, as Vice Chairwoman Bowers pointed out, “good cops have nothing to worry about from this bill.”

The truth is that many police officers who may conduct themselves ethically on the line of duty are complicit in the system that produces and protects bad cops. We heard stories of a police officer shooting a child, then the police department putting this same officer in charge of his own subsequent investigation. In this case, the entire department is complicit with enabling a bad cop. Multiple officers stood by while an officer had his foot on the mouth and nose of Jamail Amron while he was unconscious due to drugs injected by the police, and he died as a result. Every officer on the scene and all those who came after corroborating different testimony than the bystanders are complicit with enabling a bad cop. Families taking their case all the way to the Supreme Court and winning because the conservative fifth circuit court dismissed appeals. It is not just the actions of bad police officers that enable state-sanctioned violence. It is police chiefs, city courts, county courts, the fifth circuit, and many more who propagate and continue the vicious cycle of white supremacy in policing. These entities must be held accountable if good police officers are to stop being punished for the actions of bad cops.

Nothing will ever help the families of loved ones lost through the completely preventable deaths created by state sanctioned violence. Ending qualified immunity will not bring back these human beings sacrificed to the regime of white supremacy. But the George Floyd Act is a start to making sure more lives are not unjustly robbed, and honestly, it’s the very least we can do to bring any semblance of justice for these families who have suffered so much.

Throughout the hearing, I frequently thought of protests over the summer after George Floyd’s death, especially the chants of “silence is violence.” In that committee room on March 25th, I saw firsthand just how much silence truly is violence. The silence of police officers complicit in the deaths of Black and Brown people, the silence of the courts refusing to bring about justice, the silence of government doing nothing to fix qualified immunity, and the silence of 8 minutes and 46 seconds are all the cause and product of state-sanctioned police violence enabled by white supremacy. Families of victims stood in front of state representatives, many not even shedding a single tear despite all their pain, and boldly sent the message that they will not be silenced and they will not go away. It was truly a privilege to witness their testimony, I will never forget the stories and pain from the George Floyd Act.

72% of Texans support this criminal justice reform legislation. On the Federal level, the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act of 2021 was voted through the U.S. House of Representatives and is soon to be heard by the U.S. Senate. I hope the passing of federal legislation can spur legislators in Texas to make much needed changes ending qualified immunity and starting the process of holding our state government accountable for crimes committed by police officers. Until then, silence is violence and without justice there will be no peace.

Tre’Shun Miller. Patrick Warren Sr. Jorge Gonzalez. Jamail Amron. Marquis Jones. Michael Brown. Charles Roundtree. Alex Gonzales. Botham Jean. Sandra Bland. Stephon Clark. Michelle Cusseaux. Atatiana Jefferson. Jordan Edwards. Aura Rosser. Botham Jean. Freddie Grey. Gabriella Nevarez.  Tanisha Anderson. Akai Gurley. Daniel Prude. Rayshard Brooks. Jonathan Price. Michael Ramos. Javier Ambler. Yvette Smith. Jordan Baker. Larry Jackson Jr. Michael Brown. Timothy Russell. Alesia Thomas. Clinton Allen. Shelley Frey. Raymond Allen Jr. Jason Sierra. Jose Roman Rodriquez. Jose Pena. Christopher Reyes. Breonna Taylor. George Floyd. Ahmaud Arbery. Eric Garner. Philando Castile. Kenneth Chamberlain. Alton Sterling. Walter Scott. Tamir Rice. Vinny Belmonte. Elijah McClain. Gregory Edwards. Samuel DuBose. Brendon Glenn. Aiyana Stanley-Jones. And many more.

By Cassidy Kenyon, intern in the Texas Legislative Study Group

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

I first heard about the Austin Legislative Internship Program during my undergrad studies at the Steve Hicks School of Social Work at the University of Texas at Austin. A past student of one of my professors had come to speak with my class about their experience in community practice, which led me to interview her for a separate class assignment. During this interview, she asked me about my own career aspirations, and I told her I was interested in doing political LGBTQIA+ advocacy but had no idea how to go about getting involved in that realm. Luckily for me, she had participated in the Austin Legislative Internship Program through the University of Houston’s Graduate College of Social Work. I was ecstatic! A program designed to give social work students not only experience in politics, but also an opportunity to figure out if this is the line of work they want to continue in.

