When I was a kid, I entered a warm art gallery in the North Shore of Oahu, Hawai’i, where I lived at the time with my parents. The artist was there, an aloha shirt-wearing, smiling and wrinkled man. After his talk, I approached him with a question.
“How can I become an artist?” I asked, “What kind of paints should I use, or what sort of paint brushes do I need?”
He thought for a moment, until his face betrayed an air of importance and secrecy.
“Do you paint, draw, write, or otherwise do anything creative, and really love it?” he said.
I nodded.
“Then you’re already an artist,” he said, “As long as you’re putting yourself on that canvas, or that page, the paintbrush doesn’t really matter.”
I think of what that artist said often, and I think his words are what brought me to writing and the Daily Aztec.
My first print story for the Daily Aztec was about girls’ coming-of-age ceremonies, including the quinceañera and bas mitzvah. It’s fitting that “coming-of-age” was the topic of my first story, because in retrospect that story was a sort of coming-of-age for me.
As an underclassman and a budding journalist, writing for the school newspaper felt intimidating and out of my comfort zone. My first journalism instructors, Jayla Lee and Temple Northup, encouraged me, saying it was the best way to “get started.” I imagined myself next to more experienced writers, my work underdeveloped and brittle alongside theirs. However, in my doubts, I also saw an opportunity for growth. The confidence that surrounds those more experienced writers might just rub off on me, I thought. I wasn’t prepared for how right I would be.
That first story was inspired by my own quinceañera, a glittering, emotional affair with friends and family dancing in circles. A feeling of change. I wanted to see how that experience compared to other cultures, and whether that feeling was universal. The best stories, I later found, came from small questions like this.
I sat in my first meeting with the Arts and Culture section, then led by Sumaia Wegner, a badass fire-red-haired student journalist whose creativity I admired. As I told her my idea and asked if I should do it, her face lit up.
“Of course you should go for it,” she said. “If you really care about something you write about, other people are going to care about reading it, too.”
I interviewed students and professors about their coming of age ceremonies, serious-feeling conversations that made the hair on my arms stand up in anxiety. I did my research, and carried a little notebook just to feel journalist-like.
When I wrote that story, I put myself on the page. And when it was published, I cried looking at my name in print. It wasn’t a monumental, one-of-a-kind story. But to know that my writing, which I considered my art, had a place somewhere, made an undeniable impact on me.
The Daily Aztec, in those early days where I still didn’t know where I wanted to go in the cavernous journalism world, became a place for me to find my courage in my work and grow as a writer.
I cut out the quinceañera story and pasted it on my wall. Soon, it was joined by another. Then another.
As my portfolio in features, news, and arts coverage continued to grow, I expanded my friendships in my journalism department and observed the work of senior writers like Wegner, Daesha Gear, Noah Lyons, Jazlyn Dieguez, Serena Neumeyer, and Katy Stegall. I watched them graduate and find their place in the journalism world, which in turn made me more excited for my own chance.
As graduation nears closer, I have the urge to dig my heels in the sand and not let time keep passing. Then I think back to all the amazing opportunities I’ve had through the Daily Aztec— giving voice to the stories of people affected by fires or continuing their education after incarceration, attending movie premieres, reviewing concerts from SZA to Stevie Nicks, doing press at music festivals, covering protests and meeting drag queens— and I’m so very grateful for the time that has passed.
The DA was the gateway for me to gain the skills to apply for scholarships, like one I received from RTDNA that led me to a professional news conference in Milwaukee. And fellowships, like the Pulitzer Center’s, which allowed me to be the first recipient from my school and funded my reporting on the impacts of cross-border sewage on Imperial Beach’s community.
I’ve applied for places I never thought I had a chance at, like the LA Times, where I’ll intern this summer, directly as a result of the encouraging voice that the Daily Aztec community was during my undergraduate years.
Most importantly, I found my voice and my willingness to put myself out there and pursue my aspirations in a way that I could only imagine as a nervous student sitting in that Arts and Culture meeting for the first time.
Besides, well, AP Style (which admittedly took a long time to learn— is it he said or said he, I would ask myself every time), the most important lesson the Daily Aztec instilled in me was that journalism is never a solo affair. Behind every story, there’s a community that made it possible to be there.
Thank you to The Daily Aztec for being my “paint brush” over the years. For being the first place where I could see my byline in glorious newspaper print. And for giving me the push to ask questions and be endlessly curious. As I step into my career, I couldn’t have asked for a better foundation.
