Stop the Press! Ummm, I Don't Think So

On the 7th anniversary of September 11, Senators John McCain and Barack Obama came to Columbia University to discuss volunteerism in a national forum. Only a handful of students got picked (via ticket lottery) to attend the event so that left many of us out in the cold. I was lucky enough to get hooked up by MTV News, who asked me to cover the event.

The assignment: cover the forum from a student perspective and get reactions. Complex, in that there were about 7, 500 students crowded on the library steps, watching the speech on a JumboTron because they didn't get tickets to the actual event, which was held inside, at Lerner Hall.

I had access to the Press Room (which was really cool by the way; rows of tables with speakers and screens all around, boxed lunches and Journalists tapping away on laptops and Blackberrys and murmuring into cellphones). But even though I was part of the local Press Corps, I soon found out that all of the action was going on outside, not in the Press Room.

I was running around getting student reactions to McCain's Q & A (he spoke first, Obama was second), pen and pad in hand, stepping over and around the bodies sprawled on the lawn, when I noticed a flurry of activity out of the corner of my eye.

There, off to the side, was a guy rolling around in skates with a huge cardboard box on his head with the words SPECTATOR scrawled on the front.

Beside him were two guys who also had cardboard boxes on their heads except theirs said McCain and Obama. Both were wearing red boxing gloves and were shuffling from side-to-side, practicing jabs.

WHAT?! This was my story. I could see it now..."Politics @ Columbia University Causes Students to 'Duke' it Out"

I made a beeline for their makeshift boxing ring but as I was walking over, I noticed that the "SPECTATOR" on roller skates had disappeared and security had asked "McCain" and "Obama" to take off their costumes. There were a group of security huddled around the two men and the conversation was heated. I also noticed that there were quite a few reporters and photographers, jostling to get a good view of the "fight" that was about to go down.

I made my way over to snap a few photos but a man from campus security stepped in front of me and covered my lens.

I looked up at him, confused. "Ummm, excuse me sir, I need to talk to those gentlemen and you're kind of in my way" I said politely.

"Ma'am, you need a campus escort to talk to the students on our campus" he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ummm, sir, no one told me that." I said, remembering the rigorous security checks I'd went through earlier that day, complete with a pat-down.

"Yes, you can't talk to our students without a campus escort" he said.

"Says who?" I inquired, respectfully.

"Ma'am that's the way it is for this event" he replied, holding out his hands.

"Oh, really? Well, what if I told you that I'm actually a student here too, who just happens to be covering the event?" I said, pulling out my Student ID.

"Oh. Well, you should still talk to the head of campus security. I'm just trying to help you ma'am, so you don't get in trouble" he said.

"Well, sir, you're not helping me. I've already been cleared to talk to the students and I need to talk to those two students over there and you're blocking my way" I said, getting angry. At this point, I noticed that campus security had taken the "McCain" cardboard box and the two students were walking away, muttering under their breath.

They were getting away and I hadn't gotten the story!

I was through dealing with this security dude. I stepped around him and ran after the two students. I felt a few others on my heels, also reporters who wanted to talk to the students.

In short, I got the story (Three 21-year-old seniors were bored watching the speech and wanted to liven things up so they went home, made costumes, and tried to cause a scene. Campus security, already on edge with all the Secret Service crawling around, didn't want any trouble so they asked the students to leave. The students were "pissed" and felt that their rights had been violated).

I felt the exact same way. I was angry at how I was treated when I tried to approach the students about what they were doing. I felt as if some members of campus security took it upon themselves to "censor" the situation, therefore not letting Press have access to the students. So both of our First Amendment Rights had been violated: Their freedom of speech and my freedom of the press.

When is it okay to "Push Back" and stand up for your rights? Was I in the wrong for pursuing the story? Were the students in the wrong for expressing their discontent? Were other media in the wrong for giving up so easily and not being persistent?

So many questions that I've yet to receive answers.

I have every intention of following up but at the time I had 2 deadlines to deal with (my MTV story and a story for class).

