Ellen Wang ’25
Editor-in-Chief
Words have always been my choice of weapon; the discursive power of narrative has ignited wars from cubicles and ended them without gunfire. But as journalists, they are also a means of practicing love and care in community.
With administrators framing our own peers as “outside agitators” terrorizing our campuses, and closing The Motley, a student-run community space, under the justification of “intersectional feminism,” language has been both weaponized and hollowed out in favor of enforcing the white supremacist, settler colonial project these colleges are ultimately inextricably bound to.
It almost repulses me to use the term “community” nowadays — to see it everywhere in the school’s disingenuous attempts at marketing an image of camaraderie when students do not feel safe in the place they live and attend classes.
Our journalistic commitment to truth anchors us against passively accepting the dominant narrative. This past year of reporting has pushed our capacities (and, at times, crossed our boundaries), and I am immensely proud of the ways our staff rose to the occasion to speak truth to power. In many ways, the veil has been lifted on these so-called institutions of higher learning, and we as journalists have the duty to shine light upon the insidious forces behind the blood-slick machine.
Journalism is a labor of love — it has to be, to push through in America’s most hated profession (something I found out in the brief moment I considered a career in journalism in high school before a devastating Google search.) And while the accelerating decline of print publications and shuttering of local newspapers and merging of media companies under mass conglomerates do not offer much to love, not to mention the global attacks on journalistic freedom, student journalism continues as an integral force documenting the events impacting youth, by youth.
“And the voice, the pen, is far mightier than any sword, any jail, any attempt to silence.”
~Nikki Giovanni
Quote printed in letter to Scripps written in the first issue of TSV, 1991 and in subsequent editions
It means the world to me to have been part of a legacy of Scripps students who took it upon themselves to resist silencing and speak up for themselves and others. I do not take lightly the responsibility involved in being a journalist, especially in times like this.
Working for a newspaper is a truly special way of being in community. Building relationships with people is vital to producing a publication that maintains a finger on the pulse of the audience (and being part of any organization that serves people). At the same time, the work inherently invites deeper presence — keeping an ear on the ground, digging below the surface to follow a lead, constantly learning new things from different people.
It has been the greatest honor to work at The Scripps Voice throughout my time in college. I am beyond grateful for the brilliant, passionate, incredible people who I have gotten to work with and who have trusted us with their stories of joy, struggle, and everything in between. None of this would be possible without such a collaborative team effort that draws on the wealth of knowledge held by every member of Scripps.
Despite the despair of existing on campus while our school administrators actively harm students, staff, and faculty, I have never experienced such an outpouring of love, including to TSV, to resist these ongoing efforts to divide us. This is your paper; I hope we have done you well.
Stay angry, but also stay gentle. Do not let the oppressive structures succeed in alienating you and robbing you of hope. If we’ve learned anything this year, they are afraid of us. They retaliate and harass us and try to take away things we fought for, to try to keep us from continuing to fight, but we collectively are stronger than them.
We have so much power as students. I know we’ll be okay.
In solidarity and with all the love,
Ellen
