As a kid growing up on a 12-mile-long island in the Pacific, I never imagined I’d be walking the halls of Congress and sitting in rooms where national decisions are made. Yet, this past summer, I found myself in Washington, D.C., about 7,800 miles away from home, dressed in a suit and tie, trying to understand a world that often forgets small places like Saipan even exist.
Through the Asian Pacific American Institute for Congressional Studies (APAICS), I spent two months interning under Rep. Kimberlyn King-Hinds, a Republican delegate for the Northern Mariana Islands. It was an experience that helped the way I see leadership, the difference between local and federal government, and my own responsibility as a citizen of the United States.
The highlight of my internship was meeting the House speaker. Before a meeting with Speaker Mike Johnson (R-Ohio) and Rep. King-Hinds, I introduced myself as a CNMI native and her intern and asked for a photo when the meeting was done. As I was about to leave, he said, “Easton, why don’t you join this meeting?” I took a seat, speechless but grateful.
When the topic of opportunities for young people in the CNMI came up, Speaker Johnson turned to me and asked why I had left home. I told him the truth. I wanted to gain experience and bring it back home. That exact moment was a strong reminder of my purpose. My presence was more than just an internship; it was about representing my islands and being ready when someone finally asks what my community needs.
Working in Washington showed me how much effort it takes to represent a small district like the CNMI, a place many people don’t know exists. “Northern Marinara Islands,” as people would often mispronounce as opposed to “Northern Mariana Islands.” It’s not easy being a voice for a small community that many people in the mainland have never heard of. Every meeting, handshake, and policy discussion matters when you’re trying to make sure your home is included in the conversation.
I met people I never thought I’d meet, like cabinet members, influential lawmakers, and the speaker of the house himself. Although titles sound nice, what struck me the most was how human these people are. They wanted to know who I was and where I came from. For a moment, the CNMI had their attention, and I was proud to be the one sharing our story.
Throughout the summer, I saw how divided and intense politics can be, especially during the debates over the so-called “One Big Beautiful Bill.” Watching it unfold reminded me that democracy is messy, but it only works when people care enough to be part of it. Some loved it, some hated it, and the environment around the Capitol got tense.
It was the first time in my life that I saw people actually protesting for many hours, sometimes days. There was even a time when it was highly recommended for safety reasons to take off your tie and put away your house badge before getting on the metro.
My time in Washington taught me something simple but powerful. Leadership starts with listening and learning. You don’t have to come from a big state or have a fancy title to make a difference. You just need to show up, speak up, and remember where you come from and how you got to where you’re at.
For me, that means carrying the CNMI with me wherever I go, and one day, bringing everything I’ve learned back home.
Take the risk. You will never know where it will lead you. If I had let my fears stop me, I would’ve missed out on one of the most eye-opening experiences in my life. Sometimes, it takes getting out of your comfort zone to find your true purpose. To me, it meant leaving the island life for the fast-paced, crowded halls of Congress.