This past week I had the opportunity to testify in Congress at a subcommittee meeting by the House Oversight Committee on Oversight and Reform.
I had been to speak to members of Congress twice before, but this was a little different. The first time was to ask them to reauthorize CHIP insurance. No members of Congress showed up once Senator Casey left the room. The second time was as a member of the Poor People’s Campaign, and it was only arranged to be for Democratic Senators. They weren’t really interested in what I had to say because I was talking about SNAP, and it’s not very sexy.
But this time it was a whole different vibe.
To begin with, I was contacted three months before the hearing. I had to be interviewed, twice. There was so much to think about and to decide and to keep up with that the last week or so before the hearing, and I was completely overwhelmed. For example, I had to submit a written testimony days in advance so that it could be entered into the official record. I also had to speak with Republican staffers days before so they could learn about my testimony and then find their own witnesses.
I was told the day before the hearing who their witnesses were and was kind of surprised that Carol Miller from the Huntington area was the W.Va. Representative chosen to speak. I figured it would be someone closer to home. For the record, Rep. Miller spoke about how the Mountain State was better off than we were in 1863 and before the Industrial Age – or something like that – leaving the three West Virginians in the room staring at each other and scratching our heads.
I wasn’t very nervous until I had to take my seat and be sworn in. There was something very intimidating about the whole thing. I mean, I knew what my speech said and had practiced it enough that I pretty much had it memorized, but there was a bit of pressure. I had been told several times that I was going to go last because I would be the heart of the hearing.
So, I sat and listened to everyone else speak in their nice, even tones, and then I heard the chairman call my name.
I took a deep breath and came in smooth.
“My name is Amy Jo Hutchison. I’m a single mom who’s lived in West Virginia all of my life.”
That was easy, and I kept it moving.
“I’m here today to help you better understand poverty, because that’s my lived experience, and to acknowledge the biased beliefs that poor people are lazy and poverty is their fault.”
Easy.
But it was then when I began to tell the stories of two women I know that my emotions began to come through. I know these women. I’ve been told their stories. I know their names. When I got to the “Children will never escape poverty as long as they’re relying on a Head of Household who is poor,” my heart started to pound faster, and my voice cracked.
Then I said, “Poverty rolls off the backs of parents and right onto the shoulders of our children despite how hard we try.”
It was right then, at that moment, when I knew I had to dig deep and get that story told.
I didn’t go into the hearing lightly. I realized full well that out of 46 million poor people in America, I had been given the chance to tell the story. I had been given the space to tell the stories of what it’s really like out here. People are working two and three jobs and can’t afford food and healthcare at the same time. Kids are going to lose access to free and reduced meals because of policy recently twisted.
And I was terrified. My voice was shaking. My hands were shaking. But I don’t have to read about the people in poverty because I know them. I know their names and their kids’ names. I know their struggles because I’ve sat and held their truth with them. I didn’t know how it would end. I mean, I pointed out that they spent $40,000 a year on furniture, which is $360 more than the federal poverty guidelines for a family of SEVEN!
But I pushed through my fear and I did it. I said what I said. And, obviously, I made a huge impact.
The last I heard, I was trending on Twitter and had over a million views. That was one site and one video; there are quite a few floating around. I was asked by a representative from North Carolina to make a list of three ways the safety net programs could help a family get on their feet and be self-reliant, so there’s a survey out there for that. I’ve literally had long lost relatives reach out to me. The whole thing is surreal.
I’ve read some of the comments, and most were supportive. There have been middle-aged white men who have to make fat jokes. I have responded to some and others I have let go. I have also been told several times to stop having kids I can’t afford, which again lays the blame on me rather than on the other person who created these lives with me (their loss, and we’re probably better off, by the way). But when I receive an email or a message from a woman somewhere in the U.S., thanking me for telling her story and then read her truth that she trusts me with … when I hear a woman say, “I feel seen for the first time…” well, it was all worth it.
I’ve cried no less than three times a day since the hearing on Wednesday. I’ve been recognized everywhere I’ve gone since then, which is really weird for me and my kids. Over a million people have sat through my testimony at a subcommittee hearing. I am thinking that’s probably a record for civic engagement on that level. I’ve realized that I have been preparing for that moment for years, and I’ve proven that I won’t ask anyone to do something that I won’t do myself.
My biggest concern going in was that I would say what I needed to say, and I think I did. The fact that members of the House are retweeting my video is pretty impactful.
So, here’s to our truths, as uncomfortable and messy as they are, and I can’t wait to see what’s next.
Onward,
Amy Jo
