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29:19
Zach speaks with Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter Nikole Hannah-Jones about the state-sanctioned shooting of Jacob Blake, her personal career journey from the high school newspaper to The New York Times, the opposition she's experienced as director of The 1619 Project, and so much more. Click the links in the show notes to find out more about Nikole and The 1619 Project! 

Connect with Nikole on LinkedIn, Twitter, and Instagram.

Check out her personal website. 

Find out more about The 1619 Project by clicking here.

Donate to the Justice for Breonna Taylor GoFundMe by clicking here.

Find out how the CDC suggests you wash your hands by clicking here.

Help food banks respond to COVID-19. Learn more at FeedingAmerica.org.

Visit our website.




TRANSCRIPT

Zach: What's up, y'all? This is Zach with Living Corporate, and yo... look, so every week we have a great guest, and I say this every time, but, like, don't front--who else but us? Like, we drop gems on Living Corporate, right, for the free. Like, y'all don't even pay nothing for this, right? Like, we just be givin' it to y'all weekly, and, you know, I mean, I'm smiling despite the pain I'm feeling, the frustration--you know, for those who follow me on LinkedIn or whatever, like, I had to let some things go 'cause I was just upset. I still have some stuff to say, but I'ma wait on it. I'ma wait on it for a couple more months, but that day is soon coming. But anyway, that's a story for another time. [laughs] Look, even with all the pain and frustration that's going on right now with the continuous brutalization of Black bodies in both white America at large and corporate America specifically, their just slough-footed shuffle in not really addressing systemic inequity. I'm excited. I'm excited about the guest that we were able to have, that was able to grace our platform, our flagship show Living Corporate today, and the guest we have is Nikole Hannah-Jones. Now, look, I'm not gonna go into some long biography of Nikole Hannah-Jones, also known as Ida Bae Wells, is one of those most prolific writers of our time. Shout-out to Black women. She holds it down. She advocates and speaks to the reality and lived experience, the historicity, of our struggle, and she's one of the people. She comes from--you'll hear in the interview, but she comes from a similar just, like, humble background that I do and doesn't tolerate disrespect similar to how I don't tolerate disrespect, so we just vibe on a certain level. I appreciated our conversation. The next thing you're gonna hear is the discussion, the interview, that I had with Ms. Hannah-Jones. Make sure that you listen to the whole thing, make sure that you check out the show notes, and we'll catch y'all next time. Peace.




Zach: Nikole, welcome to the show. To say this is an honor would be an understatement, and I recognize, especially today, this is a loaded question, but how are you?




Nikole: Hm. Thanks for having me on the show and for your persistence. You know, I'm fine. This is a hard time to be in. It's always a hard time to be Black in this country, and I am more blessed than most, so I'm just trying to maintain perspective.




Zach: Yeah. With that in mind, I think I'd be remiss if I didn't ask you about the state-sanctioned shooting of Jacob Blake. Of course I have some questions about your work specifically and The 1619 Project, but I'd like to get your perspective on just the historically cyclical nature of violence against Black bodies and, like, in this moment, what if anything do you think can happen to break this centuries-long pattern?




Nikole: You know, a few months ago I was feeling a tinge of something that is very unusual for me, which was a slight tinge of hope, and that is gone, and there's a reason I don't often feel it. So I just looked at some data, and despite months of protests, despite all of the back to back media coverage following George Floyd, despite corporations having a so-called "come to Jesus" moment, the stats on police-involved killings have not changed. We are seeing just as many people killed by police in the first half of this year as we saw last year, and I don't know what can force this country to change practices that have been 400 years in the making. In this moment where we know everyone is recording, where there's been months of protests against police violence, that an officer would, in the public view, grab a man who was not fighting him whatsoever and shoot him in the back seven times, it's extremely discouraging, because you would think--at least in this moment--there would be more care and more fear of consequences of treating Black people like they're still in slavery and like their lives don't matter, but we're not seeing that, and it's hard.




