The new journalism perspective

Contemplating on my unfinished degree.

I am writing this out of a feeling of wonder and tragedy.

Art by Peonica Fernando.

I am amazed that my heart has had the capacity of holding space for both these extremes and everything else in-between. Maybe that’s the paradox of human life, the ability to feel in varieties all at the same time.

The last quarter of this year for me has been very rough in a way that I never imagined before. I have been exposed to some experiences and news that truly have not left me the same person. In the last few days or even weeks my heart has been on journalists who are putting their lives on the line to bring the truth to light. From what is unfolding in the Middle East right now, the word journalism has come to me on a very intense conscious level. Part of the reason, is because journalism is the program I decided to major in college, and to if I will end up earning this degree or not, is still unknown as far as now.

In my very first post on Feelings Finding Home, I did touch on how I started with this degree, if you haven’t read it, you can read it here.

It started with tears.

It was after I went to the undergraduate director’s office to seek for a change in what I wanted to major in because it had only been the second week into the semester. I was told I had missed the deadline. If I truly had missed the deadline, then it had to do with the information I got before even the semester began.

Information, a very core word when it comes to journalism.

“Waandishi wa habari kila siku tunavyosikia wanapigwa mawe kisa kusema ukweli, mwanangu, sijui.” That was one of the concerns I heard from my oldest aunt when she learned I was going to take journalism. That is Swahili, which in English would translate as, “Journalists, how we hear about them getting stoned everyday because of telling the truth, my child, I don’t know.” So maybe I had carried that fear with me and wanted to look at journalism only through tainted eyes, far and safe, never diving too deep. Thinking that sometimes the truth got to be compromised for your own safety, can be a very well defended argument. Truth, this is where the problem comes in.

Truth, another word journalism is not complete without.

With the two years I have spent on this degree, to be honest, it is only now do I feel its weight, its indispensable need, its honour.

I can’t exactly put it into words, but through each person who has and keeps on seeking and sharing the truth, whether it’s in words or pictures, they have created a shift inside of me. I have had to question myself on my reasons for sharing truth, on my ideas and beliefs on fearlessness and freedom. There is a change inside of me, however small or big, but something is not the same here.

Change, another word, and power, journalism stands for.

Whether I will go back to college to finish this degree or not, that I don’t know. But what I do know is, I am carrying this new perspective (that I still have no perfect words for just yet) forever with me.