The Inherit Tenderness of Engagement Journalism
“It’s in your self interest to find a way to be very tender” — Jenny Holzer
I’ve been obsessing over Jenny Holzer quotes for the better part of the last five years. At night when I’m having nightmare-induced bouts of insomnia, I stare at the ceiling trying to make sense of what they mean, how they apply to what is happening in the world, and how they fit into whatever is going in my life at the moment.
Lately the one about being very tender is stuck in my brain and I keep trying to figure out why now, out of all moments, I landed in this one. The answer is simple— even though the climate crisis is worse than ever, we’ve been stuck in what feels like a never ending pandemic, and mental health disorders such as depression, anxiety, impulsive behavior and attempted suicides are all on the rise — I’m still trying to find a way to remain hopeful.
Given our current state of affairs, it’s very easy to become cynical about even the good things, but now that I have the documents and certifications to call myself a service journalist it is imperative that I don’t allow cynicism take a hold of the best parts of me. For the past two years, I’ve been listening, learning and putting in the time and effort to learn about a community of people that needs nothing but tenderness and empathy from the world around them.
Trans sex workers are a very misrepresented group of people, they are also very resilient and a community that needs to be reported about in more depth and with higher nuanced. Here are a couple of statistics to give you an idea of the make-up of the community: the average lifespan of a trans woman is 35 years old, 45 trans people were murdered in the U.S. in 2021, 13 percent of trans people reports having participated in sex work at any given time of their lives, trans people are twice more likely to become homeless than any other group in the LGBTQ+ community.
Even though the statistics are dire, trans people have found a way to keep themselves and each other alive, but it shouldn’t be up to trans people to bear the responsibility of their survival, especially since the violence perpetrated against them comes from a cisgender world they want nothing to do with. In order to alleviate the gap between the community work trans leaders are doing for their own community members and the support they’re receiving from people outside of the community, especially journalists and media experts, I kick-started a communications information service that offers community leaders pro-bono access to the skills and expertise of journalists such as myself. I called this Communications for the Movement.
But how exactly am I doing this — through the tactics of engagement and entrepreneurial journalism. By listening, really listening to community members, showing up to events, supporting movements, making mistakes and figuring out how I can go beyond the story to serve the information needs of the community, I was allowed access and trust with trans leaders who want to have their stories of joy and resilience published, but that are very selective about the people they work with due to historic misrepresentation.
After spending my entire graduate program working with this community, I truly believe that had I followed the rules of traditional journalism and never ventured into the teachings of engagement, I would not have gotten as far as I did. I’m proud to say I am now the de facto photographer for a major trans-led organization in Queens, and in exchange they have been keeping me in the loop about any and all developments within the community. I have an archive of photographs I can use for any story I publish, and I have a list of story ideas community members will want to work on with me exclusively, and I’m also part of a large network of trans sex workers who want to talk about their experiences with the criminal justice system and in some cases their undocumented status.
These kinds of sources and stories are not easy to access, and the way I learned how to navigate these complicated subjects was by talking to them and learning where it is that journalists have been failing. Trans people are tired of having journalists approach them about the same old stereotypical stories of death and suffering — they want to work with us, but those of us who are willing to respect their experiences, listen to what their needs are, and allow them to be the voice of their own stories.
The treatment the trans community has received from people in the media has been nothing but horrendous, and it still remains so in a lot of parts of the world. As journalists we have a lot of repairing to do — even though it’s hard to remain tender when you see and hear all the injustices your sources had to live through, it’s our job to find a way. By remaining myself that tenderness and empathy is what led me to this amazing community in the first place, I find it easier to accept my responsibilities as a journalist and wake up everyday to give trans sex workers the kind of stories they deserve.
