Nervousness knotted up my stomach the night before I went to the statehouse for the first time. Thankfully, a meeting was scheduled that night with Hoosier Action, co-organizers of the Day of Action, to go over what to expect. I hopped on the preparation call with a notebook, a pen, and some indigestion. My hand cramped from writing without discernment; I figured if I was going to do this right, I needed it all. Towards the end of the preparation call, my fears were soothed when one of the event organizers said, “You do not need to be an expert in legislation. You are the expert of your own experiences. The statehouse is YOUR house,” to everyone on the call.

My eyes darted between each square, each face that I would meet the next day at the Statehouse, and I could see I wasn’t alone, that they felt nervous, too. We were going to be brave together. My shoulders relaxed and I took a breath as I researched as many legislators as I could find, navigating through the IGA website (a website I have clicked around countless times during my fellowship); the mountain of knowledge at my fingertips was massive. I was glad to understand what I was looking at on the website but had to reflect and consider what I was truly looking for. What would be helpful to know for the next day?

For guidance, I reached out to my mentor, Lauren Murfree, and she recommended looking at their caucus pages to better understand the legislators I may engage with, but urged me not to stress. I decided to read biographies and noticed lawmakers seemed to live ordinary lives. The fact that there is a farmer in the Statehouse took me by pleasant surprise, as I expected to see only lawmakers in jobs that are more removed from everyday Hoosiers’ financial contexts. I started to consider that maybe lawmakers could relate more to me than I had previously thought, but doubt crept into my mind. I started to remember stories I had seen on the news, with lawmakers engaging in aggressive ways with the public at town halls or being dismissive when approached in public settings. These memories seemed to plant deep seeds of uncertainty about the usefulness of the regular person in policy making processes.

I knew, deep down, that I needed to change my perspective on the influence I could have on policymaking and that this Day of Action maybe could be a way for me to shift my thinking. I recalled a quote very dear to my heart by Jamie Varon, about the mixed feelings of growth and embracing the uncomfortable feeling of the unknown. “You are in the darkness between where you’ve been and where you’re going. Trust it. Stumble forward. You’re courageously becoming someone you haven’t been yet.” That night, before my first day ever at the Statehouse, I managed to close my eyes and stumble into the darkness of sleep with the faith that the next day would provide an adventure.

The morning was chaotic, a 50-minute drive, an unknown amount of time spent searching for parking, an adventure walking through an ancient looking and dark tunnel to the Statehouse that a kind stranger directed us through (but sadly we didn’t have the clearance to enter the Statehouse this way), and a trip back outside to get into the expected entrance. It was there: our Statehouse. A beautiful gold statue sat atop a green roof, supported by smooth stone. The building opened to us via a series of ornate wooden doors. The Statehouse is an enormous building, bustling with the sounds of conversations, and heels clicking on the marble floors (or is it granite? I am not a geologist). I could hear muffled sounds of microphone feedback from the press conference taking place a floor up, and got whiffs of various smells of perfume, coffee, and leather.

The day moved quickly. I met my whole Institute team in-person for the first time and soaked up each and every second. The group I was assigned to for the Hoosier Healthcare Day of Action had meetings set with legislative staffers, a task I initially doubted as having true significance or importance. I was always under the assumption that only legislator conversations get your messages heard and addressed. I love that in this case I was wrong. Every single person with whom we interacted with was so kind, so respectful, and so HUMAN. As a group, we collaborated; we were all there for the same reason, regardless of any other group in which we could put ourselves. The need for sustainable, attainable, and accessible healthcare breached age, race, sex, gender, sexuality, location, voting registration, party affiliation, disability, and more. Interactions became more natural as the day progressed; we even shared a few laughs and made connections with people that I know truly heard us. When I had time, I would spend time with the Institute team, who were coordinating the Hoosier Healthcare Day of Action alongside partners and monitoring the happenings on the Senate floor.

As I engaged more with legislators and legislative staff, I realized that the event organizer who did our call the night before was right; I didn’t need to be an “expert” or play a specific dictated role, and there was no script for sharing one’s personal experiences. Instead of playing a part, like an actor in a play, what mattered was the authenticity of my personal experience, my willingness to accept adventure, and my energy (from nerves!) that I harnessed to bring passion to my presence. I feel better now knowing that I can engage in our lawmaking process, and that my voice does matter. From this experience, I realize now that I had the antidote to learned helplessness, and it was learning that my experiences are valuable, that speaking directly to those in power does make a difference. The things I do, even when they feel small and insignificant, can move people.

If I could give you some advice, it’s that coming to the Statehouse with curiosity will help guide you and light your way, and is the first step in making impact there. Employees within are prepared for your questions, and, in fact, those questions are absolutely vital to the lawmaking process, as it helps give a more well-rounded picture of public needs, how we understand legislation, and the opinions we hold. Without that data, the assumed needs, understandings, and opinions of constituents could be inaccurate. Our job as community members is to bring our stories and data to policymakers to ensure they are well informed of the struggles we face.

We are capable of being informed without allowing it to overwhelm us. We are capable of advocating without outrage consuming our direction. We are capable of understanding without giving or receiving judgment. Our action taken must be presence, an adventurous spirit, and relinquishing any preconceived notions about our level of expertise must not prevent us from engaging with our lawmakers on our lived experiences. After all, smooth happenings never make headlines, and we don’t need to make headlines to make change.