After the assignment, I met with my professor to let her know what my new goal was. I liked her a lot. She was one of the best educators I ever learned under and was always understanding of any accommodations I might have needed. However, when I told her I wanted to work in politics, not run, but be an advocate for change, she told me I didn’t look or act like the people who work in politics. That I should maybe look at more grassroots forms of advocacy. I know she didn’t mean it in a harsh way, that she was speaking from experience, but it still hurt regardless.

I am a queer, transgender non-binary person. I use they/them and he/him pronouns, depending on the day. I dress in masculine-styled clothes and have a short haircut. In Texas, being a member of the LGBTQIA+ community comes with increased risks. Texas is known to be a hostile state for members of the queer and transgender community and lacks any statewide non-discrimination protections. The state constitution still outlaws homosexual conduct and outlaws same-sex unions despite the Supreme Court ruling that makes this ban unconstitutional. The Human Rights Campaign in their 2020 Equality Index highlighted Texas as “High priority to achieve basic equality.” Texas does not prohibit discrimination for sexual orientation or gender identity in housing, employment, public accommodations, or education. Texas does not address harassment and/or bullying that students in public schools may face for their sexual orientation or gender identity. Texas does not address hate crimes committed against individuals based on sexual orientation or gender identity. In Texas, most activists focus on protections at the local level, in municipal governments, because we have never seen a pro-LGBTQIA+ bill make it past the Texas House’s Calendars Committee.

During this internship, I had the privilege to write a paper addressing Texas’s long history of anti-LGBTQIA+ politics and identifying the different areas that bills are targeting this session. In Texas state politics, advocates for the LGBTQIA+ community almost always are playing defense against harmful, anti-LGBTQIA+ bills. This year is no different. Attacks on transgender youth rights, creating religious exemption laws, and circumventing municipal non-discrimination ordinances seem to be the heavy hitters of this session. Despite strong opposition from conservatives in both the House and Senate, allies of the community come back year after year proposing legislation that would establish equal rights and protections for LGBTQIA+ Texans.

Working in the Capitol building is a dream come true for my younger self, but now living out as my true self in this environment creates unique work challenges. Specifically, access to restrooms. The City of Austin is progressive enough that in most public establishments and businesses there might be a gender-neutral bathroom, or if that is not an option, no one will question why I am using a certain bathroom. The Capitol is not like these other parts of Austin, however. There are no gender-neutral bathrooms that I have access to, only family restrooms found on the ground floor. People from all over the state flock to the building for tours, meetings, and providing testimonies at hearings. These are people from various backgrounds; different beliefs, cultures, and regions mix within these halls. Which is amazing! But it also creates an environment where a simple trip to the bathroom for me can turn into a confrontation. I was assigned female at birth (AFAB) and with all the drama that went down in 2017 over the “bathroom bill,” I use the women’s room to try and reduce any chance of legal consequences.

Let me be clear, I would rather use a gender-neutral or single-person bathroom whenever I am out in public. I have no interest in using the men’s room any more than I have an interest in using the women’s room. I use the women’s room because in the event that something does go down, I can provide my ID to show that yes, in fact, I can be using the women’s room. I have only been working in person in the Capitol building for a little over two weeks, having moved back to Austin once legislative committee hearings started three weeks ago. Already the direct aggressions and indirect microaggressions have started. The bold will step up and ask me directly why I am in the women’s room. The meek will stare and whisper about it to their companions. Both are exhausting, but that is just another part of reality I have to work around.

