The truth is ugly

Eric Davis
Eric Davis

It’s not easy to report on race.

In last Friday’s issue of the Journal, the paper was criticized for its editorial handling of the debate over black-focused schools—the Feb. 5 talking heads section conspicuously failed to ask the opinions of any black students—and for misrepresenting two high-profile incidents of on-campus racism as the only incidents of racism at Queen’s this year. In that same issue, the Journal offered criticism of its own, in an editorial condemning the University’s decision not to reveal the actual content of the racist messages scrawled on two posters found on-campus this month.

How we should report on race—whether as journalists, institutions or individuals—is obviously a contentious issue. And it has been so for many years, according to Gene Roberts and Hank Klibanoff’s Pulitzer Prize-winning history of the press’s role in the civil rights struggle, The Race Beat. What they reveal is a long and protracted debate over our responsibilities, in our public discussions of so significant and so personal a subject as race, to truth and to social justice. Shaping this debate are the numerous decisions people have made as to what’s worth reporting about race and what isn’t—in short, what makes race “news.”

In honour of Black History Month, I thought I would share some highlights:

On Aug. 11, 1946, a New York Times editorial announced a groundbreaking change in how they would cover race. Thenceforth, a person’s race would not be mentioned unless it was relevant to the story. Three years later, the Queen’s Journal seems not to have wholly adopted this policy, as revealed by a passing reference to “our coloured mascot, Alfie Pierce.”

In 1947, the Arkansas Gazette set a new standard among white papers in the Southern U.S. when they changed their policy to make courtesy titles consistent for people of all races. Previously, according to The Race Beat, “journalistic orthodoxy … demanded that newspapers unfailingly refer to white women as “Miss” or “Mrs.” but drop the title when referring to Negro women, no matter what their station in life.” More insulting still, “a Negro woman, on second reference, traditionally would be referred to by her last name, as in ‘the Jones woman.’”

Perhaps the most provocative story—and the most pertinent to the University’s decision not to divulge what the racist messages on the posters were—is that of Mamie Bradley, mother of Emmett Till. Her decision to display her son’s tortured and mutilated corpse in an open casket in Chicago for all to see, and her later decision to allow Jet to publish a close-up photo of the body, provided a harrowing image of racism’s horrendous costs.

Mrs. Bradley was attacked and condemned by many—some liberal white journalists included—for what she did. Her decision to publicize such an awful truth was courageous, but the principle behind it remains controversial to this day. How long can we bear to gaze upon our own ugliness? How long is too long?

All final editorial decisions are made by the Editor(s)-in-Chief and/or the Managing Editor. Authors should not be contacted, targeted, or harassed under any circumstances. If you have any grievances with this article, please direct your comments to journal_editors@ams.queensu.ca.

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