I’ve always thought that if you’re risk-averse, you’d understand economics well. My grade in finance depends on my understanding of how risk is built into every return, or in other words, people only take risks if they get paid for it. Pure courage, in the business world, does not exist. Sufficient incentive does.
That said, I’ve known that I’d be a business major since I was in middle school. Didn’t know why and what type, but I knew that I was “practical,” and now know that I’m “risk-averse.”
My risk aversion played a part in my initial step into the Basement. In addition to Life&Arts reporter, which is what I really wanted, I applied to be a general photographer because I was confident in my abilities. This — choose optionality over passion, diversify to minimize risk — is a principle many of my friends and I operate on, yet one I’ve found little of at the Texan.
Instead, I saw my peers drop their lives to investigate the implications of Senate Bill 17 and run into protest, tear-gassed at the hands of those whose jobs are to protect us. This semester alone, they’ve put midterms and internships aside to amplify our community’s response to Trump’s immigration policies, the state’s quiet encroachment on academic freedom and the University’s trespass on freedom of expression.
At the beginning, it was difficult to strike a balance between principles prevalent in my academic pursuits and those at the Texan. It was, and still is, scary to act without calculating what comes next, and often without knowing if it would matter at all. But I’ve learned that effective journalism is contingent on courage — to seek out the truth and keep leaders accountable. It relies on currency impossible to calculate: trust from your community, and in your editors, your sources, your gut.
For those who inspired such courage in me — Amelia, Joelle, Kylee, Vivien, Sarah: your conviction infected me, and I’m forever grateful.
For those who gave me your trust — Vivien, Flora, Isa, Alyssa, Katie, Kennedy, Alexa, Kirti, Newt, Jake, Lily, Joseph, Nicolas: thank you. Your dedication to the Texan is what makes it the exceptional paper, and place, it is.
McKenzie, we made it through. I’m happy to have been a team this semester.
Peter, your Basement candids need work, and your crawfish boil skills are satisfactory. But in all seriousness, as you like to say, thank you for your steadfast support.
Will, thanks to you, I rotate between a sledgehammer and a scalpel, and keep rowing even in calm waters. Thank you for reminding me to look at the big picture.
Amelia and Joelle, you guys don’t realize how many times you appeared in my gratitude journal last semester. I’ll forever cherish even our darkest, most silent nights.
Trisha, we’ve come so far. You were one of my first friends in the Basement, and I’m still in awe of your ability to transcribe the world around us with so much color.
To those of you who pushed me over the finish line — I couldn’t have done it without you.
Aaron, did you know I take my AirPods out while I walk to campus because of you? I’m so grateful for your calm and steady judgement — you will be a wonderful managing editor.
Kylee, your compassion and devotion precede you, and I cannot wait to watch you lead the Texan in the fall. One of these days, you’ll have to do a tarot card reading for me, OK?
Raya, you brought to me and the Texan a gift I couldn’t have given myself — laughter, loudness and a true embodiment of advocacy and belonging. The Texan will miss you dearly.
Athena, oh, how I’ll miss our productive fighting and pre-budget tea time. You are such a wonderful balance of warm and sharp, and I’m so lucky to have gotten to know you well.
Kevin, would we be here if not for my Speedway article? I certainly would not be here if not for you. You’ve met the roughest parts of me with optimism I sometimes hate and gentleness I don’t deserve. For those things and much more, I cannot thank you enough.
Mom, thank you for pushing me, and Dad, for driving me once I start. From answering my late-night calls to ordering copies of the Texan, I wouldn’t be here without you both.
At the Texan, I learned that some of the most valuable returns aren’t calculated. They’re given — freely, and with courage. And for that, I’m deeply grateful.
