On Friday, April 25, I had the distinct pleasure and privilege of giving a keynote speech at “Policy in Action: I Am a Policy Maker, Now What?” an event hosted at UMass Amherst by the School of Public Policy and the Civic Action Project.
Read on for the thoughts I offered for the rising generation of public policy leaders.
***
What does one say to the rising generation of public policy leaders in 2025 with Donald Trump back in the White House?
I was tempted to say simply, “Hurry up please. The folks doing this work now have made a hash of it and we need you.”
But that’s not fair. You need to rise on your own terms. At your own pace. Toward your own horizon.
Yet — I can’t deny it and I bet you feel it — there’s a heart-pounding urgency now for your leadership, in this time of great peril.
***
Because there is no playbook.
No one I’ve spoken with anticipated all of what we’re experiencing.
In many ways this levels the playing field for young leaders like you to emerge with your own ideas.
But you’re entering the fight amid such strife and consequential turbulence, it will be critical to think of yourselves as automatically made captains of a varsity team.
I’m afraid there is no JV at this time.
***
What’s happening in Washington and across the nation is not normal.
We are being tested beyond what anyone imagined and it will be up to all of us to not capitulate.
To push forward, even on shifting terrain.
We must hold fast to a belief in a common humanity; to democracy and due process; to a government of the people, by the people, and for the people; to a government charged with alleviating suffering not creating it through mass deportations and other horrors.
And to a nation able to withstand the body blows we’re enduring.
And then we’ll have to rebuild — building back so much better than before.
***
From my position at the state level, this time requires minute by minute calibration. And constant vigilance.
Offensive and defensive moves. Organizing inside and outside of government.
I had a colleague who said that we in the state should run for cover. But running for cover is never an option and especially not an option in this storm.
***
I believe the work now in Massachusetts is more important than ever. Here are three reasons why:
First, state government allows my team and me to be deeply rooted in the 25 communities we represent. My constituents are my neighbors. I watch their children grow up with mine. I see them in the grocery aisle.
Right now the suffering in all corners of my district is profound. Constituents are afraid for their safety. Terrified for their families. They’ve lost jobs. They’re worried about retaining their health care. Their nonprofits, campuses, farms, and small businesses are compromised because of federal cuts. And much worse than the current suffering and chaos is the dread about what may come next.
My job is to see them. Respond to them. Meet their fear with positive action.
I went to an Earth Day event on Sunday in Greenfield. Honestly, I felt like I was speaking to giants because the people who attended were the organizers who — over decades — closed nuclear power plants, stopped pipelines, and defended our forests from clearcutting.
I spoke about the climate wins that we’ve had in the state thanks to their activism and what my team and I were pressing for this legislative session regardless of what was happening in Washington.
As I was leaving the stage, a woman approached me. And she said, “Your words make us think we’re not crazy. When you speak, it’s like we all are heard. Like we’re all shouting. And we want to fight.”
I was reminded about the power of a representative government that strengthens and emboldens constituents.
I believe that there is nothing stronger than an informed, engaged, and active public. Nothing.
So I’ve come to believe that part of my work at this time is to continually remind constituents of their power. Of their agency. And of their responsibility to stay awake, engaged, and strong.
***
Number two: In more normal times, state governments truly are laboratories of democracy. We can work out big ideas — like Massachusetts did with health care reform, which then became the foundation for the Affordable Care Act. States signal to each other by passing far-reaching policies — around health care, climate, civil liberties protections — and in doing so, we pave the way for national change.
Yet even now. Even though we don’t have a federal partner — no worse than that, we have a federal opponent — states like Massachusetts must keep innovating and reaching for what’s next.
In the last couple of legislative sessions, Massachusetts began reinvesting in affordable and accessible public higher education — joining other states across the nation in that equity-infused work. This session, we’re continuing to refine and perfect opportunities like free community college and work to ensure all students have adequate support to persist and complete their degrees.
We’re making progress on the billions of dollars of deferred maintenance on college campuses — even as we worry every day about federal Pell grants and research funds. We just cannot abandon this work.
There’s a balance to be struck for sure. And it’s sometimes hard to focus on relatively small changes when the big things are on fire. But relatively small things can give us hope. They remind us of the world as it ought to be.
Here’s just one example. In 2020, my team and I were contacted by Lynne, a constituent from Leverett, who wrote: “As a mother with an adult son who is on the spectrum and desires to drive, my biggest fear is what would happen if he was pulled over by a police officer who could misinterpret his smile or facial expression or his inconsistent eye contact to be disrespectful.”
Lynne let us know about a law in Connecticut creating a voluntary Blue Envelope Program for drivers with Autism Spectrum Disorder or ASD. The Blue Envelopes can hold the driver’s license, registration, and insurance cards. It has instructions on the outside for the officer or first responder on the driver’s diagnosis, triggers, emergency contact information — and how best and most effectively to communicate.
Lynne asked if we could work towards a similar law here in Massachusetts. I said yes, and filed the bill.
A short while later, I had the opportunity to visit the UMass Amherst MAICEI program, which stands for the Massachusetts Inclusive Concurrent Enrollment Initiative. MAICEI programs provide students aged 18-21 with significant, typically autism or intellectual disabilities, the chance to attend college, supported by a Program Coordinator, Educational Coaches, and Peer Mentors.
