Learning to Fill the Space

GRIP: World Medical Association

Cover image: Inside the Palais des Nations at the International Labour Conference

When people ask what I’ve been doing this summer, I usually start with the straightforward version.

For the past six weeks, I have been working in Geneva and Ferney-Voltaire as an intern with the World Medical Association (WMA). During that time, I have observed global health governance firsthand by attending major international meetings, including the World Health Assembly and the International Labour Conference, alongside discussions with physicians, policymakers, and United Nations experts.

This version is true.

But it leaves out the part of the experience that has occupied my thoughts most often: figuring out how to belong in these spaces as a student.

The first time I attended a World Health Assembly side event, I felt completely out of place. Around me were government officials, medical leaders, and experts with decades of experience in global health. The room felt shaped by people who belonged in it.

And then there was me.

I spent an embarrassing amount of time rehearsing how to introduce myself.

“Hi, I’m Madeleine, and I’m an intern at the World Medical Association.”

Or maybe:

“Hi, I’m Madeleine, and I’m a student at Penn.”

Neither felt quite right. The first seemed too grand, as though I was claiming expertise I certainly did not have as a teenager barely halfway through my degree. The second seemed too small for rooms where major decisions about global health were being discussed. And neither began with the “Dr.” or “Your Excellency” prefixes I kept hearing around me.

In practice, I usually settled somewhere in between, but even that did not resolve the underlying discomfort. More often than not, I was the youngest person in the room by a significant margin, sometimes by twenty years or more. That awareness made every introduction feel more visible than I wanted it to be, as though my presence itself required explanation.

Over time, I began to realize that this question of how to introduce myself was really part of something larger I was still learning to sit with: how to occupy space in professional environments while still figuring out where I fit within them.

At the International Labour Organization, I was introduced to the principle of Tripartism, which brings together workers, employers, and governments to shape labor policy. Although rooted in labor governance, the concept gave me a new way of thinking about the collaborative nature of global health. The conversations I observed brought together people from different professions, sectors, and backgrounds, each contributing a distinct perspective on the same challenge. Seeing how much these discussions relied on diverse voices made me more confident in my own place within them. While I was still a student, I came to see my perspective not as an exception, but as another part of a broader conversation.

The WMA itself sits at the intersection of medical ethics, professional representation, and global health policy. It represents medical associations from 117 countries and works to develop consensus on issues ranging from physician ethics to health systems and human rights. Much of this work happens quietly, through consultation, drafting, and negotiation, long before any policy is ever debated in a public forum.

My work at the WMA has also given me a greater appreciation for everything that happens behind the scenes. My days have included supporting policy reviews, preparing materials for major international meetings, and assisting collaborations with national medical associations. Much of this work happens far from conference stages, yet it is essential to building the consensus that allows international organizations to function.

Beyond the work, I have also been learning what it means to live in one of the world’s most international regions.

Each morning, I cross an international border on my commute between Geneva, Switzerland, where I live, and Ferney-Voltaire, France, where I work. What initially felt unusual has quickly become routine. Geneva itself feels unlike any city I have experienced before; nearly everyone seems to have arrived from somewhere else, and everyday interactions reflect that global mix.

I have also been adjusting to a different pace of life. Coming from a university environment where schedules often feel packed from morning until night, I was surprised by the value placed on slowing down. Lunches are not rushed, conversations are allowed to continue, and not every moment is optimized for productivity.

Many evenings end with a swim in Lake Geneva, and weekends have taken me through Alpine towns, Parisian cafes, and vast coastal vineyards. Along the way, I’ve experienced the highs and lows of solo travel, eaten more croissants than I could have imagined, and learned enough French to pass as a local for the first 15 seconds of conversation.

Halfway through the summer, I still find myself in rooms that feel intimidating. I still wonder whether I am introducing myself the right way. But I am becoming more comfortable asking questions, starting conversations, and recognizing that being a student is not something to minimize.

As I look ahead to the second half of the summer, I know there is still much more to learn about global health policy, international collaboration, and the people working behind the scenes to shape both. For now, I am grateful for the opportunity to listen, learn, and continue growing into spaces that once felt far beyond my reach.