[blind-democracy] Barbara Ehrenreich: In America, Only the Rich Can Afford to Write About Poverty

  • From: Miriam Vieni <miriamvieni@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • To: blind-democracy@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sat, 08 Aug 2015 14:23:29 -0400


Published on Alternet (http://www.alternet.org)
Home > Barbara Ehrenreich: In America, Only the Rich Can Afford to Write
About Poverty
________________________________________
Barbara Ehrenreich: In America, Only the Rich Can Afford to Write About
Poverty
By Barbara Ehrenreich [1] / The Guardian [2]
August 6, 2015
Back in the fat years – two or three decades ago, when the “mainstream”
media were booming – I was able to earn a living as a freelance writer. My
income was meager and I had to hustle to get it, turning out about four
articles – essays, reported pieces, reviews – a month at $1 or $2 a word.
What I wanted to write about, in part for obvious personal reasons, was
poverty and inequality, but I’d do just about anything – like, I cringe to
say, “The Heartbreak Diet” for a major fashion magazine – to pay the rent.
It wasn’t easy to interest glossy magazines in poverty in the 1980s and 90s.
I once spent two hours over an expensive lunch – paid for, of course, by a
major publication – trying to pitch to a clearly indifferent editor who
finally conceded, over decaf espresso and crème brulee, “OK, do your thing
on poverty. But can you make it upscale?” Then there was the editor of a
nationwide, and quite liberal, magazine who responded to my pitch for a
story involving blue-collar men by asking, “Hmm, but can they talk?”
I finally got lucky at Harper’s, where fabled editor Lewis Lapham gave me an
assignment that turned into a book, which in turn became a bestseller,
Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America. Thanks to the royalties
and subsequent speaking fees, at last I could begin to undertake projects
without concern for the pay, just because they seemed important or to me.
This was the writing life I had always dreamed of – adventurous, obsessively
fascinating and sufficiently remunerative that I could help support less
affluent members of my family.
Meanwhile, though I didn’t see it at first, the world of journalism as I had
known it was beginning to crumble around me. Squeezed to generate more
profits for new media conglomerates, newsrooms laid off reporters, who often
went on to swell the crowds of hungry freelancers. Once-generous magazines
shrank or slashed their freelance budgets; certainly there were no more free
lunches.
True, the internet filled with a multiplicity of new outlets to write for,
but paying writers or other “content providers” turned out not to be part of
their business plan. I saw my own fees at one major news outlet drop to one
third of their value between 2004 and 2009. I heard from younger journalists
who were scrambling for adjunct jobs or doing piecework in “corporate
communications.” But I determined to carry on writing about poverty and
inequality even if I had to finance my efforts entirely on my own. And I
felt noble for doing so.
Then, as the kids say today, I “checked my privilege.” I realized that there
was something wrong with an arrangement whereby a relatively affluent person
such as I had become could afford to write about minimum wage jobs,
squirrels as an urban food source or the penalties for sleeping in parks,
while the people who were actually experiencing these sorts of things, or
were in danger of experiencing them, could not.
In the last few years, I’ve gotten to know a number of people who are at
least as qualified writers as I am, especially when it comes to the subject
of poverty, but who’ve been held back by their own poverty. There’s Darryl
Wellington [3], for example, a local columnist (and poet) in Santa Fe who
has, at times, had to supplement his tiny income by selling his plasma – a
fallback than can have serious health consequences. Or Joe Williams [4],
who, after losing an editorial job, was reduced to writing for $50 a piece
for online political sites while mowing lawns and working in a sporting
goods store for $10 an hour to pay for a room in a friend’s house. Linda
Tirado [5] was blogging about her job as a cook at Ihop when she managed to
snag a contract for a powerful book entitled Hand to Mouth (for which I
wrote the preface). Now she is working on a “multi-media mentoring project”
to help other working-class journalists get published.
There are many thousands of people like these – gifted journalists who want
to address serious social issues but cannot afford to do so in a media
environment that thrives by refusing to pay, or anywhere near adequately
pay, its “content providers.” Some were born into poverty and have stories
to tell about coping with low-wage jobs, evictions or life as a foster
child. Others inhabit the once-proud urban “creative class,” which now finds
itself priced out of its traditional neighborhoods, like Park Slope or LA’s
Echo Park, scrambling for health insurance and childcare, sleeping on other
people’s couches. They want to write – or do photography or documentaries.
They have a lot to say, but it’s beginning to make more sense to apply for
work as a cashier or a fry-cook.
This is the real face of journalism today: not million dollar-a-year
anchorpersons, but low-wage workers and downwardly spiraling professionals
who can’t muster up expenses to even start on the articles, photo-essays and
videos they want to do, much less find an outlet to cover the costs of doing
them. You can’t, say, hop on a plane to cover a police shooting in your
hometown if you don’t have a credit card.
This impoverishment of journalists impoverishes journalism. We come to find
less and less in the media about the working poor, as if about 15% of the
population [6] quietly emigrated while we weren’t looking. Media outlets
traditionally neglected stories about the downtrodden because they don’t sit
well on the same page with advertisements for diamonds and luxury homes. And
now there are fewer journalists on hand at major publications to arouse the
conscience of editors and other gatekeepers. Coverage of poverty accounts
for less than 1% [7] of American news, or, as former Times columnist Bob
Herbert has put it [8]: “We don’t have coverage of poverty in this country.
If there is a story about poor people in the New York Times or in the
Washington Post, that’s the exception that proves the rule. We do not cover
poverty. We do not cover the poor.”
As for commentary about poverty – a disproportionate share of which issues
from very well paid, established, columnists like David Brooks of the New
York Times and George Will of the Washington Post – all too often, it tends
to reflect the historical biases of economic elites, that the poor are
different than “we” are [9], less educated, intelligent, self-disciplined
and more inclined to make “bad lifestyle choices [10].” If the pundits
sometimes sound like the current Republican presidential candidates, this is
not because there is a political conspiracy afoot. It’s just what happens
when the people who get to opine about inequality are drawn almost entirely
from the top of the income distribution. And there have been few efforts
focused on journalism about poverty and inequality, or aimed at supporting
journalists who are themselves poor.
It hurts the poor and the economically precarious when they can’t see
themselves reflected in the collective mirror that is the media. They begin
to feel that they are different and somehow unworthy compared to the
“mainstream.” But it also potentially hurts the rich.
In a highly polarized society like our own, the wealthy have a special stake
in keeping honest journalism about class and inequality alive. Burying an
aching social problem does not solve it. The rich and their philanthropies
need to step up and support struggling journalists and the slender projects
that try to keep them going. As a self-proclaimed member of the 0.01% warned
[11] other members of his class last year: “If we don’t do something to fix
the glaring inequities in this economy, the pitchforks are going to come for
us.”

