Every Monday when I sit down and write my opinion column that will come out on print Tuesday, it’s very difficult for me. I don’t have many opinions, because it’s been drilled into me for the decade I’ve been in journalism — reporters don’t have opinions.
Of course, you know this isn’t the case. Everyone has opinions, everyone thinks something about something. In my college newspaper, I started out running the opinion section. I missed out on an early job because I disclosed to them my beginnings.
Look, they told me, the world is changing. Maybe one day we can see a journalist as a person who exists separate from what they report. But in this rapidly globalizing world of 2014 (remember, this was a few years ago), that employer didn’t think the American public would accept that an editorial intern published opinion pieces for her college newspaper.
I think the world is even less ready today. Back in 2015, the idea of “fake news” was just a whisper on the horizon. In this day and age, if a reporter does one thing to impugn their credibility, they could get labeled “fake news” forevermore.
The idea of it scares me, and my coworkers can testify to how much time I spend fact-checking and re-fact-checking.
No amount of verifying, though, can protect a journalist from the fact that we are people. I go home at the end of the day. I live in Commerce. I have a fiancé and I have three dogs and two cats. (That’s what the city allows before you have to declare yourself a kennel.) I spend my free time eating Mexican food and doing woodworking projects.
Maybe you could find more controversial things about me. You could pore over my social media and find out that I’m a vegetarian (but not a vegan). I have gay friends. I don’t like it when men I don’t know hug me. I struggle with depression. Those don’t seem very controversial to me because they’re facts about my life that I live everyday, but maybe they’re controversial to you.
Every week when I sit down to write this column, I worry that what I believe (for example: kids need more extensive nutrition programs if we want them to eat healthy, people should microchip and put collars on their pets) will cause you to think that my views are going to bleed into my reporting.
They never will. When I clock in as a reporter, I’m no longer a person. I’m a conduit through which facts and stories are told. As I said in another column, I just write what happens.
But I don’t think that means journalists shouldn’t be allowed to be people too. You’ll never see me picketing or protesting or tweeting to support any cause or another. I’m not comfortable for journalists to show themselves in that kind of way.
If you see me around, you’ll get to know me.
If you read this column, you’ll get to know me.
I can’t stop it from happening, so I’m going to embrace it, no matter how much it scares me.