Since becoming editor of The Jerusalem Report, I’ve noticed an interesting pattern.
Those in my life who have known me throughout my career as a journalist have been coming to me, each with his or her own story to pitch. Whether it’s economics, hi-tech, or a local initiative, they all say the same thing: “No one’s talking about this, and I don’t know why!”
Something we journalists struggle with is the very simple fact that there is no physically possible way to cover every single important news story. There are not enough reporters in the world to achieve such a feat. Stories will always fall between the cracks, oftentimes such interesting ones.
Take crime, for example. We hear plenty about corrupt politicians under investigation and, lest we forget, our darling prime minister’s ongoing criminal proceedings following his indictment for bribery, fraud, and breach of trust. But there are so many other stories: of theft, of hit-and-runs, of drug smuggling, of high-speed car chases, of domestic abuse, of systemic rape, and so much more. There’s no way to tell it all.
I vowed to myself shortly after beginning to work at The Jerusalem Post years ago that I would do what I can to uplift the voices that are less heard: those crying out all too silently and receiving no response. I still want to do so.
Giving voice to the voiceless
This issue, the one you are holding (or perhaps reading online), deals with such communities that are less heard. The quiet voice in the back of the classroom, the news story at the bottom of the pile, the smaller puppy left behind by his mother in favor of his chunkier, more survivable siblings.
From liberal Americans to poverty, from asylum seekers to the LGBTQ+ community, Jews and Arabs alike are being tossed aside.
As a mother whose husband went to war for over a year just four short months after giving birth, I know what it means to be cast aside by your country and feel that the only support system you have is the people around you. When I was alone at night with a feverish baby, myself delirious with illness, it was not the government who brought me a warm meal and a new pack of Kleenex; it was my neighbor from across the street, whom I met for the first time in that instance.
Now that same government wants to lower the salaries of brave soldiers like my husband. How considerate.
That point in time was low. I felt unheard, forgotten, and frankly – shut up. The war and the conditions created by it, combined with governmental policies, had driven so many people further into their individual challenges and crises. The goal of this issue of the Report is to give them a stage, a microphone, and – forgive me – a captive audience.
So take a moment, sit, and listen to those voices on the mic. They deserve to be heard.