In 1977, the Solar Energy Research Institute landed in Golden. In 1991, that place turned into the National Renewable Energy Laboratory. And on Dec. 1, the Trump administration renamed it the National Laboratory of the Rockies. 

Although the rebrand was imposed just last month, the story of NREL, now NLR, has been changing from the inside since President Donald Trump took office, and I was there for it.

In October 2024, the presidential elections loomed. Considering the Trump administration’s agenda to bolster the fossil fuel industry, I knew that taking a job as communications representative for the water power division at NREL was a calculated risk — one I was willing to take. Less than a month later, however, my calculation proved itself poor.

Life at the lab deteriorated after the 2024 election. Morale took a hard hit. Then, project funding.

I watched the U.S. Department of Energy fall apart. People disappeared with the wind — there one week, gone the next. One woman had just transitioned from contractor to full-time DOE employee, only to be fired for her probationary status just a few short weeks later. We sent her flowers.

Amid the chaos, lab leadership insisted that layoffs would be a last resort. That they were doing everything they could to avoid that possibility. That the workforce at NREL was a family.

The first real indication circumstances were entering dire territory was the lab-wide announcement that employees would be offered voluntary unpaid leave. For a lot of people, it made sense; there wasn’t much to do anyway.

The only real work I had on my plate anymore involved cleaning up NREL’s now sullied image. That meant eliminating a laundry list of words from the website. At one point, the word “community” was on there. “Clean energy,” “sustainable,” “climate change,” “diversity,” “equity,” “circular economy,” and “decarbonization” (among others) made up the hit list. 

I spent hours hitting Ctrl+F and flagging words for web developers. It was grimy work. I felt like an accomplice to the atrocities being committed against our environmental movement. A cog in the machine, spun clockwise or counterclockwise at the behest of those holding the levers.

I worked closely with my team to strategize new mission statements that hit on all the Trump administration’s priorities. We tapped into cybersecurity and how new marine energy devices could aid the nation’s defense efforts. Hydropower became less about building a foundation for a cleaner energy future and more about lowering energy costs and creating new jobs. 

Water power innovation was no longer a bastion of scientific progress toward sustainability but a mechanism by which to demonstrate America’s global energy dominance. And environmental justice had no value anymore. In fact, it took on the spirit of Voldemort, not to be named for fear of retaliation.

But domination was never NREL’s story. The people I knew at NREL were, largely, inspired by making this world a safer, healthier place. They did not dream of a job at the National Renewable Energy Laboratory thanks to some fantasy about dominating the global energy market. At least, no one I encountered did. They cared about the planet.

Now, those same people — many of them Colorado locals — have been abandoned by the very place that once called them “family.”

On a Monday morning in May, I was told, “Today will be your last day at NREL.” I was one of 114 people laid off that day. It was the day before my 26th birthday. 

Fifteen minutes later, I was crying on a video call with my shocked manager. She had not been told beforehand. No one had. In the middle of a sentence, my laptop screen went black — IT access cut off — and it never turned back on.

I spent my birthday grappling with the pain of such a sudden loss and the fearful anticipation of what was to come. But I’m all right.

It’s the parents I feel bad for. And the people with chronic illnesses or acute injuries who were relying on their health insurance. I feel for the dedicated employees, the ones planning to stick around until retirement. 

I feel for the people who wear their layoff like a stamp of shame. And I’m sorry for the people who kept their jobs but feel stifled every day, like they are working for something they don’t believe in anymore.

Along Interstate 70, the NREL exit sign has been scrubbed clean. The lab’s campus entrance sign has been, too. 

But while the title and the story shift, NREL’s legacy endures in the people — the ones who make up the workforce, the culture, the beating heart of the laboratory. The ones who remain there and the ones finding a new path. The ones dedicated to transforming energy into something better for our planet and our people. In that way, NREL lives on even as it dies.

Julia Dinmore, of Denver, graduated from Cornell University with a degree in environmental health and is currently pursuing her Master of Arts in fiction writing with Johns Hopkins University.

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