When we are children, we are asked, “Who do you wish to become?” We don’t realize it, but one day, the question becomes, “Who have you always been?” At heart, I have always been a writer who deeply appreciates the art of the written word. As if it was yesterday, I remember sitting in the backseat of my mother’s car and extending my body as far as my seatbelt allowed me to tell her about new words I had learned and books I’d read. The floorboard creaks of the small Milwaukee apartment I grew up in tell the story of me often tiptoeing to the living room to read and write after my mother and sister drifted off to sleep.
Fortunately, my family are creatives, too. I’d grown up watching my family create music with what was around them: wooden tables that became drums and wooden pencils that became drumsticks – as well as what was inside of them: their stories, pain and experiences. We’d record songs we made, burn them on CDs and play them on car rides and at family gatherings. We weren’t doing it for money or recognition – we were doing it for the love of stories, community and writing – which led me to pursue journalism in college.
Before my first semester of college began, a friend from high school called me and encouraged me to join the Marquette Wire. She was currently working with the organization and believed I’d be a perfect fit for their last open position: an opinions columnist. At the time, I didn’t quite grasp what that entailed, but I knew one thing for sure – I had opinions, a trait my mother would readily attest to. My debut column, ‘A Letter to America,’ delved into the complex realities of being Black in the aftermath of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor’s tragic deaths. It was a bold move to publish such a piece, but the overwhelming support from the Milwaukee and Marquette communities empowered me to keep voicing my truth.
I’ll never forget the excitement of receiving my first paycheck for my columns – a modest $27 after taxes. With joy in my heart, I decided to treat myself to a celebratory meal, which I rarely was able to indulge in. Half of that paycheck went towards a plate of chicken katsu from Maki Yaki, our on-campus restaurant. While $27 wasn’t much, to me, it was everything. It symbolized the value of pursuing one’s passion and taught me a profound lesson that some never learn: while money may never be truly fulfilling, the satisfaction of doing what you love is enough to live for it. So it was in that moment – in the corner booth at Maki Yaki – I decided I wanted to live for what I loved.
Since then, I’ve been fortunate to tell many stories of the Marquette and Milwaukee communities in class, through internships and at the Wire; stories that have taken me on adventures I once read about as a young girl. As the first in my immediate family to graduate college, I embarked on a journey – separate from journalism – that allowed fear to make a home in my heart. Much like when I was a young girl, I’d tiptoe to the living room of my dormitory located on the sixth floor of Humphrey Hall, sitting on the windowsill and looking out at the city that raised me – as if the answers to my questions were written in code in the night sky. Those days, I was praying for a sign that I was on the right path: attending college, pursuing journalism and attending Marquette. Although God didn’t send a shooting star, a lightning bolt or thunder, there were many signs along the way that affirmed my decision.
One of the most beautiful signs was all the people – many of whom I met at the Wire – that sprouted in my life who share a passion for writing, care for the community and faith in the goodness of the world with me. I’ve been fortunate to live and learn alongside them, which pushed me to be a better leader, journalist, writer, friend and human being. These same people were the ones who supported my decision to apply for Executive Director, an experience I’d never thought I’d have. This year of leadership taught me much about who I’ve always been: a writer, a leader and a lover of life. As a beautiful full-circle moment, this year has also taught me about who I wish to become.
As I spend my last week of undergraduate studies preparing for life beyond Marquette, I offer these parting words: with the one human life you get, I hope you live for what you love. Let your passions guide you and your contributions to the world move others. When you get the chance, be courageous, bold and have radical faith that moves mountains. Who you wish to become is inherently connected to who you have always been and I pray that each and every one of you listens to that voice within.
To those who will inherit the Marquette Wire, defend it with your heart. Student journalism, now more than ever, needs passionate and committed individuals who will fight to preserve it. After working with you all this year, I have no doubt that you will continue the legacy of our great organization for years to come.
Lastly, I want to thank everyone who has been a part of the Wire and my Marquette journey. I will never forget the twists and turns that college brought and all those who helped me navigate it. I am forever changed by those I’ve met, stories I’ve covered and the Marquette community that embraced me.
P.S. I’ll miss all the late nights at the newsroom, Tuesday drinks at Murph’s, scrambling for all-staff and sharing a common love for student journalism with you all!
This story was written by Hope Moses. She can be reached at [email protected].