Zach: Yeah. You know, I think about the fact that--I'm a fairly new father myself, so I have a 5-month old daughter, and I think about the fact that he was shot seven times in the back in front of his three kids in his car, and I was holding my daughter at the time--or rather I was splitting time, so I was cooking and I was feeding my daughter and I just so happened to look at my phone and see that, and then just, you know, I looked at Emory and I just started crying, 'cause I was just, like, this is--just the inhumanity of it... anyway, I'm really curious as we continue forward because I think this project and the work that you do, that you continue to do--thank you for your work, by the way, bless you for that--is just highlighting how inhumanely we've been treating, 'cause there's no way that you just treat human beings like this. And, you know, speaking of the work, I've read stories about editorial bias and how Black journalists will stop submitting certain stories that center Black people because they keep getting shot down or any, you know, Black or brown people. Your work beautifully and tragically captures our stories and experiences, and I'm curious what the internal journey has been like for you to find your voice, and then how long it took before your pitched stories started getting greenlit by different editorial powers that be?




Nikole: Yeah, so I started writing about Black people as a high school journalist. That's why I joined my high school newspaper. I had a column called "From the African Perspective," and I joined my high school newspaper because--if your listeners know my story at all, they'll know I was bused into white schools as part of a voluntary desegregation order starting in the second grade, and as a high school student at a predominantly white high school where most of the Black kids were bused from the Black side of town, I knew even then that we were being left out of the story and the power of you shaping the narratives for your own communities, and the only reason I ever wanted to be a journalist was to write about Black folks, period. I was interested--I'm a news junkie in general, I'm interested in the news, I've always read the news, I used to read the paper with my father--I wanted to be a journalist to write about Black folks, and there were--when I started my career I had an excellent editor who encouraged me and supported me in wanting to write. I was an education reporter and I was writing a lot about school segregation and school inequality and disparate discipline that Black students were facing, and I was encouraged to do that. My next job was not the case, and I was penalized and punished for writing about Black stories or people of color in general and was told really that it was showing my bias, that these stories were not reflective of the readership of the newspaper, and had story idea after story idea killed. And this was during the historic Obama run for the presidency, so if you can't be encouraged to write about race when the first Black man has a chance to be president, when would be the right time? And I remember I would pitch these stories and my editors would say, "No, that's not a story," and then I'd see a story almost just like what I had pitched run in The New York Times and I'd be like, "Okay, it's not that I don't have good ideas, it's that they're not interested in this coverage," and I nearly left journalism. I was stuck. This was at a time when the journalism industry was in a death spiral. Newspapers were laying off all over the country, and so there wasn't another job to be had. Like, if you had a job you'd better keep it, and I was so depressed because that's what I got into journalism to do, and I considered leaving the industry, and the only reason I didn't leave the industry is because I just couldn't think of anything else I wanted to do with my life. I'd wanted to be a journalist since I was in high school and really felt journalism was my mission. Luckily I was rescued when I was recruited to come to ProPublica, and I remember when Steve Engelberg, who's the editor of ProPublica, asked me to interview and then ultimately offered me the job, I had a very honest conversation with him and I was like, "If I cannot tell these stories, I don't want to come. Like, I'm not gonna jump from this job to another job where I'm punished for wanting to write about race." He assured me that I wouldn't be, and I wasn't, and so ProPublica was really the place where I was able to develop the style of writing that I've become known for.




Zach: To your point, like, with ProPublica and now, you know, the New York Times, I'm curious to know what it's like to write and work with an institution that publishes pieces and projects like The 1619 Project but then also has puff pieces about Trump supporters and then editorial pieces like Tom Cotton's. Like, I'm curious, is there any duality there that you have to straddle or frustrations that you have to manage? 




