To the Grant Magazine staff (past, present and future):
As I write this letter, our world is clouded by a feeling of uncertainty that pounds at the temples and pulls at the heart. Our lives have been greatly uprooted, our routines altered to fit our novel reality. By something smaller than air, we are now forced to change the air of our connection. And as journalists, our identity in the current world seems unrecognizable.
Our process has always been an uncertain one—one of trial and error, of writing and rewriting, of asking the risky questions and taking unpopular positions. But I’ll admit, the uncertainty of today seems particularly daunting. I have been able to spend the last few months reminiscing—perhaps unduly so—on my past four years on Magazine, yet I do not know what the future will hold. And while my time on staff will conclude in the next few months, this reflection has also revealed to me much of what I cherish—and what I will miss—about the Magazine. Every day that I spend away from our newsroom, our team and our process, I notice my memories of the Magazine peek through the monotony of the lockdown.
While we sequester ourselves in our homes, I can’t help but feel homesick. In the quiet of my kitchen, with only the hum of the fluorescent lights to break the silence, I imagine myself in the bustle of our room atop the stairs. Our congruence lay in our disorder, with each person shouting across the room and dipping around walls to find a second opinion. Despite having the smallest of spaces, we were determined to collaborate, wedging ourselves between chairs and dancing over tables to discuss an edit. There, I would match the cadence of my writing to the ebb and flow the room’s energy. As a group, we would feed off of the passion and vitality of one another, working toward our goal of serving the community.
As the days seem to blend together and time slows, I am reminded of the fervency of our work. While we set numerous deadlines—many of them arbitrary—for our stories, it was our relentless search for truth that emanated through the group and pushed us forward. In the newsroom, we were symbiotic: a collective organism of purpose, bound by our dedication and committed to the vision of each individual. We understood that while we will all eventually branch in our creative direction, Magazine is the place to coalesce—to harmonize.
When each day seems to bring news worse than the last and our communities continue to bleed, I understand the greater impact of our 36-page prints. It is, at many times, disheartening to remain home when I know that I could be out there, telling the untold stories and igniting conversation. But on the Magazine, each one of us is committed to sharing the stories of those who often lack the privilege to make their voices heard. Each day in the newsroom, our passion for raising consciousness is palpable, present in the smallest of illustrations to the core of our themed issues. Our foundation, truly, is built on our service to others.
Of course, it’s easy to pine for what was—I spend much of my days wishing I was back in our poorly-ventilated fishbowl rather than my own room. But perhaps our current circumstances are meant for reflection, to help us better understand our value as journalists.
The energy that I long for gives us the drive—the fire—to push beyond adversity and realize our dreams, whatever it may take. The harmony that I so miss allows us to grow into unfamiliar environments, to establish our place and make our mark on our community. The activism that I yearn for gives us the strength to fight inequity, challenge the status quo and contribute to the progression of our world.
Being a journalist is so much more than being a reporter of the news; it is a responsibility and an experience that teaches each of us what it means to live as a citizen who is dedicated to the betterment of society.
So when this is all over, and you return to the newsroom, remember who you are. Keep asking questions, keep writing, keep taking photos. Pursue the story that you’re told not to, and ask the question that they don’t want to answer. Speak up. Louder. Fight for the truth, and use your platform to empower. You are the fabric of our community, and the needle that stitches it all together, too.
To the Grant Magazine staff: this letter is to you. I have spent the past four years with the most inspiring and caring people I have ever met. From my time with you all, I have grown as a student, a journalist and as a person. And while, as a collective, we will be remembered as journalists that printed the news, you will always be my family.
Thank you.
Until later,
Narain
Grant Magazine C/O 2020