Here’s What I know: I’m Not Going To Sit Idly By

Grappling with an Uncertain Future in International Development. The view from early career professionals....

A year and a half. That’s how long I had been working in international development when the stop-work orders came down. I was confused, worried, scared. My short time in this profession had changed me. I had seen firsthand the courage of people fighting for democracy and human rights in places where doing so could cost them everything. My world had expanded. I understood what it meant to work for something you believed in, and I realized what it meant when people talked about resilience - that ability to bounce back and keep moving in spite of obstacles and setbacks.

Now, I’m left asking myself an uncomfortable question: Am I as brave as they are? Do I have that resilience? When it’s my turn to meet uncertainty head-on, can I rise to the occasion the way I’ve watched my colleagues around the world do? The truth is, I don’t know. And worse—I don’t even know where to start.

The Anger

Since being indefinitely furloughed (which, let’s be real, is going to be a layoff in a couple of weeks), I’ve been floating in a sea of emotions—anger, embarrassment, and overwhelm.

I’m angry at this administration for not just stopping the work we were doing, but also distorting it into a vicious slanderous caricature of what it was. I’m angry that we’ve abandoned the people whose lives depended on it. I’m frustrated that I have to explain—again and again—why fostering stability abroad isn’t just charity, but a necessity. Coming from a military family, it’s infuriating to have to spell out that the work my colleagues did was preventing future conflicts, ensuring that my own loved ones wouldn’t be sent into another unnecessary war. The reality is, no matter what certain internet personalities might claim, aid is always cheaper than war.

Coming from a military family, it’s infuriating to have to spell out that our work was preventing conflicts, ensuring that my family and friends wouldn’t be sent to war.

And then there’s the embarrassment. The U.S. was never a perfect champion of democracy and human rights, but at least we tried. Now, I wonder—where do the millions of brave democracy advocates around the world turn for support? How can we, as Americans, ask people in far more dangerous situations to stand up for democracy when so many here at home don’t seem willing to do the same? It feels like we’ve broken a promise, like we’ve turned our backs on the people who trusted us. And maybe—if I’m being honest with myself—this is who we’ve always been. That’s a truth I’m not quite ready to face yet.

On a personal level, I feel lost. I don’t know what’s next. The industry I’ve fallen in love with might not even exist in a few years, and the people I looked to for guidance are just as uncertain as I am. It’s like watching your mentor, the person you relied on to have the answers, suddenly admit they don’t know either. That realization is terrifying.

I’m lucky in one sense—I’ll be starting graduate school in the fall, which at least gives me a temporary anchor. But I had a plan: get my degree, return to the field from a legal perspective, and continue the work I believe in. Now, I’m not even sure if that’s possible. And the idea of trying to figure out a new path—one that still allows me to make an impact—feels overwhelming. Life feels big right now, and not in a good way.

Stepping Up When It’s Uncomfortable

But here’s what I do know: I’m not going to sit idly by.

I’ve watched too many people around the world stand up in the face of oppression and corruption to do nothing now. I don’t know where my courage will come from, but I know it will come. I’ve never been the person to rock the boat, but maybe it’s time. Maybe all of us who care about democracy, human rights, and global stability need to step up in ways we never imagined we would have to.

I don’t have all the answers. I don’t even know where this path leads. But what I do know is that I’m going to fight—for the people we left behind, for the work that still matters, and for a future that isn’t dictated by fear and inaction. Because if this moment has taught me anything, it’s that we don’t get to sit on the sidelines anymore.