The time has come for my last blog post! College is a chapter in my book of life I am just not ready to leave. I’m not ready to turn that page into the real world. But as the cliché goes, all good things must end eventually. My experience in Borderbeat has been enriching. Reporting around issues related to the border and culture wasn’t something that interested me. It still isn’t my cup of Starbucks coffee but I have met so many people whose lives are so much more interesting than my own. Stories of struggle or triumph are always my favorite and Borderbeat gave me the opportunity to go out into the community and find them. Some were easier than others. The best subjects are sometimes the ones you already know. My story about a Cuban Refugee was my friend Jacque’s father. He had went through so much. I never knew. Other stories got me out in the Tucson community. My first article about the tradition of threading in Indian culture making its way to the United States taught me two things. First, threading is amazing. Ever since immersing myself in my work (Getting threaded to better write about it) I have never gone back to waxing. Second, I realized people who cross the border to start new lives have guts. Shamalya, the owner of a local threading shop, moved from India to give a small tradition of her country to the U.S. She could have failed, but she didn’t. She left what she knew (other than threading of course) and started over. This leads me to the next thing I learned: Culture and traditions don’t have a border. They cross with each person or family.
Borderbeat was the first journalism class I took where I felt confident with the skills I have been learning three years prior. I had control over my story ideas, which helped me develop skills in what I like doing best: profiles of people. I am a middle class American white girl, about as standard as it comes but I love seeking out people who fit a uniqueness, do unique things and have stories you wouldn’t believe to tell. I like to write about people who are much more interesting than me. Journalism can be a beautiful thing. When I went to St. Andrew’s Clinic in Nogales, Ariz. I found it most hard to suspend my own emotions for these families’ stories. At one point I just wanted to pick up the kid I was focusing on and hug him. Of all that I did in my short semester with Borderbeat, St. Andrew’s was my favorite. Under the direction of a great, retiring professor I gained confidence with Borderbeat, which is the best feeling a graduating senior venturing into the real world can ask for. Farewell Borderbeat! Enjoy the next batch of writers!