1989 (Taylor Swift), QuEEN OF ThE clOuds (Tove Lo). OTHER ... OTHER CONTENDERS: MElOdRAMA (Lorde), RAINBOw .... The next
e
u s s I s n Thi
I
Me f o h t D The DTH
FT THE E L I Y H W
Getaways
CAMPUS HAUNTS
EO R O s s i o n Con S SION S E S B O IE COOK
1
A o h l .
! EXTRA!
A EXTR 2
R E aD A
l L
A b O UT
M
E. 3
#BowtieWednesday 6
O
. Ss r E O C oN n O i ns 8
sessio b O e i k o o C
S t R U c K C HO rD s Favorite Albums
T e C HN i c aL l Y 4
10
CO l L EG e
Undocumented Student Life 12
E M16 TH E D t h e DTH h t t f e L I Why C o L O rb uR s T Coming Ou O
Ma K i n G m Y b O w S
F
t Story 22
G M i m f r L N S Su E s Internship Lesson 26
G e T wa Ys A Campus Hangouts 28
5
Ma K i n G mY
O S b w
THE ORIGIN, CONTINUATION OF #BOWTIEWEDNESDAY
6
Story & Design by José Valle Photos by José Valle very time I’m forced to share a “fun fact” about myself, it’s usually the fact that I’ve been wearing a bowtie every Wednesday for the last six years. That’s right: Every. Single. Wednesday. Even when no one else was around to see it. The follow-up question tends to be the obvious one: Why? Well, truth be told, there was never really a reason. I just remember talking to my friend on the phone in high school about wanting to make my weeks more exciting by starting a sort of consistent fashion trend for myself. Around sophomore year of high school, I discovered bowties. I fell in love with them, and while I didn’t have many at the time of the phone call, I decided that I was going to wear bowties once a week. I chose Wednesday because it takes place in the middle of the
week and because of the slight alliteration with the Ws in the two words. Genius, I know. According to my Instagram, the first time I ever used the hashtag #BowtieWednesday was Oct. 10, 2012. And while I could’ve sworn I remembered it starting my senior year of high school, apparently I was wrong about that. For the most part, starting that October, I posted once a week with whatever my outfit that day was. Eventually, I got to the point where I was posting once a week like clockwork. I then came to terms with the fact, though, that not everyone cared about this fad as much as I did. So I eased up on the posting but continued the trend. By the time I graduated high school, people started to refer to me as the “bowtie newspaper kid.” My favorite moment of recognition, though, probably came when some of my friends continued the
trend after I left the school. While some people made fun of me for it, I noticed that more and more people around me started to wear these fun, trendy ties. At this point, I don’t know exactly how many I have because I don’t have them all in one place. I do know, however, that it’s at least 80. Some were gifts and some were homemade, either by me or my friends. In the six years I’ve been doing it, I’ve worn bowties made of newspaper, duct tape and gold lamé, just to name a few things. I’ve tied them so many times that I don’t need to look in a mirror to do it right. I’ve also mastered the art of tying them on other people, which two years ago was almost impossible for me. While I think pre-tied bowties are frauds, I’ve been gifted so many at this point I have to accept to wear them. They’re still pretty, little bows, after all.
7
O
. C oN n O i S s r E O
SUMMARIZING A MULTI-YEAR “LIMITED EDITION” OBSESSION Story & Design by José Valle Photos by Alex Kormann
8
actly (gotta stick with the theme, people) when my Oreo obsession began is not something I can easily pinpoint. Maybe it was the first time I had a nontraditional flavor. Maybe it was when I made Oreo cookie balls around Christmas time senior year of high school. Maybe it’s always been a part of me. Regardless, I started collecting an extra box of each limited release halfway through freshman year. Why? Because I’m a hoarder. But also because I thought it’d be cool to look back on all of them one day. Oreo had been releasing limited edition flavors for about two years at that point, so while I missed out on flavors like Watermelon — yes, I’m still really upset — in 2013, I still got to try many bizarre ones.
And for me, it wasn’t enough just to try all the cookies. Oreo brownies, candy bars, eggs, churros and donuts — you name it, I bought it and most probably loved it. It’s gone on for four years at this point, so I figured I’d list it all out. The compilation to the right lays out all the flavors I remembered — and was reminded of by Wikipedia — in my collection years. Those not marked with anything I got to save a box of. Those marked with a (*), I got to try. Those marked with a (^), I missed out on. I thought about reviewing each flavor, but that would be nearly impossible. Just know this: Cotton Candy and S’Mores are my all-time favorite Oreo, Piña Colada Thins are the best thins and don’t knock Swedish Fish Oreos until you try them. ConnoisOREO, out.
