I never expected journalism to be my “thing.” In eighth grade, I signed up to take honors journalism on a whim because I heard there wasn’t too much homework, and I could substitute the English credit for physical education. This may single-handedly be the best decision I’ve made in high school.

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As a second-generation Pakistani-American in a mostly Caucasian neighborhood, I struggled to come to terms with my identity. I shied away from situations that made me stand out. I didn’t tell others why I wouldn’t eat the pepperoni pizza, get Christmas presents, or have a normal name. What others didn’t know couldn’t hurt me.

 

I didn’t know where I belonged. I look desperately for a place I could fit, but I couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in my school. I felt the need to represent something bigger than myself on a day-to-day basis.

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When I joined the staff of our school newspaper, The Tower, as a sophomore and the only person of color, I was scared to write the hard-hitting pieces. Then, in 2017, amid a wave of horrific mass shootings and a barrage of painful headlines, I mustered up the courage to write something that mattered to me.  I wrote about feeling the need to apologize when any brown person committed an act of terror, a concept foreign to some of my peers. I wrote about racial profiling, overt and covert, and how some headlines and labels systematically dehumanize specific races and cultures. 

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Writing this opinion column made me uncomfortable, but I felt an obligation. If I didn’t write it, no one would. After the article was published, I was surprised by the support I received from the newspaper staff, my friends, and the community. My classmates thanked me for highlighting an issue they had never considered, and my family praised me for raising a concern that often goes unaddressed.

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Journalism gave me this power. I had found my place. 

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Only when I was surrounded by people who were so different from me did I find my home. My first year on staff I began to stay later and later each Monday deadline— convincing my mom that I had to be there the entire time even when all the other copy editors had left hours before. I would stay until we finished each week because it felt good to be a part of something bigger than myself. It felt good to be surrounded by people who wanted to use journalism to change the world.

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After a competitive application process that resulted in two of my friends quitting the newspaper staff, I became a supervising editor my junior year. I was nervous with the new responsibilities, but I took advantage of my position and made the best out of the year. I continued to grow by learning new skills at MIPA workshops and trying new things. I continued to write about issues that mattered to me, not holding punches, and my love for the craft only grew. 

 

During back to school night that year, I was in charge of manning a table in the hallway to sell newspaper subscriptions to the community. Most parents stopped by, quickly asked for directions, and went on their way. However, one mother walked straight up to me. She asked if I was an editor for The Tower, and then she proceeded to explain all the grievances she had with our publication. She called our work garbage. She said that we were unfair, corrupt, and biased. She said we weren’t really journalists.

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Another editor watched with disgust and fear painted on her face as the mother ran off to find her son’s next class. I couldn’t help but smile.

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My work had caused that reaction. I knew The Tower wasn’t any of those things. I knew The Tower was a beacon of truth in the school and community. It is moments like these that highlight the power and necessity of student journalism. It is moments like these that make me love The Tower.

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As the year progressed, I knew I had to be the editor in chief of this mighty publication. I wanted to be the one welcoming a new batch of students to South. I wanted to be the one answering all the questions and dealing with the angry parent or administrator. I wanted all of it: the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

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This year, leading the last weekly high school broadsheet paper in the nation, I have not taken a second for granted. I have focussed on writing about issues that are often ignored or misrepresented. While it may make some people uncomfortable, it is a journalist’s job to examine the world around them and start dialogues. I know how important it is for everyone to be heard and understood.

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I have also made it my duty to create a welcoming atmosphere for new staffers. I know how scared I was when I first joined The Tower staff. My goal is to help all 90 high schoolers find their place and their new family. By encouraging students to try something out of their comfort zone, we are all able to grow. 

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The Tower has its good days and its bad days, but the staff is resilient. We don’t back down from a sensitive topic, but rather cover it with respect, integrity, and curiosity. Now, more than ever, we need good journalists. We need people to tell the stories no one else will. We need to talk about what’s important and what isn’t addressed enough.

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I am looking to continue my passion for journalism in college. I want to study politics and public policy at Georgetown University or the University of Michigan while writing for reputable newspapers like The Hoya or The Michigan Daily. I want to continue to surround myself with changemakers— where better to do that than the newsroom?

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If my time at The Tower has taught me one thing, it is that my differences are not something to be ashamed of— but where I draw my strength. My perspective adds a valuable voice and amplifies the voices of others. I want to connect and communicate to ensure everyone in my community feels included and valued.