Nikole: Yeah. I mean, I'm assuming that's a rhetorical question because of course, right? [laughs] I mean, this is the nature of Black folks working in any white institution. It is the reality of B
Zach speaks with Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter Nikole Hannah-Jones about the state-sanctioned shooting of Jacob Blake, her personal career journey from the high school newspaper to The New York Times, the opposition she's experienced as director of The 1619 Project, and so much more. Click the links in the show notes to find out more about Nikole and The 1619 Project!  Connect with Nikole on LinkedIn, Twitter, and Instagram. Check out her personal website.  Find out more about The 1619 Project by clicking here. Donate to the Justice for Breonna Taylor GoFundMe by clicking here. Find out how the CDC suggests you wash your hands by clicking here. Help food banks respond to COVID-19. Learn more at FeedingAmerica.org. Visit our website. TRANSCRIPT Zach: What's up, y'all? This is Zach with Living Corporate, and yo... look, so every week we have a great guest, and I say this every time, but, like, don't front--who else but us? Like, we drop gems on Living Corporate, right, for the free. Like, y'all don't even pay nothing for this, right? Like, we just be givin' it to y'all weekly, and, you know, I mean, I'm smiling despite the pain I'm feeling, the frustration--you know, for those who follow me on LinkedIn or whatever, like, I had to let some things go 'cause I was just upset. I still have some stuff to say, but I'ma wait on it. I'ma wait on it for a couple more months, but that day is soon coming. But anyway, that's a story for another time. [laughs] Look, even with all the pain and frustration that's going on right now with the continuous brutalization of Black bodies in both white America at large and corporate America specifically, their just slough-footed shuffle in not really addressing systemic inequity. I'm excited. I'm excited about the guest that we were able to have, that was able to grace our platform, our flagship show Living Corporate today, and the guest we have is Nikole Hannah-Jones. Now, look, I'm not gonna go into some long biography of Nikole Hannah-Jones, also known as Ida Bae Wells, is one of those most prolific writers of our time. Shout-out to Black women. She holds it down. She advocates and speaks to the reality and lived experience, the historicity, of our struggle, and she's one of the people. She comes from--you'll hear in the interview, but she comes from a similar just, like, humble background that I do and doesn't tolerate disrespect similar to how I don't tolerate disrespect, so we just vibe on a certain level. I appreciated our conversation. The next thing you're gonna hear is the discussion, the interview, that I had with Ms. Hannah-Jones. Make sure that you listen to the whole thing, make sure that you check out the show notes, and we'll catch y'all next time. Peace. Zach: Nikole, welcome to the show. To say this is an honor would be an understatement, and I recognize, especially today, this is a loaded question, but how are you? Nikole: Hm. Thanks for having me on the show and for your persistence. You know, I'm fine. This is a hard time to be in. It's always a hard time to be Black in this country, and I am more blessed than most, so I'm just trying to maintain perspective. Zach: Yeah. With that in mind, I think I'd be remiss if I didn't ask you about the state-sanctioned shooting of Jacob Blake. Of course I have some questions about your work specifically and The 1619 Project, but I'd like to get your perspective on just the historically cyclical nature of violence against Black bodies and, like, in this moment, what if anything do you think can happen to break this centuries-long pattern? Nikole: You know, a few months ago I was feeling a tinge of something that is very unusual for me, which was a slight tinge of hope, and that is gone, and there's a reason I don't often feel it. So I just looked at some data, and despite months of protests, despite all of the back to back media coverage following George Floyd, despite corporations having a so-called "come to Jesus" moment, the stats on police-involved killings have not changed. We are seeing just as many people killed by police in the first half of this year as we saw last year, and I don't know what can force this country to change practices that have been 400 years in the making. In this moment where we know everyone is recording, where there's been months of protests against police violence, that an officer would, in the public view, grab a man who was not fighting him whatsoever and shoot him in the back seven times, it's extremely discouraging, because you would think--at least in this moment--there would be more care and more fear of consequences of treating Black people like they're still in slavery and like their lives don't matter, but we're not seeing that, and it's hard. Zach: Yeah. You know, I think about the fact that--I'm a fairly new father myself, so I have a 5-month old daughter, and I think about the fact that