It was there that I met Max Callahan. Max was aware of the blue envelope bill and talked to me passionately about how traffic stops or emergency situations can be very challenging for drivers with ASD — with flashing lights, sirens, radios, passing traffic, and police officers or other first responders with mostly little or no training about how to recognize and communicate appropriately and effectively with people with ASD.
Over the following months, Max worked with a broad group of advocates on behalf of this legislation. Thanks to Lynne and to Max, the Senate passed this bill unanimously and earlier this month we celebrated one year of the Blue Envelope program. Police have handed out over 12,000 blue envelopes to date.
This bill represents people power to envision a better Commonwealth. A safer Commonwealth. A Commonwealth with equal opportunity for people of all abilities.
The world as it ought to be.
The bill never passed the House, so we had to refile this session and push again.
Because — again — this bill is the world as it ought to be.
***
And three: State government can (and should) act as a line of defense for our people.
Right now, I’m focused on advocacy for spending priorities that can alleviate burdens and policies that protect the people I serve.
In Massachusetts, we guarantee the right to choose. We believe in intellectual freedom. In education. In science. We welcome immigrants and know that a diverse public is our strength. And even more than that, it’s our super power.
We guarantee the right to gender affirming care. All of it — especially in times of great peril.
And we’re not stopping there.
The Senate President reconfigured a Senate committee this session called Steering and Policy and she appointed me to serve alongside great colleagues. Our job is to turn the Senate into a nimble machine on behalf of our constituents. Offense and defense at the same time — guided by the values of the Commonwealth.
She said it was our response to Project 2025.
***
Perhaps you’ll find a home in state government or perhaps you’ll be drawn to local, national, or international work.
It’s all important.
I understand that a career in public policy is not for the faint of heart.
That was true before this moment, but it’s especially true today.
Remember, there isn’t one path, though dominant culture will scream that there is. Or the perfect path. Or the right path. There’s only your path. Follow it.
***
Here are four things that have kept me going these many years.
#1
Just like your path, policy making won’t follow a straight line. This is critical to remember. Straight lines are rigid. They break. But if you allow work to be responsive and to take innovative detours where you need it to. If you celebrate the small wins along the way, you’ll be able to get to the finish line without shattering.
#2
We should NEVER be afraid to think big thoughts — or shy away from transformative ideas. We should NEVER forget that everyone has a right to not merely survive but to thrive. Our work in policy is to crystalize those ideas and then build the social and political capacity to make them real.
#3
Failing is just fine.
Many of you have come of age during a very turbulent time. The global pandemic may have interrupted your learning.
The big problems we are facing will not be solved by half-measures. We will have to do hard things.
This is a “leap and the net will appear” moment. Problems and fractures, festering long before 2025, are now cavernous. Big problems need big solutions — the kind that are driven from people in public service.
People will tell you, “It’s not possible. It’s just not done this way.” Hear those words as an invitation to try. And if you fail, terrific. Just fail fast, learn, and move on. If you hold on to something that’s not working, you’re blocking what’s next.
#4
A word about faith.
I’m a spiritual mutt. Not religious. But I am faith-led. I was raised through a lot of my life by my aunt who was a Sister of St. Joseph. A Catholic nun. Generally speaking, you just don’t mess with the nuns. Somewhere between my teenage thoughts about hair, nails, and dating, Aunt Joan taught me about justice. And the peace that will come when we have justice.
When I graduated from college 400 years ago, I came home to my Aunt’s apartment in New York City. She said, “Congratulations. Good for you. Pack your bag for a week. We’re leaving soon.”
I had delusions of some fabulous cruise. Some resort. She told me that I should pop that thought balloon, but I hoped she was kidding.
She wasn’t kidding.
We left her Chelsea apartment and walked a few blocks south east to a shelter in the basement of a church. And for the next six days and nights we traveled from shelter to shelter — sometimes for unhoused women, sometimes for unhoused men — cooking, cleaning, making beds, doing laundry, being in community.
I had never truly grappled with the brutality of generational poverty, sometimes mixed with mental health challenges, sometimes mixed with domestic abuse, sometimes mixed with addiction, most always mixed with savage racism.
Aunt Joan and I spoke very little that week.
On the last day she said to me, “This is the world we live in. It is our job to change it. I have faith that we can. You should too.”
In the forty years since, I have remained tethered to that moment — to that week. We must never turn away from injustice. Our job is to dig deep, have faith, stay strong, and to tackle injustice head on.
***
I’ll close with this.
I get strength and nourishment from a passage I read from author Annie Dillard, in a piece titled The Abundance.
Dillard talked about writing in this piece, but I have internalized it as a lesson about life.
She wrote, “One of the few things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place…Something more will arise for later, something better.”
I try always to imagine my life as a well which fills up from beneath and never ever runs dry.
***
Find your policy and political home. Find ways to keep joy and resilience alive. Democracy is a team sport. Don’t let go of each other — ever. Never be the smartest person in the room.
If you have a chance, ALWAYS lift up a colleague’s work and effort.
And never let your well run dry — however you manage it.
Because you’re the ones we’ve been waiting for. I’m already humbled by what you will do in the world. Lord knows we need you.
Thank you for the opportunity to join you.