The Legislature is also not used to having transgender persons working within its walls. The majority of interns, staff, and representatives are cisgender, white males, which is not an accurate representation of the overall state population. After so many years of learning and working in diverse schools with strong women and queer folx being the majority, it is a huge culture shock. I feel this weird tension around me when walking through the Capitol, talking with other staffers outside of my office, or sitting in committee. “I’m only a man at a glance,” to quote Hannah Gadsby. But once someone really looks at me, they realize I am not, but I am also not female normal. This makes conversing with members, staffers, and lobbyists ten times more stressful, because they are not used to a person like me in this environment. I guess in that way that makes me powerful because I am breaking up the status quo. Maybe I am forcing them to reconsider how they view transgender and queer folx by taking up this space in the Legislature.

Despite all these microaggressions and awkward moments, I could not have been placed in a better office. My fellow interns, colleagues, and supervisors have made it a point to make sure I am comfortable, that they are using the right pronouns, and that if anything happens, I know I have support from them. My work ID has my name on it. Not my legal name, because I have not taken that step yet, but the name that represents me. I was not sure if I would be able to have that piece of me in the Legislature due to legal constraints. But I do. It is on my ID, it is on my email, it is attached to the analyses that get sent out to our representatives. In the Capitol I am only known as Maddox, and that is a big freaking deal.

So yeah, I do not look or act like the other people in the Legislature. But I take up space and am not only showing staffers or representatives that a queer transgender non-binary person can work in the Texas State Capitol. I am also proving to all the queer and transgender kids that run through the halls of this building that it is possible. We will get there one day.

By Maddox Hilgers, intern in the Texas Legislative Study Group

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

To say my experience has been tumultuous is quite the understatement. Even though working at the Capitol is a privilege, at times, I felt as though I was being stifled. I struggled with being told that work I was interested in was out of the scope of my role. I found myself unsure of when I was receiving accurate information and felt excluded from some common legislative interactions.

As I continued to struggle with these experiences and encountered challenges navigating legislative chains of command, I turned to others for confidential help and advice. Fortunately, I have a wide and supportive network comprised of loved ones, colleagues, classmates, my cohort from the Graduate School of Social Work at the University of Houston, our Associate Dean Dr. Pritzker, and my social work Field Instructor, to name a few. Even with a wide net of support, I had to learn how to sift through varying advice and critically consider what pieces could be used at what time. I learned that every interaction and person at the legislature requires a different approach, and sometimes a combination of approaches.

Suddenly, everything changed...

After two months at the legislature, I was no longer on the bottom of the totem pole. I became the point of contact for many things in my office and, even though I finally felt like I had purpose and my abilities were being recognized, I also had to be aware of evolving tensions.

Through this experience, I have learned the political value of silence. Sometimes a long pause in conversation expresses more than a rambling paragraph. Speaking diplomatically and vaguely, while also strategically choosing words, allows others to read between the lines and keeps me from speaking out of turn. I have gained knowledge that would help others succeed and had to get creative in how to discuss it, without stepping on the toes of my superiors.

It seems as though my natural inclination to live outside of conventional boxes is working in my favor this session, as I juggle the expectations of multiple people and the responsibilities of various titles, while still being considered “just an intern” by many. What keeps me centered and grounded is my passion for serving communities in need. Working at the Capitol is not about me feeling accomplished, proud, or better than any other person for being in a position of power. My entire focus is to work my hardest in making the life of every person better. Social justice and sustainable, equitable systemic change envelopes every decision I make during session. I regularly remind myself that facilitating healthy interactions at the legislature will create more opportunities for us to serve our communities.

Although my experience working at the Capitol has been more taxing than I could have imagined, I also have learned invaluable skills along the way. I have learned to network in unconventional ways and create opportunities for people to remember me. I wear bright colors, mixed patterns, loud shoes, and noticeable hats. Obviously, not all at the same time. This has led to more people remembering my outfits than people remembering my name or masked-up face. I deliberately choose to dress in a more eccentric manner on days other members and staffers will see me. After only one week of committee hearings, I had already gotten to the point where lobbyists recognized my shoes and handed me their card.

