So yesterday’s incident still has me reeling a little bit.
((Editor’s note, the article can now be read – in its transcribed form – here))
The larger part of me wants to just laugh the whole thing off… “who knew I was so powerful. One news story and an entire industry is vaporized! Watch out Northern, you’re next!” but then another part of me is just plain churning inside.
I’m hurt that I’ve been targeted. Insulted that I’ve been so misrepresented. Annoyed that I’ll never have a chance to confront the journalist. Conflicted that it doesn’t seem that I’ll have any real recourse.
I just can’t get over that I. Was. Right. And. It. Doesn’t. Matter. And. No. One. Will. Ever. Know.
It’s hard to go out on that kind of note, you know? I’m leaving this town in just a couple short weeks. It’s hard to leave with that burning ink so fresh.
And maybe I’m making too much of this. Based on comments I received on yesterday’s post… and consoling from my colleagues in Iqaluit… the journalist in question isn’t exactly high on the list for pending Pulitzer prizes. Not that I am either, but they keep saying that I’m giving him too much credit.
And I guess I understand. But there’s some CBC bias there. And not everyone is a media critic. Not everyone is going to read that article and see that it missed the point. Hell, I’m sure most people will read the headline, read the first column and be done with it. Such is the reality of an ADD readership.*
It’s just frustrating that I’ve been advised to take the “high road” and that “high road” means letting someone throw mud at me. And shaking it off, instead of sticking up for myself.
Is there no journalist’s code? Thou shalt not slag a fellow journalist without warning? Thou shalt not drag a fellow journalist’s reputation through the mud without reason?
Maybe it’s just best I’m leaving.
*not a comment on Rankin Inlet/the Kivalliq. I mean as a whole, we tend to flit around glancing at one shiny thing for about 30 seconds before moving on to the next. Music videos anyone?