Headshot1A personal account of the African American unemployment crisis.

By  T.J. Moore

The blue cylinder slid open with a dull pop. I shook the contents out and attempted to unfurl and loosen the tightly wound but thick sheet of paper, as I traced the engraved seal at the top and the old English engraved lettering of my full name in the middle.

I did this a few months ago not because I was feeling nostalgic, and wanted to show off for “throwback Thursday” on instagram or whatever. Far from it. It was because dust was growing on this hard-earned paper like kudzu.

That dust shouldn’t have been there in the first place.  This piece of expensive, textured paper was supposed to be in a frame that sports a mahogany or black trim, as it adorns (at best) an alabaster wall in my corner office.   At worst, it would hang  on the grey ridges of my cubicle at whatever paper or station that hired me. Sometimes I feel like painting thick and thin red circles on my journalism degree and use it for target practice! Well – I’m not using it for its purpose, and when I did have the opportunity to use the degree, it was sporadic.  Sadly, I have a valid reason for this.  Let me explain.

Before setting foot on the campus of North Carolina A&T, I had a strong foundation in the media. I was a film critic for a well known newspaper in Western North Carolina at the age of sixteen. I worked there for two years before I graduated from high school. In addition to being a film critic, I interned for another paper during my senior year.  During college, I not only worked for three years on my campus paper, I also had an internship and was a contributor to some local daily and weekly publications in the Piedmont Triad.

After I graduated with honors, what I have done didn’t even matter. Managing editors would say: “ Ms. Moore, you don’t have enough of experience for us.”

Okay, I could see their point after a few times. However, how could you say that I don’t have enough of experience when I added to my foundation with consistent freelance work? Is that not experience?

If it wasn’t about experience, it was… “ I’m sorry Ms. Moore, but we’re having budget issues and hiring freezes.” Now that was plausible, since media and print media (in particular) isn’t what it used to be.  However, my understanding gave way to disbelief and anger when I would discover the bylines of new people two weeks after following up on an job opening.  I also applied for numerous positions outside of my degree and would have had no problems working a job where I could apply the media skills that I have learned  to the position.

During the recession, I have gone back and forth to the Employment Security Commission and have done whatever was required to help get me to work. I  let ‘the powers that be’ convince me there was something wrong with me and/or my resume.  I participated in a “job readiness” program, knowing that I was ready for work the moment I walked across the stage of the Greensboro Coliseum and shook the hand of then A&T chancellor James Renick.

While I continued to apply and get rejected for work in and of out of the media industry, I kept the thought of being discriminated against at bay. I figured that I needed to continue to work hard, and that something will come along.

It wasn’t until a experience with a local newspaper that I applied for over the summer, and was passed up for someone with less experience because she was a “better fit,” reminded me about  subtle and crafty discrimination being at play.

Looking up  unemployment data for my International Center for Journalists (ICFJ) data journalism course I realized that  I was part of that 12.5 percent. I was part of that 13.0 percent; that 11.5 percent of the black unemployed population.

When people look at these numbers, most assume that a majority of those numbers do not want to work. That’s further from the truth. I’m willing to bet you there are numerous people with the education, expertise, and experience that make up this current 11.9 percent of  African Americans who are unemployed.

The fact is, we can write all the articles about this epidemic until we are Carolina and Aggie Blue in the face. It makes for hard news. It makes for fodder. It also makes for throwing a ton of salt in a blistering and gaping wound if we don’t do something about it.  Education and networking and not giving up when HR people or editors  continue to throw out excuse after excuse is a step, but there has to be more.

While I’m working part time at a newspaper, and a part time job somewhere else, I know that  my search for more opportunities is not over by a long-shot. I’m still struggling and clawing for at least a cubicle.