I step out of my car, taking a deep breath as I walk towards the front gates of our school, which have been charged with a nervous energy buzzing throughout the gathered crowd in anticipation for the protest just minutes away. In the wake of a summer spent advocating for racial justice and a response to police brutality, it was only fitting that my very first assignment as a first-year photo staffer for The Muse be the Equity Parade started by two Dreyfoos students. At the time, I was still uncertain about what possessed me, an unapologetic film nerd and fervent debater, to join a publication, but nonetheless, I rushed into the opportunity to cover such a momentous event.

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         Originally, I’ll admit, I expected a group of a few dozen teenagers screaming in the streets to be ineffective and unacknowledged, discounting my role there to someone with a camera meant to get a few recapping photos. But, as the rain came down and the chants rose louder, I realized that it was about something larger than myself, than my school, than my community. It represented change driven by my peers and was frozen in time through the work that my fellow Muselings and I were doing, preserved as the moment that we grasped our true ability to stand up for what is right, instigating local, state, national change and having a journalistic outlet with which to share these kinds of stories.

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         At the protest, I saw the impact using one’s voice could have, but it wasn’t a lesson I fully understood for months, as I sat quietly in a Google Meet with endless ideas on how to improve a story swirling through my mind with my microphone perpetually muted. Too scared of being told that my suggestions weren’t good enough or that what I had to offer didn’t matter, I would drift through my assignments, sitting there quietly and unproblematically with little to speak up about. Gradually, however, I discovered my voice and began to eradicate the everpresent self-doubt — if the girl that I was then saw who I am now, just 12 months later, I’d venture to say that she wouldn’t recognize me. I began speaking up and speaking out whenever I saw something that was unjust or incorrect, striving to right the wrongs within my microcosm on the staff and in the school community, forever backed by my Muse family. 

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         With this change in mindset, I began noticing a drastic improvement in the quality of my photos, as I dared to experiment with angles and pushed the limits of what I previously had told myself I could and couldn’t do. I challenged myself at each shoot to uncover the hidden truths, reveal every angle, capture each moment, regardless of how nervous or intimidated I was. As photo editor this year, I try to build upon my previous experience to pass on the most important lessons that I’ve had to learn, and from Rule of Thirds to the capabilities of Lightroom, one has stood out to me above everything else: the essence of our student body lives in the small moments that few people get to see. It is our responsibility as photojournalists to constantly pay attention to all that’s going on around us so that we can capture these minute yet significant details because those, sadly, are the times that are most easily forgotten though they enhance an event infinitely. In all of the stories that I’ve worked on, from jazz concerts to theatre rehearsals to sports games, I always try to focus on these the most and encourage my staffers to as well. 

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         I’ve opened my eyes to everything that’s going on around us, telling stories the way they’re meant and needed to be told, spending nights poring over potential ideas and helping others improve their own work so that every part of our community is adequately represented. Now, looking at Issue 1 of this year and preparing to finalize Issue 2, both of which serve as a testament to each and every staffer’s ability and willingness to create an amazing publication, I couldn’t be prouder of our entire staff and the intricate stories they have chosen to pursue tirelessly, and they consistently motivate me to improve as a journalist and person overall as I prepare for a future in the incredible area I’ve fallen in love with.

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         Since that Equity Parade, I’ve dedicated myself to ensuring that we magnify our voice, whether it be on the streets in front of Trump Towers or in the basement of Building 1, a second home to me with its fairy lights strung across the ceiling and motivational posters covering every part of the walls, a space for me to share the stories of others with a voice of my own.