“Ew, why do you enjoy writing essays?”

My brother, a 2017-20 staff writer for The Sidekick, looked back at me briefly as his fingertips traversed his keyboard, drafting out his soccer coverage.  

Ha, that got his attention, I thought. As a middle schooler and younger sibling, his annoyance was unrelentingly entertaining to me. 

“I’ve told you so many times Aliza,” he said, resuming typing furiously on his laptop. “It’s not an essay. It’s a story”

At the time, watching Akif sit on his computer for hours cranking out “stories” seemed beyond useless to me. I couldn’t fathom why he would take time out of his – what it seemed to be – busy high school life to sit there and write. 

Four years later, I joined The Sidekick under his influence. Amidst the half-hearted environment of my academic classes, walking into D115 felt like a shock. 

The patter of fingers dancing along the keyboard of hunched staffers and the constant reminders from leadership teams to stay on deadline, took me aback. The commitment the room contained was not scaled, so why were they so determined for the smooth production of ‘essays’?

I realized, as I was assigned stories, that journalism is not just writing but creating. I saw the production of ideas, perspectives and identity shared between the desks of the D115, and fell in love with these so-called useless ‘essays.’ 

I understood that although I was responsible for writing hundreds of words, I was not just stating information but exploring it. Each interview I conducted provided me with a perspective that I could present, a story I was responsible to tell. I soon realized that journalism is embracing that every story depicted does not stop at my fingertips, but in the hands of my readers. 

I found myself a journalist not just in D115, but wherever I went. I subconsciously began to look for new and unseen perspectives to each story, and took it upon myself to be the one to shed light on it.

Having a voice is what allows me to be a part of my community. Speaking this voice through the lens of something much bigger than myself is what makes me a journalist. 

Now, journalism provides a reason behind my every opinion, ideal, experience and conversation. One that is worthy of a story and narrative, whether it be mine or the community around me.

I am the one now who claps my hands every day during staff announcements and stresses timeliness in columns under the opinion section. I am the one now, who my brother eyes with a “I told you so” smirk as I start my third story this week.

My growth through journalism has made me more receptive to the backgrounds of the people I work with and the process behind innovation. 

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