Editor’s Note: Talking Feelings

I should preface this column by acknowledging that we’re living the independent journalism dream. 

We, Chris and I, work on our own schedules. We collaborate with a team of some of the finest young journalists in the city, many of whom we get to call our friends. We chase down the stories we want to chase, and there’s no upper management telling us to lay off a lead. 

So I really don’t want to sound like I’m complaining, because I think I have the best job in the world. But the truth is, it’s often overwhelming. 

I always feel like I’m behind on everything. The to-do list never gets any shorter. I feel bad that I don’t respond to emails sooner, and that some inevitably slip through the cracks and go unanswered. I feel guilty posting a story on Instagram of me enjoying my life outside of running The Rover, only to remember that someone who’s seen it is waiting on me for something. 

The persistent feeling is that so many people want something from us, it’s impossible to please everyone. Which bothers me, a people-pleaser. 

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Take the messages we receive through the Contact Us form on our website as an example. The Rover gets more mail than we can handle between the two of us. We do read everything — tips, pitches, press releases, praise, insults, criticism, comments, offers, spam. We try to respond quickly, when a quick and easy response is available. That’s not usually the case. 

What we probably get the most of, the kind of messages I have a hard time answering, are people who want to join in on the project. People who want to work with us, or who are offering their time and skills. 

It’s really appreciated that people are inspired by the work we do and want to get involved in some way, but I don’t know how we’d ever be able to mobilize everyone who wants to contribute or volunteer. We’re not organized enough for that. We’re not trying to create an exclusive club here; we just don’t have the energy to take everyone on. I didn’t know management would be so all-consuming. Are we truly serving our communities when we struggle to even reply?

I feel bad that I don’t know how to bring more people in on this, and I feel bad that I can’t do more, either.

I’d realized very soon after taking on the managing editor role in 2023 that I wouldn’t have the time or energy to keep reporting regularly. I barely wrote any articles for two years, as I edited everyone else’s work, uploaded the articles to the website, sent out the newsletter, researched and applied for grants, planned events, and did whatever else needed to be done. There’s an entire infrastructure to maintain so that new content comes out every week, daily work done behind the scenes.

People usually get into journalism because they want to expose injustices and have a positive impact on the world. But I think every journalist enjoys the boost of seeing their byline in the papers, even if only a little. We are human, and we all desire to be recognized, appreciated. The ego is necessarily tied up in what we do. 

There is a dignified satisfaction in knowing that I create the conditions necessary for our journalism, and the work of talented emerging journalists, to shine. I am proud that I keep The Rover running. 

It’s just that sometimes it feels like I’m working in the dark to keep the lights on for everyone else. Like I’m the person who doesn’t appear in the photos because she’s always behind the camera. Chris knows this, and he gives me my flowers whenever he can. But there are times when I’m bristled by a perceived lack of appreciation for how much I do — out of sight, out of mind.

I know that’s ego talking. After all, it’s not like I’d want to give up my salaried employment (not that I have a big salary, but it’s at least stable) and go back to freelancing, even if it means more time in the field and more bylines in the press. So I feel guilty even having those feelings. The point of The Rover is not to generate recognition and admiration for anyone. Why would I care for something as selfish as that?

Luckily, working with Justin Khan on documentary journalism projects has been a balm for this perceived slight. Writing articles is too daunting for me now, because it’s all on me to get it done, but collaborating with him has allowed me to get back out in the field without having to bear the brunt of the work. 

It’s helped me feel like I get to have my moment, too — although the censorship was palpable at the release of Palestine on Campus, when our attempts to get coverage from the more mainstream media were met with nervous countering and excuses, which is not something I’ll soon forget. Our next documentary, much larger in scope and on a topic less, shall we say, controversial, had better get a warmer response from the establishment. Otherwise, I don’t know how I’ll keep my cool this time.

At the end of 2025, I decided that, moving forward, I would look to delegate as much as I could, for my own sanity, so I could devote my time to whatever is most important or valuable to this project without getting bogged down by every single thing. I’m also supposed to be working on my Master’s thesis, when I somehow find the time. 

So far, it’s been working out pretty well. Justin now manages the website and the newsletter, and I have an intern helping with fact-checking and research. I now look for ways to get others involved, instead of looking for ways to get everything done by myself. 

I look for ways to manage people’s expectations of us, too. To remind people that we’re just two humans trying our best, even though that doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Two humans just riddled with stress and imposter syndrome and too many feelings.

I do hope we can become the people you all want us to be, capable of taking on every pitch and every freelancer and every project. But we’re not there yet. 

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