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<ul class="summary-list"><li>Daric L. Cottingham is a journalist and soon-to-be graduate of USC's Annenberg School of <keyword id="58267" type="PERSON" weightage="60" keywordseo="Journalism">Journalism</keyword>.</li><li>While studying journalism, Cottingham felt a target on his back for being Black, gay, and fem.</li><li>Instead of whitewashing his résumé and appearance, Cottingham sought advice from Black queer journalists.</li></ul>"You've got to work twice as hard" echoed throughout my childhood. Like many Black people who've heard that exact phrase, it means we have to do more to be seen as equals to our white counterparts.When I came out, at 17, I received the extended version of this phrase, because I have "more targets on my back" being Black and gay. For a time, I still saw the world through rose-colored glasses and had faith in others' humanity, but by the age of 18, I'd learned the whole ugly truths of implicit bias and microaggressions I would experience in my career.In 2014, I was off to college at a Texas PWI - a predominately white institution - in east Texas as a first-generation student majoring in kinesiology. When I arrived at orientation, I learned that I could major in journalism, and I made the switch immediately.<h2>Growing up, I never knew journalists went to college</h2>It sounds silly, but because I wasn't exposed to higher-education opportunities, I thought journalism was simply a trade. I grew up blogging and obsessed with the media, and saw this as a sign of what I was meant to do with my life.I became active in all the press-related student organizations, such as <a href="https://nabjonline.org/">NABJ</a>, and joined the journalism department's student broadcast entertainment news show as a cohost.Everything was going great. I learned quickly how to read the teleprompter and was a natural at ad-libbing through technical difficulties. I was even asked to audition to be the next lead host after doing a few successful episodes.At that time, I was most passionate about broadcast as a medium, but that soon changed. The first time I experienced journalism bias was when I was asked by a cis white male graduate student assistant who was a producer on the show to cut my hair to be more presentable on camera - something I refused to do.<h2>I was told 'it was just hair' and it was 'normal' in the industry to cut it, but it made me uneasy</h2>I felt that my hair was something that had nothing to do with my performance, and after recently dealing with a cancer scare and growing my hair back, I'd made the conscious decision not to cut it unless I genuinely had to. This was not that. When I refused, I began to be scheduled less as a cohost, so I left the show.During my freshman year at this PWI, more egregious racist events occurred, including KKK rallies that were held near campus, and I ultimately decided to transfer to an HBCU (historically Black college/university) at the start of my sophomore year.My time at my HBCU, Prairie View A&amp;M University, was better. While there, I joined the student newspaper, The Panther. For the first time in my life, my race, country accent, and the curly coils that grew from my head weren't factors in journalism opportunities.I honed my skills, learned a lot about journalism, and worked my way up from a beat reporter to editor-in-chief by my senior year.<h2>Though my Black identity did not matter, I still had a target on my back for being openly gay and fem</h2>I felt this target so much that it often led me to cry myself to sleep at night.Traditionally, queer identities are left outside the general Black community because of years of religious rhetoric that our existence was a sin. Although I could navigate journalism comfortably as a Black person on campus, I still had my guard up as a queer person as means of protection. I remembered being told at 17 that I had "more targets on my back."In May 2019, I graduated and headed to USC Annenberg to begin my master's in journalism for sports and entertainment. The environment echoed the rest of the world's implicit bias of class, race, gender, sexuality, etc. There were 10 Black students out of 66, and I was the only HBCU student in my cohort.Three weeks in, I was brought back to the same feelings I'd felt in undergrad at the PWI, only now they were intensified. An incident of elitism and microaggression occurred with one of the white international students in my program. I reported it, and the administration handled it right away. But afterward, it felt as if I was wearing a scarlet letter on my chest.I also noticed that while my white counterparts were assisted with getting internships with publications throughout LA, the same was not happening for me or other Black students.But I shrugged it off and continued to try on my own. I kept being handed off to diversity recruiters when applying to the same positions as my white counterparts, which often led to dead ends as the diversity recruiters had fewer open roles than regular recruiters.