When we think of advocacy, we often think of loud movements. Big movements. People with vigor, leadership, and risk. Crowded protests, grand speeches, and organized strikes. 

 

We almost never think of the media, in its various shapes and forms. We don’t think about how journalism is not just about writing stories or sharing news, but about speaking up for people who are unable to speak for themselves.

 

That is the mindset I have when I create — whether it be an article, a chart, an infographic, a podcast episode, a video, a photo, or a spread design — it’s not about what, but about how. How can I effectively, accurately, and authentically convey the story of someone or something that has been suppressed for so long? 

 

The answer is multimedia. 

 

Writing: Of course, we must start from the very beginning of every journalist’s career — writing. The baby steps, pulling all-nighters to write ledes and kickers. After writing my first feature on neurodivergent siblings, a girl whose brother has Down syndrome tells me, “I have never felt so represented before.” My second feature on surviving suicide, someone tells me, “You saved my life.” 

 

It’s writing that made me come to the realization that the media we consume shapes what we fight for, even if it be our own lives.

 

I see myself in every feature I write — Alissa Zhang*’s struggles with her mental health, Ian Moran’s determination to preserve his craft, and Scott Wallace*’s intricate relationship with his autistic brother. I write to fight for those who are just like me. To take the people who are overlooked and bring them into existence. 

 

Data: A Flourish infographic with local programs to support neurodivergent siblings, a resource I wish I had when I was younger. Charts and maps that communicate the exigency of the adolescent mental health crisis. When SNAP benefits were cut off in September 2025, a simple map made on Knightlab listed dozens of restaurants across the Bay Area providing free or reduced meals, ensuring that families weren’t left unfed.  

 

To me, the biggest honor isn’t winning a Best of SNO or a first-place award. It’s the texts. The emails. The messages from people, often strangers, who felt seen, heard, or understood because of something I created. It’s knowing that my work has reached someone out there  — even if it’s just one person — and perhaps made them see the world a little bit differently. 

 

Broadcast: At first, I hated it. Even during an exciting morning of filming at the Sequoia Union High School District Central Kitchen from 4 a.m., all I could think about was how much I was dreading editing later — which shots I would need, how long the standup would take, and how difficult Premiere Pro was to use. 

 

That was until San Carlos Hometown Days. For the first time, after a semester of practicing broadcast videos, I wasn’t worried about getting the perfect B-roll or having crisp, clean audio. I was simply focused on the people in front of me. I saw their tired but bright eyes, glistening as they passionately explained what their booth was about. Conversations that might’ve lasted 30 seconds turned into 5-minute interviews. Strangers became storytellers, and from that initial connection, all the technical aspects followed. 

 

So, beyond impacting others, the medium of broadcast is truly for me — it has allowed me to flourish into the confident multimedia journalist that I am today. And yes, I do still mess up in my standups, an awkward stutter turning “Hometown Days” into “Hometowns Day,” but I have become much more comfortable with these insignificant failures.   

 

Design: As someone who tends to always do too much, writing a 6000-word feature on the art of preservation that had to be split into three separate stories, design taught me the balancing act of creativity. Sometimes, too much can distract from the story just as much as too little. Through my experience as a Highlander editor this year, which I will take with me next year as Managing Editor, I’ve learned when to add another visual element, when to fill the white space with color, and when to let a photo speak for itself. 

 

Alas, the ability to speak and be understood is a privilege that many of us take for granted. To open our mouths, shout into the fire without consequence, and make ourselves heard. So, whether it be speaking up for survivors of suicide, neurodiverse siblings, whistleblowers, Asian American children, SNAP recipients, or traditional artists fighting to keep their craft alive, to me, multimedia journalism is an act of amplification. 

 

Even though each medium carries the message in a different way, the purpose remains the same: To give others a platform, to allow their voices to travel farther than they ever could alone.