To preface this, even though The New York Times published its article on summer interns before us, we’ve had this in the works for at least a month now. We promise this was a unique and original idea at the time of pitching and that no plagiarism was involved.
Anyway, our esteemed Gavel members have been interning in various sectors and locations these past few months. Highlighted in this piece are the ones working in journalism, government, and policy in particular. Some of them have witnessed firsthand the horrors and injustices occurring in our country, others have observed from a close perspective how domestic work plays into international conflict. All of them are inclined to make a difference because they believe in a better tomorrow.
As most of them are senior board members, they have one year left at Boston College before they go off to “set the world aflame.” Read along to hear about their internship experiences and how they’ve balanced the stresses of working in industries that are so close to the issues that most people brush off as headlines, and how they still choose to persist, despite it all.
Julie Huynh, Editor-in-Chief
MSNBC Digital Platforms – New York City, New York
Telling people I am interning at 30 Rock for the summer is sometimes the most exciting part of my job. I have watched the interest in someone’s face dissipate as I try to explain that no, I am not an editorial or production intern, so I am not technically writing articles nor working with the TV personalities, but that instead, I work on the digital platforms team. This means that my day consists of writing headlines for SEO optimization, drafting social copy for Whatsapp and Reddit, and analyzing data to learn more about audience consumption patterns. All essential stuff, of course, but perhaps not the most interesting to an outsider.
That being said, I am learning a lot. I am incredibly grateful for this opportunity to work in journalism at a time like this. I’ve even had the chance to write here and there. But unlike other people, I can’t just “turn off the news” when it gets rough. I clock in at 9 a.m. every morning and for the next eight hours, read stories about war, natural disasters, court cases, whatever the Trump administration is doing next… there is no such thing as a slow day.
I’ve been a student journalist for the past seven years now, and even before I have graduated and entered the work force, I am starting to feel the effects that older journalists experience, a disconnect and disassociation with the material they work with. At one point, you’re no longer reading the story, but the article. I am identifying key words and phrases, mentally pulling quotes, imagining the best headline practices and what will perform well on social media– the narrative becomes lost on me. The words no longer carry the weight they’re supposed to, I am afraid of my own desensitization in this process.
However, I refuse to be burnt out at the age of 21. Internships are meant for young students to discover what they are interested in, and that includes learning about what you may not want in a career. My passion for storytelling hasn’t wavered, my commitment to social justice is still as strong as ever. It’s so easy to become lost in the news cycle, to let yourself be taken away by the currents of despair, but like a daily prayer I remind myself why I got into this field in the first place and I think about how John Green once said, “I keep learning again and again that hope is the right response to the human condition.” So I hope and I hope for a world where the words on my screen aren’t so heavy anymore.
Courtney McDonald, Managing Editor
Amica Center for Immigrant Rights – Washington, D.C.
“Well, this is certainly an interesting time for that kind of work,” is the universal reaction I get when I tell people about my summer internship at an immigration non-profit. While “interesting” is a superficially accurate word to describe my experience, I cannot help but want to scream the words “uncertain,” “terrifying,” “heartbreaking,” and somehow also “rewarding” and “beautiful” at the people living in ignorant bliss of the intricate mess that is the current immigration process.
The Amica Center for Immigrant Rights is a nonprofit organization that fights for the rights, safety, and unity of immigrant communities, standing with those trapped in our nation’s fundamentally flawed immigration system. I work in the Know Your Rights (KYR) sector of the Detained Adult Program (DAP), which consists of providing general legal orientation to individuals who are detained by the government. This involves visiting detention centers, working a detention hotline, and writing messages for individuals who are utterly lost in the immigration labyrinth.
One thing I have learned so far this summer is the absolute power that information holds. Individuals in immigration proceedings do not have the right to a government-appointed attorney, which results in most immigrants having to navigate the process alone. Their only defense is information, and many go without it. Simply learning their rights and their options makes an unbelievable difference in a system that is created to be confusing and misleading.
