My introduction to journalism began during my undergraduate years at Ohio University (OU), home to one of the nation’s top journalism schools. Though I wasn’t a journalism student, I spent much of my time alongside student journalists—people deeply committed to exposing injustice and amplifying marginalized voices. They understood the risks: sacrificing safety, financial stability, and comfort for the integrity of their work. Many accepted that they might face debt in a competitive, undervalued field. Their dedication left a lasting impression on me.

I studied behavioral psychology, driven by a fascination with the gap between scientific knowledge and public action. Specifically, I wanted to understand the barriers to positive behavioral change, especially regarding environmental and social issues. Attending OU on a sizable scholarship was a privilege, one that allowed me to pursue these questions as a hopeful (and perhaps naïve) young person. At the time, the U.S. had its first Black president, a former community organizer, and I believed hard work could help build a better future.

In 2015, I graduated—but not before taking a sabbatical year to walk across America for environmental justice. My group and I trekked from coast to coast, garnering coverage in local papers and even landing on the front pages of major city newspapers. During the walk, I wrote press releases and worked with reporter contact lists, often shared by supportive journalists. I learned the stark difference between journalists and reporters: reporters guard their contacts closely, while journalists pride themselves on uncovering them. In many ways, we acted as journalists ourselves, collecting stories from people affected by pollution, climate change, and loss.

After the walk, I lived out of a vehicle and became homeless following the 2016 election. I watched as the U.S. turned against scientists, journalists, and public servants. Instead of launching a career, I struggled to survive in a new city. It took five years to escape homelessness, secure housing, and return to school to rebuild my life. Now, in 2025, I fight harder than ever—and my experiences have only deepened my respect for journalists. They risk their lives to protect our access to unbiased information. Last year, 2024, was the deadliest year on record for journalists, a grim reality that underscores their vital, perilous role. Journalists have their own writing style, like how we write in APA. It's called the upside down pyramid style, and it's how blogs are best written, too.

OU’s campus in Athens, Ohio, holds personal significance. It’s home to the Tufts Journalism School and the infamous Athens Lunatic Asylum, a site of 20th-century human rights abuses and now one of the most haunted places in the U.S. My wife was once a patient there, making this place especially close to my heart. The asylum’s history intersects with journalism in a compelling way, as seen in a documentary by an OU video-journalism student. The film, _A Brief History of The Ridges Insane Asylum_, offers a masterclass in journalistic storytelling. Pay attention to how the student presents information: Are the facts well-sourced? Is the delivery credible and ethical? Does the narrative engage you, or does it falter? These questions matter, especially since the university has renovated—and erased—much of the asylum’s historic landscape.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GllkJRqehCQ[/embed]