I wrote a playbook but what we really needed was a revolution
“I feel shame and sorrow that I did not understand the depth of white supremacy in this country. When I see white hate used to leverage power, I feel sorrow. I commit to being anti-racist in words and deeds.”
The other day, my close friend posted this to Facebook. I kept re-reading it, each time feeling more sick to my stomach. Her words cracked me open somehow, naming something that I hadn’t been able to put into words.
I feel shame and sorrow that I did not fully see or hear what my friends have gone through while navigating race in journalism. It is so hard to sit with the fact — the bare fact — that I did not know the degree of what was happening and how it was decimating people around me.
But I see it now.
Over the past few months I’ve heard from friends across the country about what they’ve gone through trying to do the journalism they feel needs to be done. I see endless blog posts, Twitter chats and Instagram stories that attest to the intimate and brutal ways racism has played out in our news organizations. It’s heart wrenching.
That’s why I’m joining the #PublicMediaForAll campaign.
My work leading participatory journalism initiatives at CapRadio, the NPR affiliate based in Sacramento, California, centers on creating spaces and processes for people to be seen and heard. My values are anchored in social justice and my journalism focuses on care, mutual aid and democracy. Which leaves me asking myself: How could I have missed the harm and injustices taking place across the public media system?
Before I worked here, I’d never been drawn to public media — if anything I railed against it. As a college activist in the late 80s, I’d read the 1967 act that established public broadcasting as a “tool for enlightenment” with specific sections calling for the “expression of diversity and excellence” and programming that “addresses the needs of unserved and underserved audiences, particularly children and minorities.” But when I tuned into PBS or NPR, the programs looked and sounded white, male, Christian, straight, older and conservative.
In other words, everything my friends and I were not.
We were nearly as invisible in public media as we were in commercial media. I dedicated myself to changing the narrative, and community media and social issue documentaries were where I found purchase.
When I started consulting in public media in 2013, it was a struggle. My beliefs went against public media journalist norms — I don’t believe it is reasonable to expect objectivity — and my methods worked against newsroom structures and practices. But CapRadio took a risk and hired me to lead their “community engagement.” I’ve been experimenting with the “development of programming that involves creative risks,” as the Public Broadcasting Act says, ever since.
Through all this, though, I missed the big picture.
In my public radio work, I’ve focused on bringing diverse voices into our journalism, but not on how the industry as a whole was treating our diverse journalists. I paid attention to the impacts of exclusion and marginalization on communities we aim to serve, not on how inequity plays out inside our newsrooms. Now, it’s something I can’t unsee.
I also missed the scope of impact because, in truth, I had the luxury too. Like other white, middle class people inside the newsroom, I wasn’t directly affected. I could, and did, continue my work without a lot of trauma.
Many newsrooms too have missed so much, not just in how they report on (or exclude) people who are navigating systems designed for their disenfranchisement, but in making sure there is equal opportunity for the journalists doing the reporting. As I’m changing my own orientation, those newsrooms too need to change how they collect and disseminate news as well as attend to the people who produce it.
There are many ways to help a newsroom design its process to intentionally see and hear more people, staff included. I recently wrote a Participatory Journalism Playbook to spur conversations about changing newsroom norms. At SRRCON 2020, I met so many talented colleagues who shared more ideas in their own playbook. During the conference, I witnessed a critical mass of BIPOC journalists meticulously recount their histories of harm inside our news organizations. The collective impact of their stories was devastating. I know journalists of color have been telling these stories all along. SRRCON’s careful attention to creating a shared sense of belonging and responsibility helped me internalize it and make it personal.
That was back in July. Before the deluge of research, articles, books, talks and conference sessions laid bare the aftermath caused by racism in our news organizations. Before the massive “reckoning” in journalism hit terminal velocity.
It feels like a lifetime ago.
My Playbook attempts to help change editorial processes, but I realize now that I didn’t get to the core of the issue: white supremacy is baked into every aspect of our social systems and, as a result, all aspects of our news organizations.
I don’t know of any newsroom right now that’s not trying to figure out some instant DEI mix. Some way to open a DEI packet, pour it in a glass, add water and stir. All of a sudden, public radio newsrooms are acknowledging they have a “diversity, equity and inclusion” problem — one that’s not only going to affect their business models but also threatens our democracy. Many leaders, it seems, take it seriously by rushing out to hire people of color. But diversity is more complex and it’s certainly more complex than just hiring BIPOC folks — rural, alterabled, transfolks are also among those who have been left out of much of mass media. Others create diversity programs, training or other on-the-nose solutions that read well in a press release.
But real inclusion must be deeper. The pandemic and the uprisings have blown the doors open for more inclusive journalism. No more can editors and reporters spitball what’s important and decide by themselves what is newsworthy. No more can we have all or mostly white newsrooms, or all white executive leadership. And no more can we make our work for largely white audiences. These aren’t new ideas, and in truth, they have been urgent all along.
The way to make our newsrooms inclusive (and antiracist) is to practice it, over time. It’s incremental. Having some guiding principles helps. Having equity initiatives help. Having a national day of activism and education really helps. There isn’t a one-time playbook for addressing trauma and marginalization because it’s a process of fixing. And like any process it takes two key ingredients: commitment over time.
Wondering where to start? #PublicMediaForAll lays out a number of actions, from the grand to the granular, for people of color, white allies, organizations and fans. At CapRadio, colleagues and I are coming together to attend #PublicMediaForAll’s webinar, and then discuss it as a group. Managing Editor for Music Paul Conley and Classical Music Director Kevin Doherty are broadcasting spots throughout the day on our music station that share CapRadio’s DEI policy in music programming. On the news side, Race and Equity Reporter Sarah Mizes-Tan will join General Manager, Jun Reina, on our daily talk show to discuss the creation of CapRadio’s DEI affinity group and what #PublicMediaForAll means at our station. To continue the conversation, Managing News Editor, Nick Miller, is scheduling a “white caucus” to discuss race in a “brave and honest way”, and find solutions for supporting our BIPOC colleagues.
Let’s not wait for the next news emergency (hello elections) to deepen the work of dismantling white supremacy. Instead, let’s commit to creating guiding principles for our newsrooms that create equity and setting up systems that enable us to practice them. Let’s structure in accountability so that we check our work, interrogate ourselves and push forward. Let’s make good on the promise of public media.
Special thanks to Angilee Shah who helped midwife this article and to Carla Murphy for her generous feedback. In memory of Bob Devine. Rest in Power.
