It took freelance journalist and author John Vaillant repeated visits to Ali Jomha’s Mediterranean market over the course of half a year to convince the butcher and imam to go on the record.
Vaillant was in Fort McMurray, Alberta, working on a book about the petroleum mining community that was devastated by a wildfire in May 2016. When Vaillant arrived for the first time roughly six months later, he was a complete outsider. Conscious of the residents’ trauma, he trod carefully, working to gain their trust—which, in the case of Jomha, meant building a relationship by way of eating his shawarma. “People are people, and if you encounter them eye-to-eye with humility and curiosity, amazing things can happen,” Vaillant says. His resulting 2023 book, Fire Weather, was ultimately short-listed for the 2024 Pulitzer Prize for General Nonfiction.
Plenty of important science stories happen in communities where some people, for a variety of valid reasons, might be hesitant to talk to journalists coming from outside their borders or culture. These sources may come from communities that mainstream media has historically underserved or misrepresented, like many Indigenous groups. Or, they may be navigating sensitive issues and require a careful approach, like the residents of Fort McMurray in the aftermath of the fire. Some may not trust outside journalists to tell their stories accurately—and they might have news outlets of their own. Though talking to the press might not threaten their livelihoods or safety, as might be the case for whistleblowers or people living in conflict zones, they may still see mainstream media coverage as inviting more harm than good.
But that doesn’t always mean members of these communities have no interest in sharing their stories more broadly. Journalists can develop these stories alongside their sources to cover issues that need addressing, shine a light on injustice, and speak to broader trends in society—all without inflicting undue harm on a community. Writing these stories well demands patience, respect, empathy, and a willingness to learn. “There’s so many moments where you’re totally humbled,” says Stephanie Kwetásel’wet Wood, British Columbia reporter for The Narwhal. “It’s so good for you as a person and as a journalist.”
Finding Stories Worth Pursuing
Journalists like to position themselves as spreading stories for the greater good and the good of their subjects. But those mutual benefits don’t always pan out, says Maria Parazo Rose, a freelance investigative reporter who often covers Indigenous communities.
Deciding whether you should pursue a story about a community necessitates collaboration and background research. For the right story, both journalists and community members may decide the effort and discomfort of engaging with the press is worth it. Your reporting “should be useful to people as much as possible,” Parazo Rose says. Her 2024 Grist story, for example, highlighted a filing error that inadvertently gave more than 90,000 acres of Yakama Nation land to Washington state. By mapping the outcome of this error and how other state trust lands were parceled out, she brought this longstanding issue into public awareness.
Once you find a lead, a fair amount of advance preparation can make sure your reporting starts off smoothly.
Outside journalists should also ensure their story isn’t redundant with coverage from a community’s own news outlets, such as tribal media or other local publications. “Let’s pay homage and respect to what’s already being done and figure out how we can contribute to this existing conversation in a way that is meaningful and valuable to the community,” says Sunnie Clahchischiligi, the Indigenous affairs editor at High Country News. Consider whether the story you’re pursuing takes a new angle or extends other reporting on an issue.
To find stories within a community that might be insulated from outside coverage, follow local conversations. Read community newsletters, small organizations’ press releases, message boards, and threads in social media groups. Attend or tune in to public events where communities gather to talk about ongoing issues. A United Nations–hosted event on protected areas, for example, was the impetus for a 2023 story by Parazo Rose and her colleague on the ongoing decline of Quitobaquito Springs in Arizona. A member of the Tohono O’odham Nation spoke at the event about how the U.S. government’s ill-conceived conservation efforts were threatening the oasis, which is sacred to the tribe. “That was something that just had flagged our attention, so we pursued it,” Parazo Rose says.
Taking a top-down approach, freelance science journalist Christina Couch says she finds many of her stories by looking at a broader trend and thinking of communities that might be impacted by it. This strategy led to her 2021 Hakai story about the mental health of fishermen, for instance. She’d been researching the mental health impacts of climate change when, on the 15th page of a Google search, she saw a press release about mental health awareness from a Brunswick, Maine–based fishermen’s nonprofit.
