I am sitting in the exact same park that you see on the cover before you, and writing this editorial. I grew up walking or riding my scooter down the street, carrying a bag filled with my usually deflated basketball and pump, some snacks and sunscreen. Ever since I moved away from this particular childhood home, I have yet to return to the park as frequently.
Having chosen the (loose) theme of “Take Me Home” weeks in advance, I was not expecting this week to hit as hard as it did. Not only was I feeling the pressure of this being Flirt for Honi’s final ordinary edition but a friend in hibernation reappeared: imposter syndrome. This was followed by some emotional turmoil that will remain untold.
A few weeks ago, I listened to three Palestinian authors recount their struggles to write during the last year, including journalling. Their words resonate now more than ever as I find it daunting to write anything about my own home, Lebanon. Because I see myself struggling for a while, I will let May Ziadé explain what I cannot: “Goodbye, Lebanese mountains. I’m going far from your pink rose garlands, your bright red satin strawberries. Egypt Australia called in a serious voice, and already my boat’s rocking bears new fruit — But sea, whisper your lullabies please, because I hurt so much. Soft waves of home, sob for me. Don’t go away so quickly, my love.”
This week, I have had to rummage for time for writing and editing between my volunteer shifts at SXSW Sydney. SXSW was the only thing that motivated me to wake up and get out of bed (sorry to everything and everyone else). It was a temporary refuge I could go to, a place where the outside world could be put on hold. To each volunteer, team member, and festival attendee I interacted with, thank you for helping me remember that human connection is the most enriching medicine of them all.
In this edition, you’ll read Shreya Sahdev’s analysis of Israel’s contributions to climate change (pg. 8), Vince Tafea echoing the voices of psychology students demanding the abolishment of mandatory in-person lecture attendance requirements (pg. 11), Shayla Zreika’s lived experience as a second-generation migrant (pg. 15) and how Jamey Wang navigates small talk as an international student (pg. 18). For some much needed levity and escapism, join Jacobina Elordina in their final rendezvous with Jacob Elordi (pg.17).
To everyone who has followed our team as we produced Honi, thank you for giving us your time. To my reporter group, thank you for pitching again and again, and for drafting and redrafting based on my long-winded “suggestions”. To everyone who helped produce Honi, it’s time to take care of yourself now and open some windows. As for the incoming team, I hope you make Honi your own, and a home that students visit each week.
Sitting at the park, I have lost track of time. I will never finish this editorial if I don’t take a step back and protect my writing from my overthinking.
Goodbye (for now) because it’s time to walk back home. Wherever that is.
