I'm So Glad Your Job is "Exciting"

I don’t care that you think this is an “exciting time” and I care even less if you think that sharing that opinion is an appropriate response to people losing their basic human rights.

I get it, being a journalist right now is exhilarating. It’s thrilling to be able to report on a story as big as the overturn of Roe v Wade and be the first on the scene at a protest. It’s exciting to capture the perfect press photo that will live on for ages.

It’s also exhausting knowing that to some, my loss of bodily autonomy is just an article to add to a resume. It’s heartbreaking to hear the cries of women who are in more danger now than ever and think that some people only hear a soundbite. It’s painful to know that some people only care about how this moment in history will advance their career.

But I get it, it’s an exciting time to be in a newsroom.

I read a tweet the other day by a girl who said that and as a journalist and as a woman I was overcome with a lot of feelings. One hand I can resonate, history is happening around us in this moment and we are the vessel to get information to the people and to preserve history as it happened. But at the same time, I don’t think I need the lives of millions of people to be impacted in order to tell a good story.

I don’t need women and people who can get pregnant across a country to lose their reproductive rights in order to think I’m doing my job well. I want to be a journalist because I want to bring a voice to the people and I want to seek out the stories that no one hears. I don’t want to sit around waiting for the next disaster to happen in order to find my job exciting.

I don’t care that you think the death of women is exciting. I don’t care that you think the trigger laws put in place to oppress people who can get pregnant is cool. And I certainly don’t care that you have announced that you care more about how the loss of human rights makes your job “cooler.”

Connect the Dots

Everything happens for a reason…and I hate that I am constantly being reminded of that.

During my first semester at ASU, I applied for an internship interview day with various publication groups. Looking back on it now, I was definitely in over my head, mostly because I felt like I had to do everything I was “supposed to do” as a journalism student. Long story short, my specific day when all of my interviews were fell right in the middle of Halloween week and ASU’s homecoming week—which I was working. So you can imagine how I must’ve looked and sounded in each of my online interviews: barely holding it together and tired, attempting to look as put together and professional as I could. I fumbled through each interview running on a couple blinks of sleep and half a brain cell AND to add insult to injury I ended up in an interview for a position I did not sign up for and essentially was 100% not qualified for.

With all of this in mind, I was not super shocked when I found out no one wanted to hire me out of the 5 or so positions I had interviewed for. While I was not surprised by this I was disappointed in myself. I had failed the one thing I thought would give me peace of mind that I was choosing the right career path.

So as I was pulling myself together, trying to convince myself I was not a massive failure, I discovered Keysmash.

A production all about mental health was being put on by one of my favorite theater companies. It was like God had placed the perfect opportunity into my hands. (if it isn’t clear already, one of my dreams is to simply write and create art all about mental health)

I applied immediately on my phone and waited patiently for the next step. Now I can say I have written a script and aided in creating a full show. If I had received an offer back in the fall for something my heart wasn’t in, I wouldn’t have been able to do the one thing that floods my heart with joy.

I think back on the idea that “everything happens for a reason” a lot. There are hundreds of dots that connect in my life and yet every time I am faced with a new path, a new dot, I forget everything else. Reminding myself that there is, in fact, something better coming is so difficult to do, especially when worse things precede it.