In journalism school we were taught to keep the personal separate from the professional, and to not become part of the story. However, this seems like the right time to break that rule. #BlackintheNewsroom
As a Black queer journalist, I’ve dealt with racism and homophobia in the workplace, ranging from endless micro-aggressions to blatant discrimination. Here are a few of my memories of working while Black in Canadian media.
The time when during a J-school lecture about minorities, my white instructor thought it was okay for her to say the word “nigger.” She didn’t say n-word, she said nigger.
I was the only Black person and only out gay person in the room, as she played first an old Eddie Murphy video where he joked about being afraid of faggots, and then another video where the n-word was liberally used.
I sat through the rest of that class in silence as my white, straight classmates discussed their personal opinions on the n-word, and their personal “feelings” about gay people.
Or the time when halfway through one of my first journalism internships, a white supervisor closely scrutinized my hair, made a face almost as if she was looking for bugs, and told me that I needed to shave my head to be “professional.” #BlackintheNewsroom
Or the time in another newsroom, where the head of the company made repeated unwelcome comments to me in the break room about my hair, commenting about its size, and wondering aloud how I kept it clean. #BlackintheNewsroom
Or the time at one job, where it was explained to me that I had to be careful not to allow too much diversity (non-white bodies) on the cover of the publication, or in the photos and stories inside. Some was okay, just not “too much” or “too often.” #BlackintheNewsroom
I was also warned about too much representation from transgender people. Again, some was okay, just not “too much” or “too often.”
No one on the management team would have ever said they were anti-diversity. The official line was that diversity was very important, but there was a big disparity between what was said, and how things actually worked.
Concerns were often raised that we might alienate their long-time audience (read: white gay men).
When I did assign and publish content connected to race (or to transgender issues), these stories were often scrutinized and questioned.
I sat through many meetings where I was asked to explain why we had run these stories, and asked if they were in fact “a good fit” for the publication.
Or all of the times, when the ideas that I presented were rejected or dismissed outright by my bosses, but those same exact ideas were then praised when they came from white male colleagues. #BlackintheNewsroom
It got to the ridiculous point, that if I really wanted approval for a project I had to let a white coworker propose it instead.
Or when during a brainstorming session, when other members from our department pitched to the larger group, the department head smiled and nodded along in encouragement. When it was my turn to present, he didn’t make eye contact, frowning and glaring at the wall instead.
Or the fact that even though at work I am always careful to speak calmly and in measured tones and never ever raise the volume of my voice — lest I be seen as too threatening — I have still been accused of yelling, or being too emotional or too aggressive. #BlackintheNewsroom
Or the time my boss insisted I come back early from the first real vacation I’d had in three years, to attend a company party so they could show off their diversity. And at that party, being awkwardly dragged out to talk to Black community members about our record on race.
Or when after Black Lives Matter held a protest at the Toronto Pride parade, I was summoned into two bizarre meetings with senior management. Ordinarily the executives had little involvement with day-to-day journalism, but on this particular issue some of them had concerns.
One meeting was unusual, but two in as many days was baffling. The first I attended alone, the second with another staffer of colour. Both times I referred to the stories we had already done, and some of the planned followups.
Sitting in that conference room with this group of white men in near silence, it was clear they were agitated — agitated enough to call another meeting the next day. But, whatever had them so upset, they couldn’t or wouldn’t say it out loud, at least not in my presence.
When my colleague and I left that second meeting, we turned to each other in confusion and asked “what the hell was that?”
Or when over the next year, I was repeatedly pressured to write a personal editorial about Black Lives Matter and race. I was an editor, but the publisher very specifically wanted me to write about race.
He wasn’t asking me to assign more pieces to other writers; or to write about other topics. He demanded that it had to be me, and it had to be about race.
I had written an opinion column shortly after the parade incident supporting BLM and its calls for action, but I had made it clear to my boss after that I did not feel that I had anything else to contribute personally on the subject.
It seemed to me they wanted to signal to the public that they were progressive enough to have a Black editor on staff — they wanted credit.
The pressure to write another column went on for months. Finally under much duress, I submitted a draft. Here are the first four paragraphs of that piece I wrote in the spring of 2017: 
That editorial was never published. After reading it, my supervisor told the publisher she would support me and no longer pressure me to write the article.
Even though on paper that supervisor was in charge of the whole newsroom, she was later iced out by the publisher. He cut her out of meetings and decisions, and even though she was my boss, he made it so she had to come to me to get permission for certain editorial decisions.
(He openly bragged to me about his management style and about his ability to manipulate his staff, specifically name dropping Machiavelli.)
After my supervisor was driven out, I was misled to believe that I would be moving into her role. He told me to move into the publisher’s old office, to better give a sense of my new role to the rest of the staff.
But it was all empty promises. Even as I continually took on heavier workloads, I was never once promoted or given a raise to reflect those increased responsibilities and hours. While telling me one thing to my face, they had already begun recruiting a replacement.
Near the end of my time there I was told they were going to create a new senior role and that they were going to engage a headhunting firm to fill the position. Even this was a lie. I later found out the candidate had already been hired weeks before.
Or the time I went to Human Resources to ask for advice and support, and was assured that it was up to me whether or not to make my discrimination complaints official against a senior company executive. I was told to come back to let HR know my decision.
When I returned I was told by the very same HR person that actually I had no choice, AND my confidential complaints would be investigated with or without my cooperation, AND the executive would be notified that I had complained. I knew then my days there were numbered.
After leaving that job, I had countless stress dreams and night terrors for months that I was still stuck in that newsroom. In the first moments after waking, I would be terrified that I had to go back, before remembering that I didn’t work there anymore.
These are by no means every racist or discriminatory experience I’ve had as a journalist, just a few that have stuck in my mind. I know many other Black journalists and journalists of colour who have had to deal with much worse.
We need real change and accountability in Canadian journalism, and we need it now. cabj.news/news-and-updat…
Thank you to every Black journalist and journalist of colour who has bravely been sharing their personal stories, and pushing back against racism and discrimination. Please support them, listen to our stories, and demand action.
Please support organizations that advocate for Black journalists — groups like the Canadian Association of Black Journalists @CABJMedia, and Canadian Journalists of Colour #CJOC
