Dear readers…
As we approach graduation, I’ve been reflecting on my time in the Voice. I’ve taken the creaky, smelly Leavey elevator for four years now, and every time I ride with one of my peers at The Hoya, I avert my gaze, trying not to blush. I stay stoic, trying my hardest to seem uninterested in their every move, and story they publish.
I tell my staff that waking up Friday mornings and opening up the print magazine boxes never gets old. Holding the silky fresh paper in my hands for the first time is an intimate act, one not understood by anyone else at Georgetown. I touch a magazine I labored for and put my whole self inside of. How could anyone else know the burden and ecstasy of running Georgetown’s premier student newsmagazine?
But to tell the truth, I lay awake Thursday nights dreaming of what the newsprint next door will feel like.
The professionalism of their biweekly publication overwhelms me, and I can’t help but aspire to the rigor their reporters bring to campus every two weeks. After all, they’re THE newspaper of record since 1920. How else is the Voice supposed to source its stories if not by reading every mouthwatering word The Hoya staff writes?
Every other Friday, I arrive at my small office bordering their massive, gaping newsroom. I try to pretend I’m not sitting alone, watching the minutes pass by until I can hold their newest paper in my hands. I can ravish it for knowledge—their exclusive news from campus, social commentary from The Guide, and opinions laid at the feet of Georgetown’s student body, for their eyes only. I’ve never wanted to read anything about D.C., as I’ve never left campus.
Sometimes at media board meetings or in my texts with my counterpart at The Hoya, I play it cool, asking, what if we do things together? But in reality, I wait in Lau for the next text, watching with bated breath for the speech bubble to appear, never afraid to bump a message multiple times when I don’t get a response. They are my everything. When I’m afraid, I find peace looking at their thousands of photos of campus buildings, all of them perfectly related to their individual story.
Honestly, I regret joining the Voice. What has it given to me? Imagine the possibilities with The Hoya’s massive budget, their prestigious advertisers, and their many Bunn awards.
I hope my readers know that they are not alone. We all try to pretend as though we’re into the Voice, because it’s glossy, alternative, liberal. Founded in the spirit of the 1969 Vietnam War protests, et cetera… but trust me, you can be open about who you are. I am the guy who takes as many copies as I can carry from the heaping mounds of The Hoya across campus. I draw pictures of their authors by their bylines, and thirstily hang onto every word they write.
I hope this admission won’t change my relationship with my partners at The Hoya; after all, I still have another month of this bullshit. But as the cherry blossoms release their pollen into the air and my time at Georgetown grows short, I will not hide in the closet anymore.
I am The Hoya’s biggest fan. And I’m the only one who’s ever written on the notepad outside their office.
I’m not expecting anything, and you don’t need to respond to me, but this is how I feel. If you ever wanted to go out sometime or to make a newspaper together (if you catch my drift), I will stay up until the witching hours with you :3
Text me,
Connor
Editor-in-Chief, Spring 2025
The Georgetown Voice
The Hoya
T3 L0
R1 O3
U0 V1
E3 E3
69% compatibility
xoxo,
Mr. Voice Hoya
Mr. Hoya Voice