Barbara Ehrenreich is the author of thirteen books, including the New York
Times bestseller Nickel and Dimed. A frequent contributor to the New York
Times, Harpers, and the Progressive, she is a contributing writer to Time
magazine. She lives in Florida.
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Report typos and corrections to 'corrections@xxxxxxxxxxxx'. [12]
[13]
________________________________________
Source URL:
http://www.alternet.org/economy/barbara-ehrenreich-america-only-rich-can-aff
ord-write-about-poverty
Links:
[1] http://www.alternet.org/authors/barbara-ehrenreich
[2] http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/
[3]
http://newmexicomercury.com/blog/comments/mercury_qa_darryl_wellington_on_th
e_african_american_experience_in_nm
[4]
http://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2014/03/my-life-as-a-retail-work
er-nasty-brutish-and-poor/284332/
[5]
http://www.theguardian.com/society/2014/sep/21/linda-tirado-poverty-hand-to-
mouth-interview
[6] http://www.census.gov/newsroom/press-releases/2014/cb14-169.html
[7] http://niemanreports.org/articles/it-cant-happen-here-2/
[8]
http://www.spotlightonpoverty.org/outofthespotlight.aspx?id=eec5acd6-e401-45
15-a39f-4da814a2c9ee
[9]
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/01/opinion/david-brooks-the-nature-of-poverty
.html
[10]
https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/what-patrick-moynihan-knew-about-the
-importance-of-two-parents/2015/03/13/2cdf9bae-c9a4-11e4-aa1a-86135599fb0f_s
tory.html
[11]
http://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2014/06/the-pitchforks-are-coming-for
-us-plutocrats-108014.html#ixzz3hr7nlghY
[12] mailto:corrections@xxxxxxxxxxxx?Subject=Typo on Barbara Ehrenreich: In
America, Only the Rich Can Afford to Write About Poverty
[13] http://www.alternet.org/
[14] http://www.alternet.org/%2Bnew_src%2B

