Wednesday, November 21, 2018 // The Statement
4B
Wednesday, November 21, 2018 // The Statement 
 
5B

O

n a sweltering day 
in 
Washington, 
D.C., the 8:30 a.m. 
Metro rush hour is filled with 
college students wearing a 
range of business casual to 
formal clothing, a lanyard 
and photo ID hanging around 
their necks. Knowing D.C., 
with its crowd of “Hillterns” 
and non-profit interns, most 
of these students are probably 
off 
to 
their 
unpaid 
gig. 
Probably the minority receive 
any payment, much less a 
stipend for transportation or 
housing.
Eight and a half hours 
later: Cue the 5:00 p.m. rush. 
The same students have left 
their buildings — perhaps 
a tie is loosened, high heels 
switched for sneakers — and 
the Metro is full of bodies 
pressed against one another, 
trying to find a space on their 
way home, trying not to fall 
over as the Metro careens to 
an abrupt stop. As everyone 
rushes off their last stop to 
get home, I get off mine to 
walk to my next job for a six-
hour shift at Anthropologie 
after an eight-hour one at my 
unpaid internship. 

I

t’s not that I didn’t 
receive any financial 
support 
from 
the 
University of Michigan — in 
fact, I was really lucky to 
receive more from an LSA 
scholarship than I expected 
— but it wasn’t able to cover 
all of my expenses in D.C. 
Hence, the second job at 
Anthropologie. I still had to 
think about the rent I had to 
pay for my off-campus house 
in Ann Arbor, my future rent 
for the school year and saving 
up for loans. You get the idea. 
And while my internship 
gave 
us 
a 
$50 
monthly 
stipend for transportation, 
it wasn’t enough to cover my 
transportation costs (thanks, 
Metro peak pricing!).
So 
while 
I 
had 
been 
applying for LSA scholarships 
for my internship, I was also 
applying for jobs in D.C. I 
arrived two weeks prior to 
the start of my internship 
to interview for a paid job, 
and luckily, I got the first 
and only one I interviewed 
for, at Anthropologie. Since 
my internship was set for 
25 hours per week — the 
nonprofit was very flexible 
with our hours — I asked for 

20 at Anthropologie.
For 
anyone 
who’s 
ever 
worked in food service or 
retail before, you’ll know that 
employers always schedule 
you for more hours than you 
asked for. And so it came as no 
surprise that Anthropologie 

scheduled me for more than 
20 hours per week, sometimes 
creeping close to 30.
It wasn’t often that I’d 
have to go straight from 
my internship to my retail 
job. Most of the time, I’d be 
working six days a week, 
eight and a half for three days 
at my internship, nine for 
three days at Anthropologie. 
I still managed to squeeze 
some time to go to the free 
museums in D.C. and some 

other touristy things, but I 
was always exhausted.
Because I was working 
part-time at my internship, 
I often felt like I would 
be missing out on making 
personal 
and 
professional 
connections on the days that 
I wasn’t there. I wasn’t able 
to go to any of the happy 
hours 
that 
the 
nonprofit 
hosted because I’d always be 
scheduled at Anthropologie 
during those times, and this 
too added to my sense of 
missing out on opportunities.
Looking back, it all sounds 
pretty silly, but at the time 
my FOMO got the better of 
me and made me feel like 
these kinds of events were 
essential for networking and 
thinking about future career 
opportunities, 
and 
that 
missing them would take me a 
step backward from everyone 
else. I realize now that this is 
an exaggeration.
There were days, of course, 
when I wish I didn’t have to 
take on a second job in order 
to support myself with an 
unpaid internship. My mom 

works two jobs seven days 
a week all year-round. I 
couldn’t even fathom doing 
so for more than a summer, 
and I have no idea how some 
students at the University 
juggle two jobs with a full 
course load throughout the 
school year. I can barely 
handle one.
There were days when 
I wish I pursued studies 
in a field where they were 
guaranteed to give you a paid 

internship. 
Hearing 
from 
my friends about their paid 
computer science internships, 
paid engineering internships 
and paid laboratory research 
internships made me jealous, 
though I never told them this, 
nor admitted it to myself.
There were days when I 
reminded myself that I was 
lucky and privileged to have 
an internship in the first 
place since there can be so 
many barriers to obtaining 
one. Who was I to complain 
about interning and working 
and living in D.C., when so 
many cannot afford to do so? 
Who was I to complain when 
the situation of juggling two 
jobs temporarily was the 
daily reality for so many?
My experience is certainly 
not unique to what nearly 
all low-income, and some 
middle-income students like 
myself, have to face when 
deciding to pursue that unpaid 
internship. 
I 
knew 
three 
other people who also took 
on a second job in addition 
to their unpaid internship 
this summer. Having that 
knowledge made me feel less 
alone, and yet I was always 
aware that it seemed like 
there were fewer of us who 
had to do this in comparison 
to those who could afford to 
get by with just an unpaid 
summer internship.
Finding internships for the 
summer is stressful. It’s that 
time of year when I need to 
start making plans for the 
summer again, editing my 
resume and thinking about 
what paid job I would need 
to get if I am accepted in an 
unpaid internship, or if I 
am not. In the midst of the 
holidays and looming finals, it 
all seems overwhelming — but 
if I made it through last year, 
made it through a 25-minute 
walk to Anthropologie in 
the humid, suffocating heat 
after an eight-hour day at my 
internship — then I can make 
it through again.

