Each political discussion I have with my father has an inevitable end, usually set off when I display a bit too much passion. He'll heave a huge sigh before justifying his lack of civic engagement by saying, “Who cares what I think? I'm just an old man.”

This infuriates me for two reasons. One: He's my daddy, he's a superhero, his opinions matter, and his actions have impact (just ask my therapist). And two: WTF, my guy?! It can take decades for change to occur, and my father has a duty to use his political privilege to help create a better world for his grandchildren. I was thinking about generational impact as I reflected on my recent participation in Legislative Action Day, organized by the Exhibitions and Conferences Alliance (ECA). Each May, industry professionals gather in Washington, D.C., to meet with their legislators and advocate for the events industry. This year, advocates talked with legislators about workforce development and lengthy visa wait times that effectively block international participation from U.S. trade shows. There was record participation.

I'm enough of an activist in my home state that I have a favorite chanting spot on the Rhode Island State House lawn (it's under a tree, comfortably away from where news cameras set up but within shouting distance of the building's steps). Although I've stood in the governor's office and testified at judiciary committee hearings, the thought of taking that activism to the national level made my palms sweat. But my motto has lately become “Do it scared,” so I took a leap made much easier by the ECA's Tommy Goodwin, who spent weeks prepping participants and provided us each with a parachute that ensured a gentle landing.

My first meeting performance was less than stellar as I delivered our talking points for the first time, but I hit my stride during the second meeting when I had a lively and wide-ranging conversation with Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse's staff. We covered everything from education to airports to the best burger in Rhode Island (it's Haven Brothers — I unfortunately can't recommend the food, but the experience is unmatched).

Legislators and their staff were warm, welcoming, and supportive. Our advocacy helps them advance causes they're already committed to or shines a spotlight on something they haven't yet seen. Even those who don't want to hear from us are obligated to listen, and there's power in that knowledge.

I often hear people say that working in the events industry can feel like running on a hamster wheel, particularly for those new in their careers. And it was heartening to see industry leaders who have the luxury of looking beyond the next hour in their day to advocate not only for themselves, but for those still on the hamster wheel and for generations yet to come.

Industry advocacy isn't an all-or-nothing activity. The ECA developed a number of advocacy programs that allow professionals to promote the industry while honoring their own time and comfort levels. You don't have to fly to Washington to make a difference. Simply remaining informed about the issues and sharing information with others keeps the spark alive. And I see you, introverts. If you prefer to keep your advocacy online, you can join the ECA's social-influencer program, which asks that you do nothing more than share industry news and updates with your social media networks. The seconds you spend clicking “share” have a direct and lasting impact.

Like my dad for his grandchildren, those of us who have the privilege of participating in the legislative process have an obligation to do so for those who come after us. Yes, forces outside our control can impact us for a season or two, but we're playing the long game here, and this industry will only be as good as the future we decide to make for it. E