At NABJ, Trump was both a missile and a mirror

On Tuesday morning, I stepped down as co-chair of the meeting. I have been asked whether this move was in protest of Trump’s appearance. It was more than that. As I will explain, I objected to the format, which I rightly feared would allow a White politician to make our Black press advocacy organization into an instrument of his agenda. I am a longtime NABJ member and award-winner. I love this community dearly. But I could not be part of the production and promotion of performative, journalistic charades that degrade our communities, and further undermine trust in our profession. I would not participate in a circus that I knew would cause pain to members. The NABJ convention has long been a source of healing and rejuvenation for Black journalists, many of whom save their own funds to attend.

Though I would not lend my name to it, I did attend the widely covered session, held in the international ballroom of the Hilton Chicago. Trump blamed his late start on difficulties with the sound system, but while we waited for nearly an hour, I wondered aloud if he had objected to a last-minute plan to fact-check his appearance, announced by NABJ in partnership with PolitiFact. I knew this would amount to spritzing water on a raging dumpster fire. Ultimately, the fact-checking was only on their website and X and not live on TV or in the room. Most importantly, not to Trump’s face.

Trump immediately set the tone by attacking Scott over her first question, which very reasonably asked why a man who — among a litany of race-baiting offenses — hosted the notorious white supremacist Nick Fuentes to dine with him at Mar-a-Lago should be trusted with Black votes. Throughout the session, he returned again and again to demean Scott, even blaming her for the acoustics in a room built in 1927. Fact-checking does nothing with Trump.

For a good part of the past eight years, many of us have criticized our White media peers for both-sidesism, false equivalence and allowing the spread of demonstrable lies. Beyond Trump, we criticized the normalization of racist and anti-Black voices under the guise of “asking the tough questions.” NABJ as an organization issued statements over the years about the harm Trump posed to Black journalists, specifically to Black women journalists.

So I was surprised to see a number of Black journalists defend the decision to give Trump this forum, citing NABJ’s “tradition” of hosting presidential candidates — as if these are normal times. No serious journalist believes that Trump should never be interviewed. But it is hardly progress for Black journalists to question him in the same problematic format that our White peers have tried unsuccessfully for nearly 10 years. Was the criticism really about journalistic ethics and harm to the Black community? Or were some of us more upset all along that we weren’t getting the same access they were to be pawns in his fact-free spectacles?

When it was over, attendees left deflated and angry. Trump’s appalling attacks on Vice President Harris — specifically over her Blackness — and his berating of the Black women journalists onstage, had turned a conference that is supposed to be a respite into an attempted humiliation. To make matters worse, NABJ leadership turned down an opportunity to hear from Harris through a remote appearance, which would have given her a chance to balance the horror show.

What hurt the most, perhaps, was the way Black journalists sidelined ourselves in the process. In that packed ballroom were hundreds of seasoned Black journalists eager to ask tough questions that focused on the Black community. But we saw no alternative but to sit in silence that could easily be taken for respect, not protest, not boo, not challenge. I heard too many people say that if they shouted the truth, they might, at worst, lose their jobs or at best attract attention from security. What was supposed to be the beginning of a conference of empowerment left many of us feeling utterly powerless and embarrassed.

We did not hear any questions about Black maternal mortality, reparations, Black immigrants, or foreign policy in Africa and the Caribbean. Trump was asked only one question about Sonya Massey’s horrible death at the hands of Illinois police, and used his answer to try to back away from his intentionally provocative past statements on blanket immunity for police. As Black voting rights are being eroded, there were no questions about his recent comments to Christians, telling them they “won’t have to vote anymore” if he is elected. Instead, we got multiple questions about his running mate. Is this the most pressing concern of the Black community?

Then again, Black community journalists were not at the microphones; none of the moderators represented Black-owned, independent or Black local media outlets. In that sense, the event essentially perpetuated the same exclusion and disrespect to historically Black media and Black issues that we associate with White systems.

Under the guise of “tradition” and “accountability,” NABJ gave Trump a runway to push particular pain points in the Black community over race, ethnicity, identity and culture. Instead of talking about policies that affect Black voters, the avalanche of post-event headlines has to do with Trump’s warped view of who counts as authentically Black. I have seen mainstream White commentators say that the Trump spectacle was useful to them, that they “learned” more about Trump’s bigotry. I have seen headlines saying the event was “combative,” when if anything the moderators were overly deferential. On the right, commentators praised Trump for his supposed courage in speaking to a Black audience.

I have questions: After more than 10 years of this, going back to Trump’s exploitation of a fake controversy over Barack Obama’s citizenship, how much additional Black humiliation must we stand while others “learn” about Trump? Why are Black people expected to take pride in our restraint and composure in the face of such dishonesty and disrespect? At what point does a celebration of our professionalism and dignity turn into yet another form of conditioning us to take White abuse lying down?

This is not what we came to Chicago for. We did not come to the historical home of the vibrant Black press, the domain of Johnson Publishing, of Ebony, Jet, the Chicago Defender, of activist and journalist Ida B. Wells, to allow ourselves to be degraded. For the sake of what? Access? Relevance? Fame for White audiences? For racial rage-bait and ephemeral political sound bites?

This is why Trump’s missile of a visit should be a mirror, a moment of reflection for NABJ and for Black journalists everywhere — especially those of us in corporate media. We need to think about why we do this work, and who we do it for. Otherwise, we will turn “tradition,” “access” and “both-sides” into new shackles for the information age.