Culture

Most Journalists Don’t Know How to Cover Trans Communities. We’re Here to Push for Change


 

On the day Chelsea Manning first told the world she was trans, I walked into the public radio newsroom where I worked for my afternoon shift and, to my horror, learned that we were using the wrong pronouns for her in our coverage. I fought with my news director for an hour, trying to justify the use of she/her pronouns and cover this story with greater accuracy and care. Ultimately, the best I could get was a compromise: we wouldn’t use pronouns at all. Chelsea and our listeners deserved better, but at least we wouldn’t be using the wrong pronouns to refer to her.

When an updated version of the story finally aired, our anchor rewrote his intro to misgender Chelsea anyway. 

When I pitched stories that went beyond the typical trans narrative or would challenge readers to interrogate their own cissexism, editors questioned their very foundation. At the time, I believed myself to be cis. It was frustrating, sure. But when my self-understanding shifted in 2017, conversations trying to justify respectful coverage and expand the kinds of trans stories we told got harder and more painful to have. Suddenly, those conversations were also about whether my colleagues saw and respected me.

Feeling alienated and alone, I sought community. When I couldn’t find a place where trans journalists came together, I created a Facebook group which later became a Slack community. I invited every trans journalist on my radar. And they invited people they knew, who invited more people, too. 

Eventually there were more than 200 trans media makers, and we had a place to share job opportunities, get advice, lift each other up, build relationships, and discuss the problems in our industry. Trans journalists had known and supported one another before this group existed, of course, and many trans journalists who aren’t in the group are supporting one another right now. But having a more formal place to network with so many other trans journalists gave many of us access to community in our industry we didn’t previously have. Networks like these are essential for underrepresented and marginalized groups, and this slack was the beginning of what would become the Trans Journalists Association.

The community that formed TJA, for me, has been a respite — an oasis where I can just be. I’m among colleagues where, for the first time, I don’t have to explain why writing around using they/them pronouns, as the Associated Press advises, is disrespectful; how saying someone “identifies as a woman” is a microaggression; or that the media’s fixation on trans youth can perpetuate the harmful myth that being trans is a fad among young people.

Last week, our association launched with resources for newsrooms to support trans employees and cover our communities with more accuracy. Editors at some legacy newsrooms will surely bristle at some of these directives. Some journalists will likely say this is a reflection of “PC culture” and claim we are being too sensitive. Many of these journalists do not understand the power media outlets wield or what is at stake. But others do. Just yesterday, a group of over 100 notable journalists and writers — many of them known for their anti-trans viewpoints — signed on to an intellectually dishonest open letter published in Harper’s Magazine claiming that free debate is under attack. Yet such a proclamation is more about maintaining power over marginalized groups and being free of the consequences of spreading harmful disinformation (some signatories have revoked their signatures or apologized once this became clear). Many of the signatories would prefer we not tell our own stories and believe they should be the authorities on our lives.

Slightly less than a quarter of Americans say they have a close friend or family member who is trans, meaning that for many, the media is a primary source of information about our lives. News outlets shape the public discourse about our communities, and therefore influence public policy and how people think and talk about us. That is a great responsibility, and one the overwhelming majority of journalists do not wield responsibly. Journalists do a disservice to our profession and their audiences when they engage in storylines about us based in fear mongering, use language rooted in cissexism, or routinely fail to include trans people in decision making around coverage that affects our lives. Our association will not remedy this problem on its own, but it will aim to support trans journalists and allies when they push their newsrooms towards more respectful coverage.

We decided to create TJA after our online community had existed for about a year. During that time, we discussed how wildly unequipped most newsrooms are to cover trans communities and how editors often wouldn’t listen to us about how to tell stories about trans people with dignity. We expressed dismay that existing resources for mainstream media outlets were largely inadequate and rarely went beyond “trans 101.” Together we realized that as trans people and journalists, we were uniquely positioned to push for better, more accurate coverage of our communities. Then we got to work creating a comprehensive guide outlining many of the problems we see along with guidance for addressing them, which we published alongside our launch. 

The way journalists write about trans people reflects how they think about us, and is an indication of another problem too many of us know to be true: most newsrooms are, at best, unwelcoming to trans people and are all too often hostile work environments. This should come as no surprise at a time newsrooms across the country are having a reckoning around their mistreatment of Black journalists and other journalists of color. Marginalized people in our industry are often bullied, harassed, silenced, and tokenized. For trans people who exist at multiple intersections of oppression, that hostility is compounded.

This hostility helps explain why so few trans people have full time work in our industry. It is difficult for us to get jobs in the first place, and when we do, we’re often not supported. We’re almost always the only trans person in the room, and almost never see editors or other newsroom leadership who are trans. On top of that, we’re often told we can’t write about trans issues because we can’t be “objective,” or get pigeon-holed into writing exclusively about trans issues because editors fail to see our value beyond our identity. 

Changing this culture and making newsrooms more welcoming to trans people is a long-term endeavor. As a first step, we have created resources for employers around how to support trans employees and things to consider. Perhaps the most important directive is that it shouldn’t take a trans person walking through the door for newsrooms to educate staff and put policies in place that support trans people — newsrooms need to do the work so when a trans employee does join, they are supported and treated with dignity. For newsrooms who have a trans employee, or the rare shop with more one of us, it’s past time to do that work if it hasn’t already been done.

The formation of an association for trans journalists is long overdue. In response to a tweet announcing our association, one person responded, “If there was support or a collective voice 15-20 years ago, I might still be in the industry.” It’s impossible to know how many more trans voices our industry has lost and continues to lose because we, too often, are not welcome and must fight to make space for ourselves. TJA exists to support the journalists carving out that space and bring us together so our voices are louder and more impactful. In that coming together, hopefully our members also feel a little less alienated and a little less alone as we demand better for our communities.

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