Published on Alternet (http://www.alternet.org)
Home > Barbara Ehrenreich: In America, Only the Rich Can Afford to Write
About Poverty

Barbara Ehrenreich: In America, Only the Rich Can Afford to Write About
Poverty
By Barbara Ehrenreich [1] / The Guardian [2]
August 6, 2015
Back in the fat years – two or three decades ago, when the “mainstream”
media were booming – I was able to earn a living as a freelance writer. My
income was meager and I had to hustle to get it, turning out about four
articles – essays, reported pieces, reviews – a month at $1 or $2 a word.
What I wanted to write about, in part for obvious personal reasons, was
poverty and inequality, but I’d do just about anything – like, I cringe to
say, “The Heartbreak Diet” for a major fashion magazine – to pay the rent.
It wasn’t easy to interest glossy magazines in poverty in the 1980s and 90s.
I once spent two hours over an expensive lunch – paid for, of course, by a
major publication – trying to pitch to a clearly indifferent editor who
finally conceded, over decaf espresso and crème brulee, “OK, do your thing
on poverty. But can you make it upscale?” Then there was the editor of a
nationwide, and quite liberal, magazine who responded to my pitch for a
story involving blue-collar men by asking, “Hmm, but can they talk?”
I finally got lucky at Harper’s, where fabled editor Lewis Lapham gave me an
assignment that turned into a book, which in turn became a bestseller,
Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America. Thanks to the royalties
and subsequent speaking fees, at last I could begin to undertake projects
without concern for the pay, just because they seemed important or to me.
This was the writing life I had always dreamed of – adventurous, obsessively
fascinating and sufficiently remunerative that I could help support less
affluent members of my family.
Meanwhile, though I didn’t see it at first, the world of journalism as I had
known it was beginning to crumble around me. Squeezed to generate more
profits for new media conglomerates, newsrooms laid off reporters, who often
went on to swell the crowds of hungry freelancers. Once-generous magazines
shrank or slashed their freelance budgets; certainly there were no more free
lunches.
True, the internet filled with a multiplicity of new outlets to write for,
but paying writers or other “content providers” turned out not to be part of
their business plan. I saw my own fees at one major news outlet drop to one
third of their value between 2004 and 2009. I heard from younger journalists
who were scrambling for adjunct jobs or doing piecework in “corporate
communications.” But I determined to carry on writing about poverty and
inequality even if I had to finance my efforts entirely on my own. And I
felt noble for doing so.
Then, as the kids say today, I “checked my privilege.” I realized that there
was something wrong with an arrangement whereby a relatively affluent person
such as I had become could afford to write about minimum wage jobs,
squirrels as an urban food source or the penalties for sleeping in parks,
while the people who were actually experiencing these sorts of things, or
were in danger of experiencing them, could not.
In the last few years, I’ve gotten to know a number of people who are at
least as qualified writers as I am, especially when it comes to the subject
of poverty, but who’ve been held back by their own poverty. There’s Darryl
Wellington [3], for example, a local columnist (and poet) in Santa Fe who
has, at times, had to supplement his tiny income by selling his plasma – a
fallback than can have serious health consequences. Or Joe Williams [4],
who, after losing an editorial job, was reduced to writing for $50 a piece
for online political sites while mowing lawns and working in a sporting
goods store for $10 an hour to pay for a room in a friend’s house. Linda
Tirado [5] was blogging about her job as a cook at Ihop when she managed to
snag a contract for a powerful book entitled Hand to Mouth (for which I
wrote the preface). Now she is working on a “multi-media mentoring project”
to help other working-class journalists get published.
There are many thousands of people like these – gifted journalists who want
to address serious social issues but cannot afford to do so in a media
environment that thrives by refusing to pay, or anywhere near adequately
pay, its “content providers.” Some were born into poverty and have stories
to tell about coping with low-wage jobs, evictions or life as a foster
child. Others inhabit the once-proud urban “creative class,” which now finds
itself priced out of its traditional neighborhoods, like Park Slope or LA’s
Echo Park, scrambling for health insurance and childcare, sleeping on other
people’s couches. They want to write – or do photography or documentaries.
They have a lot to say, but it’s beginning to make more sense to apply for
work as a cashier or a fry-cook.
This is the real face of journalism today: not million dollar-a-year
anchorpersons, but low-wage workers and downwardly spiraling professionals
who can’t muster up expenses to even start on the articles, photo-essays and
videos they want to do, much less find an outlet to cover the costs of doing
them. You can’t, say, hop on a plane to cover a police shooting in your
hometown if you don’t have a credit card.
This impoverishment of journalists impoverishes journalism. We come to find
less and less in the media about the working poor, as if about 15% of the
population [6] quietly emigrated while we weren’t looking. Media outlets
traditionally neglected stories about the downtrodden because they don’t sit
well on the same page with advertisements for diamonds and luxury homes. And
now there are fewer journalists on hand at major publications to arouse the
conscience of editors and other gatekeepers. Coverage of poverty accounts
for less than 1% [7] of American news, or, as former Times columnist Bob
Herbert has put it [8]: “We don’t have coverage of poverty in this country.
If there is a story about poor people in the New York Times or in the
Washington Post, that’s the exception that proves the rule. We do not cover
poverty. We do not cover the poor.”
As for commentary about poverty – a disproportionate share of which issues
from very well paid, established, columnists like David Brooks of the New
York Times and George Will of the Washington Post – all too often, it tends
to reflect the historical biases of economic elites, that the poor are
different than “we” are [9], less educated, intelligent, self-disciplined
and more inclined to make “bad lifestyle choices [10].” If the pundits
sometimes sound like the current Republican presidential candidates, this is
not because there is a political conspiracy afoot. It’s just what happens
when the people who get to opine about inequality are drawn almost entirely
from the top of the income distribution. And there have been few efforts
focused on journalism about poverty and inequality, or aimed at supporting
journalists who are themselves poor.
It hurts the poor and the economically precarious when they can’t see
themselves reflected in the collective mirror that is the media. They begin
to feel that they are different and somehow unworthy compared to the
“mainstream.” But it also potentially hurts the rich.
In a highly polarized society like our own, the wealthy have a special stake
in keeping honest journalism about class and inequality alive. Burying an
aching social problem does not solve it. The rich and their philanthropies
need to step up and support struggling journalists and the slender projects
that try to keep them going. As a self-proclaimed member of the 0.01% warned
[11] other members of his class last year: “If we don’t do something to fix
the glaring inequities in this economy, the pitchforks are going to come for
us.”
Barbara Ehrenreich is the author of thirteen books, including the New York
Times bestseller Nickel and Dimed. A frequent contributor to the New York
Times, Harpers, and the Progressive, she is a contributing writer to Time
magazine. She lives in Florida.
Error! Hyperlink reference not valid.
Error! Hyperlink reference not valid.
Report typos and corrections to 'corrections@xxxxxxxxxxxx'. [12]
Error! Hyperlink reference not valid.[13]

