drsleuth
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- May 2, 2012
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https://www.facebook.com/sherele.mo...YssmHoZAvaxBpclUZiaUMCHlMxqzQ&__tn__=<,P-R]-R
In 1997, I walked into a newsroom for the first time. On April 24 of 2024, I walked out of a newsroom for the last time. I've had many proud moments in my 27 years as a journalist - amazing awards, life-changing articles, setting up Australian Femicide Watch and telling hundreds of stories about brave survivors of violence including countless Australians who have lost loved ones to violence.
However, the day I walked away from the media is my proudest.
At the age of 53, I feared for my financial and housing security but my heart and my head knew it was time to stop earning an income from the misery our nation's media thrives on.
No longer do I work for an industry that glorifies men who kill women and children. No longer do I work for an industry that marginalises deeply marginalised people. No longer do I work for an industry that normalises misogyny, racism, homophobia or transphobia. No longer do I work for an industry that silences those who stand up for what is right and just.
Most importantly, no longer do I work for an industry that insists on publishing flattering good bloke rhetoric following the murders of women and children - like the material in these screenshots.
The reporting today in the wake of Dean Heasman allegedly burning three of seven children alive and also trying to kill their mum in Lalor Park reinforces how horrifyingly normal it is for journalists and editors to fall into the good bloke trope for clicks, time on page and subscriptions.
No journalist is beholden to publish glorifying material about killers.
When journalists and media outlets produce this content they reinforce the narratives that drive violence against women and children in this country.
Four weeks ago I started a new career where I will be the first point of contact for people on the worst days of their lives. The pay is low, the hours are long, the shifts are often overnight - but now I get to make a difference - albeit fleeting - in the lives of everyday Australians. They'll never know my name but I wouldn't have it any other way.
Sherele Moody
In 1997, I walked into a newsroom for the first time. On April 24 of 2024, I walked out of a newsroom for the last time. I've had many proud moments in my 27 years as a journalist - amazing awards, life-changing articles, setting up Australian Femicide Watch and telling hundreds of stories about brave survivors of violence including countless Australians who have lost loved ones to violence.
However, the day I walked away from the media is my proudest.
At the age of 53, I feared for my financial and housing security but my heart and my head knew it was time to stop earning an income from the misery our nation's media thrives on.
No longer do I work for an industry that glorifies men who kill women and children. No longer do I work for an industry that marginalises deeply marginalised people. No longer do I work for an industry that normalises misogyny, racism, homophobia or transphobia. No longer do I work for an industry that silences those who stand up for what is right and just.
Most importantly, no longer do I work for an industry that insists on publishing flattering good bloke rhetoric following the murders of women and children - like the material in these screenshots.
The reporting today in the wake of Dean Heasman allegedly burning three of seven children alive and also trying to kill their mum in Lalor Park reinforces how horrifyingly normal it is for journalists and editors to fall into the good bloke trope for clicks, time on page and subscriptions.
No journalist is beholden to publish glorifying material about killers.
When journalists and media outlets produce this content they reinforce the narratives that drive violence against women and children in this country.
Four weeks ago I started a new career where I will be the first point of contact for people on the worst days of their lives. The pay is low, the hours are long, the shifts are often overnight - but now I get to make a difference - albeit fleeting - in the lives of everyday Australians. They'll never know my name but I wouldn't have it any other way.
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