To grow the journalism community, we must teach it ourselves
Shaban Athuman at the Virginia State Capitol in Richmond. Photo by Mike Kropf
For Shaban Athuman, journalism is synonymous with community.
It is how he met people who cared about his well-being; how he began to learn more conversational English; how he earned the trust of strangers to tell their stories; and how he found a career as a journalist.
It all started in 2013 with a program at The Roanoke (Va.) Times called the Minority Journalism Workshop (MJW).
That’s where Shaban, now 29, and I first met. I was the features editor at the newspaper and leader of the workshop, founded in 1983. I learned the ropes from longtime Roanoke Times journalist JoAnne Poindexter, the newspaper’s first Black reporter who led MJW for decades. The summer workshop invited regional high school students to apply and learn from journalists in the newsroom and beyond.
At the very least, we were introducing high schoolers to the field and a reliable news source in their hometown. In our wildest dreams, some of them would become journalists. In Shaban (and a few others), that dream came true!
While the workshop was originally created to bring in students of color, we later expanded the definition of “minority” to be more inclusive of different experiences and identities beyond race and ethnicity.
Shaban and I have stayed in touch off and on through the years and we’re now members of a community for journalists of color. He recently told me that being accepted into MJW opened a career path for him that he may not have found otherwise.
“The workshop showed me that my voice mattered,” Shaban recalled. “Even though I couldn’t speak [English] very well, it mattered. You took your time with me and hearing me out. You guys were telling me I could do this.”
Shaban was born in a refugee camp in Tanzania and his family resettled in Salem, Va., when he was 12 — just a few years before he applied for the workshop. He didn’t speak any English when he arrived.
At Andrew Lewis Middle School, an English as a Second Language teacher encouraged him to join the yearbook club and try photography, because it would force him to talk to people and learn English.
Shaban still has his MJW application. He read a part of it: “My ethnicity makes me who I am today, it is what keeps me going every single day. I tend to speak with images. I learned there’s a universal language — photography. You can say millions of words with one image.”
From Salem High School, Shaban went onto Western Kentucky University to major in photojournalism and sociology — the first in his family to go to college. His career has since taken him to New Mexico, Colorado, Dallas and now, back to Virginia. He’s a multimedia journalist at VPM, a public media organization in Richmond.
“It’s freaking cool, there’s no other job that lets you do this!” Shaban said.
The job, though, has not come without trauma. Shaban told me about how when he was at The Dallas Morning News, he and a reporter were covering a vigil when they heard someone yell “gun” followed by gunshots. The vigil was being held for someone who died in a shooting the day before. Fortunately, no one was injured at the vigil.
Shaban and his colleague hid and escaped safely after police arrived. He then went straight to the office to file his photos.
“After I filed the pictures, I collapsed on the floor and was sobbing. I felt really broken at that time,” Shaban said. The next day, when he returned his rental car, he found bullet holes.
Shaban said he took a career break after that, returning home to heal with family. His journalism friends and mentors regularly checked in on him, talking to him “not about photojournalism but how I was taking care of myself.” He stepped back into journalism when he felt ready.
I interviewed Shaban because to me, he is proof that the return on investment for community engagement programs is so much greater than what they cost.
To run the weeklong workshop, we had a small budget to cover lunches every day and transportation to Washington & Lee University’s journalism school, our partner for many years. We also needed staff time — program and session leaders.
But considering Shaban’s contributions as a journalist over the years, across the country, I believe the $1,000 or so we spent on the workshop has repaid itself hundreds-fold.
Today’s media landscape is not what it was when I met Shaban in 2013. Media consumption behaviors have changed; news platforms have multiplied; and misinformation is a problem and a threat to our democracy.
So it’s more important than ever for media organizations to establish relationships and trust with people who live in their communities through programs like MJW.
I’ve written before about how journalists of color can’t be the only ones leading these efforts, and I still believe that.
Here are some ideas of how newsrooms can connect with their community’s youth:
Start small: A one-day traveling workshop to area high schools to teach media literacy and journalism skills. Schedule these once a month.
Offer mentorship: Photography, social media, interviewing and writing skills — there’s a lot journalists can teach others. Set up a program where students can find mentors within your newsroom.
Partner with a local university: If there’s a college or university in town with a communications program, remember you both want to reach the same audience! This is why we partnered with Washington & Lee University. Develop a program together and share the costs.
The goal is to show you care about your community members — not only as sources but also as people. By being transparent about your work and sharing your knowledge, you’ll not only be nurturing a journalism consumer, you may be nurturing a future journalist.
That’s how we grow our village.
Here’s a little more from my conversation with Shaban:
Kathy: Your career has taken you from Dallas to Richmond, newspapers to public media. What have you learned about journalism in these different places?
Shaban: Community … everything needs to be led by the community. [As an intern at The Gallup Independent in New Mexico], I got invited to rodeos. People knew I was in town, wanted to get to know me and wanted me to be part of their community. I was one of few Black people there.
When one of the families lost their home to fire, I remember how I was taking pictures and I was like, “Wow, these are people in my community, this is my community.” They lost everything, and I felt guilty for taking pictures at the time because I was seeing people at their most vulnerable state. But when you understand what your job means, you can feel for this person and make a picture. Make sure they’re actually OK, so that when you leave, they’re not going to be harmed or exploited.
Journalism has the responsibility of being the eyes and ears that confirm for others that the tree fell and made a sound, and this is what it looks like as it was falling. Otherwise, no one is going to care at all.
Kathy: You went through MJW a long time ago, and you’re still a journalist. How do you feel about your journey?
Shaban: I feel very privileged for so many reasons. I’m just a kid from a refugee camp in Tanzania. I didn't really expect much from life and from my life. It’s a testament to the shoulders I stand on; I didn’t get here by myself. So many people helped me to see it.
Kathy: In the time you’ve been a journalist, the narrative around journalism has changed a lot. The story now is young people don’t know what journalists do. What is your experience of this?
Shaban: I tell people that journalism is you looking out for your community. It doesn’t mean you take sides, it just means you’re looking out for your community. We’re all there to make sure our community is stronger together.
Kathy: What advice do you have for media organizations on investing in relationships with community members through programs like MJW?
Shaban: You’re investing not only in you, you’re investing in your community. … It’s a chance to teach people what we do. It’s our responsibility.