I have witnessed firsthand the people who are in the most painful part of the immigration process. I have seen the inside of a detention center, the reality of what happens in an immigration hearing, the pain on the faces and in the voices of those who are doing everything they can out of both fear of returning to their native country and desperation to stay with their family in the United States. Let me confirm for our readers: it is worse than you are imagining.
Nonetheless, despite the ugliness of the current administration’s immigration machine, working with individuals who are detained has continuously demonstrated the untruth that anti-immigrant rhetoric spreads and has reminded me of the beauty of the immigrant community. Every time I speak with an individual on the phone, I am always in awe of the kindness and, oftentimes, positive and hopeful presence that they bring to each conversation. It is a constant reminder that immigrants aren’t numbers or monoliths, but real people with loving hearts that are deserving of more than what this “nation of immigrants” is offering.
Avery Dobozi, Co-News Editor
City of Boston Planning Department – Boston, Massachusetts
When I found out I would be working as a policy intern for Boston’s Planning Department, I was over the moon. I have always had an interest in policy at the domestic and international level, but I had never experienced local government. Further, I was not as well-informed about city planning, real estate, and urban redevelopment as opposed to national politics, current events, and foreign policy. There was a lot for me to learn, but I was eager. Younger me always dreamed of working in government and policy.
My first lesson was that local government is excruciatingly complex. It could take months for a minor housing modification to come to fruition and years for a city plan to reach approval. I immediately found this disheartening. If the smaller sectors of local government have so many bylaws that slow operations, how is the federal government ever going to aid the catastrophes we are seeing today? Will there be time to reverse the damage to democracy that has already been done? Everyday I sit in my cubicle and feel futile. Reading through project plans, scanning zoning viewers, and compiling housing data seems pointless in the context of the domestic and global geopolitical environment.
However, I think it is safe to say that most of us are in the same boat. My life goals include making a positive impact on the world, and I am building towards that. As I help my team find solutions to the housing crisis, promote anti-displacement insights, and provide aid to displaced Bostonians, I must remind myself that I am making a difference. Even if it seems small, these policies create positive changes in countless individuals’ lives, and that is extremely important.
Part of my internship is a final project of my choice, and I settled on a cross-city comparison regarding urban renewal policies and their phase out. Urban renewal was a policy of the 1960s that aimed to remove slums and blight but was based on severe discrimination, and, in turn, led to the destruction of homes, neighborhoods, and cultures across American cities. As I scroll through before and after photos, interview planners in peer cities, and read witness testimonies from the 60s, my heart breaks more and more. These policies ruined lives, destroyed communities, and erased minority businesses and voices.
Before this project, I had a minuscule understanding of urban renewal, and the impacts of it are hard to truly reiterate. This project has reminded me that there are countless events, policies, and discriminatory measures throughout history that I may have never heard of, but have significantly shaped the reality we see today. It is disappointing to know that urban renewal is just one of countless policies that shattered people’s lives and built the current political climate, but it is also an invitation to explore all of the factors throughout history that have led us here before we let history repeat itself again.
Sure, it is hard to clock into work and feel like my efforts are worthless — like I am not reaching enough people or tackling the correct issues. It is difficult to sit back and watch as the news gets scarier — as death tolls in conflicts and disasters rise, and Congress passes jarring bills. There is no concrete way to eliminate the grief and anxiety that stems from it. For me, I am choosing to keep chugging away at my projects because helping any individuals in need and learning from the mistakes of the past are the best ways to move forward.
Claire Beaumier, Opinions Editor
Minnesota Attorney General’s Office – St. Paul, Minnesota
Interning for the Minnesota Attorney General’s office during this time has been so chaotic, but also so rewarding. I have the opportunity to feel like I am doing something meaningful as an intern, in a time when Republicans have a supermajority in the government. The office I am working in has led and won over a dozen lawsuits against the Trump administration’s unlawful executive orders, which has been incredible to see. It gives me hope, even through the exhausting news cycle we are currently facing, knowing that there are still tireless fights against the Trump administration behind the scenes.