Birthday Cake (’12) Berry (’14) * Fruit Punch (’14) * Cookie Dough (’14) * Caramel Apple (’14) Pumpkin Spice (’14) Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup (’14) * Golden Birthday Cake (’12) Root Beer Float (’14) ^ Key Lime Pie (’14) ^ Toasted Coconut (’14) ^ Marshmallow Crispy (’14) ^ Cookies & Creme (’15) * Oreo Thins (’15) * Oreo Thins Chocolate Creme (’15) * Oreo Thins Golden (’15) * Oreo Thins Mint (’15) * Oreo Thins Lemon (’15) * Oreo Thins Tiramisu (’15) ^ Red Velvet (’15) Cotton Candy (’15) * S’Mores (’15) Gingerbread (’15) Brownie Batter (’15) Strawberry Shortcake (’16) Peppermint (’16) * Cinnamon Bun (’16)
Filled Cupcake (’16) Fruity Crisps (’16) Blueberry Pie (’16) Choco Chip (’16) Candy Corn (’16) White Fudge Oreo (’16) * Chocolate Strawberry (’16) Swedish Fish Oreo (’16) Peeps (Pink) (’17) Oreo Thins Coconut (’17) Firework (’17) Mississippi Mud Pie (’17) Jelly Donut (’17) Waffles & Syrup (’17) Dunkin’ Donuts Mocha (’17) PB&J (’17) Cookie Butter (’17) Apple Pie (’17) Mystery (’17) Oreo Thins Salted Caramel (’17) * Oreo Thins Piña Colada (’18) Peeps (Purple) (’18) Chocolate Hazelnut (’18) Spicy Hot Cinnamon (’18) Hot Cocoa (’18) Cherry Cola (’18) Kettle Corn (’18)
9
U t S R cK C HO r D s
FROOT
E•MO•TION
Marina and the Diamonds (’14 to ’15)
Carly Rae Jepsen (’15 to ’16)
OTHER CONTENDERS: Ultraviolence (Lana Del Rey), 1989 (Taylor Swift), Queen of the Clouds (Tove Lo)
OTHER CONTENDERS: Revival (Selena Gomez), Cry Baby (Melanie Martinez), Delirium (Ellie Goulding)
Glory
Lust for Life
Britney Spears (’16 to ’17)
Lana Del Rey (’17 to ’18)
OTHER CONTENDERS: E•MO•TION: Side B (Carly Rae Jepsen), Joanne (Lady Gaga), No. 1 Angel (Charli XCX)
OTHER CONTENDERS: Melodrama (Lorde), Rainbow (Kesha), reputation (Taylor Swift)
FAVORITE 2014 TO 2018 ALBUM RELEASES Story & Design by José Valle Photos by Katherine Kirkman op music, if you’re to know anything about me, is probably one of my biggest sources of inspiration. I could talk about it for hours on end, so I decided to keep it as simple and minimal as possible with this one. Believe me, this was harder for me than you’d think.
10
I managed to narrow down my top four albums released between the summers and springs of each year (ex: Summer ’14 to Spring ’15). I’ll spare y’all the explanations for each, but feel free to ask about them. To make it easier for me, though, I listed the other top three contenders for each slot, in no particular order.
11
T e C HN i c aL l Y AN UNDOCUMENTED YOUTH’S PURSUIT OF A HIGHER
EDUCATION
CO l L E e G
Story & Design by José Valle Photos by Nick Chamberlain unior year of high school is when it became evidently clear to me that my undocumented status was going to be a bigger burden than I ever expected. Sure, it’d kept me from getting a driver’s license, but I never thought it’d keep me from the one thing I was determined to do: graduating from college. Especially Tough Perhaps I’m starting off a little too abruptly. So please, allow me to backtrack. For those of you who don’t know, I’m an undocumented immigrant. My parents brought my sister and I here from El Salvador when I was 7. Since then, I’ve been granted Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, which gives me a worker’s permit and keeps me from being deported for a 2-year period, so long as I don’t commit any crimes. I kept all of this a secret for most of high school and went public with it during a speech at the National Press Club in my thank-you speech at their 2014 annual awards dinner.
12
adviser, a woman who was basically a second mom to me. She helped me do some research and we found out about a few potential scholarship opportunities. At that point, I was beyond set on the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. I’d been I knew their going to journalism summer camps for two years. I’d journalism participated in the school is where I belonged. I was Chuck Stone Program so convinced, in for Diversity in Education fact, that it was & Media. I knew their the only journalism school is where I university I belonged. I was so convinced, applied to. Since then, I’ve been pretty open in fact, that it was the only about it. I don’t tend to bring it up unless it’s university I applied to. In the relevant or necessary, but I also don’t try to hide end, I got in with all sorts of it. This wasn’t the case in high school, though. special opportunities at my It came around time to start applying disposal. Then I waited it out. for college before I ever considered telling I remember holding off until the last anyone about my situation. I wanted to possible day to notify the university that I continue my education but I didn’t know how, wasn’t going to be attending that fall. I’d tried since the state of North Carolina requires everything at that point, but nobody could undocumented students to pay out-of-state help. I was crushed. tuition with no financial aid. My parents At that point, I had no backup plan, weren’t making that type of money and I knew either. So I started to give up. Why did high I couldn’t be approved for a loan. Therefore, school matter if I wasn’t going to be able to go I finally decided on telling my newspaper to college?
“
”
13
Basically Something
powered through, and even met with someone in UNC’s financial aid office. He initially told me there was unfortunately nothing they could do. Two weeks went by, though, and he told me he’d found out about a private fund that could potentially help me. It was an application that required me to write a 1-page essay explaining my situation and provide all sorts of financial documents. He said nothing would probably come of it, but it was worth a shot. With no other options, once again, I went for it. All the while, I kept on searching for other scholarships and working hard at my extracurriculars and in school. And I’m really glad to say it paid off.
