The #blackatLAT tag is kinda a trip to watch. I see some former LA Times colleagues on there. I am happy to see their names.

I was also asked to participate, but I decided against it. It just didn't feel right to me. https://twitter.com/mattdpearce/status/1275478953579307008

I've been trying to work out in my head why I was so apprehensive. At first, I figured I just didn't wanna come off as being petty. Why put that mess on the TL?

It's not that I don't have stories. I do, lots of them. @TrevellAnderson already told one of them, which damn near every black person on our floor knew: https://twitter.com/TrevellAnderson/status/1270040845647933452

Then there's the white manager who walked up to me at a company party and ran her fingers through my hair. No permission. First few weeks of work.

Leaving me the choice: speak up & risk getting labeled the 'angry black man'?

Or shut up & keep your job? (I chose the latter)

Or the white editor who refused to let me use the word 'racist' in an article. I fought back, but gave in when I realized that my moral compass didn't weigh as much as his.

He made me use euphemisms. I allowed my name to go on something I knew was a lie. Blame who you like.

Maybe part of my apprehension in #blackatLAT hashtag was that I didn't feel worthy of inclusion in it. A lot of my work there, both things I made and a lot of the things I let slide - I am just not proud of.

It also felt weird putting my name next to people I look up to. Black Journalists who believed in the craft. Who were fighting to improve that place

Meanwhile, I was strongly considering quitting journalism, altogether. That's how disillusioned I was. I wanted out.

But after thinking about it, I realized my real issue with participating: it didn't feel right to participate, because an open letter is at its core an act of optimism. And I don't share that optimism.

That is, broadly, I agree with @jaycaspiankang's thread here: https://twitter.com/jaycaspiankang/status/1275425082362322946

But also, the ironic thing about calling out a media outlet for mistreating its reporters is that the people that bear the initial brunt of the PR fallout are not the masthead.

It's the same reporters who are being mistreated.

Which is to say: often, the only people who care about racism/sexism at a company are those who have to deal with said racism/sexism.

So: black/brown employees, women, etc.

A thought experiment: let's say you're black, and today you heard about how bad the LA Times is to its black reporters.

Tomorrow, an LA Times reporter wants to interview you about the protests. What are you gonna do? You might decline. If you do accept, you'll be on your guard.

I mean, after hearing that someone made me delete the word 'racist' from an article, does that give you confidence that your quote, your story, is going to be handled accurately?

No. It does not.

On the other hand, a lot of white readers won't think much of #blackatLAT at all. Their social circles may not be sharing it or talking about it.

So say, a white business owner or artist will be happy to get profiled, and be confident they'll be treated fairly.

So what happens?

Reporters (often black) who want to diversify who they cover have trouble getting anyone to talk, because black interview subjects are wary of the paper.

While white reporters, and interview subjects, can, if they choose, go about their days as usual.

More white voices, less black ones. Less brown ones. No malice, just convenience.

Which I guess is fine if you don't care about black or brown people, but consider that in Los Angeles, an increasingly more diverse city, this is going to necessarily mean that coverage is less and less accurate.

And it just spirals.

I am wary of ascribing too much power to #MediaTwitter, but even if you don't follow black journos on here, word gets around.

And it also makes young black journos wary of joining said organization.

Which: again. Continuing spiral.