Letter From the Editor: Activism Isn't Optional
Illustration by Dana Binfet
I feel safe walking around my own neighborhood late at night. I have never been followed around a clothing store by a security guard. I have never witnessed someone of my own race victimized on video. My family has never been targeted by the police for crimes we did not commit.
I’ve always been aware that I have privilege as a white woman in America, but looking into the eyes of people I deeply care about and hearing their cries as they speak to their experiences of what I listed above -- I wasn’t just aware of my privilege. I felt my privilege crawling along my every limb.
On Tuesday of this week, on what was meant to be the day that the latest copy of the paper was to be produced, the Corsair advisor - and my personal journalistic role model - Ashanti Blaize-Hopkins took a day off from her maternity leave to host a safe space for the staff to voice their thoughts and feelings in response to George Floyd’s murder by now-former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin.
The vulnerability in the air as more than 10 staff members spoke to their own anger, hardships, and traumas experienced as people of color in today’s America was admirable beyond belief. I felt immensely grateful to listen.
From the start of my journalism career at age 14, I was told I was officially in the storytelling business. I was to act as a vessel that was relied upon by the general public to tell the stories of those who were not able to tell their tales themselves. Whether that be politicians or protestors, I was told that neutrality and factuality were priority.
In hearing these stories spoken by the people who had experienced them, rather than told by people who look like me, I realized how much power their voices added to their experiences. My friends and advisors at The Corsair have helped me realize that in a world so divisive, staying neutral and objective can often cross the line into passivity.
Through discussions with my peers and online resources recommended to me by friends, I’ve come to realize that the lessons I had been taught about “journalistic integrity” were simply extensions of my privilege as a writer who can separate myself from the issues because my activism can be considered optional.
I do not want my activism to be optional any longer.
Yes, it is difficult for me to acknowledge that I only ever wake up thinking about police brutality when the streets are flooded with protestors. But, I welcome the discomfort. I want to understand. I want to keep talking to my fellow staff members about things that I could never understand from my own lived experiences. I want to keep listening, and I want to keep learning so that I can further understand how to be of help.
This is because, in the words of my friend and Corsair culture editor Tatiana Louder, living as a person of color holds “so much nuance, and it is non-researchable. It is a part of life experience that so many of our readers are privy to.”
It will likely take years for me to fully recognize the ways in which my experience as Editor-in-Chief of The Corsair has shaped me for the better. In February, I thought that the biggest obstacle of my term as “Captain Sed” - as managing editor Jack Hughes likes to call me - would be the Santa Monica College (SMC) Associated Student board elections in March. At this point, March 2020 feels like at least three years ago.
Guiding this semester’s staff amidst a global pandemic and social justice protests that are still currently rocking our nation has been an absolute pleasure. In spite of the intensity and heaviness of the circumstances, I have never felt more grateful to be a part of something as I am The Corsair.
In The Corsair, I have found strength, purpose, and community. I feel more equipped than ever to help others find the same in whatever ways I can.