Dear Readers of The Torch,
The time of my senior year has come where I must pass the torch (yes, I’ve been sitting on that pun for a while now). I wanted to take this space to reflect a bit in gratitude and growth on my time as a leader of this publication. Although I won’t hand over the literal and metaphorical keys until January, this November issue is my last print issue as Editor-in-Chief.
I had zero intentions of writing for a newspaper in college. I was all about my high school, Sacred Heart’s, newspaper, The Heartbeat. I vowed to leave newspaper behind, same as I left behind plaid skirts and logoed golf shirts. However, in seeking refuge in the air conditioning of the God-Quad (four Catholic female upperclassmen’s apartment) during a heat wave my first weeks of freshman year, I undid that vow. The then-Managing Editor lived there, and she did the casual “You should just tag along to this meeting with me, and then after we can hang out at my apartment [in the AC, unlike Kostka where the walls sweat from humidity].” She definitely said that last bit. In typical Torch fashion, I left the meeting with the classic freshman assignment of covering Mass of the Holy Spirit. An article assignment really seals you in because it means you have to come back. And come back I did.
I became an editor my second semester freshman year, which is slightly unusual, but I was locked in. In the coming semesters, I rotated through the roles of Campus News Editor, Catholicism 101 Editor, back to Campus News, Managing Editor, Features Editor, Faith Features Editor, and Editor-in-Chief. I’ve worn the hats of photographer, layout editor, cookie-baker, pizza-orderer, and one-who-chronically-misplaces-important-passwords. I simultaneously filled my time with journalism courses and freelance journalism in the Greater Boston area.
The Torch has been home to many dreams of mine. It has been a refuge; it has been a place of passion. It has been filled with hard moments and hard decisions, too. I did not expect that at 20-years-old I would be running a publication that is an independent nonprofit, which comes with delightful nonprofit-related paperwork.
As an underclassman, The Torch was a place of people I looked up to so desperately. I respected and cherished those relationships. I found it hard to believe that I would be expected to fill their shoes. Less than a month after taking over as Editor-in-Chief, my life came to a critical point medically. Chronic illnesses flared and put my life in a vulnerable place. I bounced in and out of the hospital, and I remember saying the words to a doctor, “I know you’re thinking about admitting me again, but I have newspaper editing Tuesday night. So, come Wednesday morning I’m all yours, but please don’t take me away from my people.”
Those people stepped up. Many rallied around me, picked up where I fell short. Parts of me look back with some sadness and regret––I had so many dreams and desires for the period of time that I would be “in charge”. Instead, my body started to fail me, and I was forced to do my best and lean hard on other people just to get it all done. At risk of sounding cliché though, my thinking about being “in charge” and waiting until then to effect change was flawed. By entering into the space that is The Torch, we shape it, from the moment you first walk in. I shaped the publication that first meeting when I was dragged along with the promise of air-conditioning. And The Torch shaped me.
And also, The Torch changes with its writers over time. I am not the same person I was when I dwelt in the sweating walls of Kostka. Our beliefs change, our experience of life changes. I’d be more scared if I hadn’t changed in these 3.5 years. I walked in thinking I knew what I believed, but then saw more of the world, and had it all crumble and rebuild in front of me. An apt example to explain my point is this: I go from my social work placement and interact briefly with a 15-year-old who has been kicked out of her home because she became pregnant and wants to keep the child. I go from my placement to editing the newspaper, where I’m proofreading articles about pro-life legislation. The world becomes real. Our worldview can get strained and stretched and bent––and demands to be more colorful, more inclusive, and with more Love.
As for The Torch, I’m not going anywhere just yet. I will hand off the reins to a new editorial board in January, and I will remain as an advisor and staff member. I also will be staying at BC for at least one year of grad school, so The Torch isn’t getting rid of me and my love of the Oxford comma just yet.
For me, my aspirations to be a journalist morphed into becoming a social worker. I grew tired of reporting on stories of broken systems and feeling powerless about doing anything to fix them. Our words are indeed powerful, but the best journalists, I believe, are the ones who care deeply about who they report on, take the time to be human, give themselves space to have feelings about their reporting, and be Christ to every person you encounter in a story. Journalists are tempted to rush from story to story just to get that quote or snap that picture––but to my fellow Torchers, keep the steady flame of love burning. Keep the passion, keep the compassion, and reflect the Light of the world.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart,
Liv Colombo
Previously the Campus News Editor and Catholicism 101 Editor, Olivia dabbles in The Torch’s writing and photography. She is a senior studying theology and applied psychology and human development with a minor in journalism. She is unashamedly passionate about youth ministry, Haiti, all things charismatic, the Oxford comma, and CatholicTV––where she can often be found as an on-camera news reporter or host of the To the Heights podcast.
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