There are age-related preconceptions, too. At Rookie over the past year we have talked a lot about how adult journalists will write trend pieces about “the selfie generation” and how young people supposedly don’t care about anything, as if “the selfie generation” isn’t reading, or isn’t totally aware of how they’re being perceived.

It’s hater-y. It’s very hater-y and very prejudiced and very ignorant. It reminds me of what people used to say about hip-hop. I don’t like it when people make broad judgments, like “Millennials are this way.” First of all, do you even know any of these kids? Do you know them at all? Kids are smarter than we think they are. The kids I see on Tumblr, at least, open and passionate individuals with these amazing, articulate kind of opinions and snappy-ass backtalk about everything! They are so aware of their identities and their place in the world. I’m so jealous of that, in a way. It took me so long to say, “This is who I am.”

Everything is so accessible now, but when you stared, hip-hop culture was never the dominant culture.

We were fighting, Julianne. There was a time when rock ruled and hip-hop was the underdog and nobody believed in it and nobody thought it was real. And every article that came out in the paper or Time or Newsweek or whatever was “It’s negative” or “They’re killing people” or “It’s a fad, it’s not real, it’s not worthy of real criticism or love” or anything like that. One of my first big stories at the San Francisco Weekly—I thought I was so investigative and so deep—was about how club bookers told me off the record that there was a de facto ban against booking hip-hop in clubs in San Francisco. We were fighting all the time. To me, it was a fight for our humanity, for our place in culture. We had to constantly say, “We’re here, we’re rap, we’re an art form, we’re graffiti, we’re dance, we’re breakdancing, we’re rapping, we’re creating music. If you won’t book us in your stadiums or nightclubs, we’ll have parties in parks.” It was the greatest time ever, frankly. It’s so amazing to be part of a movement. As a journalist, it’s a complicated relationship because you don’t want to be totally fanned-out, but I was straddling the line, because I believed so hard that hip-hop was real and I felt that people were not giving it a fair shake. I felt committed to making people understand that it’s a thing, and it’s our thing, and it’s going to be even bigger than this. It’s going to take over.

It was an amazing feeling, like you were always working for the culture. If you are 16 or 14 right now, if there’s something that you believe in, don’t hang back! Put on your stomping boots, put on your sassiest dress and be at the center of that shit. It’s just the best to be part of something as it’s happening. Then on those faraway days when you’re like, “Oh my god, I’m thirty-threeee!” (it happens, young Rookies, it happens), you can look back and say, “I was major, and I’m going to be even more major in my 40s. I have experience in how to change the world.” If you don’t do that, you’re going to be mad. “I was doing what? Homework?!” “What? I was high? Too high to enjoy it?” No—put on your cutest shit and go to the fucking party and run it. Not to get too preachy or anything, but don’t always be going to the party, give the fucking party, you know what I’m saying? Curate it and make that shit as fresh as possible. It’s all good to be invited, but it’s a lot better to be the inviter. It’s all good to be the reader, but it’s way better to be the creator, the editor. It’s just fresher, I’m sorry. And no shade to the community of people that are on the side of reading and just coming to the party, because maybe you’re curing cancer, maybe you’re raising amazing kids, maybe you’re just going to work every day stunting off fools as the dopest receptionist ever at the dentist’s office, because that’s fresh too! But if you’re really into culture, own that shit. There’s nothing like starting your own shit. There’s nothing like moving on up, being like, “I was writing, now I’m editing.” “I was editing, now I’m editing a whole section.”

Do you have any other advice for young women who would like to be writers, editors, or just bosses?

I can only think of what I would tell my niece or tell myself when I was 12, 13, 14 years old: Relish the independence that you do have. You don’t have a lot, usually, when you’re that age, but relish it, work it. Also, whatever fear you have, try to put it in the backseat. I used to say to myself when I was 12, 13 years old: “What’s the worst that could happen if I did this? What’s the worst that could happen if I made a decision that everybody else wouldn’t agree with?” Right or wrong, that’s what I did.

I think it’s important that you realize that you can manage your own life and 18 isn’t the magic number where you can manage your freedom. You can manage your freedom as a teenager. One of the best things I did when I was 11, 12, 13, 14 years old was ride my bike. I lived in Los Angeles and I rode my bike all the way to the beach, me and my sister. We would have $5 and split pizza and Sprite and ride back home. It was like 12, 13 miles roundtrip. But the freedom of just being able to be on your own, the lessons you learn of being with people, and talking with people, and knowing who’s good and who’s bad and who’s fresh and who isn’t—these are all lessons for the future. The more you start learning who you are and who other people are, the better off you will be.

The world is a dangerous place, there’s no doubt about it, for women especially. You’re always dodging bullets of a certain kind, but we can’t let that make us scared to be free. Watch your back, but have your freedom. Just do it. Be wise. Cock your head at everybody. Side-eye everybody. Watch out for the weirdos that want to push up on you and touch you when you don’t want to be touched and all that shit that’s real fucked up, but have your freedom. It’s the best thing ever. And when you’re free out there, just think and think about what you can build with your friends and your siblings. Don’t let people make you smaller than you are. Ask your parents, in the nicest way, “What do I have to do so I can have some freedom? Is it grades? Is it cleaning the apartment? What do I have to do so I can have freedom?” Because from that freedom will come everything you are going to be. So work it out. ♦