Ocasio-Cortez leans on Pressley, Tlaib, and Ilhan Omar (D-MN), who also face intense scrutiny as newcomers. It’s easier than seeing a therapist; she has before, but not regularly, plus her current congressional health care plan does not cover her in New York (even legislators could benefit from universal programs, it seems).

Ocasio-Cortez’s voice is clear and high and when she speaks, the room perks up—attendees lift their heads, and people in the audience, especially the younger ones, crane to get a glimpse, whether on the floor or in hearings. A line, mostly of young women, always forms to meet her and take photos. It is less congressional hearing, more celebrity meet-and-greet, a reminder that you are in the same room as someone who declined an invitation to Rihanna’s Diamond Ball last year (it was the night of the New York gubernatorial primary). She agrees to both regular photos and selfies, always with a “Sure” or “Of course.” “OMG I’m in awe, you’re not just on Twitter? On Instagram?” one woman says. “My hands are legitimately shaking right now,” says another. It’s the job of her staffers to gently encourage Ocasio-Cortez to leave when her schedule demands it. As she exits, one little girl simply slumps in her chair in awe, heaving a big sigh.

The walk back to her office in the Cannon Building is a long one, due to construction, and to her lowly freshman status. She doesn’t mind the exercise; she is finally starting to put time for working out back on her calendar. On Twitter, the concentration camp controversy continues apace. She tweeted again during the hearing, I discover. I ask her if there’s a tipping point at which she decides to stop engaging with an issue once Republicans have persistently seized on it. “There is, sometimes,” she says. This isn’t one of them. “Like Elijah Cummings says, ‘The time finds us.’ We have an obligation to speak when the president is threatening to take some kind of mysterious action toward up to millions of immigrants.”

“It makes a very big difference once other people know your heart, and I’ve tried to make an effort to have conversations with lots of members so they understand where I’m coming from.” That might be the key to Ocasio-Cortez’s biggest staying power in Congress: she can express unlikable, uncomfortable ideas (this week, that conditions at the border are cruel and fascist, and have long been so) while somehow remaining likable herself. Even to Mike Johnson, the Louisiana representative who has called the Green New Deal “a guise” to “usher in the principles of socialism,” but who practically gushes about introducing her to his kids on the House floor. It’s what has Ted Cruz reaching out for bipartisan partnership. She describes this capacity as an organizer’s door-knocking aptitude for “meet[ing] people where they’re at.” And she happens to believe that more people can be persuaded to her side than to the other. As we walk through the tunnels of the Capitol Building, we pass a man sitting at a reception desk, who leaps up and hugs her, saying, “Get ’em!”