From Hiding to Speaking: How Partners in Policymaking Changed My Family
By Meske Owens
Before I participated in Partners in Policymaking, my life—and my children’s lives—were defined by overwhelm and isolation and our world was very small.
I am the single mother of 5 kids, 2 grown and 3 still at home. All 4 of my boys have disabilities of some kind, and one is on the autism spectrum. Trauma, PTSD, ADHD, and mental health challenges shaped our daily reality in ways that were constant, exhausting, and largely invisible to the outside world, but relentless inside our home. I was also navigating my own long-term mental health conditions while trying to keep my family safe, housed and functioning with very little support and no clear roadmap.
At that time, I didn’t just feel overwhelmed. I felt lost. I didn’t know who could help us, where to turn, what services existed, or how to even ask the right questions. Our support system was thin. Our lives felt out of control. There were days when simply getting through the next hour felt like success.
We didn’t just struggle- we withdrew.
We stopped going places.
We stopped engaging.
We stopped asking questions.
In many ways, we went into hiding—not because we wanted to, but because survival took everything we had.
Policy wasn’t even on the radar because I was doing everything I could to keep my children afloat while quietly unraveling myself, and I did not see myself as someone who belonged anywhere near policy conversations. The systems that were supposed to support families like mine felt distant, confusing, and closed off. Policy felt like something that happened somewhere else—by people with degrees, titles, and confidence I didn’t have. I was surviving, not participating and certainly not thriving.
Partners in Policymaking changed that—slowly at first, and then all at once.
One of the most pivotal shifts for me was the realization that trauma itself is a disability. Not a character flaw. Not a failure. A disability with real neurological, emotional, and functional consequences. That understanding reframed my life- my children’s experiences, my own mental health, and the systems we had been struggling to navigate without a map.
Another turning point was learning how the Legislature actually works—how decisions are made, who holds influence, and where lived experience belongs in that process. For the first time, policy wasn’t abstract. It was human. It was reachable, learnable and, unexpectedly, it was accessible.
Partners in Policymaking did something subtle but profound—it gave me permission.
Permission to speak- not as a guest or charity case.
But permission to take up space.
Permission to understand that my lived experience was not something to overcome before being heard, but something that qualified me to be at the table.
It also gave me some things I didn’t have before-
The ability to see decision makers as real people. The language to describe what families like mine actually face and something I had not realized how deeply I needed: community. A community of people who understood disability, trauma, and systems not as theory, but as daily life. People who didn’t need things explained or softened. People who reminded me—by example—that voices like mine belong in decision-making spaces.
With that foundation, I began doing things I never imagined myself doing. After graduating from Partners in Policymaking, my life did not suddenly become easier. But it became clearer.
I began writing publicly about disability, trauma, and systems that fail families like mine. I started meeting with legislators—first nervously, then purposefully. I requested an interim study. I spoke at that interim study. I worked alongside former legislators, researchers, and medical professionals to prepare materials grounded in both data and lived experience. I built genuine working relationships with policymakers, including my own legislators. And I have been invited to speak and contribute to federal reporting and public-facing work.
Most importantly, I stopped waiting for permission from systems that were never designed to offer it.
These are not abstract accomplishments. They are concrete outcomes of leadership development rooted in lived experience.
The impact of Partners in Policymaking didn’t stop with me. The impact on my children has been equally real.
Through connections and knowledge gained through PIP, my family has accessed resources that help us navigate complex systems—especially in education. I am better equipped to advocate during IEP meetings. I know how to translate my child’s needs into language schools understand and are required to respond to. My children benefit directly from my ability to move through systems with confidence instead of fear.
Through relationships and connections made in PIP, I also became a Children’s Trust Fund Alliance Certified Protective Factors Trainer, extending the impact beyond my own family and into the community—supporting other parents who are still where I once was.
Perhaps most importantly, we are no longer alone. We are no longer isolated. We are no longer invisible. We are connected to a community that understands disability, trauma, and parenting without judgment—and that kind of belonging changes everything.
Partners in Policymaking does not simply educate participants. It creates advocates. They build capacity—not just for individuals, but for systems.
PIP transforms overwhelmed parents into informed advocates who can engage systems, shape policy, and protect not only their own children—but thousands of others. It bridges the gap between lived experience and policymaking. It ensures that decisions affecting people with disabilities are shaped by those who actually live those realities every day.
From a federal perspective, this is not just meaningful—it is high return on investment.
Partners in Policymaking is a low-cost, high-impact program that prevents downstream failures. When families understand systems earlier, crises are reduced. When parents are equipped to advocate effectively, costly delays in services decrease. When lived experience informs policy, programs work better and waste less.
Without programs like PIP, families remain isolated, trauma goes unrecognized, and systems continue to operate without the insight of the people they serve. With PIP, something different happens: people step out of hiding. They engage. They lead. They help build solutions that are smarter, more humane, and more effective.
Before Partners in Policymaking, I was trying to survive quietly. Because of it, I am helping shape a future where families like mine are seen, heard, and supported—early, effectively, and with dignity.
That is not incidental.
That is impact.
