Recently, I participated in The News-Letter’s weekend-long election process in which we appoint the board for the following year. This is an annual (and mandatory) tradition; helping to elect those who come after us is an indispensable part of our role as editors, as it ensures the strength and stability of the paper. I won’t be here next year, but The News-Letter will.
Last weekend was my fourth election. At the end of freshman year, I ran for News and Features Editor. At the end of sophomore year, I helped elect the new board while running for Editor-in-Chief. At the end of junior year, I led the elections as Editor-in-Chief and ran for Magazine Editor. And now, at the end of senior year, I helped to elect everyone else. But this time, I wasn’t running for anything.
It’s a weird feeling electing next year’s board when I won’t be here to experience it myself. It’s also a weird feeling to write this article, knowing that it’s the second time I’m saying goodbye. At the end of my tenure as Editor-in-Chief last year, my co-editor Abigail Tuschman and I expressed how grateful we were for everyone’s effort, how proud we were of the work we’d done and how lucky we felt to have been given an opportunity to lead the paper — to lead its editors. I still feel that way.
So, this year, I’m saying goodbye for the second time.
To The News-Letter: I’ve given you four years, my whole college experience. In return, you’ve kept me laying out pages until 5 a.m. Your Gatehouse has given me stomach aches from what I’m convinced was black mold. You’ve turned me into a person who’s passionate about the difference between hyphens, en dashes and em dashes.
But you’ve also given me so much more than I ever could have imagined. Thank you for shared purpose. Thank you for laughter during general meetings. Thank you for the squashy couch to rest on when the nights become too long. Thank you for delusion, both at the beginning of our Editor-in-Chief year, when Abbie and I believed we could do anything, and at the end of print nights, when we laughed just so we wouldn’t cry. Thank you for teaching me how to fight for something I believe in. Thank you for my friends. Thank you for trusting me to serve you.
But mostly, thank you for community. With you, I am a part of something.
I see your faces around campus on the way to class, and when our eyes meet, we are a part of something. We play ultimate frisbee on the Nine East 33rd terrace together, and, when the frisbee goes over the railing, we are a part of something. We scramble for a last minute article, and, when we come up with the idea for an In Case You Missed It box, we are a part of something. When we eat cold pizza, trudge through stormy weather to the Gatehouse, brainstorm punny headlines, reminisce on past articles, worry about being sued, threaten to sue someone else, celebrate our April Fools editions, get better every single year, represent more of the community every single year... We are a part of something.
It’s not the paper that’s made my four years at Hopkins everything it has been. It’s the people. This article is messy. For what is, officially, my final article for The News-Letter, it’s not everything I wish it was; I don’t have the words to make it everything I wish it was. But I want to say that I am simply so grateful for all the people who make up the paper, old and new.
So, this is me saying goodbye for the final time. To next year’s editors: I know that you will all do brilliantly. To everyone who has ever worked with me at the paper: I hope I see you around.
Yana Mulani is a senior from Dubai, U.A.E. majoring in Economics, English and International Studies. Her column discusses how her past intertwines with her present as she navigates a period of growth and discovery. She is a Magazine Editor and a previous Editor-in-Chief for The News-Letter.
