The controversy involving Stephen A. Smith and the National Association of Black Journalists should prompt Black journalists to engage in a broader conversation that extends beyond Smith himself, any specific award, or personal opinions about him. While I do not agree with all of Smith’s’s statements, and at times find his tone unnecessarily aggressive or his arguments flawed, those he criticizes—including Black women—are fully justified in responding to him.
However, disagreement with Stephen A. Smith should not deter us from critically examining deeper issues within our profession. Specifically, has Black journalism developed an implicit political and cultural code that dictates which Black voices may be criticized, which political positions are deemed acceptable, and the standards Black journalists must meet to maintain professional standing among their peers?
This is the conversation Black journalists should approach without hesitation. Ultimately, this controversy may reveal more about the prevailing culture within Black journalism than about Stephen A. Smith himself.
The Stephen A. Smith Contradiction
In her discussion with Don Lemon, Jemele Hill provided substantial criticism of Smith, yet she also recognized factors that complicate the prevailing narrative. Hill highlights Smith’s’s meaningful contributions to Black journalism, such as recruiting Black professionals for his shows, creating opportunities for Black producers and columnists, advancing the careers of Black journalists, and supporting Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) through his platform.
Hill ultimately affirmed that Smith’s’s overall body of work is significant and that his contributions as a Black journalist, as well as his efforts to support others, should not be dismissed because of disagreements with some of his recent commentary. This presents a notable contradiction that warrants further analysis: how does a Black journalist with such a record come to be publicly characterized as detrimental to Black journalism?
Legitimate criticism of Smith may exist, and it is important not to ignore this reality. However, Black journalists should differentiate between critiquing specific statements made by Smith and asserting that his actions are fundamentally harmful to the field of Black journalism.
When Journalism Becomes a Code
Another point raised by Hill directly addresses the culture of Black journalism. She contended that Black journalists bear “ a responsibility” when addressing issues concerning Black individuals and must demonstrate heightened sensitivity when offering criticism within the community.
I recognize the historical context underlying this perspective. For generations, mainstream American media perpetuated stereotypes about Black people, neglected Black communities, criminalized Black existence, and often failed to provide Black Americans with the context and humanity extended to others. Black journalism arose, in part, to ensure that our stories were told by individuals who understood our history and lived experiences.
However, a sense of responsibility to our community should not equate to shielding every Black individual, and especially every Black politician from scrutiny, particularly those who possess political, economic, or institutional power. There is a crucial distinction between serving the interests of Black communities and protecting powerful Black individuals solely based on their identity.
If a Black mayor is failing, investigate the mayor. If a Black police commissioner is failing, investigate the commissioner. If a Black Republican is not serving the community, challenge that Republican. If a Black Democrat is not serving those interests, challenge that Democrat with the same intensity. If a Black man is wrong, say so. If a Black woman is wrong, journalists must be able to say so without being accused of attacking Black women.
The responsibility of Black journalists is not to shield powerful Black individuals from challenging questions. Rather, it is to pursue the truth in service of the communities we represent.
When Did Political Independence Become Suspicious?
The Smith discussion became even more revealing when the conversation moved beyond his treatment of Black women and into his politics. Hill discussed the people Smith has platformed, the political circles he appears to be moving in, and the people with whom he might be attempting to ingratiate himself.
Later, Hill acknowledged some see criticism of Smith as linked to his growing conservatism. However, she rejected that as an overly simplistic explanation. She argued Smith sometimes enters political discussions without being sufficiently informed. That criticism may be fair, but the underlying issue still deserves examination.
Why should a Black journalist’s political orientation dictate whether peers perceive them as loyal to the community? Why should suspicion arise when a Black journalist features individuals outside the dominant political ideology, engages with conservatives, or questions positions that have traditionally been supported within Black journalism?
Journalists are expected to engage with individuals holding diverse viewpoints. We should interview Democrats, Republicans, conservatives, progressives, socialists, and independents; journalism’s role is to expose the public to a range of information and competing ideas, not to establish politically sanctioned boundaries for discourse.
Black America is not politically monolithic, despite historical voting patterns that have favored a single party. The community includes Black Democrats, Republicans, conservatives, progressives, independents, and millions who are skeptical of both major parties. Black journalism should reflect this diversity rather than attempt to construct a political consensus that does not accurately represent the community.
A Black perspective should not be conflated with a single, universally accepted Black opinion.
My Own Experience With the Black Political Code
I don’t make this argument from the sideline. As the publisher of Black Westchester, I have publicly criticized Black women in power when their actions were lacking and required scrutiny. I criticized Mount Vernon Mayor Shawyn Patterson-Howard over governance and accountability issues and challenged New York State Attorney General Tish James over what I believe was inadequate oversight of policing in New York.
