What a career at USAID taught me about uphill battles
This week marks an ending. Or—hopefully—an ellipsis.
Today, many of the people who stayed behind at USAID after the Trump Administration began dismantling it are walking out the door for the last time. These are people who devoted their entire careers to a simple, stubborn belief: that American leadership can save lives, ease suffering, and help people live with dignity.
I was 29 when I joined USAID. The work was meaningful to me then—but now, as a mom of two, the stories of the people we helped resonate even deeper. Every time I hear of a mother who lost her baby because there wasn’t enough food, I think of my own kids and my heart aches. Every time I hear of moms forced to part with their children in the hopes of giving them a better life, I feel that ache again.
I spent my career helping tell the story of what USAID did: how it rushed food to the brink of famine, treated children with malnutrition, rebuilt communities after disaster, supported farmers and small businesses, built schools, provided clean water, strengthened democracies, and protected human rights. All of this—for less than 1% of the federal budget.
The work was never flashy. It was never about politics. And it was never, ever about waste.
Since the dismantling began, we’ve seen billions poured into military parades and unconstitutional wars. We’ve watched Congress debate a reconciliation package that adds trillions to the deficit while gutting healthcare and food assistance for those who need it most. The contrast is staggering.
What I’ve carried with me most from my time at USAID are the lessons from the people we served—those facing the hardest chapters of their lives, through no fault of their own.
I used to ask myself why we help. And the answer always came back to this: I did nothing to deserve being born into comfort and opportunity. None of us did. And if that’s true, then what moral standing do we have to deny help to those born into war, hunger, or disaster?
I am no better than the people USAID helped. If anything, many of them taught me more than I could ever give—about grit, resilience, and unshakable hope.
And USAID? It was full of people who understood that helping others is a form of strength. That dignity isn’t a zero-sum game. That when we show up for others, we hold the line for ourselves, too.
Rebuilding won’t be easy. But I believe it will happen—because the mission matters. And because the people who made USAID what it was haven’t disappeared.
They’re still here. We’re still here.
As I work to build my business, I’ll be taking these lessons with me. People matter. Community matters. Mission matters.
🌱 What I’m Reading Over Coffee
A few recent articles worth a pause this week:
In Sudan, where children clung to life, doctors say USAID cuts have been fatal – The Washington Post reports that disruptions to food and medical aid—especially in Sudan’s civil war zones—are contributing to preventable child deaths and widespread malnutrition.
UN bids to salvage global development summit after US boycott – Reuters outlines how U.S. absence at the Seville summit has weakened global commitments to poverty, climate, and disease financing.
I Worked at U.S.A.I.D. for Over 8 Years. This Is Our Biggest Failure. - This guest essay by one of my former colleagues in the New York Times reflects on how USAID’s quiet leadership may have hurt it in the end. While I’m not sure I agree, this is a critical reflection.