As I wrap up my role as Editor-in-Chief of the paper, I have a mix of emotions. 

I feel thankful to the team of people who made our production possible. We embarked together on a year filled with remarkable upheaval, reckoning and loss. It was not a light responsibility to shape this campus’s experience with COVID-19 and movement for racial justice into words. But we did it—albeit imperfectly—because if not us, then who? 

As the student body changed, so did The Clarion. The paper underwent much development, taking the plunge from print to online publication. Our writers and staff took these shifts in stride, and I will never cease to be grateful for how their efforts kept the paper alive. You trusted me with your words, and it was a privilege to be your editor. I wish I could name you all, but this incomplete list of thank-yous will have to do. 

To Sara, who pushed me to be my most radical and unapologetic self. You are brilliant and talented, and you were my greatest ally and advocate. 

To Jake, who made space for joy and laughter in our virtual newsroom. Watching you work keeps me humble, and it is a testament to your diligence that you have held almost every position on staff. 

To Tori and Conor, who will take the reins after us with grace. You are already growing into your new roles, and your Clarion alumni will always be here for support and guidance. 

As for my role on this team, I feel proud of the work I have done. My interviews and writing for “On the Margins” and #NoMorePios remains the most impactful experience of my collegiate career. It brought me to students of color on this campus at a time when my identities needed it most. Everything I know about critical race and ethnic studies has been passed down from their wealth of knowledge. It stirred a profound change within me, bringing hope for our collective liberation. 

But most importantly, I feel free. I deeply cared for this paper, wanting to better its publication for our writers and the marginalized communities on campus. But somewhere along the way, I lost sight of the reality that as a woman of color, merely existing in this predominantly white university is a form of resistance. I sacrificed time, self and wellbeing for an institution that did not deserve me. I became the paper’s gatekeeper, trying and inevitably failing to prevent the encroachment of whiteness. 

I am more than this position. When I look ahead, I am most excited to give myself permission to exist; live my truth as a Filipina woman; and care for myself and my community. 

As I leave The Clarion, I try to make space for all these emotions. I remind myself that all of this meant something because I hold one last dedication. 

To the next person of color in my role—all of this was a labor of love for you. May your time here be beautiful, too, but easier than my own. 

Kiana Marsan

2020-2021 Editor-in-Chief