I did not raise those issues because Patterson-Howard and James are Black women. I raised them because they hold governmental power, their decisions affect Black communities, and journalism must scrutinize those who exercise power over the public.
At the same time, I have publicly defended Black women in politics when I believed they were being treated unfairly. I defended Andrea Stewart-Cousins when there was resistance to her becoming leader of the New York State Senate, including opposition and political maneuvering from both Republicans and Democrats.
I didn’t defend Stewart-Cousins simply because she was a Black woman any more than I criticize Patterson-Howard or James. After all, they are Black women. The question for me has always been whether the criticism or treatment is justified and whether the people involved are being held to a fair and consistent standard.
Because I am willing to critique Democrats and challenge Black elected officials, I have been labeled MAGA or identified as a Republican. These labels are often used as convenient substitutes for engaging with the substance of my arguments, and in the current political climate, they serve as shortcuts to discredit voices within Black audiences.
This is particularly concerning given that many who levy such accusations lack the history of advocacy, organizing, and commitment to Black communities that I have established over decades. Political disagreement does not negate individual contributions, and challenging a Democrat does not automatically render someone a Republican.
That is part of the problem I see developing within Black political discourse and Black journalism. We have reached a point where challenging certain people or positions can result in someone immediately assigning you to the other political team instead of addressing your argument.
Rather than engaging with substantive arguments, individuals often attack one’s identity, question loyalty to Black communities, or assign political labels intended to silence dissent. This approach undermines intellectual independence and is not the culture that Black journalism should foster.
My history does not make me immune to criticism either, and nobody’s’s résumé should become a shield against legitimate questions, including mine. But if we are going to questiosomeone’s’s commitment to Black people, then the entire body of work should matter.
The same standard should be applied to Stephen A. Smith. Jemele Hill acknowledged his significant record of supporting Black journalists, creating opportunities for Black professionals, and leveraging his platform to amplify Black voices. It is inconsistent to celebrate aindividual’s’s contributions to Black America only when their views align with our own, and then question their commitment when their politics or opinions diverge from the prevailing consensus.
The Corporate Media Contradiction
Another challenging conversation for Black journalists concerns institutional ownership. Many prominent Black journalists in the United States are employed by corporations that are not Black-owned. Although generations of Black journalists have fought to gain access to these newsrooms, it is important to distinguish between employment and ownership.
Hosting a television show does not equate to owning the network, writing a column does not confer ownership of the newspaper, and possessing a microphone does not mean owning the platform. Black journalists may wield significant influence within corporate media, yet they still operate within institutions where ultimate economic and organizational authority resides elsewhere.
This distinction becomes particularly significant when Black journalists within large corporate structures attempt to dictate what their peers should say, whom they should associate with, or how they should communicate to maintain professional standing. It is necessary to critically examine the contradiction of Black journalists operating within predominantly white-owned corporate media while simultaneously enforcing unwritten cultural or political codes on fellow Black journalists.
Corporate leadership does not need to enforce conformity directly, as professional culture is capable of self-regulation. Individuals quickly learn which opinions are celebrated, which discussions lead to opportunities, which stances grant access, and which viewpoints may render someone controversial.
There is no need for explicit directives from corporate headquarters when the boundaries are already understood by all. This is characteristic of institutional culture, and Black journalists should have the courage to critically assess whether such dynamics exist within their own profession.
Black Women Deserve Respect—and Accountability
Some may interpret this argument as disregarding valid concerns regarding the treatment of Black women in media, but such a reading would be mistaken. Black women have historically faced harmful stereotypes, disrespect, and dehumanization in American media, and Black journalists must remain cognizant of this history when addressing Black women in public discourse.
However, respect for Black women should not entail exempting those in positions of power from journalistic scrutiny. Equality does not equate to immunity from criticism, and upholding the dignity of Black women should not require journalists to forgo their responsibility to hold powerful individuals accountable.
My own record demonstrates that these principles can coexist. I can defend Andrea Stewart-Cousins when I believe she is being unfairly denied an opportunity while criticizing Shawyn Patterson-Howard or Tish James when I believe their performance in government deserves scrutiny.
These positions are not mutually exclusive. They exemplify the core of journalism: evaluating situations based on factual evidence rather than determining whether merits protection based on race, gender, or political affiliation.
It should be possible to critique a Black female elected official without indicting Black women as a group. Similarly, defending a Black woman against unjust treatment should not create a political obligation to support all her subsequent actions.
The same standard must be applied to Black men. While tone, respect, and historical context are important, factual accuracy and accountability are equally essential.
Are We Journalists or Political Gatekeepers?
