Where do journalists like me go?

Hello, I’m Yvonne! I’m an independent journalist, audio producer, writer, and editor based in Brooklyn, New York.

I've always had a drive to write queer and trans stories. 🌈 As a newly out post-grad, I wrote profiles for a local gay and lesbian magazine in Austin, Texas. I resided on the gay internet for years as an editor for Autostraddle, a queer news and culture website. Throughout my career, I’ve reported on anti-trans legislation, discrimination faced by LGBTQ people in the workplace and healthcare, and written about homophobic and transphobic violence. But what fuels me the most is writing about queer and trans joy, community, and resilience despite these challenges. 

Three years ago, I moved from Texas to New York City for journalism grad school. I needed a change of scenery and wanted to gain new skills in audio journalism.

I immersed myself in my craft and quickly learned so much about the city and the people who live here. I’ve since graduated from my master’s program and have been freelancing while looking for full-time work. I’m not going to lie, it’s been really tough.

Throughout my 11 years working in journalism, the industry has not been easy. Meager salaries, shit freelance rates, constant layoffs, and not enough jobs. Over the last few years, it’s only gotten worse. The journalism industry is engulfed in flames and soon there will be nothing to salvage.

Rejection After Rejection

I am more than qualified to get a full-time job in journalism. I mean, I have two degrees in journalism, a robust network, and a solid portfolio. Yet it has been extremely challenging to get hired.

For the last two years, I’ve applied to many journalism and audio producer jobs and have gotten several rounds into the interview process only to be told that the position is no longer funded or they went with someone else. Many HR professionals have told me they’ve had hundreds of applications and the competition was tough. I’ve had to face rejection after rejection by an industry that is dying. 

I thought I would have a better chance getting hired since many journalism organizations say they’re looking for “diverse” candidates and I check off many identity boxes. But this industry simply does not have enough jobs to go around. The application pool is extremely talented, making these jobs highly competitive. I also think that traditional newsrooms want a certain professional to fit their mainstream mold and if you fall outside of it, they’re taking a risk.

I am a risk.

I am a queer, Mexican-American woman from the Rio Grande Valley with an entire portfolio of stories dedicated to LGBTQ issues, reproductive health, race, gender, and all things social justice. Traditional newsrooms say they want these issues covered but don’t have the budget to hire a full-time reporter. There are editors at some newsrooms who desperately want these stories but they’re working with a crap budget. I’m tired of laboring over a story that pays a few hundred dollars that I’ll receive months later. (Seriously. The longest I’ve waited was six months for a $600 check.) I’m tired of the endless applications that seem to go into the ether without a response. I’m tired of waiting for permission from an employer to tell the stories I want to tell. I’m ready to write, report, produce, and take my creative endeavors into my own hands. 

Art Making to the Rescue

Over the last year, I’ve recognized that I’m not just a journalist. I am a creative, an artist. I’m a multimedia storyteller and I’m only now embracing all facets of my creative output.

I had this realization while investing in a hobby. So much of my mental energy the last couple of years has gone into writing formal cover letters and carefully crafted emails to hiring professionals and industry connections. I needed an outlet so I started making mixed media art in a composition notebook at the beginning of the year. I gave myself the space to experiment and play with colors and tap into my inner teenage self who made collages for fun. I told myself to just add something, anything, to the page and keep going. When I’m making art, I don’t hold back or don’t judge the outcome.

The time I spend in my art journal has now blossomed into a necessary ritual. 

In my practice of art making, I realized I have the power to create whatever I want — whether that be on the notebook page in front of me or in the broader sense of the world. I can write the stories I want to read, interview the people I want to hear from, and make The Thing without having to wait for anyone. 

Introducing Queer Futures

Before I left Texas, I had a newsletter called Queer Tejas on Substack. I began Queer Tejas with the intention of covering queer and trans issues in Texas and it was a passion project I worked on for a few months. Then life accelerated like 2 Fast 2 Furious and I couldn’t sustain it. I moved across the country, started grad school, and was inundated with deadlines and more deadlines. But I loved working on that newsletter, even if it was short-lived. I’m returning to the newsletter format and harnessing my newfound creative energy to begin a new project called Queer Futures. 

Since moving to New York, I’ve experienced tremendous personal growth and changes revolving around queer relationships, friendships, and community. Those changes have made me want to dive deeper into the importance of relationships. During a time of so much despair and uncertainty in this world, I believe the people in our lives will sustain us. My work has always been a way to know myself and I’m excited to explore these themes in Queer Futures. I’ll explain more in my first dispatch coming next Thursday, August 29th! 

Queer Futures will publish every Thursday. My newsletter will include essays, LGBTQ news roundups, pop culture recommendations, and Q&A's with queer and trans people across the country.

A note on the platform: I’m publishing my newsletter on Ghost, instead of Substack, because in short, I don’t want to participate in a company that platforms Nazis and transphobes and continues to benefit from their lack of content moderation. Other writers I admire are on Substack for various reasons and I respect their choice. It would be easier for me to just continue using Substack but I can’t, in good conscience, do that so here I am. 

Your financial support will help sustain me and allow me to do this work. Big companies aren't investing in queer media so I’m relying on you, dear reader, to invest in the media you want to see in the world. Your subscription would allow me to focus on this newsletter and be able to pay rent and bills. I’ve had to rely on my partner and family during a really unstable time in my career, which I’m really grateful for and fortunate to have. But I would love to forge a sustainable path for myself. Your subscription supports this work and, in turn, supports me. 

Thank you for being here. Stay tuned for more. ✨