My Secret Mentor

Tuckernuck

For the longest time, I felt like a journalist without a purpose, just kind of wandering around, trying to figure out where I fit best. One day, I was all about political reporting, and the next I was knee-deep in celebrity gossip, just throwing myself into different styles and hoping something would stick. I knew I loved storytelling, but I didn’t have that one writer who made me say, "That’s the kind of journalist I want to be." 

Until I came across Maureen Orth.

Orth’s work at Vanity Fair didn’t just grab my attention—it basically shook me awake. She balances seriousness with fearlessness. Orth’s strength is in her versatility. She doesn’t just report on big names. She unpacks them, digs into the truth, and lays it all out in a way that’s both sharp and compelling.

Orth is a voice for those without a platform. She amplifies the unheard and challenges the powerful, reminding us what journalism is really about.

Her investigative pieces on figures like Michael Jackson and Woody Allen weren’t just stories. They were game-changers, sparking real conversations and forcing people to confront uncomfortable truths. Orth never shied from controversy or backed down from the tough questions. She held people accountable, regardless of status. 

The thing I admire most about Orth? She’s fearless. 

Shutterstock

In a world where a lot of journalists like to play it safe, Orth goes straight into the hard-hitting stuff. She asks the difficult questions, does the research, and doesn’t back down. She proves that journalism isn’t just about telling stories. It’s about telling stories that matter, even when they make people uncomfortable.

But it’s not just what she writes—it’s how she writes. Her style is so immersive that you feel like you’re right there with her, watching the drama unfold. She blends deep investigative work with storytelling that pulls you in, which is exactly the balance I want to strike in my own writing.

Looking back, I realize I didn’t need to have it all figured out from the start. I didn’t need a journalism role model right away, but discovering Maureen Orth gave me something to aim for—a standard, a direction. If I can develop even a fraction of her skill, courage, or style, I know I’ll be on the right path. 

Journalism needs more voices like hers, and hopefully, someday, mine will be one of them. But until then, check out her website. 

Ye or Nay

TMDB

Kanye West is no stranger to controversy. 

As one of the most influential figures in music, fashion, and pop culture today, he has been both admired and criticized by the media. Between revolutionizing the hip-hop game to disrupting the fashion industry, Kanye West has always been at the center of conversation.

But it’s usually not for the right reasons. 

Throughout his career, West has made headlines for his unfiltered opinions and problematic behavior. From interrupting award shows to making inflammatory comments, West’s career has been marked by a number of questionable moments. People either love or hate him. 

West’s supporters insist that his personality is just an extension of his creativity. To them, his flaws are overshadowed by his contributions to music and fashion.

On the other hand, his critics argue that his actions are reckless and hurtful, often causing more harm than good. They question his morals, integrity, and overall character.

This divide has led to ongoing debates about whether an artist's behavior should impact how their work is perceived. There must be a balance between artistry and accountability. 

The Independent

Kanye West at the 2009 MTV VMA's interrupting

Taylor Swift's acceptance speech for the Best Female

Video award.

This line was first crossed at the 2009 MTV VMAs when he rudely interrupted Taylor Swift’s acceptance speech, claiming that Beyonce was robbed of the Best Female Video Award. At the time, Taylor Swift was just 19 years old, a young woman in the spotlight for the first time, while Kanye West was 32, a grown man with years of experience in the industry. 

It was highly inappropriate for someone of his age and stature to publicly embarrass a young artist like Swift. Regardless of his opinion on the award, this was not the moment to make a scene. Swift deserved to enjoy that win. 

West should be held to the same standards as everyone else–celebrity or not.

Yet, despite the backlash he received for this incident, it was only the beginning of West’s pattern of controversial behavior. Over the years, his outbursts, feuds, and hurtful remarks have only intensified, making it harder to separate his artistry from his actions.

In 2022, West faced intense scrutiny after posting a series of offensive and antisemitic tweets. These remarks resulted in a Twitter suspension and a loss of major brand partnerships. However, rather than stepping back, West continued to double down on his controversial rhetoric.

More recently, in early 2025, West once again made headlines after airing a Super Bowl advertisement promoting T-shirts featuring a swastika. The move was met with outrage, leading Shopify to shut down his online store and intensifying calls for accountability. Following this incident, he went on another antisemitic rant on X, ultimately deleting his account after facing widespread condemnation.

New York Daily News

In February 2025, Kanye West posted a string of anti-semitic tweets on X, targeting members of 

the Jewish community. Days later, his account was deactivated, and the posts were removed. 

This behavior cannot go ignored. It’s crucial to understand that public figures wield significant influence and that their words have real-world consequences. Spreading hate and encouraging division is never justifiable, regardless of a person’s wealth or status. 

West’s repeated actions raise the question: At what point does society stop excusing offensive behavior in the name of artistry? 

And when will enough finally be enough?

Me in 500 Words

I was introduced to the concept of impermanence at a young age: how something that seems indestructible and enduring can vanish or change in a moment’s notice. 

​In the fall of 2012, Hurricane Sandy slammed the south shore of Long Island, and my house did not escape unscathed. The first floor was drowned in three feet of water. For months, planks of wood took the place of former bedrooms and family spaces. 

During renovations, we were displaced for months. Thankfully, no one was hurt during the storm, but having to spend much of the year out of our home wasn’t easy for anyone involved. 

Luckily, my Aunt Eileen allowed my family to stay with her for the time being.

​Less than a year later—paint still fresh on our spackled and sanded walls—an electrical box on the side of our house caught fire. Its sparks jumped to the garbage cans adjacent to the garage, which then went up in flames. 

I was coming home from a summer basketball camp at the time and remember seeing flashing lights along the block. My fear that they were stationed in front of my house soon became a reality. Amid the fire trucks and ambulance, I sprinted from the car to see what had happened. 

Thankfully (again), no one had gotten hurt, but the fire’s smoke had made its way inside the house, triggering medical inquiries and examinations of my mother and brother. The smoke had also blackened and melted our newly installed speakers and the fresh coat of cream-colored paint we thought had sealed away the memory of Sandy’s wreckage. The flames had climbed to the upstairs bedroom walls of my brother’s and parents’ room.

Off to Aunt Eileen’s we went once more.

I was eight at the time, and my life seemed relatively perfect. I hadn’t faced much hardship or discomfort beyond petty disagreements with my brother about remote controls and bathroom usage. These two disasters taught me how to adapt to difficulty. 

I watched my parents figure out how to re-invent our lives in the span of a week. I watched my Aunt Eileen adapt to our presence in our time of need. I watched myself overcome new obstacles, daily.

Six years later, when I lost my mother to cancer, it was the groundwork laid by the flood and fire that gave me a reference point, not only for my grief, but for my gratitude. In addition to my sorrow, I was able to focus on how thankful I felt to have been raised by such an amazing woman.

Even at my worst, I still was more fortunate than most. I’m not sure if I ever heard the word “no” growing up. My parents ensured I had more than enough – not just in terms of material things but also love, support, and opportunities. I never lacked.

Now, in my 20s, I realize how rare and precious that kind of privilege is. I am the person I am today because of what I went through then. And I think that’s something to be proud of—something my mom would be proud of.