I’m late late late, but solidarity, for me, cannot include silence.

I worked as a news assistant in the Washington bureau of the NYT for 5 years. Started at 22 years old. It was my first full time job out of college.

For a long time, I felt guilty and ashamed for not being more “successful” there. One, because I thought it was my duty to excel in a space with so few Blacks. I thought my “failure” could have implications for other Blacks who worked there or wanted to work there.

Two, because I tied my worth as a writer to what the gatekeepers at “the paper of record” thought of my writing and ideas.

When I was passed over for promotions & my ideas went un-nurtured, I was certain it was because I wasn’t good enough.

I was sent to cover mass shootings, shared bylines with “big shot” White House reporters, contributed to the political newsletter, wrote articles for almost every section of the paper. But was constantly passed over for promotions.

I pitched an essay to the NYT Magazine — about how police terror + media complicity impacted my family — and was given the run around on whether they would publish it or not.

I finally said eff it and pitched it to a Black editor at another publication, who wanted to publish it immediately.

I told my NYT colleague (out of genuine excitement that the story would see the light of day), who told our bureau chief, who was suddenly very interested in the piece. It ran in the NYT Sunday Review the very next weekend.

That same essay got me invited to a lot of fancy things and went on to be re-printed in a school textbook. But it took all of that for my own colleagues to value my work and take it seriously. I have *quite a few* examples like that.

There were some wins at the NYT. But overall the 5 yrs there slowly chipped away at my confidence as a writer and as a person with ideas, which I let impact other opportunities.

I saw “journalistic objectivity” go out the window when it directly impacted them/ppl who shared their racial+class status. But were very “objective” when it impacted those who didn’t.

I had one colleague — who I was close with — say “nigga” but, according to him, it was ok because he was “reading an online comment out loud.” He wrote me an email to apologize, but still.

Was utterly humiliated when a “mentor” invited me as his +1 to a White House holiday party and decided to put his fingers in my mouth to “feed me cake” in front of our colleagues and other Washington reporters.

I never brought up either incident to any higher ups at the NYT and have been friendly with both people since, which has been a source of internal conflict.

I’ve had opportunities to mentor since then and have not done a great job at it.

How could I guide others when I had failed to advocate for myself for 5 years? When I “fumbled” the opportunity of starting my career at a place many journalists dream of ending up? Lots of internal conflict I carry from that time.

My goal in adding my story is to support any and all efforts for us to collectively unburden ourselves.

I’m thankful to the Black people across industries who have been brave enough to share their stories, despite the power these institutions hold over our lives and all around well-being. Grateful to you all. In solidarity.