Source URL:
http://www.alternet.org/economy/barbara-ehrenreich-america-only-rich-can-aff
ord-write-about-poverty
Links:
[1] http://www.alternet.org/authors/barbara-ehrenreich
[2] http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/
[3]
http://newmexicomercury.com/blog/comments/mercury_qa_darryl_wellington_on_th
e_african_american_experience_in_nm
[4]
http://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2014/03/my-life-as-a-retail-work
er-nasty-brutish-and-poor/284332/
[5]
http://www.theguardian.com/society/2014/sep/21/linda-tirado-poverty-hand-to-
mouth-interview
[6] http://www.census.gov/newsroom/press-releases/2014/cb14-169.html
[7] http://niemanreports.org/articles/it-cant-happen-here-2/
[8]
http://www.spotlightonpoverty.org/outofthespotlight.aspx?id=eec5acd6-e401-45
15-a39f-4da814a2c9ee
[9]
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/01/opinion/david-brooks-the-nature-of-poverty
.html
[10]
https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/what-patrick-moynihan-knew-about-the
-importance-of-two-parents/2015/03/13/2cdf9bae-c9a4-11e4-aa1a-86135599fb0f_s
tory.html
[11]
http://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2014/06/the-pitchforks-are-coming-for
-us-plutocrats-108014.html#ixzz3hr7nlghY
[12] mailto:corrections@xxxxxxxxxxxx?Subject=Typo on Barbara Ehrenreich: In
America, Only the Rich Can Afford to Write About Poverty
[13] http://www.alternet.org/
[14] http://www.alternet.org/%2Bnew_src%2B


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