Showing Up Together.
When I reflect on what’s happening in Congress or at federal agencies lately, I don’t see a distant policy debate—I see my home.
So when I hear about a bill in Congress or a proposed rule from a federal agency, I don’t just ask, “What does this mean politically?” I ask, “What does this mean for the young mother in Montana? For the community who still gathers, but also still lacks reliable broadband?”
Let’s take broadband access as an example. On paper, that might sound like “connectivity” or “internet speed.” But back home, it means your kid doing homework at night by mobile hotspot, your clinic trying to do telehealth with an unreliable signal, or your tribal program launching education or job-training. When federal agencies talk about “infrastructure,” I hear the gap between the highway and the reservation—and behind that gap are countless opportunities delayed.
Or consider SNAP and WIC funding. The debate isn’t simply about budget line-items; it’s about elders who wait longer for nutrition assistance, families who skip extra groceries because the rollout lagged, and tribal clinics stretched even further. In these moments, the phrase “Washington impact” stops being abstract and starts looking like real hardship. I’ve heard those stories from members in our communities, and they stay with me.
I often hear a myth: “Federal programs are handouts.” But here’s the truth: our tribes and Native communities hold treaty and trust obligations with the U.S. government. Funding, support, and infrastructure aren’t optional extras—they’re commitments made long ago. And when those commitments lag, our communities pay the price: less service, more hardship.
Another myth: “Tribal issues are local only.” That’s misleading. Agency decisions in D.C.—on land management, utility regulation, or Indian health policy—ripple out into Montana’s seven reservations and urban Native communities. That’s why I’m here in D.C., and why our office opened here.
“I’m not just showing up in D.C. to check a box. I’m here because our people deserve to be heard in the very rooms where decisions about us are being made—not because we fit in, but because we belong.”
It’s easy to walk into a hearing or a meeting and speak “policy.” But if you’re not carrying the stories of home—of those who struggle with medical bills, food access, or broken infrastructure—you’re speaking in a vacuum. I walk into meetings reminding myself: this isn’t just “legislation”; it’s real.
Sometimes decisions feel incremental, but for our communities, even incremental change matters. Progress comes in fits and starts and never moves in a straight line. A rule adjustment might mean a clinic gets more funding. A regulatory tweak might open a broadband corridor. These may not always make fireworks in the newspaper, but they make a difference on reservation roads and in rural homes.
If you’re young and Native and reading this, your voice matters. When you vote, when you speak at your tribal council, when you drive to the meeting, you’re pushing our story into places that still act like it’s “outside their view.” The more we share our perspective, the less decisions will be made to us and the more will be made with us.
If you’re watching D.C. from afar, know this: those debates are about more than abstract policy—they’re about your community, your relatives, your future. Don’t let the distance fool you into thinking you don’t have a stake.
And if you ever feel like your voice won’t reach the room, it will. Because we don’t have to change who we are to be part of the conversation. We just need to bring our experience, our values, and our truths.
Now it’s your turn. Stay informed, speak out, and keep showing up. Follow Western Native Voice on Facebook and Instagram to track the latest federal and state actions that affect our communities. Share what you learn with your family and tribal leaders. And most importantly, make your voice heard—at the ballot box, at public hearings, and in every conversation that shapes our future.
Because when we show up together, Washington listens.