But, Why Social Journalism?
Storytelling has always been part of my personal expression, but it was only in the last few years that I began to seriously consider journalism as a career. I gained an understanding of the role(s) the profession plays in local and global communities, and was drawn to the opportunity to learn about people, and how their realities are part of the greater continuum.
Shortly before receiving my B.S. in Journalism at West Virginia University in May 2017, I was waitlisted for CUNY’s M.A. in Journalism. Although I was bummed, the universe took that moment to guide me in a slightly different direction — an M.A. in Social Journalism at CUNY.
Within the last year, I explored not only the general definition of social journalism, but also what it means to me as an individual journalist — what it will look like to place “social” in front of “journalist” on my projects, pieces, and resume. The basic conclusion I’ve arrived: Social journalism integrates traditional journalism ethics, and empathy within storytelling — let’s unpack what it really means.
Understanding social journalism required me to take a more critical look at the SPJ Code of Ethics, and break down how the key points can be interpreted with empathetic accomodation, when choosing a specific community to report within. I’ve come to believe that social journalism is not only systematically valid, but incredibly crucial to the development and growth of our local, and global communities.
My base understanding is a product of extensive reflection — taking time to dissect and understand how I, as a journalist, could achieve respectful, authentic, personal integration within a community to better understand their realities, needs, and goals.
Before I knew social journalism existed, I began a project my senior year at WVU with a mission to humanize addiction. Consistent with what typically drives humans to be more empathetic, I chose the addiction community based on personal experience.
In 2009, Angela, my eldest sister overdosed and died — she was 23, I was 15.
I didn’t see it coming, I had no idea death is what addiction can look like, but that is because my parents, and Angela, made a genuine effort to protect me from her addiction.
To me, Angela was only ever my big sister, and nurturer — she was never labeled an addict when I was in the room. I am eternally grateful for her, and my parents achieving that for me. As a child in that moment, I perceived my sister’s addiction through rose-colored glasses.
Wait, how can someone perceive addiction through rose-colored glasses?
For example…
What I was told: Angela is moving home. She’s going to live with us for awhile.
My internal reaction (11-years-old): My big sister is moving home, and I’ve been missing her so much. This will be great.
Reality: Angela was moving home because she was sentenced to house arrest for a drug related charge.
I won’t argue that fierce shelter from complicated situations is the “right” way to handle it. I will, however, acknowledge that there is a certain beauty in being able to reflect, as an adult, on my reality from that moment in time, and not perceive it as trauma. I was protected from the harsh reality that addiction can create (a reality that did exist for the rest of my family), but I believe that has enabled me to arrive at a mental and emotional space which allows an honest, empathetic voice for that community.
Social journalism provides an opportunity to become rooted in a specific community, which enables authentic storytelling, as well as advocacy for healthy movement forward.