Two jobs, one paycheck

BY MONICA KIM, CONTRIBUTOR

For anyone who’s ever worked 

in food service or retail before, 

you’ll know that employers always 

schedule you for more hours than 

you asked for.

I

n one of the first weeks of my 
summer 
at 
the 
Democratic 
Congressional 
Campaign 
Committee in Washington D.C., 
the chairman came down to introduce 
himself to the interns. When introducing 
ourselves he asked the interns to answer 
“how we found the DCCC, or how the 
DCCC found us.” As my fellow interns went 
around the room, I quickly realized that my 
story was not like the rest of my peers.
“My aunt is a major political influencer 
and she connected me.”
“My brother used to work here.”
“My mother is a Congresswoman.”
My answer: I had applied online and 
decided to accept the offer. No one flagged 
my resume or knew me before I had arrived. 
Before I arrived in D.C., I had no exposure 
to the networking-based job market, which 
often blurs the lines between professional 
connections and nepotism. My dad grew 
up lower-middle class and my mom 
immigrated from China just a year before 
I was born. I had no family connections in 
D.C. who could set me up for a job like so 
many of my peers.

Another thing the other interns had 
in common: They were wealthy and 
mostly white. In a class of 22 interns, four 
(including myself) were people of color. 
My peers ate sushi and purchased food 
for lunch every day, while I budgeted 
$25 a week for groceries. They lived in 
townhouses in Georgetown, while I had a 
room smaller than my freshman dorm 
with three other girls on bunk beds.
I knew that this internship 
would be unpaid when I was 
selected for it. I had worked for 
the year before with 
the 
goal of saving for the 
summer. I made a 
budget. I picked the 
cheapest housing I 
could find. So when I 
arrived in D.C., I felt 
relatively 
prepared 
to 
live 
frugally 
but 
ready 
to 
survive in 
 

the city. But I wasn’t prepared for the 
culture shock of the D.C. world of unpaid 
internships.
There were often points in conversation 
where I felt uncomfortable, like the odd 
one out. This was my first exposure to 
Washington and its East Coast elitism. 
The interns I worked with were nice and 
talented, but they came from a different 
world than I did. They all had pictures of 
themselves with famous politicians from 
fundraisers their parents were invited to 
and grew up talking politics, whereas my 
family never did those things.
I also was not the only one who felt 
this way. Another intern (who also 
goes to the University of Michigan) 
became my ally in the organization, 
as we were both Midwestern Asians 
in the political elite environment. 
Often we would lock eyes when one 
of our colleagues said something 
controversial or strange with a 
mutual understanding of our 
circumstance.
It 
was 
in 
this 
environment 
that 
I 
realized that something 
needed to be done. 
Someone had to step 
up and point out that 
not everyone had the 
same opportunities 
in 
this 
unpaid 
structure, that the 
unpaid 
nature 
of the internship 
prevents 
lower-
income 
and 
diverse candidates 
from working in 
an 
organization 
and for a party that 

prides itself on representing those groups.
Thus began my crusade to create 
a paid internship program at the DCCC.
I reached out to an organization called 
Pay Our Interns, who had just secured 
funding for interns in the Senate. They 
suggested that I draft a letter to the 
DCCC leaders urging them to start a paid 
internship program and have other interns 
sign on, which I did. Most of my peers 
supported the effort and signed on, though 
a few were hesitant and feared backlash.
In the end, the letter picked up some 
traction in the press and the DCCC agreed 
to begin paying their interns in the future.
This victory was not personal. I didn’t 
get paid from this, nor did I earn any 
significant praise for leading this charge, 
and I didn’t want any of that. If people 
bring it up nowadays, I tend to brush it off 
as just sort of something that happened 
without boasting. This article isn’t meant 
to brag about some accomplishment of 
mine. Instead, I hope to convey the message 
of why unpaid internships are harmful 
to lower-income students, as they grant 
opportunities only to those who can afford 
them.
If we want to make significant change in 
Washington then the people who have the 
opportunity to get their foot in the door 
here with increasingly essential internships 
cannot just be rich white people. Even the 
well-intentioned and qualified rich people, 
like those at the DCCC, cannot truly 
understand the perspectives of those from 
lower-income or minority communities, 
and that gets reflected in their policies.
Paid 
internships 
are 
essential 
to 
increasing representation in Washington 
and providing opportunities to all young 
people. I am proud of the DCCC — and now 
Congress — for taking action to pay interns.

Fighting for future 
interns’ pay

BY LYDIA MURRAY, CONTRIBUTOR

ILLUSTRATION BY MICHELLE FAN

ILLUSTRATION BY BETSY STUBBS

I knew that this internship would be unpaid 

when I was selected for it. I had worked for the 

year before with the goal of saving for the summer. 

I made a budget. I picked the cheapest housing I 

could find... But I wasn’t prepared for the culture 

shock of the D.C. world of unpaid internships.