Eventually, a professor I’d gotten to know through the summer programs ended up talking me into attending a community college in Durham, North Carolina. He said he, too, couldn’t help me, but that me starting at this community college would buy us two more years to figure something out. In the meantime, I could work with him in the news studio. So I did. I moved by myself to Durham and started a new life. It’s not like I had any other options. It was a dark and lonely time for me, though. I had two roommates, but they were already friends going into it so I was the odd one out. I knew no one. Plus, there Finally There were a few people from my high school at that point who were at the school of my The night of April 13, 2016, I stayed up dreams pursuing a career I’d been working until 6:30 a.m. finishing yet another scholarship toward for the last four years. I had nothing application. Right before going to sleep, I other than class and the studio to preoccupy texted my high school newsroom adviser and myself with. It sucked, hardcore, because I an adviser from Durham Tech asking for letters was so used to keeping busy. of recommendation that were going to I was definitely be due two weeks from that day. itely ects n fi experiencing the effects I slept through class and woke e d f I was ing the ef n’t up to an email around 11 a.m., of depression. I didn’t c d i d ien experepression. Ime, but I though, that started off with, know it at the time, but I i t d of it at the ted it. was. And I hated it. “I’m very pleased to tell you now . And I ha k So I started working at that the subcommittee for s wa The Daily Tar Heel. Then I special financial consideration started working for Durham has met and has made the Tech’s literary magazine. I helped start a club recommendation to provide you with financial called Cambiando Caminos, an all-inclusive support for your undergraduate studies at group which worked to create all sorts of UNC-Chapel Hill. The University will provide opportunities for the Latinx students at Durham $40,556 for the 2016-17 academic year. This Tech. I did everything I could to get involved amount will cover your out-of-state tuition and with my new community and keep myself busy fees, plus an additional $6,640 that you may again. Though I wasn’t really being challenged, apply to any other expenses.” I dedicated a lot of time to my classes and I started sobbing. I simply couldn’t somehow managed to keep a 4.0. believe it. I called my high school adviser and All the while, I continued to look into told her the news, emphasizing I wasn’t going scholarship opportunities, especially once to be needing that letter of recommendation sophomore year started. I’d always make after all. I then called my parents. Then my it to the final round, though, only to be Durham Tech adviser. Then everyone else. I told they’d found someone better. I just had to tell the world.
“
114 4
”
The next few weeks were a blur. It was official: I was going to continue my education at UNC. With this news, I was able to continue working at the DTH. I was able to take the classes I’d been dreaming of since high school. I was able to pursue my degree. Sure, the road wasn’t easy. Sometimes UNC wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. People still looked down on me because I transferred from a community college. They still questioned whether or not I deserved to be there. I knew I did, though, so I persevered. Literally Graduating And can I finally got my degree. I’m publishing this magazine on May 30, 2018, and it’s been two-and-a-half weeks since graduation. I still haven’t come to terms with it, probably because I never thought I’d make it to this point. It’s crazy how far we’ve come. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as low as I did that first year of college. Honestly, I hope to never feel that way again. Life in unpredictable, though, so who knows what’s to come? Everyone, at some time or another, told me to start looking for new dreams. Everyone eventually told me there was no point in me trying again. I almost believed them.
And yet, here we are: undocumented, but undaunted. Sure, the news is terrifying and I’ve stopped keeping up with current events, but at this point, I’ve made it this far against all odds. You can bet I’m more than willing to take another gamble. After all, I’m technically — I mean, literally — a college graduate now. And that’s my story. At this point in time, I’d like to take another moment to thank all of those who supported me in every way possible: my family, friends, mentors and coworkers. Without them and the generous donors at UNC, the National Press Club, the Outer Banks Community Foundation and the Tomorrow Fund for Hispanic Students, I wouldn’t have been able to make this dream come true. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t count Everyone eventually these blessings. So again: thank told me there was you, gracias. Please know you no point in me trying have — and will continue to again. I almost believed have — my love forever. I can’t them. And yet, here we wait to make y’all proud. are: undocumented,
“
”
but undaunted.
15
Dt h O
TH E
F
E M
HOW THE DAILY TAR HEEL CONVINCED ME TO LEAVE IT Story & Design by José Valle Photos by Tyler Vahan Of all the stories in this magazine, this one has to be the hardest for me to write. Why? Because The Daily Tar Heel saved my life. Loved to Death Like I said in “Technically College,” freshman year was one of the worst I’ve ever been through. I went from getting home from high school theater, newspaper, prom committee or Odyssey of the Mind meetings at 11 p.m. a few nights a week to spending around 20
16
hours a day doing nothing in an apartment by myself. I’d go home to the Outer Banks any time I could, even though I didn’t have a car, and that’s eventually how I started working at the DTH. My high school journalism adviser found out that I was having a miserable time doing nothing one night while I helped her staff send a newspaper to the printer. She mentioned that she may be able to put me in touch with the DTH’s newsroom adviser. Her reasoning was that I should be able to work at the paper, since I technically should’ve been a student at UNC
that year. And she was right. I contacted the adviser, she spoke with the editors and I ended up with a spot on the Design & Graphics Desk. Most people were super welcoming and accommodating. The adviser, editors and assistants were aware of my situation and never treated me any differently. I wish I could say the same for some of the other staffers. Regardless, I made the most of it. I would take the bus from Durham to Chapel Hill multiple nights a week to work on the D&G Desk and attend occasional