<h2>In the 2nd year of my program, with graduation in May 2021 soon approaching, I began to get desperate</h2>I knew I needed to find a way to break into the industry, so I started applying to jobs that I was overqualified for, but I couldn't even land an internship or fellowship with a bachelor's degree.I received rejection emails with coded language: "Although we were impressed by your qualifications, we have decided not to move forward in the hiring process." When I'd ask for more feedback, responses would be along the lines of "unfortunately, as per company policy, I am unable to share my notes with you. I apologize for the inconvenience."I kept my cool and tried to approach things differently, and continued to seek advice from recruiters and professors. The advice I received leaned either to being pigeonholed to fill diversity roles or whitewash my résumé to avoid implicit hiring bias altogether.<a href="https://hbswk.hbs.edu/item/minorities-who-whiten-job-resumes-get-more-interviews">Whitewashing</a> a résumé is when minority applicants delete references to their race with the hope of boosting their shot at jobs. I've been told to do the same repeatedly by removing my HBCU and that I'm an active member of NABJ, and instead to list my graduate program at USC Annenberg because it was more prominent, and leave off my bachelor's degree altogether.Other advice said to lean into my diverse identities, including to add my photo to my résumé so that recruiters would know for sure I was a diverse candidate because "that's what they are looking for these days." I gave in and put the rose-colored glasses back on, code-switching so much to make myself fit into the token the journalism industry wanted. I suppressed my queer identity, country accent, and use of AAVE (African American Vernacular English). I applied to countless jobs on LinkedIn with no luck.<h2>Despite doing everything right, I had to create my own alternative path to finding a job in journalism</h2>I sought out community and connected with other Black queer journalists online that had shared experiences.One person I went to for advice about navigating the industry was <a href="https://twitter.com/TrevellAnderson?s=20">Tre'vell Anderson</a>, a Black nonbinary person of trans experience and the president of <a href="https://twitter.com/NABJLAOfficial?s=20">NABJLA,</a> the National Association of Black Journalists of Los Angeles. They helped me refine my pitches and offered me my first freelance <a href="https://xtramagazine.com/health/sneaker-culture-saved-my-life-194439">opportunity</a>. Since then, I've found my footing without having to minimize parts of my identity. Before, I'd lost count of how many versions of my résumé I had. Now, I stick to a simple traditional template. Whitewashing my résumé felt like I wasn't presenting myself; I couldn't keep up the facade of shrinking myself to be given the chances my white cis straight counterparts received. I realized that others' implicit bias was not a reflection of me, but of their own ugly truths.Journalism has a long way to go, but I believe that structural change is possible once Black queer journalists' varied experiences are heard and taken seriously.<a href="https://dariccott.com/">Daric L. Cottingham</a> (he/him) is a Black Southern queer multimedia journalist based in Los Angeles. He is from Ruston, Louisiana, and grew up in Dallas, Texas, surrounded by streetwear, sneaker, and hip-hop culture. This environment fueled his interests; he grew up being called "a walking encyclopedia of pop culture" because of all the "fun facts" he knows, which led to his passion for pop-culture news. Cottingham loves analyzing the intersection of society and culture in a nuanced, digestible way. Follow him on <a href="https://twitter.com/DaricCott">Twitter</a>.

