When investigative reporter Nick Judin turned in a long “soul-crushing” breaking story about the State of Mississippi cancelling colleague scholarships for 170 foster students right before the semester started, it was late on Thursday, and the editorial team had been working really hard on big breaking stories like this one about treatment of Trey Reed’s family. Our folks were tired, and that included Nick and all the editors. Ashton was off, and I was bleary-eyed as I edited the long lost-scholarships piece.
As I read it, I could see how important this piece was and understood why he had turned it in late in the day. But I still made the call that it could run the next day so the rest of the editorial team could go home.
But guess what? Features Editor Nate Schumann decided to log back in that night and post it anyway so we could get it up fast. There’s something about our state burning down opportunity bridges that can help defeat systemic pressures and bring real change for these students and their futures that speaks to this team. It’s why we’re here. It’s why we do what we do, despite continual financial hamster wheels in the nonprofit media world and other challenges we and other local people-centering newsrooms face across the U.S.
You probably know by now that Nick’s scholarships story blew up. But while we love being viral—and big, important stories are helping explode our traffic even more as Harvard’s Nieman Lab reported recently—but massive page views don’t necessarily mean actual impact. Neither do awards (although they’re gratifying). Neither do social-media storms unless they breed action, as our breaking Makokas coverage did several months ago.
Impact is about inspiring change. And preferably transcending political division. The stories that have true impact show and appeal to humanity as our entire team is trained and eager to do. And they absolutely center people over power—even as they expose power errors and harm—and that humanity really can speak to better angels, including those of state politicians. I like to call it the “get yelled at in the grocery story” goal; that should happen to elected officials all the time. And it’s people-centered journalism that inspires and educates the people on the facts so their challenges of power are more likely to bring a response.
Of course, when you do the tedious work consistently, like with our hugely impactful Trusted Elections project, it can even lead to a new law to stop what you revealed was happening. As I’ve preached to our Free Press teams for 24 years now: “Do the right thing and wait.”
Readers across political parties caused an outcry over that scholarships story, and Nick’s story brought change by inspiring the powerful to step up, including Republican lawmakers. One of my favorite parts of this impact work is that Jim McHale, president and CEO of the Woodward Hines Education Foundation, looked Nick in the face at the press conference at the state capitol while announcing his $800,000 pledge and told him, “ I saw your article on Monday morning, and that really brought it to life.” I’ve had similar moments over my career, and while that gratification is not nearly as important as funding those dang scholarships as a way to build bootstraps, so to speak, it’s amazing for your work to make leaps over silly partisanship and bickering.
It wasn’t unlike Nick’s reporting on the Makoka brothers. It wasn’t just that the family trusted him with the story; he then took the proper care with the story, with the help of this stellar editing team led by the always-great Ashton Pittman. The work immediately inspired an amazing coming-together on the Gulf Coast across races, and among lawmakers of various stripes, to bring those boys home where they belong.
The real work is choosing care over easy sound bites, empty competition and a rush to clicks (which is apparent when a media outlet violates the ethic of crediting the enterprise work of a different newsroom, a weak competitive habit that happens far too often—showing where their motivation really lies). The real work is being a trusted reporter with a track record of impact and a trusted journalism organization now for 24 years in our home state. It’s deep listening, tireless reporting and writing that drips with care, compassion and facts that bring real impact to a state and its people across the entire state.
This is why the Mississippi Free Press exists. I love to say to people that we are here to do our state and its people justice. I’m a journalism entrepreneur and innovator—apparently it was my calling—but I have no desire to start newsrooms outside my home state of Mississippi or become a media mogul who works and conspires to drive other outlets out of the market. That’s an old-school journalism disease.
My, and our team’s, goal is expansion into every corner possible of eight bureaus inside our state where we can help re-seed news deserts and help legacy newspapers in various ways. We want our work, shared with legacy Mississippi newspapers, to have impact on as many of our state’s residents as possible. To improve their lives and their children’s futures. To help people across artificial political barriers start believing as a unified state that we sink or swim together. Because we do. Yet our history involves way too much of the sinking due to division and efforts by the powerful to dominate everything from government to journalism. This is not the recipe for Mississippians’ success.
As a statewide nonprofit newsroom, we have no desire to compete with anyone. And that is the way journalism needs to be in order to truly serve the people first and challenge power to do better. We hire and retain team members who share this ethos, including crediting other newsrooms for their enterprise work even when they won’t return the favor. The work and impact are more important than journalism egos. We simply refuse to indulge that way. It’s a waste of time and spirit. We focus on impact on Mississippians’ lives, full stop.
The unhealthy competitive practices of the past need to be buried for once and for all. We will continue to set examples on that front, I assure you all. You can trust us.
It is our job, put simply, to give the people the information they need to demand progress and, yep, to know what to yell at their public servants about in the cereal aisle. This information-sharing is the heart of systemic change, and progress, and starting to bring people together to make our state better for each and every damn one of us. We don’t split stories down a partisan middle or try to quietly promote any political party. We tell the truth and get the people the information they need to demand needed change. As I’ve promised for decades now: “We tell the truth with style and let the chips fall where they must.”
Thank you to our team. Thank you to our readers. And thank you to our supporters. We’re playing the long game for Mississippi. You have our full attention.
This MFP Voices opinion essay reflects the personal opinion of its author(s). The column does not necessarily represent the views of the Mississippi Free Press, its staff or board members. To submit an opinion for the MFP Voices section, send up to 1,200 words and sources fact-checking the included information to voices@mississippifreepress.org. We welcome a wide variety of viewpoints.
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