weekly workshops. Based on what I was told, I broke the record of workshops ever attended that semester by going to 23. I couldn’t help it; I had nothing else to do and I loved learning about different aspects of journalism. I finally felt like I was a part of something bigger than me again, and it gave the opportunity to spend some time near UNC’s campus. I loved working in the newsroom so much that I applied to be an assistant the second semester of my freshman year. And I got it. The time in the position started off with me
not realizing the buses stopped running early the night before my first class of the semester and having to walk five miles from Duke Chapel to my apartment at midnight in the rain, but I didn’t let that discourage me. By the time freshman year ended, I was chosen to be Design & Graphics editor for both the summer and the following year. While I didn’t think it was possible, I took my commitment a step further. I gave the desk a theme and started referring to my staffers and myself as “Designasaurs.” I did everything I could to get to know them as more than people who just worked for me. I even held voluntary sessions for them outside of my daily 3:30 p.m. to 12:30 a.m. schedule to teach them more than the InDesign they used during their workday. I spent every free moment I had in the office. Luckily, thanks to a super generous friend, I had a car at this point in time. While I sometimes left the office for class around 9 a.m., I was still having a good time. Dead Tired Then came the second semester of sophomore year. It was time for me to start applying to schools again. Meanwhile, the awesome man who helped send our papers to the printer every night reduced his time commitment at the paper, and it somehow became my job to send off our product every night. It made sense, since I knew what the
wanting to provide only what pages were supposed to look like was necessary of me. At this more than anyone, point, I was convinced I but it soon enough wanted to be editor-in-chief. became too much. I’d kinda burnt myself out I’d have to go to a back room to And so began the previous year, and I wanted to fulfill my my gradual double-check all the demise, VME duties without pages while I heard because just as over-exerting myself. everyone else sit up it saved my life, I had to train four front and have fun. the DTH ruined people on three different I’d leave to go get me, too. desks and I focused dinner after finishing primarily on the work around 10 p.m. one I’d been working some nights and be told on for two years. to “hurry back because you have Eventually, the D&G Editor to send the paper.” Our deadline was fine doing their daily job, was 12:30 a.m. Needless to say, it but the Photo and Video editors eventually caused some tension. were barely getting by. The editor-in-chief started I still believe I should’ve helped going to my assistants instead more. I did what I could, but there of me. I started to give up and contemplated quitting. The editor was only so much I could handle. If y’all are reading this, just know that and I eventually overcame it, I’m really, really sorry. I should’ve though. We talked it out and we done a better job of handling my ended that year on relatively OK duties and helping you. I didn’t terms. And somehow, I ended up as part of the management team, mean to burn you out the way others had done me. But we made the only non-senior of four. it through a semester together, and To clarify some misconceptions people at the paper had, I was talked into the Visual Managing Editor position. I didn’t think I was entirely ready for it, but the rising editor-in-chief needed help with everything visual. So I took the position, but on my terms. I essentially combined the Video, Photo and Design & Graphics Desks. I got rid of the assistant positions and made the desk editors my assistants, of sorts, in an attempt to save money. And there we had it: my first mistake. I went into junior year
“
”
that’s all that mattered. At that point, we had a system that worked well enough to get us by. Then came mistake number two. Before second semester of junior year, I started to brainstorm my editor-in-chief platform. While doing this, I signed up to take Infographics and Motion Graphics with my favorite professor in the journalism school. His motion graphics class was the main reason I wanted to come to UNC and I knew that there was no way I could take it if I was given the editorship. So I paired it with infographics, against my professor’s advice, and strapped in for one hell of a semester. And so began my gradual demise, because just as it saved my life, the DTH ruined me, too. I worked on my application for editor-in-chief for weeks when it came out. I rewrote it multiple times, the last time being the night before it was due. I just wanted it to be as perfect as possible. And I thought it was.
17
I submitted the eight shortanswer questions, two essays, two letters of recommendation and eight work samples, two of which were two whole issues I had designed entirely by myself. I also submitted the budget document required for the first time in a while that year. A little bit of context on that, though: we’d gotten a new general manager that year. The management team had the chance to interview all the candidates for that position, and while she wasn’t my favorite of the pool, I still thought she had a lot to offer the paper. That opinion quickly started to change. She took all the editorin-chief candidates out for oneon-one lunches. During mine, she asked me about my undocumented status. I had no problem being honest with her about it because I’d been pretty public about it at this point, but then she said something that still bugs me to this day: “If you ever get in trouble with something like that, I want to be the first person on the list of people you call.” While I appreciated the sentiment, I didn’t know her like that. And after that comment, I didn’t want to ever know her like that. From what I can tell, she convinced the board of directors to require the budget document because she thought it important that the editor know about the finances. And I agree with that wholeheartedly. As most people know, the paper still isn’t doing too well and everyone needs to be aware. What bothers me, though, is that she was being paid a pretty
18
large salary to keep watch over the finances. Why was the editor suddenly responsible for deciding where the money went? She offered to help me with my budget document, and because she made me uncomfortable, I didn’t take her up on the offer. And there we had it: mistake number three. Kiss of Death I took the previous year’s budget and modified it to make mine. I figured I could sell it better in the presentation to the selection committee, even if the spreadsheet’s numbers weren’t exactly where they needed to be. So the night before the application was due, I started off by spending hours fixing the mistakes of the ad director.
