Matriarchs of the Pen: Honoring my humble journalism beginnings
Stop the presses!
Josefina in a newsroom somewhere in the Midwest writing a news story on deadline.
Many of you might be aware of my recent decision to step away from my position at the university. While it was a deeply considered choice and not taken lightly, I believe the decision to leave was essential for my ongoing personal and professional development.
In all honesty, I’m doing it for my sanity.
I was told to move silently.
And those who really know me, know that’s not my style.
I’ve been in the journalism game since I was 17. It’s when I first stepped into the Omaha World-Herald and was offered a job digitizing historical files at the daily newspaper’s library.
I curated content (vintage black-and-white photos), researched stats, wrangled quotes, and pulled microfiche films to read through tattered newsprint to provide “showing details” for news journalists.
This month marks 24 years since I’ve been working as muckraker. So, I’m sure you can understand that every fiber of my being resists limits on communication.
It’s also why I’m going solo.
I’m all in on Lozafina Marketing and Public Relations. I need to continue what I started in building steppingstones for aspiring creatives who aren’t landing jobs in their respective fields because no one wants to give them a chance to juke their resume stats.
So, here we are.
Me. Standing. On. A. Cliff.
Ready to free fall.
My accountant thinks I’m crazy.
My financial advisor is hopeful.
My Mexican immigrant father told me to take that leap of faith. Jump!
“You might fall. But you might fly,” he said. “You don’t know if you don’t try.”
Thank you, Papá.
This wisdom coming from a man who was age 14 when he left his Jalisco home and made his way to California where he worked as a migrant worker for 10 years before moving to Nebraska.
He took that leap. It’s why my agency’s name honors his legacy, “Loza” and “Fina” honors my grandmother Josefina who raised eight kids as a single mother.
So, why am I scared?
I’m not. I’m upset. I was forced to leave complacency for the unknown. Someone thinks I’m meant for more. So, I’m going.
But before I do. Let me shed a few tears.
Tears in honor of all those who powered my existence in this communication space.
Thank you to all the women who molded my voice. It’s unapologetically, loud, bold, and relentless.
Every Sunday, I intend to honor these women (and men) who guided my career. Women pioneers in my journalism odyssey if you will.
Stay tuned.