Last Friday, I conducted an interview with an active-duty service member who was having issues with his housing.
It’s an interesting story I hope to tell here soon. Whether the story moves forward depends on some legal input, but I am still always floored by the bravery people have in entrusting their stories to me or any journalist.
Normally on that Friday I would have been busy compiling ad sales, working up the first template for the newspaper with our designer, and copyediting articles from contributors. I would not have time to take such a call, relevant as the story may be.
My duties have recently shifted though, making Dave Thomas the new editor of Uptown and Downtown News while I move to full-time reporting, both in this neighborhood and a few new ones. I already wrote several articles per month while juggling duties as an editor. I know Dave will continue to put out a strong print product, one of the few free remaining publications in our area. It is an exquisite opportunity to get to focus solely on reporting.
At the end of my interview on Friday, I asked the subject if he was sure about this — going public carries risks to his career and housing. I would understand if now is not the time, especially while things are so fraught for LGBTQ+ service members. His response was quick, that now is not the time for him to keep quiet. It was brave. And it reminded me I have a voice too, that even if I have been quiet before, I can be loud now.
When I came out at work, I announced the name change but did not explain more unless asked. Being transgender felt like a private, though not shameful, thing that I did not need to prove to others. I know I am genderqueer, is that not enough? Truthfully I was tender after facing rejection from my family and some friends.
Opening up to the entire public seemed too potentially hurtful, especially when that would be communicated through a local newspaper, one of the few news sources still trusted by most people. Damaging that trust felt harrowing. I knew in coming out some would assume my political affiliations and how those shape my reporting. Stereotypes do not get you far though – I can’t make a good cup of coffee despite memes about blue hair to the contrary.
Getting through the next years, income and career I love intact, would be easier if I keep my head down. At a minimum, it would be easier to reach out to sources via email if I simply took my pronouns out of my signature, especially as they/them are used as a punchline so often. It would be easier to let new people assume I am a man based on my name or let people who knew me before continue to assume I am a woman. But in this case, like so many, the easier story is not the true one.
As I walked through the Hillcrest Farmers Market this past Sunday interviewing vendors about the new location, I was reminded that this form of journalism only happens because I am in and of the community. I could send questions remotely from my apartment, and frequently do, but there is something special about the unplanned encounters walking the streets unearths.
Speaking to a few well-connected vendors would not have allowed me to meet Josie Fouts, who has worked at various stalls for the past eight years, making her more experienced than many of the business owners I spoke with. I only talked to her because she overheard me speaking to someone else and was excited to contribute.
That day in Hillcrest reminded me that I do not only report about the community, I am part of the community too.
Storytellers, historians, record keepers, and today’s journalists have a role in the community as much as the farmers growing the food we eat do. While politically it feels like my identity is being erased, these stories are my way of asserting my place here, alongside the people of San Diego. I am part of the fabric of this community too and I am excited that this career shift means I get to know more of the community.
If you ever have a story tip, please reach out at drew@sdnews.com.
Photo credit: Pixabay.com