Glove hurtling towards the punching bag, the blow is muted by the weighted mass, sending a shock wave through the bones in your arm as the force compresses them together. When fist and leather meet, it’s as though all negative energy — the incessant fears, the harbored resentment, the engrained self-doubt — is purged from your inner core unto something, anything else.

Anger is an unavoidable part of the human experience; but it can gnaw away at a person if left unaddressed. In finding an outlet to exorcise one’s hostility, talking it out or writing it down are productive alternatives to inflicting harm on oneself or others. However, these passive solutions are not always enough.

Physically expressing one’s negative feelings can be of great benefit where words fail, though such manifestations of rage need not be restricted to acts of violence. As our editorial board came to find out, there is a distinct emotional release that accompanies the satisfying “smack” of flesh against foe (even if the target of that anger is an inanimate object). 

Just as the constant drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet grows maddening with time, so too did the merciless criticisms of students, faculty and staff villainizing the mission of our student-run paper. We took these frustrations to a kickboxing class at an Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) gym in Orange. 

Stepping foot inside the recreation center, our intent was to kick ass. Instead, we got our asses kicked.

Within less than 10 minutes, sweat was dripping down our spines, and we were panting in exhaustion. Our atrophied bodies had become far too used to working hunched over a desk with our wrists being the primary source of physical exertion. We quickly discovered that we were exceedingly out of shape. 

Nevertheless, we proceeded to flounder through a full-body workout. As we frantically jabbed and kicked the punching bags in front of us, we found ourselves unable to keep up with the ever-evolving combinations presented by the instructor. To little avail, we attempted to mimic the precise form of the fiery nine-year-olds next to us. 

Thankfully, our blood, sweat and tears were well worth it. Whaling on a sack of sand was as cathartic as we had hoped it would be. 

In the past, we’ve taken to the opinion section to voice our exasperations when it felt as if the universe was conspiring against us — whether it be using the written word to transparently describe our innermost paranoias or reflect on our current disillusionment in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. The meditative process of compressing our thoughts down into 700 words or less often has successfully provided momentary respite from our deepest anxieties.

Paralleling the expansive distrust of media on a national scale — evident through the alarming acceptance of COVID-19 misinformation as a result of ideological echo chambers — the first month of Chapman’s fall semester brought with it a slew of scathing emails in regard to the role and responsibilities of the media. Some of these individuals even requested to connect with us on LinkedIn after.

As a college newspaper, our goal is to provide our readers with a mixture of information about Chapman campus and surrounding communities in a way that is accurate, educational and uplifting through holistic representation of the personal identities that comprise these environments. The act is one that we’d argue is synonymous with the responsibilities of an activist, as our writers often find themselves engaging in vulnerable, uncomfortable conversations in order to use their work as a platform for change. 

At the same time, every member of our staff is also a full-time student, and regardless of prior work experience, has yet to learn all the tricks of the trade. It’s astounding to us to see such a toxically pervasive mindset that our staff must be held to a status of perfectionism in all content they release. Failing to meet this expectation, however marginal the error, leads to claims of “fake news” and disapproval surrounding the purity of the intentions behind our journalists’ work. 

It’s difficult not to internalize these comments; they often linger in the back of our minds, slowly accumulating into a wall of quiet discontent so insurmountably large that it becomes almost impossible to connect with the passion for journalism that made us want these jobs in the first place. Some days, the newsroom is filled with a tangible sense of burnout so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

Yet rarely has it ever been enough to make a member of The Panther staff throw their arms up in exasperation and quit. The people who make this paper a reality every week have no obligation to do so. This paper is not a class. There is no major requirement, no threat of a “W” on a transcript keeping our writers from jumping ship when the going gets rough. 

Outside of our profession, the one thing our entire staff shares in common is that we are all students, and therefore, constantly learning. We have each come into our positions not only with the intention of fully committing ourselves to this publication, but also to grow from our mistakes and eventually bring those lessons into the real world.

The Panther is intended to be a public forum. If you have concerns with our coverage, we encourage you to reach out at panthernewspaper@chapman.edu or submit an opinion piece to cmcqueen@chapman.edu voicing your own perspective.