I am currently working on how to tactfully leverage knowledge and connections in a way that can benefit my whole office, especially the State Representative I work for. The knowledge I am learning to consider includes:

These are all critical skill sets in this environment. In the GCSW, these topics come up as forms of self-care or advocacy. I am in a unique position, in that I am required to develop these skills as professional tactics. How do I ensure a rewarding career trajectory, while focusing on my boss’ success, and protecting the integrity of my workplace, in an environment where backroom deals are vast and trust is fickle?

When in doubt, shut my mouth!

by Jax Gheorghe, intern with Rep. Penny Morales-Shaw

Originally posted from University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work’s Austin Legislative Internship Program. The College selects graduate MSW students to intern at the Texas Legislature during its legislative session every two years. This post was syndicated with permission from its authors.

So today, I wanted to reflect back over the past year. 2020 was a friend to very few. Maybe the super-rich, or super introvert, but otherwise, it brought a shit ton of struggles, fear, and loss of self. It was almost a year ago exactly that I made the choice to fly home from Scotland to New York before the world shut down as I was afraid that something might happen and I wouldn’t be able to get to my family, or them to me. I knew even then that this was no month long blip, I remember sitting on a virtual call with other faculty who discussed “giving a sense of normalcy…keep up the standard, they’ll appreciate the distraction” that I broke my usual silence on conference calls to call bullshit. We weren’t recovering from a catastrophic event like 9/11, or a natural disaster like Fukushima. What we were dealing with was an ongoing trauma that was going to change how everything worked, that had no clear end in sight, and threatened everyone all at once. While it saddens me to say it, the only ones prepared were Doomsday Preppers. I came home to the beginning of NY as the epicenter of a covid explosion. I saw my own work grind to a standstill as it was no longer feasible, I volunteered my time for crisis response for anyone, but especially frontline staff to receive free, short-term crisis counseling throughout NY. And I went through the usual stages of lockdown: Tiger King, Bread Baking, Cooking, Exercise, and Despair. And that was only 90 days.

Today’s piece is my usual list, but one that hopefully speaks to more than just students or practitioners, but to everyone.

1) Yes there was Tiger King, but there was also Hamilton

Streaming services saved us this year and we really humanity shine even through this relatively safe money-maker. I have no doubt that the makers of Tiger King were somewhat surprised that they became synonymous with quarantine life, as it provided a level of escapism and layer of weird that made it impossible to focus on the daily numbers, or where groceries were coming from. It ended up being one of the few bizarre collectivism in those beginning days. We also received a gift like no other during this time. As the novelty of who killed Carol Baskin’s husband died down(I mean…we all know right?), there was a growing anxiety about “what next?” Not for the first time, Lin-Manuel came to our rescue. Originally recorded for a future release, Hamilton’s Disney+ release allowed the worldwide yet constant unobtainable ticket phenomenon to our home. Broadway had gone dark painfully, as the city that never sleeps was forced to slumber. Lin, a man who feels the pain of the world in a personal way pushed to give us that gift, not for a week, but until the stage once again could come to life. I used to revel in taking first timers to see it, or chatting with a seatmate who had waited and waited to finally see the production, and the outpouring of excitement and love it brought, and continues to bring with each subsequent watching is my reminder that even during the worst of our time, a song still rings through. Each of these pieces had their place. No one will give Tiger King an award, but it gave us something we needed, so did Hamilton. With that we can understand that sometimes we’re the world wide phenomenon and sometimes we’re the distraction, but we’re always important.