I finally got to leave, though, and spent the rest of the night putting the final touches on my application. Then came the deadline: 5 p.m. I saved all my work samples, uploaded my letters of recommendation and budget document and submitted everything at 4:57 p.m. I confirmed it was received correctly, went through the work day and finally got home late that night. I passed out and due to my lack of sleep, overslept and woke up to a series of frantic texts from the general manager. Apparently I’d uploaded the previous year’s budget instead of my own. In my half-woken stupor, I decided the best way to ensure everything was submitted correctly was just to retype everything into a new spreadsheet. And that’s what I did. I said I’d get it to her within
the hour, but it took a few minutes longer. She told me she’d pass it on to the board and get back to me. Later that night, the board had a long meeting. Exactly what they talked about, I’ll never know. But the general manager came out of it and said that she needed to see me in her office. I followed her, and things went down like this: She told me that the board had talked about me a lot, but that she had a meeting in Durham she needed to get to around 7 p.m. that night. She wanted to know when I’d be free the next day. I said I could come in when I finished classes, but she said she was only free in the morning. So I agreed to come in before class at 10:30 a.m. That night was another sleepless one. I figured the board had decided on one of two things: to not let me run for editor-in-chief or to give me the ad director position. I’d suggested they could save a lot of money by making the ad director position a student one, and since I’d worked rather closely with her, I thought this might be a possibility. But it turned out the former was true. I came in the next morning dressed in a chippier-than-usual Bowtie Wednesday outfit. The general manager thanked me for coming in to see her and said she’d get straight to the point. In less than three minutes, she told me that she was sorry, but the board had decided to not let me run for editor-in-chief. She said that she knew how much I wanted this and expressed her apologies, but that she’d
talked to the current editor and newsroom director, and that if I needed to take the day off to process, that I could. After all, she said, I was only human. Why she didn’t tell me this right before she left the previous night, I don’t know. The part of me that mistrusts her thinks she wanted to see me squirm. Maybe she just didn’t think about it. I don’t know, but this is what I resent her for, most of all. I nodded and left. I wasn’t going to let her see me cry. But I broke down on the way to the journalism school. I cried in my boss’ office. I cried so much in class I had to excuse myself. I was heartbroken. I heard from the current editor, and she said she was there if I needed her. I asked if she could get me in touch with the board to see if I could appeal. Though they’d never offered this to anyone before, they granted me the chance to do so. I asked quite a few people their opinion on whether or not I should until a consensus was reached. So I
wrote the one-page, emotionless letter in less than the 24 hours they allotted and I appealed. The board said I would hear back by Monday. One of my only true friends and former mentors from the paper convinced me and another friend to go up and see her in D.C. for the weekend while we awaited the decision. I’d always dreamed of going to the Cherry Blossom Festival, and it just so happened that it was in full swing during our trip. We had a great time together and managed to take my mind off things. On our way to a hike through Shenandoah Valley, though, I got the email: “I wanted to follow up regarding your appeal for candidacy for EIC. Unfortunately, the board voted to reject your appeal and you will not be moving forward in the process. Your application was incomplete and therefore it cannot be accepted. Thank you for your time in this matter and know that this was not a decision
made lightly as we considered it carefully and seriously with respect for all that you’ve invested in the DTH.” So it was official. My chances were shot. I’ll be the first to admit it was all my fault. I fucked up, big time. And yeah, if that was what would’ve cost me the editorship in the end, well, it was entirely on me. What I resent them for, though, is that they didn’t even let me run, especially since my application wasn’t really incomplete. I turned in a budget document, after all. I really hoped they would’ve let me run, but only if I used the old budget. But they didn’t. They sold it as if there was only one candidate. They completely disqualified my application. I didn’t even get the chance to present to the selection committee. All I wanted to do was quit. I hated myself and I hated the institution and I hated every part of the situation. This was all especially true since I didn’t even know who the board members were. But I stuck it out because I wanted to be professional. I wanted to leave, but I also wanted to show them they weren’t going to completely tear me down. The Monday after the new editor was officially announced, UNC’s basketball team won the National Championship. Because I knew how big of a deal it was to the paper, the university and all fans of the team, I went on to design all of the championship papers and merch. I stayed until 5 a.m. without any of my visuals team the night of the victory only to oversleep and come in at 9 a.m. that morning to
“
Because I knew how big of a deal it was to the paper, the university and all fans of the team, I went on to design all of the championship papers and merch.
”
hand out papers. Then I spent three whole days and nights in that office with only breaks for class to finish a 40-page magazine. I designed the cover the first day after the general manager instructed me that I had two days to finish the entire magazine. She wanted me to let her know if I “started to slip.” The ad director and I got it pushed back a day, though, because that was practically impossible. One of the board members — who I can only assume voted against me in the decision — saw the cover and was shocked at how “beautiful” it was. He asked if I’d done it entirely by myself and told me that they were going to make it into posters and T-shirts. I rolled my eyes and told him I had to get to class. So there we had it: the UNC Tar Heels had redemption. And I helped the DTH make $100,000 in profits. It’s funny, because redemption is all I really wanted for myself at that point. I wanted to prove to me and everyone else that it was a mistake; that yeah, I’d made the mistakes that caused all of this, but that the biggest one was the DTH not letting me run for editor-inchief. Despite this, I tried really hard to not leave the paper.
