CMCI students from all departments develop their portfolios through classes, competitions, internships and more.

Here we have collected a variety of student work that highlights their personal and professional passions explored during their academic careers at 兔子先生传媒文化作品.

  View the work

Off

By Joe Arney

For most people, winning a citywide essay contest as a teenager would just be a great way to get an all-expenses-paid trip to the nation鈥檚 most celebrated historical sites, like Washington, D.C.

For Nandi Pointer, there was a bigger prize.

鈥淭hat was the first time I realized that my mind could take me places鈥攎y mind and my effort, and my trying,鈥� she said. 鈥淎nd it helped give me this lust for seeing the world, and its cultures and people.鈥�

Now in her third year in the media studies PhD program, Pointer鈥檚 curiosity about other people and their stories has led to impactful research into identity formation for Black men who鈥檝e left the United States.

How she came to do so at CMCI is a story about Pointer finding her own identity鈥攁s a scholar, a documentary filmmaker and a niece to the Pointer Sisters, the influential R&B/soul group.

鈥淗aving famous aunts imbued me with this idea that anything was possible, that there鈥檚 no limitation to what you can do,鈥� Pointer said.

But there was 鈥渟ort of a dichotomy, as well,鈥� she said. Her parents were both successful college professors, and her father鈥檚 side of the family included the Pointer Sisters, pro baseball player Aaron Pointer and NBA champion Paul Silas. But both sides of her family struggled with societal ills like violence and addiction.

That fueled her belief in the power of education鈥攁nd also her curiosity about the violence Black men face in the United States and how that affects the formation of their identities. Pointer, who has worked and taught in South Korea, Vietnam and Saudi Arabia, was abroad when George Floyd鈥檚 murder in 2020 catalyzed nationwide protests about the police and violence against African Americans.

鈥淎s a Black American woman, I was shocked,鈥� she said. 鈥淏ut being in Saudi Arabia, there was this distance, so I was able to process those events in a different way. And it made me wonder about the other Black expats I was around, as well as the Black Americans experiencing these violent mediated events in the present moment in their own cities.鈥�

 鈥淚鈥檓 hoping to change the perception around Black men by seeing them as teachers, understanding their lives, and ultimately learning about how their experiences as Black men in America led them to seek opportunities overseas.
鈥擭andi Pointer

Exploring media and violence

Pointer said she鈥檚 always been 鈥渇ascinated by the media and its power to influence how we see ourselves in the world.鈥� She held production roles at MTV鈥檚 news and documentaries division and produced content for Netflix, where she worked on the award-winning documentary 鈥淭he Black Godfather.鈥�

So, it鈥檚 no surprise her research interests also have roots in how the media demonstrates violence against Black men, from Rodney King and Oscar Grant to Ahmaud Arbery and Floyd. That has powered her other major interest, exploring the perspectives of Black students who鈥檝e witnessed these murders through the media.

鈥淚鈥檓 hoping to change the perception around Black men by seeing them as teachers, understanding their lives, and ultimately learning about how their experiences as Black men in America led them to seek opportunities overseas,鈥� Pointer said.

CMCI was a strong fit, she said, because the college gave her access to an advisor like Sandra Ristovska, assistant professor of media studies and a fellow documentary filmmaker. 

鈥淪andra is the primary reason I came to CU,鈥� Pointer said. 鈥淪he got a grant from Mellon/ACLS鈥濃�攖he American Council of Learned Societies鈥斺�渨orking on visual justice, media and human rights, which was really interesting to me.鈥�

They鈥檝e been close collaborators throughout Pointer鈥檚 PhD journey. Ristovska, Pointer said, has supported and challenged her as a scholar, giving her opportunities to showcase her own research insights.

鈥淣andi approaches the people she interviews with care and compassion, so they really open up to her, trusting her to tell their stories,鈥� said Ristovska, an expert in how images shape the pursuit of justice and human rights. 鈥淪he has a remarkable ability to analyze a pressing social issue from a unique perspective.鈥�

Inspired, supportive CMCI faculty

At Ristovska鈥檚 suggestion, Pointer applied to the International Association for Media and Communication Research, in Lyon, France, where she presented in both the visual culture and newly created FLOW34 divisions; the latter showcases multimodal scholarships. She presented a short work in progress featuring the Black expats who will be a part of her future documentary film.

She鈥檚 also worked with Ristovska on a career diversity series for publicly engaged doctoral students at CMCI, insights from which were shared in a reflection piece and in a panel discussion at this year鈥檚 National Humanities Conference, in Indianapolis.

鈥淚 have been so impressed with how inspiring and supportive the CMCI faculty are,鈥� Pointer said. 鈥淭hey really work with you to make sure you鈥檙e both guided and challenged along each step of the way.鈥�

It鈥檚 the kind of impact she hopes to have one day as a professor. Her goal after completing her PhD is to join the faculty of a top research university that allows her to pursue her three loves of teaching, scholarship and filmmaking.

