BUCKING THE SYSTEM: GIVING EAR TO BLACK VOICES IN COMMUNITY

This has been an important month for me in terms of the types of stories I've covered. Being the only African-American in the newsroom, I'm especially sensitive to any mention or lack thereof of February's significance in the newspaper, so I began researching several topics in January to make sure I was prepared for the February rush.

I've tried to choose subjects that were relevant to this region's black community and it's history. Black history in schools, a personal sickle cell anemia story and a feature in today's paper about a predominantly black church were all stories I thought black people and the community as a whole would benefit from, so I put my heart and a lot of energy into pursuing them.

That energy paid off, and I've received several compliments from black residents who were glad to see me "not forgetting where I came from" and "being true to the race." Those compliments, while nice, got me wondering why it was so important to me that the stories run.

It's unsettling to admit, but I think I've put so much emphasis on my being the source of these stories because I didn't trust my co-workers to care. Imagine, it's 1998, and I've got doubts about whether our local media will cover a positive, slice-of-life story relevant to Black History Month.

It's an appropriate suspicion, not necessarily for this newspaper alone, but for media as a whole. Look at the leading news stories in any media: It's always predominantly sex, crime, scandals and sports. Unfortunately, the newsmakers for these topics are also disproportionately minority ethnicities.

In a speech at Southeast this week, St. Louis Post-Dispatch columnist Gregory Freeman said this happens because most media are located in the heart of the city, which has generally become overwhelmingly populated by minorities. He said it's a lot easier to pursue news -- especially the high-profile kind -- when it's made right outside your door.

In contrast, the police chief at the nearest suburb's law enforcement office could have a gun to his head, and he'll tell you there's no crime when you call, Freeman said.

It's this type of coverage that leads minorities to have a distrust for media. They -- we feel they don't really care about us and our stories. If the story's not bad, more often than not it won't be told, we think.

I love my job -- it's what I've wanted to do since I was 10 years old. But still waters run deep, and I think if you talked to minority reporters, they would tell you we never really shake those bad feelings.

That's good though, because it means we work harder to make sure all voices are represented. It means we push to get uplifting stories reported about neighborhoods that aren't considered to be all that great.

It means we understand the pain and will try to communicate its consequences.

For as long as I'm working in this field, I'm going to make sure intelligent minority voices are heard. I'm not looking for the woman in the rollers and the house shoes, and I'm going to hold accountable any reporter that I see doing so.

I have to represent my God, myself, my family, my values and my community, black and otherwise. As it did for Atlas, sometimes the load becomes heavy, and like Atlas, sometimes I have to shrug.

It's never too much to bear, though, because somebody has to do it. I don't mind that the somebody here is me.

~Tamara Zellars Buck is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.