Lobbying on Capitol Hill Taught Me the Power of Showing Up

In the midst of the academic pressure cooker that is Stanford’s midterm season, I found myself stepping out of my routine and into the unfamiliar—and undeniably more impactful—world of lobbying on Capitol Hill. Our group of advocates had come to speak on behalf of Shot@Life. An eclectic bunch from California, we were pushing for continued U.S. funding for global immunization initiatives. There was Ross, a retired public health professional whose calm presence made the whole endeavor feel manageable; Jess, an epidemiologist whose insights bridged science and storytelling; Bev, a Global Goals ambassador who made diplomacy seem effortless; and me—just a student, really—still stunned to be walking these halls in person. 

At the 2025 Shot@Life Spring Summit, we lobbied for Congressional funding to sustain global health security. The push to prevent outbreaks before they turn into pandemics is more important than ever. Even as diseases surge in the U.S. and around the world, cuts to foreign aid programs from PEPFAR to polio eradication threaten to undermine global health. With political pressures running high—executive orders flying, calls for U.S. withdrawal from the WHO, and the threat of halting critical, life-saving immunization funding—the atmosphere felt charged. Yet, despite the intensity of the moment, the Hill radiated a steady thrum of purpose. 

On that three-day Shot@Life Summit, over 130 congressional offices were reached by Shot@Life Champions hailing from 35 different states—that’s nearly one-third of all of Congress hearing from us in just one day. I left a meeting with Nancy Pelosi’s chief of staff feeling heard. Advocacy is often misconstrued as daunting, but the reality is far from it. These meetings are not about delivering perfect arguments or being a subject-matter expert; it’s about showing up, sharing stories, and reminding those in power that their decisions affect real lives.

Global health is, and historically has been, a bipartisan issue; Diseases don’t wait for political will to catch up. In countries like Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo, where health systems are perpetually on the brink, the threat of diseases like Ebola or mpox doesn’t wait for a political consensus. It can’t. And yet, as political pressure mounts to reduce U.S. foreign aid, the very programs designed to contain these diseases are at risk. The U.S. is laying off thousands of USAID-supported staff—people trained to detect and contain health threats globally. Violence and instability plus withdrawal of USAID funding means only about one-third of suspected mpox cases are currently being tested, even as a newer and more infectious variant of the disease has been identified. We’ve learned this lesson before when the U.S. invested heavily to contain Ebola in West Africa in 2014. We mobilized CDC staff and built rapid contact-tracing networks because we knew that fighting diseases abroad protected us at home. Now, we’re dismantling those same safeguards.

The weight of the moment wasn’t lost on me. I’ve learned, through my studies and personal history, that health security isn’t a luxury—it’s a necessity. In Kenya, coverage for most routine vaccines is at or above 90%—and even rural or nomadic populations are reached—because the government invests in mobile clinics and community outreach. Meanwhile, in the U.S., we’re seeing domestic measles outbreaks, the result of waning immunity and the casual neglect of vaccine programs. 

Perhaps the most important takeaway from the Shot@Life 2025 Spring Summit is that advocacy isn’t just a one-and-done effort; it’s an ongoing conversation: a refusal to stay silent when global health is at risk. Ultimately, just as working with communities and not for them is what led to the creation of the first halal Covid vaccine in Indonesia, talking with people and not for or about them is what will help people understand the importance of vaccine equity.

I got a glimpse of the practical need for this partnership when we did a UNICEF microimmunization planning exercise on the first day of the summit. I couldn’t approach the exercise like one of my assignments – who’s to say where to deploy temporary or mobile vaccine spots without understanding where mothers bring their children on weekdays, or where refugee camps are stationed. Representatives from the Gates Foundation and GAVI spoke of healthcare programs that had been painstakingly built over decades of working with communities: nineteen countries graduated from GAVI’s healthcare phasing program. I heard it. I felt it. And I know that though we should have built these solid structures decades ago, the second-best time is now.

For me, funding immunization initiatives is more than a policy debate—it is a reminder that our fight for global health is also a fight for our collective future. Now more than ever, advocacy can aid Congress in reasserting its powers during a tumultuous time of executive overreach. As staffers leaned into what we had to say, I felt connected to a broader intergenerational movement: one that understands that the decisions made in these marble halls have consequences that stretch far beyond national borders. 

At the airport on the way home, I carried a purple* malaria keychain on my backpack—something I’d picked up at the Shot@Life summit. At my flight gate, I bumped into a man who helped design and implement the President’s Malaria Initiative at the CDC during the Bush administration. He thanked me for advocating with Shot@Life on the Hill, emphasizing that our work is vital for advancing our nation’s health security. Now dean of a public health school, he recommended I pursue their masters program. The world needs more dedicated health advocates, he said smiling. Whether in Washington D.C. or the waiting area of Gate C3, connections like these continue to form. Advocacy doesn’t just change policies—it builds community.

As we start our next advocacy period, Advocate to Vaccinate—our spring advocacy push leading up to World Immunization Week, I lean upon this feeling of community. Advocacy is about refusing to accept that we’re powerless. It’s about showing up, reminding decision-makers that their choices matter, and insisting that past investments in global health don’t go to waste. Advocacy doesn’t end with one meeting: it’s an ongoing commitment to push for a safer, healthier world by signing petitions, submitting op-eds. And if our stories resonated with even a handful of people in those marble corridors, we’ve already started to make that difference.

*The purple color refers to the Giemsa stain. When a blood smear containing malaria parasites is stained with Giemsa, the parasite’s nucleus and cytoplasm will appear blue-to-purple: a piece of knowledge I learned from the plethora of pathologists who have been advocating with Shot@Life for decades.