2) I Wanna Hold Your Hand

Physical touch is something we usually don’t think too much about. A quick handshake, the hug of a friend, a friendly pat on the back by a new acquaintance are all part of our culture, suddenly became dangerous. Unless you were in a bubble(also a new term for us), touch was a no-go, and our bodies notice. Long before you started missing it, our bodies craved touch, because we need it, even those casual everyday one exchanged with co-workers, or a friend in passing fulfills a quota our very cells lean in for. The first thing I did when numbers dropped in the Summer was mask up and meet up with my best friend and we just crashed into each other. I’m sure the two of us made it on someone’s cellphone “what are these two weirdos doing” feed for the day as we spun around, danced, hugged, and fell to the ground just to actually touch one another again. For dancers, we became so accustomed to always having touch, even with complete strangers, so to go so long separated from others highlighted how much we need to safely bring it back. Nothing can make me tear up more than seeing family and loved ones finally reunite after so long and get that initial hug. You can see the depth of the hold in that first few moments. We’re social beings, and hopefully very soon we can be that again. Many of us still have a lot of trauma or anxiety surrounding public places or others still, and that’s okay, we’ll get back together soon, and in the meantime don’t be afraid to ask those in your bubble for more hugs, a hand hold, or a snuggle. Four legged family counts too.

3) I Love Technology But So Help Me On These Virtual Meetings

You’d think as a socio-tech researcher I’d love being proven right about technology. That lasted a whole……20 days. Now, I don’t want to watch one more virtual lecture, one more virtual happy hour, or play with my virtual background. That’s right, you can deal with my room, and no I’m not going to stage it to look better. I don’t care if I look like I’m lounging in my recliner(I am), or if my bookcase has random trinkets on it(it does). You don’t have to like my artwork, and you can bet with full confidence on the fact that I’m wearing pajama pants regardless of who I’m talking to. I’m tired of pretending I’m just in a different office and am being normally productive. I’m stuck at home, and I am very much struggling to produce the quantity of work I did previously. And I won’t apologize for it, but I will normalize it for everyone else. I am eternally grateful for the pros technology has given us during this otherwise isolating and terrifying year, but it’s not enough of a substitute that I can pretend I’m not struggling with it. This isn’t the responsibility of anyone to fix, but to pretend everything is great is just a lie, and I’m many things(you can ask around), but no one has ever been able to call me that.

4) Uncertainty Is Really Okay

I teach about uncertainty a lot. In class, in a therapeutic sense, in dance. Really anywhere, but no one likes not having a clue what will happen or if their carefully made plans are all up in flames. Thing is, even if your plans go up in flames, even when a plan will suddenly take longer, veers off, or is left for a new one, it will be okay. Not because of some fancy law of the universe, or belief system, though if you believe in that it’s great. It’ll be okay, but whatever you decide to do, and wherever you end up will still be worthwhile, it just might take a few adjustments to get yourself to where that will be. Not-viable is never a term you want to hear about a carefully planned project, yet the only thing you can do is shelve it, and start again. It’s still a process, and it’s still not settled, either with its structure or with my acceptance, but that just means I have to allow the same affordances for myself that others have. I’ll get there, you’ll get there, and if you need to hear it, drop me a line.

5) How Do You Measure, Measure A Year

I recently *virtually* went to the 25th anniversary of the opening of Rent, and the opening number is a start reminder that a year can be measured in many ways. This one has been particularly difficult for most, but that doesn’t mean that every part of it was bad. I’m truly thankful for the time I got to spend with my mom, and my aging pup. I love Scotland, but know it’s hard on them, and others in my life in the states. And while I couldn’t see everyone for safety reasons, I’m thankful for the time I get with them. It’s my mom’s birthday today, and usually I’m not here for it. My dog turns 16 this July and I know I don’t get furever with him(that’s not true, he knows he has to live forever). My family has been incredibly fortunate during this pandemic, and that’s not something I take lightly, but it has let me extend that grace and compassion to as many people as I can especially since they might not have been as lucky. So hopefully if my year is measured, it will be measured in compassion, in an extended virtual hand, in allowances for myself and others, and most importantly, measured in love.

I don’t know what 2021 will bring, it will bring vaccines, and that will bring us some relief. There will still be loss, and there will still be adjustments. But on World Social Work Day I want to bring the lesson I always leave my students with at the end of every semester. I don’t care what you’ve learned, or what you didn’t. If you don’t remember anything else, I want you to remember this and we’ll all be a bit better for it. Go out each and every day and do good.

Happy Social Work Day!

“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience.”

― Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

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