After leaving NPR, I did a fairly good job staying in touch with my fellows interns. But after a single email update or two, I'll admit I fell out of touch with my two direct supervisors – people who I assumed were too busy to hear from me. A journalist's inbox (and my supervisors were managers of very large teams) can be a nightmare, so rather than continuing to send emails out without any idea if they'd be read, I didn't put in much effort. I regret that because my supervisors had been supportive during my internship, and as I pursued management in my own career path, it would've been great to have gotten their perspectives and advice too. 

One great way to stay in touch is to connect on LinkedIn or via social media (Twitter, most likely). You don't need to send email updates every month, but I always appreciate hearing from my former interns or freelancers when they move on to new jobs or have exciting work published. I have at least two younger journalists I've helped in their careers who have added me to a newsletter blast they send out once a year to say "hello" and share any updates. I appreciate that effort to stay connected. 

I'm not going to lie: I was guilty of not following this advice early in my career. I distinctly remember an editor being critical of a headline I wrote, and rather than ask her for additional input or advice, I ignored her. Granted, she went about giving her critique in a less-than-helpful way – but despite that, I should have been more open and receptive because I was less than a year into that job. 

I'm all about feedback. I think it helps both you as an employee, as well as your manager, figure out the best and strongest way to work and to grow. Early in my career, I think I was afraid of feedback because I was afraid of non-constructive criticism after witnessing too many toxic workplace relationships break down because of it. But the solution to that isn't to not seek feedback. If you feel like your manager isn't the type of person whose feedback is helpful, then who else can you seek it from instead? I've had several colleagues on teams I've worked for throughout the years who I didn't report to, but who always made the time to help me grow. Those people have also helped and supported me later in my career.

As a manager, it's important to know how to articulate feedback and advice for others in a way that's productive for all parties. (For example, telling someone to "try harder" is not exactly the best piece of advice.) I remember one time a freelancer was pitching stories to me, and while I accepted a handful of their pitches over the course of their time writing for me, there were pitches I rejected too. They asked me at one point if I had more direct feedback for them on how to pitch better (in an effort to respond to as many pitches as possible, I didn't always directly explain why I was turning down a pitch – which, looking back, I would do differently now). The freelancer's request made me think, and I set aside about half an hour to write out an email to them going line by line through one of their pitches and explaining how the story could be stronger. It was advice that I noticed they took to heart in their future pitches, and it challenged me to step up and be a better editor/leader.

This one's a little tricky when it comes to working in digital news environments. At NPR, one of the things I was most proud of was my work building the Intern Edition blog and social media presence. But the blog went offline not-too-long after my intern class left. There were so many stories on there that could've helped show future employers what I was capable of. The audio for many of those stories do still exist on Soundcloud, but it's not the same as seeing packaged content on the web.

It's always hard to know what sites will stay up/stay the same after you move on from a place. Sometimes, sites go down. Sometimes, back-end changes for the company cause formatting to be completely off. I always recommend choosing some of your best work, and then saving PDF print versions to your laptop or to a hard drive. That way, you can still share examples of your work with future employers.

A couple of months ago while catching up with an old colleague, he asked me if I remembered a specific situation that happened...and, to be honest, I barely could! He reminded me that I saved the day, and I felt embarrassed my memory wasn't as clear as I hoped it would be. I'm not saying write down an agenda of every single thing you do during a day, but when you have a big "win" or something you're proud of, jot it down at the end of the day – in a physical notebook or on your phone's Notes app. That helps when you're moving through your career because then you can talk about specific things you've done. 

Over the last year during my fellowship at USC, I kept a list on my phone of various things I did or accomplished. At first, I felt a little silly doing it because I wasn't sure if I was doing it for my own vanity or for practical purposes. But, let's be honest: this industry can be tiring. I believe in trying to find positivity through the dark days, and so there's nothing to lose by keeping track of the things that make you proud.

But how does it change? What can be done? 

A few years ago, I asked my Facebook network for their thoughts on mentorship, which I then featured in a video and blog post: "The Thing About Mentors..." At the time, I talked about why I didn't feel like I was the right person to be anyone's mentor: imposter syndrome mixed with the realization that I didn't have a mentor.

I'm not sure how true the latter is right now. If you asked me who my mentors are today, I could name you a handful of people – some who I speak with frequently, others who I don't talk to regularly but who've advocated for me and have continued to do so. The common thing that all of the people I consider mentors have is that they're all people of color, and most of them are women. 

Which leads me to the first point in why I didn't feel qualified to mentor people in the past: imposter syndrome. It's something that's followed me throughout my entire career, no matter where I've gone or what I've done. Whenever someone praises my experience, I think about the time a male Asian American colleague suggested I need to look a certain way in order to be taken seriously. When I sit down to create projects or initiatives, I immediately start second-guessing myself and recall the time a white colleague told me the name “NBC Asian America” was too long, and so I should “pick an Asian word” to rename it to instead. 

When I'm asked to moderate a panel or speak at an event, I'm reminded of how a white male executive I was at a high-level meeting with asked me to get him coffee, not realizing I was one of the people asked to be at the table to discuss the critical subject of diversity and inclusion. 

And when someone asks for my advice, I remember the time a white editor inexplicably re-edited a story I had been editing and introduced inaccuracies to the reporting. When I asked them about it, they suggested I read the subject matter’s Wikipedia page to “learn more,” to which I pointed out that the top citation and links on the Wiki page were to articles I’d edited for years and a documentary I had supervised.

That's all to say: I believe I have failed in my understanding of how to be a better mentor to others because I allowed my own self-doubt and my anxieties about imposter syndrome to dominate, and I'm sorry. I also somehow got it in my head that I couldn't be a mentor for someone if I didn't have my own shit together – which I now know is not true. 

I've spent nearly a decade in this industry professionally, and about half of it in management. I believe I have done my best to support my colleagues – and especially my staff and interns – but I know that I could have done more: there were times I found myself in offices with executives or with HR managers, advocating on various issues and concerns, only to find myself in a losing battle. Instead of pushing harder or fighting louder, there were times I gave in because I felt exhausted – which is selfish. Battles against inequalities and injustices aren't won by sitting back, and I vow to do better in the future.

Going back to my initial questions: How can we change what mentorship looks like in the workplace? As some of my friends pointed out back in 2016 around my first blog about mentorship, it's a relationship that requires an investment as well as an understanding that it's a two-way street. So what kinds of opportunities can we create to ensure that people of color can not just feel safe, but feel supported? 

I wish I had the perfect set of solutions for this. I know it's not something that can be solved by one person overnight, either. For many companies, it will take buy-in from an executive level all the way down and I hope that if those conversations aren't already being had in a newsroom, that they're starting now. It is not enough to celebrate diversity on the surface without actively trying to cultivate and retain the talented individuals whose voices help create that diversity.