Advocacy: Behind the Scenes in D.C.

A 2024-2025 College Ambassador, Rutendo Kahari studies biochemistry at The College of St. Scholastica.

I never imagined I would be walking into the halls of Congress advocating for lifesaving, global health initiatives.

This thought landed hard as my plane banked over the glistening Potomac River, the monuments lining up in the haze. I pressed my forehead to the window, watching the city come into view, and felt the weight of where I was headed settle into my chest. I held on to that moment — the realization that I was really here, about to ask people in power to care.

Representing both Minnesota and Washington states, I heavily relied on the training provided during the United to Beat Malaria Leadership Summit. This training broke down the policy asks and taught me how to tie my personal experiences to legislative priorities without getting lost in jargon. I was also greatly supported by my fellow constituents who had over five years of advocacy experience and knew the rhythm of these conversations, the posture, and pace.

Accompanied by my Hill Lead, I clutched my notebook like armor as I walked through the marble halls of Congress with malaria on my mind. I was there for the mothers I saw during my premedical internship in Kenya sitting on hard benches holding feverish babies, praying the pharmacy had medicine this time. I saw how malaria ravaged a child’s body. It rarely came alone, dragging in pneumonia, HIV, and other infections that found a home in weakened bodies. 

The congressional offices were packed with folders and staffers who balanced coffee cups on policy memos with hopes to attend to the wavering queue outside. The air felt busy, impatient. I remember the sequence clearly:

1. Introductions
2. My personal connection, why malaria matters to me
3. The policy “asks”
4. Listening and answering their questions

As an aspiring physician-scientist, I knew this fight was personal and structural. I learned quickly that advocacy is about making a clear, unapologetic ask. Malaria lurks in the shadows of legislation that decides whose lives are worth the cost. We were there for funding — robust funding for bilateral and multilateral malaria programs that save people’s lives before they realize they are at risk. Between meetings in the House and Senate, we found corners to debrief, check notes, and share a quick snack before the next visit. Hallways became classrooms. We adjusted our language based on who we had just met. My feet hurt, and my voice was hoarse, but I kept going because I knew why I was there. 

As the day ended, I rushed to catch my flight back to school, the last glow of D.C. slipping behind me. Snuggled into the fuzzy Senate quarter-zip I bought in the gift shop during a quick break, I let the day settle into my bones alongside the fatigue. I felt the intangible currency of personal narrative and how critical it is in shaping policy.

Above the clouds, I replayed those conversations that layered into something bigger. Stories shape funding and can move votes. It is easy to think system change starts with a podium and applause but often, it takes sitting down and sharing why it matters. I let it all wash over me as the plane hummed, carrying me back to lectures, labs, and late-night study sessions. Somewhere over Ohio, I remembered that an organic chemistry assignment was waiting for me, unbothered by my day on the Hill and ready to humble me again. I laughed quietly, tired but grateful. I had stepped into rooms that decide who gets to live and who is left waiting. I had asked them to care.

Looking back, advocacy is not for experts with perfect words. It is for anyone who cares enough to keep asking for a better world, even when the world is busy.