Who Tells Whose Stories? How Minority Journalists Face Objectivity Bias

When walking into the interview for his first job in the newsroom, Kareem* was ready to prove himself for his dream job. Armed with detailed answers to potential questions involving his experience, recent stories, and technical abilities, he knew the interview would ultimately define his career.

“We sat down and one of the first questions they asked me was to prove that I was not an ‘Islamist extremist’ or prescribing to extremist views,” he recalls. “I was not expecting that — I was in shock.” While Kareem passed the interview, his experiences slowly unravelled the stark reality of the treatment journalists from marginalised backgrounds often face.

His experience is one of many, raising a deeper question about objectivity in the journalism industry: are people from marginalised backgrounds viewed as inherently less objective than others?

‘My Editors Assumed I Had A Bias From My Skin Colour’

The journalism industry is infamous for its lack of representation of marginalised voices. A recent report from the National Council for the Training of Journalists shows some 91 per cent of journalists are white and 67 per cent come from middle- or upper-class backgrounds.

Similarly, data from a report by Women in Journalism reveals some staggering statistics; in the week they monitored, not a single Black reporter was featured on the front page of any of the nation’s 11 leading newspapers. Of more than 700 prime-time radio reporter appearances across radio news, just four were by Black women.

And, for the few minoritised journalists who do manage to break into the highly competitive industry, how many are afforded the same opportunities as their peers?

It’s something Aniqa Lasker grappled with firsthand in the early stages of her career. “I was writing an article on the situation in Gaza and, when going through the process, my editors had this inbuilt assumption that I had a bias from my skin colour, background, and religion,” she recalls.

As someone just embarking upon a journalism career, it’s left her questioning her role in the industry. She adds: “This whole experience made me rethink where I go to work in the future, as my experience has shown that I won’t be able to write and express myself without first thinking of my perception. It’s forced me to reconsider what areas are safe spaces to write and express my ideas.”

A System Of Over-Policing Minoritised Journalists

In the US, it’s an issue that came crashing to the surface in 2020, after a Black reporter Alexis Johnson was banned from covering Black Lives Matter protests in her hometown. It followed a post she made on X, formerly Twitter, likening the scenes after a concert to those after a Black Lives Matter protest, sarcastically commenting on the harmless nature of the protests.

The Post-Gazette claimed its actions had nothing to do with race and that it would “not apologise for upholding professional standards in journalism or attempting to eliminate bias”. A hundred of Alexis’ colleagues publicly disagreed in solidarity with her — they were swiftly banned from protest-related coverage too. The incident is a stark reminder of the loopholes used to limit coverage by journalists of colour, pointing to issues of bias without any clear explanation. The result is a system of over-policing minoritised journalists from reporting on their communities.

Aniqa Lasker (L) and Alexis Johnson (R)

In journalism, objective or ‘neutral reporting’ is often held as the gold standard, with the expectation for journalists to separate themselves and their opinions from the story. Despite the intention of setting a standard for integrity in journalism, objectivity is not value-free, and unchallenged biases and perceptions may lead to the assumption that journalists of colour, or those from other marginalised communities, are inherently biased. Reporters are forced to ‘prove’ themselves, their work, and their credibility from the outset.

Who Writes The Stories We Read?

There’s no way to quantify how often this happens, but it is possible to look at who writes the stories we read. Take the coverage of the Southport attack, where three girls were murdered in a knife attack at a Taylor Swift dance class, and the subsequent mobs inciting racial hatred that were sparked by rampant disinformation. An analysis by Journo Resources of 10 national newspaper front pages in the week of the attack showed that just 25 per cent of the bylines were by journalists of colour. Is this a mere coincidence or a result of a systemic bias within our newsrooms?

As Kareem has progressed in his career, he’s seen the normalisations, systematic bias, sidelining, and pigeonholing of non-white voices in the newsroom firsthand.

