Struggling to Rebuild Routines When political violence broke out in Kinshasa in late January, I fled my home in the middle of the night, carrying just one small bag. I was joined by my husband, my children, and 211 colleagues and families. In a typical evacuation, you expect to have access to U.S. government support services when you arrive in the U.S. But because USAID Staff Care services weren’t accessible anymore, I needed to download all my personnel records, find housing, enroll my kids in school, and brace for losing my job—all while supporting traumatized colleagues still at work in the DRC [Democratic Republic of the Congo] and others being needlessly persecuted because of political rhetoric and misinformation about the mission and workforce of USAID. Here in D.C., I am hotel-hopping, sharing a room with my husband and two children, ages 9 and 11, as we try to find longer-term housing options. I spend my days trying to keep up with what’s happening in the DRC, working, checking on colleagues, wondering if our home and possessions back in Kinshasa have been looted or destroyed, and refreshing emails to see if I have been placed on administrative leave or fired. Uncertainty and insecurity frame every thought and decision I try to make. I am paralyzed as the actions of this administration continue to harm my colleagues, our partners, and the people we serve as we work to make America safe, strong, and prosperous. USAID Is Not a Charity I have served with USAID, advancing U.S. strategic interests abroad for more than 15 years. During my career, I’ve been an FSN [locally employed staff], a USAID contractor, an FSL [Foreign Service Limited employee], and finally an FSO. From day one, I understood that USAID is not a charity—it is an investment in American security. My efforts contributed to reducing youth radicalization, fostering economic partnerships, and strengthening diplomatic ties. One of the most effective programs I led was an English language initiative in a MENA country [Middle East and North Africa], which successfully integrated English into the national curriculum from primary school through university. This program was not just about language—it was about building proAmerican sentiment, expanding economic opportunities, and countering misinformation. I was on the verge of replicating this success in Mali for 20,000 young people when the decision to recall FSOs and shut down critical programs came down from the new administration. This decision directly undermines U.S. influence and security efforts in regions vulnerable to extremism. On a personal level, this action has left my family in crisis. Losing my job means I can no longer afford my small apartment in Virginia, the only home I have. With no means to cover the mortgage, I face foreclosure. Worse, my daughter will be forced to drop out of school, derailing her future. My husband and I now face homelessness, with nowhere to go once we return to the U.S. Our savings will not sustain us for more than a month. Food Left to Rot I am from Pennsylvania and have been with USAID for more than a decade. I have worked in several sectors— economic growth, education, and democracy and governance—across several continents and countries, including Afghanistan. I speak three languages and have attained the highest level of education. Using the administration’s own terminology, I am highly qualified and “have merit,” having overcome some of the challenges of being from a historically marginalized community. On the day the stop-work order was announced, my [implementing partners] were in the field, heading out to provide meals to hundreds of hungry children in drought-stricken and conflict-affected communities. In compliance with the stopwork order, we stopped delivery of the meals. The perishable foods were left to rot while the children went hungry. Letting 52 APRIL-MAY 2025 | THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL
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