Running The Retrograde for two years, and The Mercury for two before that, is like trying to make a delicate butter sauce on the stove but burning the garlic severely enough to trip the fire alarm. Then you panic and dump in enough chilli garlic sauce to hopefully cover the burnt taste up, and it almost tastes good if you close your eyes.
My role was Managing Editor, which means every article you’ve read — from The Mercury’s protest coverage in May 2024 through The Retrograde’s founding and most recent issue — has been dismembered, thoroughly edited and reanimated by yours truly. I’ve strived to make sure every article is easy to read, well-argued, well-sourced, journalistically ethical and worth your time, and we have an award-studded catalog to show for it.
In writing, editing and interviewing, I’ve done work that has changed the lives of people I know both personally and nationwide. It has brought peace to troubled minds. It has helped victims raise money for their legal needs. It has advanced the stories of those forced into silence and complicity. It has brought countless people hope about an otherwise bleak media landscape, because there are still scrappy students out there holding truth to power instead of, say, mass-producing pro-police puff pieces in exchange for meager tips (looking at you, Dallas Morning News). That’s my bragging out of the way.
But that chilli garlic flavor doesn’t quite convince you, does it? Because beyond the charming notion of changing the world, The Retrograde — and any other student newsroom across the nation, just ask — barely runs most days. It takes a hell of a team to pull all this off, and sometimes that team is two people at 3 a.m. on a Monday morning. Other times, it’s a freshman and a Redbull. I’ve talked to countless other university newspapers, and they’re all similarly understaffed, overworked and pathetically paid. But they all matter, burnt smell and all.
Photo of Pua, The Retrograde’s official mascot, world’s loudest complainer, and prime witness to all the late nights spent editing. Fareeha Choudhury | Asst. Managing Editor
Because without this kind of student reporting, we lose the heart of hyper-local journalism. We’ll take accountability away from the multibillion-dollar institutions who we pay thousands to, who are vital players in economy and war, who end up deciding everything from your career prospects to their city’s growth plans. It seems that everyone wants good journalism, but few will do what it takes to support the journalists currently trying to tell the stories you want to hear.
The good news, though, is that college is the best time to support your local student journalists. You have more free time and community insight than you will upon joining the workforce. So send in tips about potential stories. Offer to interview about a subject you’re experienced in. Read, engage with and talk about different stories. Apply to help out, even if all you can do is contribute an article a semester, and encourage your friends as well. Otherwise, the only people reporting on UTD will be those UTD bankrolls. And how much can you trust that?
Of course, my work isn’t perfect. The Retrograde is a three-wheeled clown car breaking every road rule and hitting pedestrians as it clunks along. I have lectured my successors at length about all the ways my team and I have come short — insufficient reporting, source mishandling, forgetting to fix mistakes, staffing issues, and so forth — and how they are required to do better than me, or I will find them in their sleep and make them regret being born. I appreciate all of you, dear readers, who continue to read us and support our work despite the imperfections. I appreciate every comment calling out a discrepancy or criticizing an article’s wording. I appreciate every question we can help answer. I appreciate that you keep eating the sauce even when it tastes a little funky, because you know we made it with all our love and all our skill. We will do our damndest to keep improving for you.
And if we don’t? Then strike off on your own and form a better paper. I’ll be your first reader.
I’ve ejected from the clown car now, and am hurtling into the great, dark void of careerism. It breaks my heart to leave, but I can’t wait to see what happens to The Retrograde, this little gem that I helped birth, and to all the students it serves as my years accelerate into decades. I know UTD will bring no shortage of tomfoolery to report on. So bring your best right on back.
