It was March 6, 2020, and I was waiting for the sun to rise. This was my first time staying up with editors on the last night of publication for the quarter — a Daily Northwestern tradition. The clock had hit 2 a.m., or maybe 4; I didn’t check to be sure, because back then, I usually felt out of place and out of time in the newsroom. I knew I should’ve felt relieved to stay up as a ritual, rather than to finish work for the paper. But it seemed I was constantly waiting for the sun to come up, looking to the horizon only to be denied light. 

As a first-generation student, I couldn’t quite imagine a future in journalism, even as I worked for it. So that morning, as the winter wind cut through my coat and the clouds muted the sun’s glare, I thought about quitting The Daily Northwestern.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t. Actually, I joined Edit Board a few weeks later and then stayed through the fall quarter of my junior year. When I think back to that sunrise, back to my freshman year, I wonder what would have happened if I’d called it quits then. I realize I could have avoided a lot of long nights if I did. And I don’t want to romanticize these struggles. But I can’t imagine actually quitting. I mean, I held on to The Daily with a strange strength – I held on to The Daily even as it refused to hold on to me. That sometimes embarrasses me now. But it makes me angry when people assume I stayed because I refused to recognize my own suffering. Because here’s the truth: I was acutely aware of the good and the bad, even from the very beginning.

So what made me keep going? This is the moment where I could say: I stayed for the community that needed news; I stayed for the staffers who were my friends, and even for the ones who weren’t. And these statements are absolutely true. But I also think that I didn’t know how to stop. 

My experience isn’t unique. Northwestern is full of overachievers. But I worked seemingly all my life to get into a college that could cover my expenses. Once I finally got here, I felt an extra pressure to make the most of it. At the same time, I was navigating a sea of Canada Goose jackets and the constant culture shock of private school stories. When I remember some parents pay $80,000 for their students to attend, I still feel surprised, though my peers’ attitudes certainly remind me of this fact. Knowing I didn’t “belong” made me feel simultaneously pushed out and that much more serious about staying in spite of it all. 

That said, I despise pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps narratives, and I don’t want to make my experience sound like one. It is, on many levels, so hard to be FGLI on this paper. For a lot of my peers, The Daily is their only job. Small stipends for Edit Board positions are something to laugh about. For this and so many other reasons, my feelings about The Daily are complicated. And I cannot sum them all up here. 

So I’ll end with a message to any first-gen and/or low-income student at this paper: Listen. You deserve to look off into the horizon and feel hopeful. You deserve to imagine a future in journalism, if you want it. 

If you can’t stay at The Daily, or even in this industry, that’s okay. If you do stay, I wish I could simply say: Take care of yourself. Yet I realize it’s not so easy. You need structures of support. You deserve people to take care of you. 

I helped advocate for a stipend program for low-income staffers at The Daily, and if you’re not aware of that program – please apply. But I know more solutions are needed to create a truly welcoming and supportive space. The labor of building those solutions should not always fall on us, so don’t feel bad if you don’t have the energy. But if you need advice on how to advocate, please reach out. If you just want to talk to someone who gets it – and isn’t like, your pseudo-boss or pseudo-coworker – please reach out. (This would seriously make me happy, so if you’re thinking about it, don’t hesitate. My email is [email protected] and my twitter is @maxlubbers).

On that unfinished feeling of an ending – a fitting feeling, because I never really seemed “done” with The Daily – I’ll say, for the last time: Peace, Love, Daily, 

Max.

Email: [email protected]

Twitter: @maxlubbers