As a Black queer journalist, I've dealt with racism and queerphobia throughout my education. Here's why I decided to stop whitewashing my résumé.

<ul class="summary-list"><li>Regardless of any sudden DEI efforts made in 2020, journalist Daric L. Cottingham says the <keyword id="6354777" type="COMPANY" weightage="60" keywordseo="Media">media</keyword> industry has a long way to go to promote diversity. </li><li>Cottingham interviewed three Black LGBTQ journalists on lessons they've learned breaking into the media industry.</li><li>The group also shared their thoughts on how publications can better recruit and retain Black queer journalists.</li></ul>As the spike of police brutality targeted at Black people became a constant headline in 2020, the world began to listen to concerns of structural <keyword id="44060" type="PERSON" weightage="60" keywordseo="Racism">racism</keyword> and bias, especially in professional settings. <div type="image" title="Daric Cottingham Headshot 2021" height="1542" width="2056" msid="81259814" hostid="261"></div>Many industries started to examine their racist pasts. Journalism in particular began to reckon with the lack of diversity in newsrooms, and the racist rhetoric it used in coverage of diverse communities.<h2>These "reckonings" felt like an empty PR attempt, since the same behaviors are still present at many publications in 2021 </h2>Despite these "attempts," we're left with a lingering question of how can journalism actively change to be as diverse as the communities it reports on. One way is to hire diverse candidates with intersecting identities, such as Black queer journalists who navigate the industry with the added stress of implicit bias rooted in racism and queerphobia. I spoke with three Black queer journalists about the lessons they've learned navigating the journalism job market.<div type="image" title="Cerise Castle .JPG" height="666" width="888" msid="81259815" hostid="261"></div><a href="https://twitter.com/cerisecastle?s=20">Cerise Castle</a> (she/her) is a Black lesbian multimedia journalist who's produced and hosted segments for VICE News Tonight, Los Angeles NPR affiliate KCRW, and Wondery. <div type="image" title="Tre'vell Anderson headshot 2021.JPG" height="810" width="1080" msid="81259816" hostid="261"></div><a href="https://twitter.com/TrevellAnderson?s=20">Tre'vell Anderson</a> (they/them) is a Black queer, non-binary person of trans experience, the president of the National Association of Black Journalists of Los Angeles, co-chair of NABJ's LGBTQ Task Force, and editor-at-large at Xtra Magazine.<div type="image" title="Femi Redwood headsshot 2021" height="660" width="880" msid="81259818" hostid="261"></div><a href="https://twitter.com/femiredwood?s=20">Femi Redwood</a> (she/her) is a Black lesbian TV news anchor who most recently reported for VICE News on intersectional issues including race, gender, and LGBTQ identities. She's a board member of NLGJA: The Association of LGBTQ Journalists and a co-chair NABJ's LGBTQ Task Force.Here's what they had to say, including advice they have for young Black queer journalists trying to break into the industry and advice for publications to better recruit and retain these diverse journalists. <h2>What was one lesson you learned as a Black, queer journalist? </h2>Cerise Castle: The hardest lesson I think is the fastest one you learn: that your voice and ideas will probably always be counted last. I think that's a valuable lesson because I think it's helpful to go in knowing the reality of most newsrooms and how most outlets work. Unfortunately, I think it's a reality that you have to accept most of the time.Tre'vell Anderson: A lesson that I've learned as a Black, queer journalist is that, just because my editor doesn't understand the importance of a particular story, doesn't mean that story shouldn't be told. As Black, queer, trans folks, as folks from a marginalized, less represented community in newsrooms, often the stories that we want to tell about our communities don't hold that same weight. Or don't seem as necessary or worthy to our editors, who are white folk more often than not.Femi Redwood: Pay attention to the media group because it may have more control in how the station or the publication handles things than the individual entity you will work for. If it's a problematic station group, you don't want to work there.<h2>What advice do you have for young Black, queer journalists trying to break into the industry?</h2>Castle: I would say not to change yourself for the industry. I had a college professor who told me that to be on camera, I had to have shoulder-length hair and couldn't wear it naturally. I couldn't have piercings or do my makeup a certain way. And all of that, just ... It isn't true. Granted, there will be some news directors that will force you into that box, but you can always be yourself. The first on-camera job that I got picked me because they liked my curly hair and liked that I bleached it. They liked that I had facial piercings. They liked that I didn't look just like every other reporter from central casting. Playing into your identity can help you out in many situations, to get that job, and to get the story too.Anderson: My advice to Black queer journalists, emerging and coming into the industry and those that are fairly established, is to remain undaunted as we navigate these spaces. Follow your heart, follow your gut, follow your intense desire to tell your community's stories, even when the broader media ecosystem, or your editor, or whomever tells you that those stories don't have any worth. It's important to build an identity outside of the news organizations that we might work for and beyond the work we do because being a journalist is a thankless job in many ways. Still, it's a very necessary job at the same time.Redwood: My one piece of advice to queer Black journalists is to go into every situation as if you were a straight white man. It's been my recent guiding principle. Often we are told we need to accept anything, accept any pay, and accept any position. We are told that unless we check off certain boxes - years of experience, education, awards, etc. - we don't deserve more. Nah. Be like straight white men. They are socialized to expect what they believe they deserve. Young queer Black journos need to do that as well. We often see straight white men "fail up" while we tell ourselves, 'we aren't ready for a new position, we don't deserve a raise, or haven't earned a promotion.' You deserve that job even if you only worked on your college paper; you deserve that pay even if you didn't go to what's considered a top j-school, you deserve that promotion even if you haven't earned any awards, because why not you.<h2>What can publications do to better recruit and retain Black, queer journalists?</h2>Castle: Pay them. That's all, that's my answer. Pay them what they're worth, more than they're worth.Anderson: What these people need to do to recruit more Black queer journalists is the same thing they need to do to recruit more Black journalists, right? They have to get out of their own way and get out of our way. Many folks hiring and recruiting reporters aren't doing intentional outreach to groups of color, to 1) Let us know the available opportunities, and 2) Give us the same kind of level playing field that our white counterparts have. It also requires you to not only augment and change your recruiting habits, but you also need to change your retention practices because once you hire a Black person, you need to make sure that the work environment is one they will want to stay at your company. That might mean that some people on the team need to leave because they're toxic, or they're white supremacists, or they're racist, or they're homophobic, or transphobic.Redwood: It's all a big circle. And all of these things work hand in hand. To recruit Black queer journalists, you have to create a place they want to work. Because if the environment is homophobic or full of racist microaggressions, then Black folks aren't going to want to work there. The next thing is to create paid internships. Expecting journalists to work for free, it's a form of gatekeeping that unfortunately prevents many Black and brown and queer journalists from getting in. Because statistically speaking, we don't have the same wealth as white counterparts.

3 Black queer journalists share their advice for breaking into the journalism industry and what publications should do better to recruit minority employees

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As a Black queer journalist, I've dealt with racism and queerphobia throughout my education. Here's why I decided to stop whitewashing my résumé.

Daric L. Cottingham

3 Black queer journalists share their advice for breaking into the journalism industry and what publications should do better to recruit minority employees

Daric L. Cottingham

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