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In ELLE.com’s monthly series Office Hours, we ask people in powerful positions to take us through their first jobs, worst jobs, and everything in between. This month, we spoke to Angela Ferrell-Zabala, the executive director of Moms Demand Action, the grassroots arm of Everytown for Gun Safety, the nation’s largest gun violence prevention organization. Powered by volunteers, Moms Demand Action advocates across the country for gun safety measures, including expanding background checks and keeping guns out of the hands of domestic abusers. A longtime organizer, Ferrell-Zabala spent five years at Planned Parenthood, where she became the national director of strategic partnerships, before joining Everytown in 2019 and being named executive director in 2023. “It was an honor to be able to dive in,” Ferrell-Zabala says of being offered the role. “It was also scary, because this is literally a life-or-death issue. Too many lives have been taken and stolen, because there are so many folks who don’t have the courage to do the right thing.” Below, the mother of four reveals the career advice Vice President Kamala Harris gave her, how she approaches talking to people who don’t agree with her politically, and the surprising job she’d consider taking on next.
My first job
I worked at McDonald’s when I was 16. It was my very first paid job, and it lasted one week—not because I got fired, just because it was not for me. But through that, I learned to have patience with myself and that it’s OK to not be perfect; it takes a team, not just one person. I still carry that throughout my work.
My worst job
Several times during college I got a telemarketing job. The very first one was Together Dating Service. We had to call strangers and get them signed up to pay for this dating service, which sounds so archaic now. I remember how anxious I would be every time I picked up the phone. Then I moved up to Craftmatic Adjustable Beds. I had to get salespeople appointments and entice customers by offering them a free pillow. That was hard. But there are always lessons learned, including being able to talk to almost anybody. That translated years and years later into being able to do phone banking or even door knocking. It gave me the confidence to be able to do that.
How I got introduced to advocacy work
I’ve always had a fire in my belly, and it’s really about justice. When we lived in Philly, we lived on a block where there were break-ins happening. My parents organized a neighborhood watch to make sure we were looking out for each other and helping the local law enforcement, so we could keep our community safe. I saw that people weren’t waiting for Superman to swoop in and save them. They were figuring out solutions to the smallest and biggest problems they saw. That opened up a door for me to say, “If there’s a problem, if there’s something that doesn’t make sense or doesn’t work, there is a way to address it, and we have to figure it out.” And the more the merrier. The more people we have on board, the more change we can make.
Why I joined Planned Parenthood
I had been doing a lot of work around immigration reform, and I saw that a lot of the problems—whether it’s economic justice, immigrant rights, racial justice, health care—were women’s issues. I saw that if we took care of women, then everybody else would thrive. Oftentimes, women are the glue of communities. So when women aren’t paid equally, when we don’t have access to child care, when we can’t make decisions about our own health care, then it puts communities at risk. By jumping over to Planned Parenthood, I felt like I could really focus in on women and families and making sure that they were whole, that they had what they needed. When women and families thrive, our country thrives.
The biggest lesson I learned at Planned Parenthood
Resilience. Many of the social justice issues I’ve jumped into, including gun violence prevention, are difficult. Sometimes you can’t see the forest for the trees; it just feels overwhelming. But it’s not on any one of us—it’s on all of us. And we contribute what we have. As long as we keep moving forward together, we can make the change we need. Also, a big, big, big, big thing is that I learned to trust myself. That is really important, especially as a woman and a woman of color. There are so many things around you every day that tell you you’re invisible or you don’t matter or make you shrink, whether it’s intentional or not. To have this opportunity to really fight hard, sometimes lose, sometimes win, build community, feel good about what I’m doing, and trust my gut—I learned so much from it, and it totally changed my life.
Kamala Harris’s advice when I started at Moms Demand Action
When you’re in any space with her, you feel her heart. She does this, because she cares, and she wants us to see justice, and she wants people to thrive, not just survive. When I first took on this role, she told me, “You’re going to feel imposter syndrome, and that’s normal and OK. But I need you to understand that you are made for this role and this job, and you have everything you need.” I hear her voice in my head every now and again when I have a day where it’s like, oh, this is so much, and can we break through more? Or something goes sideways. Or you hear again about another shooting, and it’s just so devastating. I remember that I have what I need, and together we can tackle this problem.
What it’s been like to work alongside gun violence survivors
We often say survivors are part of a club they never asked to join. What I’ve heard from other survivors is that, in those darkest moments, you’re put through a test. And you learn so much about yourself and your own strength and your own capacity. It is so incredible to see the resilience that comes up—the ability to take something that’s so dark and turn it into light for other people. You’re saving other people, other communities, other children, other families in the name of your own loss and pain. It’s such a courageous and saintly thing to do.
Ferrell-Zabala speaks as gun violence survivors gather in front of the Supreme Court on Nov. 3, 2021, in Washington, D.C.
How I talk to people who don’t agree with me politically
You have to have two people who are willing to have a conversation; if someone is already amped up and ready to bully or push in, that’s not a place to start. The good news is the majority of people I have come in contact with are just everyday people who have their own needs and desires and fears. I think the best approach is to meet people where they are. Curiosity is a choice. You can decide that you’re going to shut down, and you don’t care to know, and you’re just going to be right, or you can actually hear somebody and listen and ask questions, like: “Tell me more about why you think that way.” I’ve learned to do that, and I’ve had some of the most fruitful conversations with people. The goal isn’t to convince someone—it’s to hear, understand, and learn together.
The dream job I haven’t done yet
I’m so deep in this, I can’t imagine what’s next. But I will say, because the work I’ve done for so long with organizing and advocacy is never-ending, sometimes I think, “Can I just have a vineyard and grow some grapes and make some good wine?” You know when the grapes are planted, and you nurture them, and then you go through the whole process of harvest and making the wine. Then you delight in it with a nice platter of cheese, and it’s great at the end. Sometimes I think about things like that—with a start, a middle, an end. That’s why even simple things like vacuuming the floor—it sounds wild, but when I vacuum, it’s like, “OK, I’ve completed something.” Because the work we’re doing, it’s ongoing. There’s so much trauma, and sometimes there’s not closure. But I think after a while [of doing something else], I’d want to get back.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
Madison is the digital deputy editor at ELLE, where she also covers news, politics, and culture. If she’s not online, she’s probably napping or trying not to fall while rock climbing.