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Yesterday, Hopkins announced that it will be bringing students back to campus in the fall in some form. As universities prepare for their fall semesters, they’re going to think about the logistics of quarantine and isolation when their students start getting sick.
When people ask us why we want to go into journalism, our response is almost reflexive. “Our passion,” we say, “is amplifying voices that often go unheard.” As protests across the country condemn police brutality and centuries of racial injustice, we’re thinking about how to best amplify black voices as Editors-in-Chief of The News-Letter.
Ahmaud Arbery. Sean Reed. Breonna Taylor. George Floyd. Tony McDade. Yassin Mohammed. These are the names that have recently been added to the Black community’s ever-growing directory of murdered souls. These are the names that have been etched into our minds. The names that we will shout every time we have to fight for justice. Their lives, their stories and their deaths have become integral parts of each and every one of our experiences. From strangers to something much stronger than family.
Being here in Minneapolis, as the hurt and vulnerable cry out for all we have lost, I feel empty. I am tired, and I feel broken. I feel robbed of my feelings, with nothing left as I, along with many others, attempt to mourn George Floyd in these Divided States of America.
My father, mother, grandparents and millions of other black Americans have encountered this form of racism: intentional discrimination used to intimidate and reinforce prejudiced power dynamics. This form is observable and obvious, but others are not.
As I prepared to tread the path of Public Editor, I searched for signposts which would show me the way. I connected with other public editors, considering their ideas in the context of The News-Letter. I read journal articles about the ethics of the reader representative role and studies about how journalism’s audience shifted in the digital age. I pored over our past issues to understand the history underpinning the paper’s coverage of Hopkins students.
Five years ago, Baltimore residents took to the streets to protest the death of Freddie Gray, a 25-year-old black man from Sandtown-Winchester. Gray died on April 19 from a severe spinal cord injury sustained while in police custody, yet no officer was convicted. Some call the protests “riots.” We call them the Baltimore Uprising.
U.S. President Donald Trump announced a pause in funding to the World Health Organization (WHO) on April 14. As part of his daily press briefing, Trump emphasized the country’s “duty to insist on full accountability” and publicly asked for a review into the agency’s “mismanaging” of the pandemic. The United States is the largest single contributor to the WHO, and the withdrawal of Trump’s support will be a significant hit to its budget.
Jobs which were available for formerly enslaved workers were limited. As a result, many African-American workers were employed in menial jobs as servants, waiters or barbers. At that time, tipping was a phenomenon that hadn’t been democratized yet in America. Nonetheless, the white ruling class saw the tipping system as a way to perpetuate the racial hierarchy that slavery represented.
If I were sitting in Baltimore right now, and not hundreds of miles away, I would only have had the usual complaints about Hopkins. A quarter system is not something that students have been clamoring for. But what we are clamoring for is a return to campus. We want a return to normalcy. If a quarter system is more likely to get us there, then it’s worth exploring.
Editors gathered on the Wednesday before spring break to put together a final print issue before The News-Letter shifted temporarily to online publication. Hopkins had announced the suspension of in-person activities through mid-April the night before due to the novel coronavirus (COVID-19), but editors were uncertain when they would be able to return to the Gatehouse, the home of the newspaper’s production.
Universities around the country are struggling with the economic effects of the coronavirus pandemic. Yet, some college presidents and deans will continue to earn million dollar salaries even as they lay off struggling employees, and Hopkins is no exception.
I am by no means the most liberal person that I know. However, despite going to a very politically conservative high school and growing up in a pretty conservative community, I was raised in a liberal family with liberal siblings. I am proud to say that I am a registered Democrat.
Twenty-five years ago, Hopkins students buried a time capsule outside of the Milton S. Eisenhower Library to be opened on Earth Day 2020. In 1995, a student involved with the project hoped that those opening the vessel would reflect on how much progress had been made since 1970 and be inspired for the next 25 years of environmental action.
When President Trump gives his daily press briefings with the Coronavirus (COVID-19) Taskforce, my family is usually in the kitchen making dinner. Each day, we begrudgingly turn on my mom’s iPad, wait with dread for Trump to come to the podium and wonder if today will bring a reasonable message from Dr. Fauci, the President lambasting a reporter or another round of full-blown campaigning and propaganda.
With the increasing severity of the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic, people are absorbed in a constant state of fear, anxiety and stress. This crisis is novel, intense and deadly, and little is known about the virus or treatment methods. Aided by the internet and a primal fear of the unknown, rumors spread even faster than the virus can.
This election season, the College Democrats at Hopkins made a conscious decision to not endorse any of the presidential candidates prior to having a nominee. With such a divisive primary season — and an even more divided board — we hoped to afford students the opportunity to come to their own political decisions.
Since mid-March, the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic has significantly altered life for people around the U.S. and the world. These major disruptions have led to changes in the U.S. election calendar and process. The Democratic National Committee (DNC) has pushed their convention back until the week of August 17, and 16 states have postponed their primaries out of public health concern.
When the current editors of The News-Letter went through election interviews last April, nobody asked them how they would adapt their roles to a global pandemic. A year ago, no one imagined life as we know it changing so drastically.
We don’t know when we will next be on campus, but someday we will be. And when we are, things will not be as they once were.
