I got a taste of my dream job at 21.
And the habitat for this dream job was mind-numbingly generic - unremarkable chairs and tables, inaccessible outlets to charge my laptop, computer programs with unfriendly user interfaces. It was like every other office. And like every other office I’d worked at as a journalist in Australia, there was one incontrovertible truth staring me right in the face – I was the only person of colour in the department.
My experience is by no means a novel occurrence. The report revealed more than 75 per cent of presenters, commentators and reporters in Australia have an Anglo-Celtic background. And 77 per cent of respondents with culturally diverse backgrounds believed their backgrounds are a barrier to career progression. I’ve felt the latter. At every internship, job, even at community radio stations where diversity is a core tenet, it’s present – like an insidious hand on my shoulder.
Even with a name like Norma Hilton, even after being raised on Friends and U2 and stories of my parents’ late 20s in Philadelphia – I cannot escape it. Instead, a name like this means I’ve been the ultimate vessel of subconscious projections. I’ve been mistaken for being American, for being Mexican, for being half-white, even had one of those amusing “but what are you?” moments.
Being in the room isn’t enough anymore. Not when the room was made for just one specific perspective.
I can fit in anywhere.
But I also don’t fit in anywhere.
Maybe that’s why I instinctively report on subjects that don’t get their due coverage in mainstream media. In the past, I’ve reported on the ethnic cleansing of Rohingyas in Myanmar and the Uighurs in China, sexual harassment in Saudi Arabia and the stigma around de-transitioning from non-binary to cis. It can be dangerous. Sometimes it requires a nuanced understanding of a complicated topic. And often, it involves the tedious task of riffling through the research PhD students write for other PhD students to reference.
But I’m not deterred by it. Because it’s important.
Seeing people of colour present the news has shown me that and given me hope to continue. Shows like the now-cancelled Patriot Act closed the news-gap, i.e. the gap between the news people are interested in and the news producers are willing to make. Informative, engaging, concise and confident, host Hasan Minhaj was the perfect conduit for news. Simply by existing, Minhaj set a precedent. Satire let him point out the ludicrous extravagance of Indian weddings but also call out the scarcely addressed but incredibly sinister racism present in our South Asian communities after the murder of George Floyd.
Minhaj used social media, pop culture references and comedy to reach millions of mostly young, brown people. His seminal work on Netflix is not on air anymore. But without him, I would have never known that I can also have a voice – without shirking away from my experience or diluting down my personality. Minhaj was instrumental in showing me a complex identity like mine is an asset.
We need to build a new house with rooms for everyone. It’s the only way news can be truly reflective of our beautifully multicultural society.
Even in traditional journalism, this is clear. When I look at British-American journalist Mehdi Hasan’s interviewing style, it’s one I want to emulate. He is ruthless, relentless, a force to be reckoned with. There’s no circumlocution. There’s no expurgation. He questions indignant supporters of authoritarian regimes with the same casual curiosity reserved for bigoted uncles at Christmas.
South African Trevor Noah is another presenter I look up to. While he began as a comedian, he is an incredibly intuitive reporter, especially when he’s interviewing extremely conservative pundits like Tomi Lahren on The Daily Show. He is also a master satirist, acting much like his contemporaries at Saturday Night Live. This is the kind of satire SNL creator Lorne Michaels describes as going after “whoever’s in charge…The country [United States] was founded on distrust of authority…..that’s what we do.”
While it’s great people like Minhaj, Hasan and Noah are increasingly entering spaces many of us scarcely ever imagined we would - being in the room isn’t enough anymore. Not when the room was made for just one specific perspective. We need to dismantle it. We need to build a new house with rooms for everyone. It’s the only way news can be truly reflective of our beautifully multicultural society.
And to do that, our editors, managers and supervisors need to invest in young people from diverse backgrounds. Whether it’s storytellers from comedy, non-binary folks who’ve de-transitioned, Indigenous people who’ve grown up westernised - all these perspectives are important and worth investing in. Industry leaders need to train, educate and prepare journalists to be active, adaptable participants rather than just observers.
If the last four years of my life have taught me anything, it’s being impartial now, is being irresponsible. If we continue on this path, bigotry will continue having a platform. Misinformation will spread on Facebook with absolute impunity. And unthinkable, unacceptable behaviour rooted in hatred will blossom.
Norma Hilton is a freelance journalist and M.S. candidate at Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism. She covers human rights and international politics.
