Since I arrived in mid August, it has been hot and humid in DC. Living in Phoenix has spoiled me by not having to deal too much with humidity. This past week, the weather changed and it has been cold and wet. We interns were told to always have an umbrella with us, and now we know it is true. The thing about not having a car and being an intern is that rain or shine you need to get to your classes and internship, wherever it is. I walk through the rain each morning to the bus stop where I wait for a bus to take me to Union Station. When I get off of the bus, I walk 3 or 4 blocks to the CNN building where NDRN leases office space. I have noticed that the buildings here all have a lot of security. If you are a guest, you have to check in with security with a picture id. If you regularly work in the building, you will have a badge with a special electronic device in it that you use in the elevator to get to your floor in the building. The id badges are programmed to only allow you to access your organization's floor and the lobby floor. Once you reach your floor, you will need to use your id card to get into the door of the organization. It is a very safe environment.
There is a kind of peace in my soul as I walk through the city, even as raindrops fall all around me. The pace of life in DC is extremely fast. It seems that most people are in a hurry to get where they are going. It's like they have tunnel vision and can only see where they are going and no one between here and there. Many people avoid eye contact which I find fascinating. When I need to go to George Mason University or the Fund for American Studies office for classes, I take the Metro. Learning the Metro has been an adventure in and of itself. After being here for almost 2 months, I am starting to feel like a pro. The other day I was on the Metro and we were approaching a stop on the route. All of the sudden I heard a voice of someone that sounded like an old man or someone who had a cognitive disability of some sort. He said out loud on the train, "May you help me today, please?". He repeated this phrase over and over and made his way through the train. I finally saw him and he was an African American man in his 30's with a developmental delay. It is obvious to everyone that he has a cognitive disability and is most likely homeless. There is an unspoken silence and an uncomfortable quietness in the air as those on the train avoid eye contact. Each and everyday, you come across the homeless begging for their next meal or a cold beverage. Even if you wanted to help them all, most working Americans can't. The discomfort everyone feels is knowing that they can't or won't help on a particular day. I have learned not to judge that. Everyone knows when they can and cannot give. Still, my heart broke as I imagined this man as someone's son or brother. I wondered where his family was. I wondered why he was homeless and begging for money. I imagined with horror what it would be like for my own son with a disability to ever be in that situation. I couldn't go there in my mind, it was too painful. I then wondered what he had gone through in his life. Was he loved, nurtured, and cared for, or was he neglected, abused, and unwanted? Then I wondered if he was being exploited. Was someone putting him out there with this repeated phrase and cup to collect money that would be taken from him? My thoughts eventually came back to why I am here in DC. I remember that I am here to intern for an organization that advocates for attorneys who advocate for persons with disabilities in each state. I feel more determined than ever to do the slow, hard work of advocating for individuals who cannot do so for themselves and it puts everything back in focus. I arrive at work eventually determined to give my very best to help this organization accomplish their mission successfully. I am grateful to be a part of their team, even for a limited amount of time.
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Daphne ThompsonPursuing a Bachelor Degree in Public Services and Policy, Daphne is starting her senior year this fall. Archives
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