He recalls: “They often have the odd intern or cameraman who is British Muslim and they will be drafted in to translate something, or to find someone who fits a very niche subject area. But these people aren’t being used to try and tell the story — they’re being used for access, as opposed to telling the stories that matter to them and actually giving insight because they are from those communities. As soon as they get that access, job done; off you go, back to the very niche corner of the newsroom, away from the big decision-making part.”

And, for those who do lean into writing about their communities, there’s also the threat of being pigeonholed to only write about those stories, unlike their white counterparts. As Omega Douglas explains in her 2021 research, it’s about “being ‘boxed’ or ‘racially profiled’ so that […] people of colour are limited to telling stories about their ‘communities’.

For Mariam Amini, it is questions and experiences like these that have informed her career path. Describing her experiences of pitching stories to senior editors in the past, she says: “When the editor realised I was Afghan, their responses became almost pitiful. Throughout our conversation, I felt I had to explain the context and history of Afghanistan and the West’s role in its devastation. It’s common for my people to be demonised or reduced to victims, so I wanted to show that there is more to Afghans than the media’s oversimplified tropes.”

Mariam currently works for Hyphen, an online news outlet covering stories for Muslim audiences in Europe. She says the difference is tangible: “The fact that the current publication I work at covers Muslim stories means that I’m not viewed as ‘different’ in the workplace. The stories that are important to Muslim audiences are getting prioritised and it makes me feel more empowered in my ideas. I don’t feel ostracised, I feel like I belong in the space.”

Mariam isn’t the only journalist feeling apprehensive about working in mainstream media. Research by the Centre for Media Monitoring found 47 per cent of broadcast clips about Muslims had negative connotations, while Omega’s research found “Black people can’t feature prominently in ‘mainstream’ narratives, because Black people don’t sell, and can only be tellers of stories considered ‘palatable to white readers and viewers’.”

Wider Change Must Seep Into All Newsrooms

Kareem believes independent outlets are important — but that for wider societal change, this must seep into national newsrooms. “Not everyone is going to find a niche outlet which does everything right. It needs to manifest into mainstream coverage,” he says. “I guess the million-pound question is, how do we do that?”

The first, and most important, realisation is that the responsibility cannot solely fall to marginalised journalists; it must be wholeheartedly supported by all editorial staff, including senior leaders. Rizwana Hamid, director of the Centre for Media Monitoring, prefaces the organisation’s report on media coverage of Muslims by saying that the blame cannot be placed on any individual “newspaper or broadcaster, nor any individual journalist or reporter.”

Rizwana Hamid (L) and Seada Nourhussen (R)

The systematic nature of objectivity bias and whose truth is questioned falls to all of us — so it’s for all of us to fix. Not only does it require meaningful representation, it demands an honest look at what objectivity really means.

Seada Nourhussen is the chief editor of the Dutch publication OneWorld. Speaking to the Media Diversity Institute, she explains: “Being an anti-racist isn’t an opinion. There are some opinions that journalists don’t all get burned by [like sexism or climate change]. But when it comes to subjects like racism, there is much more of this false idea that you can be pro or against it as a journalist.”

The publication explicitly states in its manifesto that “you may also see us marching in demonstrations against racism, sexism, ableism, animal abuse, anti-Semitism, transphobia, homophobia, and environmental pollution. Because journalists can also actively contribute to justice.”

Whether at a national broadcaster, a local paper, or a community-centred online outlet, building change takes time — and it’s vital for marginalised reporters to centre and project themselves in the face of questions and objectivity bias. “Have a support system outside the workplace,” says Aniqa, “something to make you feel like you’re not alone.”

And when pitching your ideas, Mariam says it’s important to be steadfast in your values: “Know your boundaries and be rigorous in protecting the essential context of your story.” Kareem agrees: “Stand your ground and don’t be quiet — don’t shy from speaking out. People value you if you’re not afraid to change things. If you get pushed away from those spaces, maybe those spaces aren’t right for you anyway.”

Often, says Aniqa, it’s about choosing when to fight: “Everyone is different. You have to think about your audience, who you’re targeting, and where your story goes. What battles are you ready to fight? For me, I’m still deciding.”

*Kareem has chosen to share his story anonymously to protect his identity