My passion for Journalism started at a very young age. Well, perhaps it was just a love for writing all together. I remember sitting in my room with the sun beating on me from my window across from Central Park. I never really appreciated how cool it was to grow up in the city that never sleeps. I was writing a story about a young girl who lived on a farm with her family. She would go to the farm and pick up the home grown beer to bring back to her parents shop. Yeah, I know, I don’t understand it either. But in my young mind, that’s how that worked. Beer came from a farm. But I divert. That little girl used to love to cozy up with her grandpa on their striped maroon couch and watch a good show. But she was a troublemaker. I remember writing for hours about the sort of mischief this little girl would get into. She liked a little boy in her class, who worked at the slaughterhouse that worked with her family’s farm. Quite the imagination I had.

As I grew older, my love for writing only increased. I spent much of my life in the outdoors despite living in the heart of urbanity. When I was outside, I would write about everything I could think of: made up stories, my feelings, lists of things I thought I would carry in my purse one day when I was a big girl….and eventually my writing became serious. I won awards, I got published, and I started to realize that I could really make a career out of this. But I didn’t feel quite fulfilled.

I have, and forever will be, a raging feminist. Women are amazing. My dad always told me growing up to never let anyone silence me. I remember sitting in science class. I must have been in 3rd grade. I asked my teacher when the sky stops and space begins. I have to say, at 26 years old, I still don’t quite know the answer to that question. My teacher told me my question was stupid. Yes, she literally said stupid. My dad marched into my school’s principal, furiously, and said “You lead a school of young women. Stupid questions do not exist.” Ms. Lerner said she was sorry. I’m so lucky to have had such a fuel of empowerment. My feminism developed quickly into a desire for justice.

I’ve never understood the American way of thinking. It keeps me up at night. In our own little planet Earth, some people are born in hell, and some people are born in heaven. I wonder if one person can actually make a difference. But thinking about that can make a tiny individual spiral. Exposure is the most powerful tool a human has in their two hands. Knowledge. Understanding. When Congress pushes through legislation after legislation, I wonder if people have ever even considered the factor of education. That’s all I want to do. I want to tell people what’s happening. In this tiny little Earth, as this tiny little human, I want to write stories where people’s jaws hit the ground in disbelief. And in a tiny little way, I think this will push them to want better.

It didn’t quite start this way. I came to college as a photojournalist. Camera in hand, I almost immediately got an internship at a local photography company. A one man operation. My boss was incredible. He so smoothly captured moments with no blur, no mistakes. The camera was like an extension of his hand. He would send me on assignment to galas and local awards ceremonies, where I would take pictures of groups on their way in. It was fun. I got to meet some great characters. But I wasn’t fulfilled. Then, I was sent on assignment to the True False Film Festival. And then to Roots n Blues n BBQ Festival. I got to capture people in their essence, something I had developed a love for so long ago. The best pictures are taken when people aren’t looking. One picture always remained with me. At True False Film Festival, there  was a young girl being carried by her dad. The parade was going by, and the music was deafening, even in the outdoors. She covered her ears, clearly very irritated at the inconvenience. I snapped a picture. It was the perfect moment of childhood innocence. It reminded me of being a little girl again. Leaving photography didn’t necessarily mean I left it behind. Moreover, I came to the realization that I wanted more than just my camera.

Spotlight, directed by Tom McCarthy, made a comeback in the height of quarantine, as it very well should have. In my Journalism 1000 class, my very first Journalism class of college, which was a literal 30 minute walk from my apartment at 9am (welcome to college, Tori!) we were assigned to view the movie. Either that or I just ended up writing about it because I didn’t like the movie we were assigned. That sounds a lot more accurate. I did not move an inch the entirety of the movie. I was enthralled. The phenomenal work done by the Boston Globe’s team was awe inspiring. I think it was then, in that moment, that I realized it was time to switch my track.

Failure pushed me above all in college. My life has been nothing but beautiful. I have an incredible family, I live comfortably, and I surround myself with wonderful people. But as I entered college, and subsequently adulthood, I encountered loss over and over, I became a survivor, I found out that not everyone is in your corner, I found out that I can’t always be the straight A student no matter how hard I try. It lit a fire under me. In the meantime, I learned how to advocate for truth in the wake of partisan and bias. I fell in love. I made the best of friends that I’ll have forever. I found mentors in my professors. And I realized that I made a difference in my own tiny way. I got to work with refugees; I got to visit communes and meet people who had never participated in modern society. I exposed lies even when everyone told me not to. And it helped people. And that keeps me smiling even semesters later. Life was still so beautiful.

I was told by a professor once that “there are people out there who are listening to you.” Finishing college in the midst of an international pandemic, I entered the work force a scapegoat enemy. People pin journalists as the enemy because in reality, media is becoming a necessary evil that has strayed from its true meaning. It doesn’t have to be evil. I know this seems so obvious, but in practice it is not. Partisanship is the true enemy. The fire that injustice in the world lit within me pushes me to fight back against that. I want people to read the byline of my pieces and give women a chance to lead. I want people to learn how to trust again. One day, they will.