he was shot seven times in the back in front of his three kids in his car, and I was holding my daughter at the time--or rather I was splitting time, so I was cooking and I was feeding my daughter and I just so happened to look at my phone and see that, and then just, you know, I looked at Emory and I just started crying, 'cause I was just, like, this is--just the inhumanity of it... anyway, I'm really curious as we continue forward because I think this project and the work that you do, that you continue to do--thank you for your work, by the way, bless you for that--is just highlighting how inhumanely we've been treating, 'cause there's no way that you just treat human beings like this. And, you know, speaking of the work, I've read stories about editorial bias and how Black journalists will stop submitting certain stories that center Black people because they keep getting shot down or any, you know, Black or brown people. Your work beautifully and tragically captures our stories and experiences, and I'm curious what the internal journey has been like for you to find your voice, and then how long it took before your pitched stories started getting greenlit by different editorial powers that be? Nikole: Yeah, so I started writing about Black people as a high school journalist. That's why I joined my high school newspaper. I had a column called "From the African Perspective," and I joined my high school newspaper because--if your listeners know my story at all, they'll know I was bused into white schools as part of a voluntary desegregation order starting in the second grade, and as a high school student at a predominantly white high school where most of the Black kids were bused from the Black side of town, I knew even then that we were being left out of the story and the power of you shaping the narratives for your own communities, and the only reason I ever wanted to be a journalist was to write about Black folks, period. I was interested--I'm a news junkie in general, I'm interested in the news, I've always read the news, I used to read the paper with my father--I wanted to be a journalist to write about Black folks, and there were--when I started my career I had an excellent editor who encouraged me and supported me in wanting to write. I was an education reporter and I was writing a lot about school segregation and school inequality and disparate discipline that Black students were facing, and I was encouraged to do that. My next job was not the case, and I was penalized and punished for writing about Black stories or people of color in general and was told really that it was showing my bias, that these stories were not reflective of the readership of the newspaper, and had story idea after story idea killed. And this was during the historic Obama run for the presidency, so if you can't be encouraged to write about race when the first Black man has a chance to be president, when would be the right time? And I remember I would pitch these stories and my editors would say, "No, that's not a story," and then I'd see a story almost just like what I had pitched run in The New York Times and I'd be like, "Okay, it's not that I don't have good ideas, it's that they're not interested in this coverage," and I nearly left journalism. I was stuck. This was at a time when the journalism industry was in a death spiral. Newspapers were laying off all over the country, and so there wasn't another job to be had. Like, if you had a job you'd better keep it, and I was so depressed because that's what I got into journalism to do, and I considered leaving the industry, and the only reason I didn't leave the industry is because I just couldn't think of anything else I wanted to do with my life. I'd wanted to be a journalist since I was in high school and really felt journalism was my mission. Luckily I was rescued when I was recruited to come to ProPublica, and I remember when Steve Engelberg, who's the editor of ProPublica, asked me to interview and then ultimately offered me the job, I had a very honest conversation with him and I was like, "If I cannot tell these stories, I don't want to come. Like, I'm not gonna jump from this job to another job where I'm punished for wanting to write about race." He assured me that I wouldn't be, and I wasn't, and so ProPublica was really the place where I was able to develop the style of writing that I've become known for. Zach: To your point, like, with ProPublica and now, you know, the New York Times, I'm curious to know what it's like to write and work with an institution that publishes pieces and projects like The 1619 Project but then also has puff pieces about Trump supporters and then editorial pieces like Tom Cotton's. Like, I'm curious, is there any duality there that you have to straddle or frustrations that you have to manage?  Nikole: Yeah. I mean, I'm assuming that's a rhetorical question because of course, right? [laughs] I mean, this is the nature of Black folks working in any white institution. It is the reality of B read more read less

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