As is the case for many stories, word-of-mouth can churn up ideas, too. A comment from a wildlife researcher about “some cool people doing some cool things” once led Wood to cover the Lake Babine Nation and their unique approach to moose conservation for The Narwhal in 2024.
Doing the Advance Work
Once you find a lead, a fair amount of advance preparation can make sure your reporting starts off smoothly. Familiarize yourself with the current affairs, history, and cultural norms of a community. “All of those things help establish trust,” Clahchischiligi says, as they demonstrate an honest desire to learn.
Finding sources is not as simple as walking up to someone and assuming they will speak to you.
Read as much as you can about a community before you start reaching out to sources. This may seem daunting, but Vaillant points out that smaller communities often have a limited amount of information available online, which makes the task more doable. Often, this information will be buried in obscure journals or smaller publications, so it can feel like “piecing together the puzzle,” he says.
Learning correct terminology for addressing and writing about community members is particularly important, Couch says. Accurate language choices let potential sources know you are invested in telling their story well. Couch suggests referring to language guides, such as those made by the Prison Journalism Project or the Indigenous Journalists Association, as well as reading publications from the community itself to understand proper terms to use and which to avoid.
If the community you’re covering has been covered by outside journalists before, see what you can glean from their experiences. Asking around can also help you determine how to approach community members. Before reporting in the Canadian archipelago Haida Gwaii for his 2005 book The Golden Spruce, Vaillant says he learned from a fellow non-community member to seek advance permission from the leaders of the Haida people, who view their stories as proprietary. “What I am is another white guy coming in and taking stuff. I’m harvesting stories, not trees or minerals, but it’s still kind of the same thing,” he says.
Making Inroads
Finding sources is not as simple as walking up to someone and assuming they will speak to you. It takes a little legwork to find amenable sources, especially when coming into communities as an outsider.
In her experience with Indigenous communities, Parazo Rose says there are usually people whose job it is to speak to the press, such as public information officers, other tribal officials, and organization leaders. “You know you’re not doing anything wrong by reaching out to somebody in that position,” she says.
Look for recurring names in press releases, newsletters, social media, and other community outlets. These people are likely used to fielding inquiries from the press, and they can connect you with other sources who’ve been featured less frequently. For example, Couch says she reads local papers, such as the Bangor Daily News, to learn who’s often interviewed within a community to make sure her stories include fresh voices.
Developing relationships with sources takes time and patience—and, often, a longer lead time on stories. But allowing space for genuine, sometimes off-the-record conversations to unfold builds trust.
In his on-the-ground reporting, Vaillant says he’s had success contacting people who are “in the community, but will have insight into it of a sort of outside variety,” such as social workers, medical staff, clergy, or nonprofit workers in the area.
This tactic worked for Malawian journalist Charles Mpaka while reporting a 2007 story for The Daily Times on a community with a high incidence of HIV/AIDS in his home country. At the time, stigma associated with the condition and fears of discrimination kept many people from speaking with him unless they were granted anonymity. “If they were not able to share that information with their relatives, there was no way they were going to share it with a journalist coming from nowhere,” he says. So, Mpaka arranged interviews through a local NGO and conducted them at their offices, making it less obvious to others that his sources were speaking with a journalist.
Sometimes, it takes a more personal approach to find sources willing to open up. Peruvian freelance journalist Ivan Brehaut wrote in an email to TON that he looks for common ground with the people he meets while reporting on insular religious communities, such as Mennonites in the Amazon. Having the same hometown or being supporters of the same soccer team, for example, can be helpful starting points for a conversation. Connecting with these “ordinary citizens,” Brehaut wrote, will often lead you to other sources. “They are the gateway to reach the leaders of a community.”
Developing relationships with sources takes time and patience—and, often, a longer lead time on stories. But allowing space for genuine, sometimes off-the-record conversations to unfold builds trust. “They’ll talk about everything under the sun except the questions that you’re there for,” Clahchischiligi says. These conversations can sometimes be a test, she says. “It’s like, ‘How invested are you in this?’”
