Summer camp solidifies career goals
One day, I nearly nodded off during a political science lecture until a classmate’s ignorant comment jolted me awake. “Shouldn’t some First Amendment rights be revoked? I mean, I don’t know who to trust because of all the #FakeNews.” (Yes, she said “hashtag.”)
Several other hands went up, and although I hoped one would challenge the comment she made, they only echoed their agreement.
I felt as if I was experiencing a screwed-up form of déjà vu, because earlier in the year someone else had vented to me about how low-income families should no longer be helped.
“They’re just going to trade their food stamps for weed anyways,” he had sneered.
Those two should have been wearing shirts that read, “#I_Retweeted_It_So_It_Must_Be_True.”
Is this the future of journalism? Can people really not distinguish the difference between an established paper such as The Washington Post and some cheap WordPress blog?
I wanted to find the answer. Despite comments insisting that journalism is dead, freelance writing won’t pay the bills (thanks, Mom) and that perhaps my “diversity” would be better suited in a STEMrelated occupation, I took a bold step for my future and applied for the Asian American Journalists Association’s JCamp, a six-day summer journalism program for multicultural high school students at Temple University in Philadelphia.
I went into the program with the idea that I might kind of, sort of want to be a journalist. By the end of what felt like six years, I had never felt more emotionally invested or self-assured about my career goal.
On the first night of the program, I stayed up well past midnight talking with my roommates. I had thought it impossible for me to instantly connect with two strangers, but little did I know that 39 other JCampers were willing to share stories that matched with mine. Prior to JCamp, I was too afraid of becoming boxed in as a writer with just one point of view. I didn’t want to become the person who only addressed “the Asian perspective” because it was an environment that I, as a Korean-American, was already too familiar with outside of the newsroom. Being asked if all Asian men look like Korean pop idols (they don’t) or for my Korean-American perspective on the Korean War were things I didn’t want to cross over into a professional field.
But the mentors and speakers at JCamp reassured me that it is not a crime to be heard. I can’t box myself into a certain perspective; I can only box others out by not sharing it with them. One panelist among the many who made an impression on me — Associated Press journalist Errin Whack — told me that my voice and my perspective matters. As a journalist, it’s my job to make people feel uncomfortable, but it’s not my job to care when they do.
I regret not raising my hand to counter my classmate’s statement. But someday I will prove her wrong through the power of my words.
Ramona Park will be a senior at Santa Fe High School. Contact her at yoharamona@gmail.com.