19
Death Did Us Part That year, the DTH had launched its new brand studio. I remember the initial presentation on it and falling in love with the idea. I even contemplated ditching my plan to be editor-in-chief and work for the brand studio. From then, my plan was to apply for the brand studio leadership position if I didn’t get editor-in-chief, simply because I loved the potential each position offered. After the way things went down, though, I told the newsroom adviser I couldn’t do that, simply for my sake. But at the last minute I turned in my application to be considered for the brand studio. A week or so after the deadline, an email was sent out asking for more applicants. This was interesting to me, because the editor-in-chief position only had one applicant. I didn’t say anything about it, though. Then came time for the presentations to the brand studio. I went first. I’ll admit, though, after I saw my competitor present, I knew I wasn’t qualified for the position. I genuinely went into it thinking I was, but I didn’t understand the way it worked like the other candidate did. I stuck it through, though, because I wanted to be professional. This was followed by the interview process. It was with the general manager and newsroom director. The general manager had missed my presentation the night before, so she wanted me to recap. I got through most of the questions OK until
20
I was asked by the one person I thought was on my side throughout the entire thing, “Tell me what you learned from the whole editorin-chief experience.” I was taken aback, but I responded with 1) I had spread myself too thin and needed to focus on my work more, and 2) that I wouldn’t be there without the connections and relationships I’d made with people at the paper; that I wanted to be more than just a boss for the people at the brand studio, I wanted to be someone they could come to with any of their problems. They nodded. I don’t know if they had malicious intention, but I still don’t see why this questions were relevant. A few more questions went by, then came the most painful one of all: “What would you say to people who think you’re only applying to this as a consolation prize for editor-in-chief?” The general manager responded with, “Ooh, asking all the hard-hitting questions.” I remember having to pause and try to keep my composure as I contemplated my response. The newsroom director was the first person I texted when I got the decision and told her that while I’d always wanted to run for the brand studio position, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. At that point, I didn’t care about the position at all and I was beyond hurt. I don’t think they’ll ever understand just how hard it was for me to go through with the decision to apply for this, in the first place, simply because the paper was all I knew. I didn’t really have friends outside of the institution. It’s what I’d dedicated my entire life to for three years. But
it’s fine. I got through the interview and didn’t look back. The general manager took me into her office a few days later, as I was finishing a final project, to tell me they’d given it to the other candidate. The general manager also told me that she thought the person they’d selected really liked me, and that I should consider applying to be her design assistant because of this. She also insisted that the DTH was better with me as a part of it. As if I didn’t already know. We made it through the rest of the year. I took part of the time given to all the editors for speeches at our annual banquet to bring light to the situation without ruining everyone’s night. I ended my speech with, “You’ve helped me get through the shitshow my life has been, especially
in the last month and a half. Just some advice for the incoming editors next year: don’t give absolutely everything you have to this paper, like I did. Why? Because it makes it easier for people to come in and take away everything you’ve slaved over the last three years. Thank you all again for all that you’ve done for me and let me do for you. I’m going to miss you all so much.” We all ended the night with an afterparty. Life After Death After all of this, ironically enough, I think redemption is exactly what I got. There were a few raised eyebrows and some people went on to ask me what I was talking about. Then, in the time I left, the DTH
implemented all the ideas from my platform. So I cut all ties with the paper and read none of their content, other than one column titled “Ending DACA hurts student journalism” which was almost enough to get me to write a letter to editor. I refrained, though, because I figured the few who knew would think I wrote it because I was bitter about not getting the editorship. But no, it was actually just one of the most ignorant pieces of writing I’ve ever seen. Regardless, I channeled the rage and betrayal I felt into my summer internship and came back the following fall with a new passion for print. I ended up serving as art director for a “start-up” tech magazine in my magazine design class. On that
note, I’m just going to go ahead and say that the magazine is now enough to convince me that while I resent the board for their decision, I’m happy with the outcome because I’m prouder of that magazine than anything I ever produced at the DTH. And as I’m putting the final touches on this story, I can proudly say I’ve earned the title of Student Designer of the Year from the Michigan State University Society for News Design international student design competition. Sure, some of the clips I submitted were from my time at the DTH, and for that I’m grateful, but it was the fire I had in me and the work that I went on to create after I left that I think really set me apart from other students.
I’m not sure if anyone is going to read this all the way through. But I just want people to know that with this story, I’m not trying to take down the institution. Honestly, while I’m grateful for all the DTH gave me, I really don’t care what happens to it anymore. I have no intentions with this other than give an explanation as to
why I left. Because yeah, the DTH was the death of me. In a way, I lost a part of me when I left. I’d say I spent the first part of senior year living dead. But based on what’s happened in the year since that demise, I’m really excited for what else comes from my revival.
21
s u C o L O rb R T COMING OUT’S EFFECT ON MY COLLEGE EXPERIENCE Story & Design by José Valle Photos by Alex Kormann Shockingly enough, my coming out story started in middle school. It’s shocking not because I knew then, but because I was completely oblivious. And though I had no idea, I still experienced the unfortunate circumstances gay youth face in today’s schools. Simply put, I spent most of my life in middle and high school trying to ignore and overcome bullying. I was fortunate in the sense that it never got physical, but there were many instances where I’d come home crying because of how harsh kids got. My parents considered going to the principal plenty of times, but I told them it’d only make it worse. Meanwhile, I told myself it’d get better. I made myself believe it. I had no choice. It still hurt, though, because I was being bullied for something I didn’t even know I identified as: being gay. Congrats, y’all. You knew before I did. Burst Bubbles
22
It’s not that I tried to suppress my sexuality. I genuinely just had no idea. Growing up in a mix of all Catholic and
extremely Christian Latinx family members, I don’t know why, but we were fast friends. being gay just wasn’t really a thing that We told each other everything, and he even anyone discussed. As far as I know, knew about the fact that I was in love with I’m the first in my entire a girl I’d known since middle school. When extended family to ever come I left for college, I started missing him a out. Because of this, I never lot. On my birthday, after that girl really considered this to be Growing up in a mix broke my heart, I realized that of all Catholic and a possibility. It probably maybe the reason I missed ex tremely Christian also didn’t help that I him so much was perhaps Latinx family never really thought about explained by the possibility members, being gay sex or anything like that in that I had feelings for him. I just wasn’t really a high school. I was too busy thought it over and ended up dedicating myself to everything thing that anyone telling him. Things between us discussed. I was doing in classes or in were okay until they weren’t, extracurriculars to let my mind and then he moved away be preoccupied with the matter. Luckily, because of a bad family toward the end of my high school career, situation, so it ended up not I was too involved and too much of a really mattering. While that friendship was prominent figure in the school for anyone gone, the seeds of realization were planted. to outright continue the bullying, so in that regard, things got a little easier. Hard work Burst on the Scene does, indeed, pay off. But at the same time, it only made coming to terms with things Working at the DTH exposed me to the that much harder. fact that being gay is OK. Everyone was so Flash forward a little bit, though, and open and comfortable with each other, and I think I started to make the realization while I think they also knew about me before freshman year of college. The previous I did, they made it easy for me to truly year, I’d become best friends with a new kid. discover myself around them.
