— Dawn Brunkalla, mother to Elise (22), who has Down syndrome, was largely included throughout her education and has always earned at least minimum wage in competitive employment in the United States.

For more than two decades, disability advocacy has been central to my life, shaping not only my work but also my family’s values and daily experiences. I have focused on advancing inclusive education, fair wages, and independent living with appropriate supports in the United States. These are not abstract policy goals to me; they are lived realities that have defined my daughter’s opportunities.

This year, our family relocated to Germany. We are grateful to be here and have met some wonderful people. At the same time, we are navigating a system that approaches disability policy, employment, and independence differently than what we experienced in Ohio.

One moment, in particular, brought these differences into sharp focus. Shortly after we arrived, we were asked which workshop Elise would attend. In Ohio, the workshop model, which often refers to segregated, facility-based employment, is increasingly viewed as outdated and inconsistent with the push toward competitive, integrated employment. It simply has not been part of our vocabulary or our expectations for many years.

That moment was not about judgment but about realization. We were entering a system shaped by a different history, different policies, and different assumptions about disability and work.

In the United States, we continue to push forward policies that prioritize inclusion (ending subminimum wage, maintaining community-based services, and strengthening pathways to competitive, integrated employment). Even from abroad, many of us remain engaged in that work through Democrats Abroad and other advocacy efforts. Our commitment to these values does not end at the border.

At the same time, living in Germany has required us to listen and learn. Germany offers important supports but its structures around disability, work, and independence can reflect a different philosophy and one that, at times, feels less aligned with the inclusion first model we have worked toward in the US.

This raises a complex question:

As Americans living abroad, how do we navigate the space between advocacy and respect of our new home?

Do we step back and adapt quietly out of respect for a different system?

Or do we continue to advocate for the principles we believe in, both in the U.S. and, thoughtfully, within our new communities?

For me, the answer lies in somewhat of a balance. We can and should continue advocating for U.S. policies that advance equity and inclusion. At the same time, as residents of another country, we have a responsibility to engage with humility: to understand the history, the legal framework, and the cultural context before seeking change.

Advocacy, in this sense, may look different. It may begin with listening, with building relationships, and with sharing perspectives rather than leading with them. It may mean supporting dialogue, exchanging ideas, and identifying common ground rather than assuming one system has all the answers. But make no mistake, Elise will not work in a segregated workshop making less than minimum wage. She wants to learn German and travel and find work in the community, at a cafe or in food service, and to continue to use her voice while she finds her way in her new home.

As her mother and biggest advocate, I am still finding my way in this space too. Holding onto the values that define our family while learning how to live respectfully within a new system.

I invite fellow Americans abroad, particularly those engaged in disability advocacy, to join this conversation. How do we share ideas across systems? How do we support progress both in the United States and globally while honoring the communities we now call home?