I am quite used to failing publicly. During my first semester of my freshman year, my very first article in The Weather Vane earned a letter to the editor from an EMU faculty member fact-checking me on several accounts. It was a rude awakening to the impact that my words can have in journalism, even at a small liberal arts college.

Going into my third semester as one of the co-editors of The Weather Vane, I have had my fair share of letters (or emails, rather) telling me that I have screwed up. I say “I” because these letters are addressed to myself and my co-editor. Sometimes these emails are just a difference of opinion, and I welcome them. Other times, however, they are because something in The Weather Vane has hurt someone or misstated an important fact. Of course, I always want to hear these too, but they carry a different weight. 

The Weather Vane is trusted to hold the stories and truths of our community with care, but we sometimes miss the mark. Because I am a white, Mennonite woman and we are a historically white, Mennonite staff, it is easy to miss the mark, especially when it has to do with race. Our privileges lead to us hurting others because unfortunately, ignorance is a large part of privilege. 

I’m not here to say that I “toughened up” or to act like I am immune to white fragility. I share my personal story to acknowledge that failing never gets easier. Hurting others feels awful. It can sometimes feel like trying to be a good person is futile. The nature of getting better often requires us to address the ugliness, shortcomings, or even just unknown privileges we may have. 

But to my fellow white people, I say this: It isn’t about us. Being anti-racist isn’t a self-improvement project for white people. It’s about justice; it’s about putting aside our egos and our non-confrontational tendencies and “trying.” We have to get better because Black lives depend on it. (I want to be clear here that I’m not implying Black people need saving. I’m saying that white people benefit the most from racist systems, and therefore, it is our job to use our privilege to dismantle them. It is also our job to work through our ignorance, so it does not harm or endanger.)

White, Mennonite voices at EMU have always taken up the majority of the space, and it is high time to address that. This includes The Weather Vane. Despite being the publication that is supposed to represent EMU’s student body, we have not been a space where students from marginalized communities feel safe sharing their voices. But we want your story to be told and your voice to be heard, and we are committed to creating a space where you feel comfortable sharing your story. 

The job of this paper is to tell others’ stories, and we have to be committed to finding the balance between using our voices for good and simply shutting up and handing over the mic. We are committed to being intentional about representing students from traditionally underrepresented groups—in photos, interviews, and in whose stories we tell. We want to expose the injustice we see but also to celebrate the accomplishments and joys of each of you. The irony of this article is that my voice really does not need to be heard again. I’ve had and will continue to have space made for me because of my social location, as many of you will as well. There is an imbalance right in front of us, and it’s time we do something about it.