This article originally appeared on VICE en Español.If you’re a journalist in Mexico, you run the daily risk of not coming home at the end of the day. According to Reporters Without Borders, Mexico was the deadliest non-war country for reporters in 2017 and 2016 alike (it’s often compared to Syria, where a civil war was declared in 2011). Twelve Mexican journalists were murdered in 2017 alone, and 118 journalists have been killed over the last 18 years.
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Those statistics notwithstanding, young Mexicans are still choosing to study journalism—even if they live outside Mexico City, where the violence is bloodier and the working conditions more deplorable. VICE talked to a few of them: Daniela, a student from the state of Veracruz, where 17 journalists were murdered between 2010 and 2016; and Juan Almodóvar, from Sinaloa—where one year ago journalist Javier Valdez Cárdenas, who was investigating issues related to drug trafficking, was killed. We also talked to Diana from Chihuahua, the Mexican state where journalist Miroslava Breach was murdered in 2017 for investigating institutional and criminal corruption; Karla, from Jalisco, where just a few weeks ago three film students were dissolved in acid; and Marifer, who studies in Tamaulipas, the state where homicides increased by 75 percent during the first quarter of 2018.I’m currently in my second semester in the Communication Sciences at Veracruzana University, and I want to be a journalist. To be honest, the press situation in this region [of Mexico] frequently makes me sad. And it’s no secret: in fact, when I decided that I wanted to dedicate myself to journalism, my mom and dad begged me not to do it. But I was already decided.Lies have bothered me for as long as I can remember. Because of that, I never doubted my choice of vocation. There’s so many things that powerful people are hiding from us right now, and that makes me angry—it makes us all angry, I think. I’d love to be able to bring murky things to light; the things we should all be aware of. I really like investigative work, but I also know I want to focus on crime reporting. I need to find a way to brace myself for whatever the future holds. Adrenaline is my passion, and I accept the risk of that.
Daniela Rojas (20), Veracruz
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Juan Jesús Almodóvar (20), Sinaloa
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I believe that the nobility of a journalist's work lies in communicating with responsibility and professionalism, no matter what the story is. I really enjoy every chance I get to work at the radio station and talk about sports. It feels good to tell people that the world isn’t [characterized by] pure misfortune, and that good things happen too.When I wanted to be a chef, my mom was fine with it. When I told her that I'd changed my mind and that I was going to study journalism, she was livid. She begged me countless times not to do it—I’ve literally lost count. But my mind was made up.I didn’t continue with gastronomy because the coursework here in Chihuahua is particularly expensive, and it was difficult for my mom to afford it. One day, when I was talking with one of my cousins about it, I said that if there’s something I’m good at, it’s talking. And then he suggested that I study Communication Sciences. I did that for a semester, but my classmates were partiers and I’m not into partying. I decided to check out the journalism program at the Autonomous University of Chihuahua (UACH). I was convinced, and when the next semester came I was already enrolled.I’m currently in my second semester, I’m 19 years old, and I’m really proud of my decision. Being a journalist in Chihuahua is very dangerous. The violence has intensified lately, and a lot of people have been killed. But I think it’s a necessary profession, because [the government] lies to us a lot, and we need to tell the truth.
Diana Estefanía Chaparro (19), Chihuahua
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It helps a lot that I like to ask questions, because it’s beneficial to my work. I don’t like being cooped up or spending all day in front of a computer. I like action. I want to report on crime and policy issues. Fortunately, I’m not scared of blood. What scares me—and enrages me—is that too often, the cost of information is our very lives.
Karla Martínez (19), Jalisco
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