In many ways, finding a way in with sources comes down to humanizing yourself. Shed the self-importance that can creep in when you’re pursuing a story, Wood says. “You can’t go in there entitled and thinking that you have a right to something or anyone should talk to you. You’re actually going in there asking for something pretty big.” Admit limitations in your knowledge, interrogate your own biases, and be prepared to ask questions that make you feel ignorant.
Once she finds sources, Wood takes time to explain how her process works—what her story is focusing on, who she’s talking to, what “on the record” means, and how fact-checking will work. “It brings them into the process,” she says. She also likes to ask her sources what stories in the community they think need to be told, as well as what misinformation is already out there, which both guides her reporting and opens up avenues for future stories.
Bending Journalistic Norms
Reporting on communities as someone from the outside might involve straying from some traditional Western journalistic standards to accommodate sources’ comfort and cultural norms—and to make sure you get the story right. “We’re the ones seeking something from this community, so we should be able to compromise as much as we can,” Clahchischiligi says. At High Country News, for example, she says reporters will sometimes read quotes back to sources.
It’s critical to keep lines of communication open during and after reporting. Clear communication can be especially helpful if a source gets cold feet.
When sources ask for changes during fact-checking, Couch says she tends to spend a lot of time talking with them to understand why. “In some cases, making a small modification is warranted if there are stakes associated with it,” she says. When she feels a change isn’t warranted, she spends additional time explaining why it’s important to her that the detail remains, and sometimes brings in her editor to help communicate with the source.
Similarly, Clahchischiligi will sometimes eschew the norm of not accepting gifts from sources. In some Indigenous communities, it might be seen as rude for a reporter to not accept a gift from an elder, she says. So, she suggests that reporters accept what’s offered to them and regift items when possible. Reporters might also be expected to bring gifts themselves. Clahchischiligi brought gift baskets to people when she regularly reported on the impact of COVID-19 on the Navajo Nation, mainly for Searchlight New Mexico in 2020 and 2021. “It wasn’t payment for stories…. That was something that I was taught growing up as an Indigenous person,” she says. “You don’t show up at someone’s home … empty-handed.”
Nonetheless, there are other journalistic rules that should generally stay in place, such as avoiding sleeping at a source’s house when reporting. “You need a community to trust you,” Couch says, “But you also have to maintain a certain level of distance.”
Keeping Communication Lines Open
Since your sources might be more hesitant than others, it’s critical to keep lines of communication open during and after reporting. Clear communication can be especially helpful if a source gets cold feet. For example, when a source in one High Country News story became reluctant, Clahchischiligi recalls coordinating a meeting between herself and other editorial staff, the reporter on the story, and the source to clarify how they were making editorial decisions.
Even if a source ultimately walks away or a story fizzles out, Wood recommends letting sources know they can always reach back out. “I will kind of try to keep the door open, basically indefinitely,” she says.
Once a story is published, Wood makes a point of asking her sources what they think about the piece and whether they or other community members have any feedback. That simple request can be an effective way to signal an ongoing commitment to your sources. “Otherwise, at that point, you’re really just engaging in parachute reporting,” Clahchischiligi says.
When done with respect and accuracy, stories can strengthen the trust a community holds for an outside journalist who tells their stories well. And over time, increasing examples of ethical reporting can hopefully begin to repair relationships with mainstream media, as journalists learn from the communities they cover and each other. “I think it’s important to share knowledge as journalists with each other” on how to do this work well, Parazo Rose says, “so that media is better at large.”
William von Herff is a freelance science journalist and former staff writer at The Provincetown Independent. His work has appeared in The Atlantic, WIRED, Smithsonian, Atlas Obscura, MIT Technology Review, and other publications. William is a TON early-career fellow sponsored by the Burroughs Wellcome Fund. Follow him on Bluesky at @willvh.bsky.social.