“
”
23
It’s not that I didn’t feel comfortable around my friends at home. It’s just the degree to which people talked about their experiences that got me wondering about my own. It opened up my eyes to the fact that perhaps I wasn’t in love with that girl after all. I loved her, but I wasn’t in love with her. I thought about it way more than I’d like to admit before finally coming to terms with it. So, while my parents may say working at the DTH made me gay, it actually just opened my eyes to what I should’ve known all along. It’s funny, though, because sometimes the most problematic statements I faced from anyone were those who identified the same way I did. Two gay coworkers in particular would constantly make comments like, “You’re telling me you AND your parents didn’t know you were gay, even though they knew about the music you listened to?” “You wore bowties and thought you were straight?” The list goes on. I laughed with them because I wanted it to be fine; they were like me, after all. But it still bugged me because music and clothes and literally anything but who you’re attracted to have nothing to do with sexuality, and I just want people to be aware of that. It seems obvious, but it’s astounding how many people — regardless of how they identify — seem to forget it. Anyway, the summer after freshman year, I started hanging out
24
one-on-one with a coworker. One of my favorite college memories is listening to my scratch-andsniff, limited edition FROOT vinyl on his record player and talking about our music tastes and our pasts for hours on end. I remember realizing then that I could definitely see myself dating guys. At one point, he said he liked me because he saw a sparkle in my eye that he’d lost long ago. He said that I hadn’t let the world break me yet. He also said it was going to happen eventually, and honestly, I can affirm he was right. It was halfway through sophomore year that I first had true feelings for someone, though. He went to a different school and we met late one night when he offered to listen to me vent. It went on for hours and I really appreciated his company. We started hanging out more and more often and got really comfortable with each other really fast. This led to some miscommunication and I think some resentment on both sides. He was an amazing guy. I really did care about him, but I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I also, deep down, thought he was too good for me. So we continued on down a rather treacherous path. We never really dated, but the end was messy. After that, I needed time for myself. I took a break from it all and started thinking about how I was going to tell my family, because I figured at this point, it was long overdue. I knew for about a year and a half before I told my parents. When I’d come home crying, they would ask me if I was
gay. They told me that they’d love me no matter what, but that they just wanted to know why these kids were saying these things. Not knowing on my end made it harder for them to come to terms with it, I think, considering I denied it for so long. I started dropping hints to my mom the summer after freshman year, and that was when I realized this wasn’t going to be as easy as I hoped. I finally ripped the bandaid off during winter break of junior year, and I started with my dad, the one who I’d thought would be the hardest to tell. Due to bad timing, I never got to officially tell my mom and sister, so my dad took care of it for me. Needless to say, it wasn’t the best planning on my part. Regardless, it’s not really something I want to discuss any further, partially because it’s still a sore subject and partially because this isn’t how I want to remember it. The issues stemmed from previous experiences in my parents’ lives, though. Now, they’re all coming around, I think. After watching “Love, Simon” this April, my sister texted me, “I really related with like the part after he came out to his family. I’m so sorry for the way I reacted when I found out and when I texted you. I should’ve been the one to take you in with open arms and tell you everything was going to be okay but I did the complete opposite. To this day I regret the way I reacted and I’m so sorry. I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.” That was the initial reaction that most of my cousins had when my parents told them. They were more supportive than my immediate family, and while my aunts and uncles had mixed reactions, I still love them all. After all, they can’t really help how they were raised. They can, however, handle this in a different way. I have the utmost faith that they will. Despite all of this drama with my family, I went on to explore the world of dating apps and met some really great guys. I was never actively searching for someone, but it all eventually led to a saga I’ve told time and
time again. It’s long enough to be put into an EXPjOSÉ all its own, but I’ll spare y’all the superfluous details and continuous heartbreak. A Burst Into Tears It started with two boys hanging out, taking Jell-O shots one night after finals and ended with false hopes and a broken heart nine months later on Valentine’s Day. While the ending isn’t what I wanted, I learned a lot about myself and what I’m able to endure. More importantly, I learned about what I need to avoid. Long story short, I dated a boy on-andoff for about nine months. The emotional abuse he subjected me to in this time was intense, especially when paired with the stresses of senior year. We spent a lot of time together and once watched this stand-up comedian who claimed she got her husband to settle for her by belittling him. It’s funny, because that’s kinda what he did with me. He wore me down by playfully making fun of all parts of my being … many of which are featured in this magazine. My body, my clothing, my friends: all of these could be improved on, according to him. I’d always felt like I wasn’t good enough and all he did was reinforce it: “Do better,” he’d say. So I still feel that way. At this point, who knows if I’ll ever stop? I’ll be the first to say he’s not the only one at fault, though. I made my fair share of mistakes when it came to us, but I think the biggest one was not getting out sooner. Needless to say, my relationship with this boy was the epitome of toxic. But I loved him in a way I didn’t know I was capable of. I loved him in a way I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let myself love anyone else again. It was careless and exhilarating and I saw us both doing such great things together. The worst part of it, though, is that to this day I really don’t know if he ever even came close to feeling the same way about me. So I tell
“
myself But I loved him in a it wasn’t meant way I didn’t know I was to be. Slowly, but capable of. I loved him surely, I’m still in a way I don’t think I’ll coming to terms ever be able to let myself with it all. We weren’t love anyone else again. meant to be. It’s been three and female — that have months since I’ve made any contact with given me hope for the future. Guys him, but I still hear from him sometimes. who have shown me that not all men The chance of me responding, though, has are out to destroy you, and girls who have burst, much like the idea of me identifying been supportive through and through. as straight. And while one of the things I This is dedicated to all of them and all realize now that my ex hates about himself the already-established friendships which is his sexuality, I’ve come to terms with mine. helped support me through this entire While my parents and rest of my family may ordeal. If you’re reading this, thank you for wish otherwise, I’m gay; that’s all there is to your patience and helping me overcome it. it. I’m the same person I always was, and You — just like me, when I told myself the nothing will change that. I’m not here to let same in high school — were right: it does my sexuality define me. get better. And I know it will only continue In the time since the breakup, I’ve met to do so from here on out. It has to. quite a great deal of people — both male It already has once before.
