Can we welcome new people to the club?

Originally published in Current, Sept. 11, 2006
Commentary by Tavis Smiley

If anyone had told me 15 years ago that I would be hosting a public television and public radio program, I wouldn’t have believed it. I never thought it was a place I belonged. Like many kids, I grew up watching Sesame Street on PBS, but the TV didn’t stay on that channel very long. As for public radio, I think my parents listened just long enough to realize they had the wrong station before changing the dial.

It’s pretty obvious that my parents don’t fit the typical demographic profile of public broadcasting audiences. They aren’t white, they aren’t wealthy and they don’t have advanced degrees. In fact, neither of my parents went to college, but they top the list of the wisest people I know. I think about them every time I have a conversation on radio or television.

That’s because in many ways, Mom and Dad represent an important slice of the core public TV/ radio audience. Not by the standards typically assumed in audience research but by the standards promoted by a Carnegie Commission report in 1967. It said public broadcasting “should provide a voice for groups in the community that may otherwise be unheard . . . [and] help us see America whole in all its diversity.” That report was the foundation for the Public Broadcasting Act signed by President Lyndon B. Johnson nearly 40 years ago.

Back then, my parents were just two black people trying to raise a large family in largely segregated Indiana. They didn’t care about stock prices, but they did care about their children and their future. They did care about who was in the White House, jobs, the economy and whether their neighborhoods was safe. Like most people, then and now, they want to see and hear images and voices that look and sound like them. Images and voices that remind them that their sensibilities, their values and the issues they care about matter.

This fall I will celebrate 15 years in broadcast media. And particularly since the past five of those years have been in public broadcasting, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my responsibility to help promote America in all its diversity. It’s a role that is at times challenging and humbling, but incredibly rewarding.

When my public radio show first began in 2002, I was on a mission to produce a show that was authentically black, but not too black! A show aimed at African-Americans, but appealing to everyone else. At first I got letters (more like hate mail) from listeners who couldn’t understand why I didn’t sound like anyone else on their station, or why my regular commentator Dr. Cornel West refers to everyone (and I do mean everyone) as “brother.”

But over time, the letters changed. Eventually the listeners figured it out. African-American issues are American issues—health, finances, politics, movies, great music. Believe or not, I represent the American public by being myself -a black man with a wide range of views and life experiences. Some people might say I’m still an acquired taste. A far cry from the stereotypical public radio mildness that merited satire on Saturday Night Live. I talk fast, I talk loud, but I’m proud to say that I’m still talking to just about everyone. From Bill Clinton to Snoop Dogg and everyone in between. But at the end of the day, I hope that I represent diversity that is more than skin deep. Diversity of sound, diversity of style, diversity of perspective.

This is where I think public broadcasting in particular and the media in general miss the mark. Too often the networks and stations are going for the same look and sound, even if they have people of color in front of the camera or the microphone.

Although I’m sick to death of Survivor and American Idol, there’s something enormously appealing about real people getting paid to be themselves. One thing that reality TV has demonstrated is that viewers are craving a little authenticity. People want to see and hear people that look and sound like them or their next-door neighbors. Of course, to my knowledge, my next-door neighbors are not eating worms for cash, but I still learn a lot from talking to them.

For some reason, “personality” is a bad word in public broadcasting. Anything “personality-driven” is considered commercial, evil, egotistical or antithetical to the spirit of community. I couldn’t disagree more. I think personalities help illustrate experiences and accumulated worldviews. And when public radio or television highlights and celebrates those characteristics in individuals and groups, the results are compelling. In fact, I think public broadcasting does this better than anyone—just not often enough.

I know about the research, I know all about the baby boomers and the big donors and the ratings and cume. But I honestly believe public broadcasting can do more to get out of its comfort zone and welcome new people to the club. That means trying new things, taking risks, speaking new languages. We stream, we podcast, we simulcast; there are more ways than ever to reach the members of our global society. But are we really reaching the public and not just the select few?

I think for the most part public broadcasting does a decent job of creating and ensuring ideological balance in programming. That means including the voices from the two dominant political parties in most major discussions. But, of course, since those political voices are mostly white, mostly male, mostly Protestant and mostly from the Ivy League, there’s a whole lot that we are missing. Until public broadcasting can get past a structure that favors the academic elite, it will always be too exclusive in its tone.

At this point in my career, I feel that regardless of what else I do in my life, I belong on public radio and television. There is no other place I can have the kind of dialogue that helps enlighten, encourage and empower others, even outside of our comfort zones. I’m honored that I have a role in helping to introduce Americans to one another, helping them expand their inventory of ideas.

But I also believe there are more men and women like me who belong on the air or behind the scenes creating and managing shows and the future of public broadcasting. There are also more people like me who might need special invitations to the club. That means not looking for predictable voices when it comes to booking guests or hiring staff and not being reluctant to do more promotion and outreach to groups that don’t read the New York Times. That means not doing things the same way and expecting different results. There are educated people of color who would become public broadcasting converts if they saw and heard consistently that public radio and television had something to offer them beyond Sesame Street. Diversity isn’t one-size-fits-all, but we’ve got to keep trying new ways to improve the fit for more listeners and viewers.

In another 15 years, I hope there won’t be stations that say, “We already have one black host or one Latino show, so we don’t need another.” Fifteen years from now, I hope that I won’t have to explain what the letters P-B-S or N-P-R or P-R-I stand for; that “diversity” is no longer a word that makes people cringe; and that “elite” can no longer be used to describe public broadcasting. Ultimately, in 15 years I hope to stumble across this commentary and say to myself, “My, how things have changed.”

Tavis Smiley is host of Tavis Smiley on PBS and public radio’s The Tavis Smiley Show from Public Radio International. His forthcoming book is What I Know for Sure: My Story of Growing Up in America (Doubleday, October).

Web page posted Oct. 11, 2006
Copyright 2006 by Current Publishing Committee