Another significant moment arose when Don Lemon questioned whether Smith needed to “join the chorus” of critics targeting Black people, given the prevalence of such criticism from others. I understand the rationale behind this perspective, as Black Americans have historically faced hostile and distorted coverage from mainstream institutions.
However, journalism cannot function on the premise that legitimate criticism should be withheld solely because the subject shares our racial identity. Adopting such a standard raises complex questions about the definition of “us.”
Does “us” mean Black journalists, Black Democrats, Black elected officials, Black celebrities, Black organizations, or the millions of everyday Black Americans who frequently disagree with all of those groups? The interests of a Black politician, Black media personality or Black professional organization are not automatically identical to the interests of ordinary Black citizens.
The role of Black journalism is not to dictate what Black people should think. Instead, it is to equip Black audiences with information, historical context, investigative reporting, and diverse arguments, enabling them to form their own conclusions.
This distinction is essential, as journalism’s purpose is to empower individuals with information rather than to control their opinions.
Black Journalism Was Supposed to Challenge Gatekeepers
Black journalism exists because mainstream American media repeatedly failed Black America. Our stories were ignored, our communities were misunderstood, our voices were marginalized, and our experiences were frequently interpreted by people with little connection to the communities they were covering.
In response, Black communities established newspapers, magazines, radio stations, and eventually digital media platforms to tell their own stories. This history should make Black journalists especially wary of ideological gatekeeping, as the profession was founded in part to counter external control over Black representation.
It is inconsistent to spend generations resisting white institutions that dictate thought to Black America, only to establish Black institutions that impose similarly restrictive boundaries on acceptable perspectives. Criticizing corporate media for narrative control while fostering a culture where Black journalists are penalized for challenging dominant political views undermines the profession’s foundational principles.
If that happens, we have not eliminated gatekeeping. We have changed the gatekeepers.
A Seat at the Table Is Not Ownership
The Stephen A. controversy also highlights why independent Black-owned media remains so important. Black journalists working inside mainstream organizations can accomplish extraordinary things, but independence ultimately requires more than visibility, representation, or a high-profile television contract.
Ownership matters because the person who owns the institution ultimately controls the institution. Black journalists fought to obtain seats at mainstream media tables, and that battle opened doors that should never be minimized, but having a seat at the table is not the same as having power over the table.
The future of Black journalism should involve building and reinforcing Black-owned independent media that can challenge all political parties, ideologies, and institutions without concern for violating external political expectations. Independent Black journalism should not serve as a public-relations arm for any political party, corporation, activist group, or even Black organizations.
Our primary loyalty must be to the truth and to the communities we represent.
Stephen A. Smith Is Not the Real Story
Stephen A. Smith will be fine regardless of how this controversy ends. He has an enormous platform, considerable financial resources, and ample access to microphones and cameras to defend himself against NABJ or anyone else who criticizes him.
My concern centers on the young Black journalist who observes a prominent peer deviate from prevailing political or cultural norms. Regardless of whether we acknowledge it, that journalist is drawing lessons from this controversy.
Is that young journalist learning to pursue facts impartially, or to identify which opinions are professionally acceptable? Are they being taught to challenge all individuals equally, or to treat certain politicians and public figures differently based on race, gender, or political affiliation?
Are they being taught intellectual independence, or are they internalizing an unwritten professional code?
These questions are far more consequential for the future of Black journalism than the debate over whether Stephen A. Smith merited a negative award.
Black Journalism Must Make Room for Independent Black Thought
This argument is not directed against the National Association of Black Journalists (NABJ), Black journalists, or organizations established to support Black media professionals. Rather, it asserts that institutions committed to Black journalism should be leading advocates for intellectual independence within the field.
Black journalists should hold corporations, government officials, Republicans, Democrats, conservatives, progressives, Black leaders, and white leaders accountable. We must also be prepared to challenge one another, as accountability loses its significance if it is only applied to those outside our political, racial, or professional communities.
We must not permit disagreement to be equated with betrayal, political independence to be labeled as anti-Blackness, criticism of a Black woman to be interpreted as hostility toward all Black women, or criticism of a Black politician to be seen as opposition to Black political progress. Diverging from the prevailing political consensus should not automatically result in a Black journalist being labeled a sellout, MAGA, or Republican.
Stephen A. Smith is not the central issue. The more significant question is whether Black journalism continues to accommodate journalists who resist unwritten political codes, and whether the profession is willing to scrutinize its own political biases as rigorously as it examines those of others.
Black journalism should engage with our history, affirm our humanity, investigate injustice, challenge those in power, and offer perspectives that mainstream institutions often neglect. However, it should not dictate a singular acceptable viewpoint for Black Americans.
Black journalism should present a Black perspective without prescribing what that perspective must be.