At the same time, being exposed to political violence amid the assassination of Speaker Melissa Hortman has been completely eye-opening and honestly disturbing. Minneapolis/St. Paul is a little-big city. Everybody has mutual connections with each other. This was especially apparent in the aftermath of the assassination. Watching staff in the office who had worked with her grieve the loss of not only a colleague, but a friend was something I never thought I would witness, especially working in local government. It is so easy to separate yourself from political violence in the country by thinking of it as “just a headline” or “today’s news,” but experiencing it so close has been sobering.
Megan Burke, Culture Writer
Arizona Attorney General’s Office – Phoenix, Arizona
On orientation day at the Phoenix Attorney General’s office, I stepped out of my car and noticed that the office shared its parking lot with the ICE Phoenix Field Office. That detail hit me harder than I expected. In the background of my summer internship, ICE is ramping up operations across the country, following a reported directive from Deputy White House Chief Stephen Miller and DHS Secretary Kristi Noem to arrest up to 3,000 immigrants, a number that’s more than four times the previous daily average.
Being physically so close to the ICE field office and working in public service at the same time made the national headlines feel personal. While shadowing an attorney, I asked how these raids were affecting our work. The attorney told me that Attorney General Kris Mayes had made it clear that the role of the AG’s office is not to report someone involved in a case just because they are undocumented. That stance, especially in a state like Arizona, really stuck with me.
It is strange walking into the office and trying to focus, while constantly processing what feels like constant, unsettling news. But working across from that ICE office made me realize how important it is to keep asking questions about what justice looks like and who gets to feel safe in our country.
Anna O’Donnell, Staff Writer
United Nations News Centre – New York City, New York
This summer, I’ve had the opportunity to work at the United Nations in New York and publish original news and feature articles on the UN News site. Amid a deteriorating U.S.-UN relationship, the Iran-Israel war, the humanitarian crisis in Gaza, and other global crises, I’ve gained firsthand insight into the inner workings of international organizations and the complexity of current events.
The UN is often criticized for being politically ineffective, and while I won’t go into my views on that here, I believe many people underestimate the organization’s critical role in delivering humanitarian aid. One of the most eye-opening aspects of my time at the UN has been witnessing the far-reaching consequences of declining humanitarian funding, particularly from the Trump administration and other major donors.
Dedicated and capable UN personnel across the globe are ready to distribute aid and implement sustainable development programs, but they increasingly lack the resources to do so. In crises from Gaza to Sudan, Haiti, Ukraine, and beyond, people who once received food, medical support, and even cash assistance to help survive the crisis now receive far less, if anything at all. In response to declining funds, the UN is not only urgently seeking new funding sources but also implementing its “UN80” initiative, aimed at streamlining operations and doing more with less, including significant job cuts in headquarters and duty stations worldwide.
It may come as no surprise that the Trump administration’s policies have harmed people both at home and abroad. But I don’t think it’s biased to say that the damage to the UN’s humanitarian work and to the millions who rely on it remains deeply overlooked.
Maddy Carr, Staff Writer
Capitol Hill, Washington, D.C.
This summer, I had the privilege of working on Capitol Hill for a Democratic senator. I’m used to reading the news every day, but working in politics is an entirely different story. The atmosphere is electric, which is something I will forever be grateful to have experienced, but I underestimated how emotional this work can be.
First and foremost, Capitol staffers are public servants. Their duty is to communicate with their constituents, pass their sentiments along to the senator, and help them to the best of their ability. We answer every phone call, listen to every voicemail, and read every email. I started my position right before Trump’s Big Beautiful Bill was passed, so naturally, the majority of calls were about the real life impact of this Bill.
I’ve heard devastating stories from constituents about their lives and the people they love being affected by legislation. I can’t help but imagine myself and my loved ones in their shoes. Of course, my experience as a listener in no way compares to living through those traumatic events, but the mental impact is unavoidable. Working for a progressive senator during the Trump Administration can feel hopeless at times, but giving up is not an option. Some may say that I’m too optimistic, but I am hopeful that progressive politicians will continue to create change and positively impact the lives of their constituents. Knowing that there are senators like my boss in power gives me hope that goodness and empathy will prevail, even in the darkest times.
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