”
25
r
ME m G S Su i f L N S N O S LES FROM ED N S R P I A H LE S N R E T N MY I
ach summer, I was lucky enough to keep busy while gaining extremely valuable work experience. While all of the positions were journalism-related, they showed me different avenues I could pursue in the future. Looking back, I think what I liked most about them is the fact that they were all so
26
e
é Vall s o J y b esign arious D & y Stor hotos by V P
diverse in a variety of ways. For example, The Daily Tar Heel let me experience creating content for a small campus community on a weekly basis. The Outer Banks Community Foundation allowed me to work on longterm projects for a beach community while giving me my first taste of art direction. The Chautauquan Daily gave me the chance to produce a paper for a large, constantly
The Daily Tar Heel Summer ’15 Though not technically an internship, spending a summer at the DTH before becoming Design & Graphics Editor helped me prove to myself that I was capable of handling what was to come. From pulling multiple all-nighters to single-handedly designing huge issues, I can’t think of a better way to have spent this summer. The closeness of the staff really helped me understand the conditions in which I work best and who I need to surround myself with in order to succeed.
Outer Banks Community Foundation Summer ’16 I’d never really thought of the Outer Banks as a place to proudly refer to as home. I’d also never really considered PR/marketing as a way to make a positive impact. The OBCF completely changed my mind. Here, I got to learn all about the world of nonprofits and the fantastic things that the Outer Banks works to enact in its community. My lovely coworkers and everyone else who dedicates their time to this foundation opened my eyes to a side of communications I can’t wait to dabble in again.
The Chautauquan Daily Summer ’17 This internship, out of the three, couldn’t have come at a better time. I met some amazing people. I got to do some pretty spectacular things. Most importantly, though, I resparked my love for print journalism. I thrived there. Because of this, I can’t wait to see everyone again. I didn’t know it was possible to fall in love with a group of people and a place as much as I did with the staff of the Daily and the rest of Chautauqua. It was — and probably will continue to be — the best summer of my life.
changing arts and religion community in a different state on a daily basis. And these are just the basics. It’s been great because as the job scenarios got more complex, I did, too. Each summer was its own period of growth for me in every possible way. As I prepare to start my first full summer with the North Carolina Scholastic Media Association, I can’t wait to see how I’ll grow this time around.
27
2. North Carolina Scholastic Media Association Offices Considering I first became affiliated with the offices before junior year of high school, it makes sense that I would love to spend my free time here. It’s been an absolute treat to give back to an organization that helped influence so many of my major life decisions.
1. Linda’s Bar & Grill
Yeah, my poor boss had to put up with me coming in at random hours to finish homework assignments. Honestly, though … who needs to set foot in a library when you can have your own private desk, computer and relatively clean carpet floor to nap on?
4. Smoothie King On the Outer Banks, I was all about Tropical Smoothie Cafe. Here, it was Smoothie King. I just really love smoothies. There’s something about frozen fruit and loads of sugar that just really puts me in a good mood. I even considered picking up some shifts here to become the smoothie king.
3. He’s Not Here I don’t particularly like beer and I don’t particularly like how crowded this bar gets. I do, however, love getting a free pint glass at every Pint Night I go to. Plus, Blue Cups are just so functional outside of the bar setting. Not counting the ones I lost or broke, I managed to collect 33 glasses. Considering this only occurred every Wednesday and I’ve only been going to this bar for two years, it’s fair to say I’m a slut for free glassware.
r Vahan by Tyle Photo
This bar deserves an entire spread dedicated to it, but I realized that may give off a bad impression. Therefore, let it be noted that I love drinking responsibly. I started coming here with other DTH editors before I could even drink. I’d order an order of Loaded Cheese Fries or Loaded Sweet Potato Tots and just hang out. But from having my first drink (Linda’s Tea) here on my 21st birthday to trading shirts with a complete stranger, this bar is where I’ve made some of my best college memories and some really close friends. It makes sense, then, that any money I made from working usually ended up here.
rmann lex Ko s by A Photo
If I wasn’t in class or at my apartment, you could probably find me at one of these five getaways. Sure, none of them were a library, but don’t worry — I was there so often I managed to figure out how to get work done at all six.
magegn
always “my apartment.” To me, despite how much I didn’t really miss the Outer Banks, home was where I would go to see my family. And while I never considered Durham or Chapel Hill to be home, the following places all came pretty damn close.
Photos by Tyler Vahan
28
‘Home is where the heart is.” That’s what they always say, right? Perhaps that’s why I never referred to the three different apartment complexes I lived in over four years as “home;” they were
ann Photos by Alex Korm
A w a Y s
Story & Design by José Valle Photos by Various
anna Wong
T
Photos by H
G e
5 FAVORITE HANGOUTS AROUND CAMPUS
5. Cold Stone Creamery
It was super easy for me to stop by Cold Stone and get my signature creation: strawberry ice cream with marshmallows, especially once I started having class on Franklin Street second half of senior year. The staff started to recognize me, but I still got kicked out while doing this photoshoot. I haven’t been back since.
29
f I
30
Y
O
U‘ R E R E A D i n G T h
NO WAY ,
Is
. . .
!. 31
32