I'm still steamin' but I'm proud of myself for "Pushing Back" and standing up for my rights. Now if i can just get some answers as to why it happened in the first place...I'll keep you updated.

In the meantime, check out my published piece from MTV.com.

My 1st NYC Press Conference!

Today my professors assigned us a Daybook story. Daybook is a schedule of events listed on the AP in your respective city. My classmates and I were worried all week about this assignment because we had no idea where our professors were going to send us...for all we knew, it could've been a murder scene or some really droll initiative that we'd have to make "colorful". Well, it wasn't that bad. The New York Civil Liberities Union launched a campaign to educate people on voter rights, specifically the rights of ex-felons, who often times are discouraged from voting, even after they've served their time. We split into teams of 4 and hopped on a 1 train downtown to cover our first NYC press conference! Although we were to work as a team, each person had to report, write, produce and edit their own radio piece, just in time for DEADLINE.

Right away, I knew I wanted to focus on a person of color. A disproportionate amount of New York's disenfranchised voters are African-American and Latino. If I could just find someone to talk to, I'd be home free. Bam! I found my subject, got the story, made my DEADLINE and got some constructive feedback. I don't want to tell you too much else because you can listen to my first effort, right above. Keep in mind that this is a first cut and my editing skills on Pro Tools are not so great yet. Anyhow, let me know what you think!

P.S. The best part of the day was watching my classmate, Agnes M.F. Kamara-Umunna, (what a name!) scarf down her spaghetti and meatballs on the subway because we didn't have time to eat. She didn't miss a beat...or her DEADLINE. Ah, the life of a Journalist...welcome to the club!

Beauty Comes in all Shapes, Sizes and Colors @ Brooklyn's West Indian Day Parade

So me and my classmates actually had a day off today! Some of us decided to spend our last hours of freedom at the 41st annual West Indian Day Parade and Carnival in Brooklyn. The parade is the largest gathering of Caribbeans in the U.S. and people come from Canada, the Caribbean and even England, just to experience.

Now I love the authenticities of the parade; jerk chicken, rice & peas, bami, sorrel, mauby, plantain, soca, reggae, mannish water...I could go on and on. Year after year, I'm never disappointed because it is always such a good time, meeting and interacting with new people from all over the world.

That's one of the things I love best...the people. Black, white, Indian, Chinese, dark, light, mixed, skinny, fat, locs, natural, permed, pressed...they're all there having a good time.

As usual, the music was banging, the drum line was thumping and the sistas were windin' to the rhythms, bouncing up and down, keeping in time with the beat. They were there on top of and in front of the floats, sparkling in their magenta, blue, yellow, red, green and purple bodysuits, complete with feather headdresses and flags. Their vanilla, bronze, chocolate and caramel complexions were gleaming in the September sun. They were beautiful as always.

But for the first time this year, I saw the women surrounding me with new eyes. I looked around me and I was surrounded by so many different shapes, colors and sizes. I saw a little blubber. I saw some flab. I even saw some hip bones jutting from bikini bottoms. The sistas were big, tall, skinny, short and curvy, all shapes and sizes. Caribbean beauty comes in many variations and I don't know why I never noticed it before.

As a woman who is full-figured, I've had my ups and downs with the way society portrays a "thicker" woman. We are not all fat. We are not all sloppy. And we are not all unhealthy. If you saw what I saw today (woman as old as my mother, with a little meat on their bones, running back and forth the 3 miles of Eastern Parkway) you'd probably think a little differently about those stereotypes.

Now society tells us that we're not supposed to be proud. We're not supposed to show-off our curves. We're not supposed to embrace, who we are. We're supposed to hang our heads in shame and waddle around like seals, unfashionable and unkempt.

Well, that wasn't the case today and it won't be the case for me...ever.

I am so glad that those women were there in their sequins and leotards, shaking their rumps, twisting their hips and waving their flags, all in the name of love and pride.

Big ups to the women of the Caribbean who are not afraid to shake what their mommas gave them!