I’m 17, and I’ve lived the past 4 years of my life with type 1 diabetes. But up until a few weeks ago, I’d never said those words—*“I have type 1 diabetes”—*in front of a crowd, let alone in front of a congressman.
I used to freeze up even thinking about speaking publicly. My voice would catch, my palms would sweat, and the words I practiced would vanish the second I needed them. But something changed this year. I started learning more about the Special Diabetes Program—the $160 million that goes to the NIH every year to fund the exact kind of research that’s kept me healthy and on track. The same program that expires next year if Congress doesn’t act. Suddenly, the idea of staying quiet felt more terrifying than speaking up.
So I wrote everything I wanted to say on a notecard. I practiced in front of my mirror, in front of my dog, then my mom, then my entire biology class. I signed up to be a Breakthrough T1D Advocate, and when they said there was an opportunity to meet with our local representative, I raised my hand before my fear could stop me.
The meeting was in a small, windowless office in D.C. The congressman was polite, distracted at first, and clearly used to people asking for things. But when I told him that I was diagnosed 4 years ago and that my insulin pump and CGM were products of the very research the SDP helps fund, he looked up. I told him about the artificial pancreas trials, the advances in eye disease treatment, how this research had made it possible for me to live like a normal kid, to dream about college, to dance at prom without checking my blood sugar every hour.
And then I looked him in the eye and said, “This program isn’t just about science. It’s about giving kids like me a future. And if we let it expire, that future shrinks.”
I walked out shaking but proud. I had done it. I had found my voice—not just for myself, but for the millions of others living with T1D. And I’ll keep using it.
Because this matters.
Because the road to a cure depends on us showing up and being heard.

Stand and Deliver: Making My Argument on Capitol Hill. You can too :)
Why a Bunch of Kids (and I) Showed Up on Capitol Hill for T1Diabetes — and Why You Should Care
In July 2025, Breakthrough T1D (that’s JDRF’s new name) brought 170 kid and teen delegates from all 50 states to Washington, D.C. to ask Congress for two BIG things:
Picture this: 170 of us (kids and teens in blue shirts) swarming the Capitol with parent chaperones, insulin pumps and CGMs buzzing, and folders full of personal stories. It was Children’s Congress; Breakthrough T1D’s big, every‑other‑year advocacy event (July 7–9, 2025).
What it is: Since 1997, the SDP has sent dedicated federal dollars into Type 1 diabetes research at the NIH. If you’ve heard of CGMs, smarter pumps, artificial‑pancreas systems, screening for risk, or Tzield (the first drug that can delay the onset of T1D) — SDP helped make that possible.What we asked for: Don’t let it expire. Keep funding steady (the current target is $160 million per year) so long‑running clinical trials don’t get cut mid‑stream. That’s how we get to real cell therapies and, eventually, cures.
What happened:
Why it matters: Research can’t sprint if Congress keeps moving the finish line. Multi‑year funding lets scientists plan bold trials instead of living grant‑to‑grant.
There’s no point inventing life‑changing tech if people can’t afford the basics. Alongside research, we pressed for insulin affordability and policies that lower out‑of‑pocket costs for supplies (sensors, pumps, infusion sets). Think caps, transparency, and fixing the weird rebate loopholes that jack up prices. Why it matters: No one should ration the hormone that literally keeps them alive — especially not in the same country funding the research that proves what’s possible.
Short answer: Yes — and it’s still working.
Policy isn’t a movie with a single satisfying ending. It’s more like a series: cliffhangers, mid‑season wins, and a lot of “previously on…” The point is, we changed the plot.
Because science plus policy is how we win. Research turns donations into discoveries. Policy turns discoveries into real‑life care you can access. One without the other is a half‑built bridge.Also: the kids you saw in those blue shirts? We’re not props. We’re future doctors, artists, engineers, teachers — people who will build the world you’ll live in. Give us working pancreases (or the next best thing), and watch what happens.
People like to say “kids are our future.” Cute. But the truth is, we’re here now — writing testimony between AP Lit essays, swapping infusion sets between classes, and showing up in rooms where decisions get made. July 2025 proved something simple and powerful: When we tell our stories, Congress listens. When Congress listens, research moves. When research moves, lives change. Let’s keep it moving!
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