It鈥檚 a role she鈥檒l excel in, Ristovska said.

鈥淣andi is driven by a strong commitment to social justice, and I really can鈥檛 wait to see where her journey takes her next,鈥� she said.

Off

Byron Kominek, founder of Jack鈥檚 Solar Garden, near Longmont, picks dried seed pods off of a clary sage plant. Photo by Tyler Hickman; originally appeared in The Colorado Sun.

By Joe Arney

An important part of being a good enterprise reporter is a willingness to keep digging, even when the soil seems shallow.

Sometimes literally.

A news feature on agrivoltaics鈥攖he practice of growing crops beneath solar panels鈥攖hat Gabe Allen and Tyler Hickman not only helped validate both students鈥� interest in environmental journalism, it won them Best Scalable Innovation in Planet Forward鈥檚 2023 Storyfest competition.

鈥淥ur instructor, Erica Hunzinger, talked about the importance of following your curiosity,鈥� Allen said. 鈥淪he encouraged us to go down this rabbit hole, even though it was weeks of digging before we knew we had a hook.鈥�

Storyfest showcases student work that seeks to understand and illuminate innovations for how to best care for the planet. As part of the students鈥� win, they spent five days aboard a polar vessel in Iceland, learning how the country is addressing conservation alongside a team of naturalists, photo instructors and others.

  鈥淲hen you鈥檙e digging and you hit the wall, that just means that you have to go around it or go over it鈥攆ind a new angle.
鈥擳yler Hickman

It was a valuable experience for two graduate students who chose to study journalism at CMCI thanks to the focus and opportunities made possible through its Center for Environmental Journalism.

鈥淲e鈥檙e trying to inform people first and foremost, but through these human interest stories, you鈥檙e also showing the impact these stories can create, and how they can bring about change,鈥� Hickman said.

For the Sun feature, Allen and Hickman visited Jack鈥檚 Solar Garden, in Longmont, to share the story of founder Byron Kominek鈥檚 three-year battle to get a solar installation on his farm. The students鈥� persistence was rewarded when, deep into their investigation, a bill to expand agrivoltaics was proposed. Gov. Jared Polis signed it into law in May.

鈥淲hen you鈥檙e digging and you hit the wall, that just means that you have to go around it or go over it鈥攆ind a new angle,鈥� Hickman said. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 something all our professors really drilled into us.鈥�

Hunzinger, also public health collaborations editor at The Associated Press, called the pair 鈥渄riven and ambitious.鈥�

鈥淵ou could see their growth in their in-class questions and discussions and in their assignments,鈥� she said. 鈥淲hen these two decided to pair up for the final project, I knew we were in for a curious and thoroughly reported treat.鈥�

For Allen, the opportunity to do enterprise-level reporting was a major motivator to attend grad school.

鈥淚t was fun to really dig into that piece鈥攖o spend a month talking to so many different people, from politicians and scientists to the farmer on the ground,鈥� he said. 

Off

By Shannon Mullane (MJour鈥�19)

Leysia Palen was walking back after teaching an undergraduate class in fall 2022 when her phone rang. Only, her phone never rings. Thinking it might be something urgent, she answered and heard Todd Saliman, the president of the University of Colorado鈥檚 four-campus system, on the line.

鈥淚 said, 鈥極h hi!鈥� like it was normal,鈥� she said. 鈥淭hen he congratulated me, and he told me the news.鈥�

That was when Palen, a professor with a joint appointment in the departments of information science and computer science, learned she had just been awarded CU鈥檚 highest honor: the title of distinguished professor.

Since the award was established 45 years ago, only 138 professors have been recognized in this way across all four campuses. Palen鈥攁 鈥渞ock star鈥� advisor who forged a new area of study and founded an academic department鈥攚as clearly a fitting candidate, according to past students and colleagues. For Palen, however, the news felt surprising and surreal.

鈥淚 had to tell people about it before it really sunk in,鈥� Palen said. 鈥淚n the aftermath, as I digested it, it made me feel great because it newly synthesized the different aspects of being a professor into one whole.鈥�

The job of a tenured professor is divided into research, teaching and service, and Palen has shown leadership in all three, according to about 100 pages of nomination letters, instructor ratings and department recommendations submitted during the consideration process.

Distinguished Professor Leysia Palen is known in the academic community for her efforts to support her students and colleagues.

Breaking ground in research

Palen joined the University of Colorado Boulder as a half-time research professor in 1998 after earning a doctorate in information and computer science from the University of California Irvine and working for Microsoft and the Boeing Company.

In 2004, she began to focus her research on coordination using technology in one of the harshest environments, disasters. At the time, the World Wide Web was just over a decade old, online blogs had rolled out, Facebook was just being launched, and smartphones were imminent.

People were beginning to adopt these tools in new ways during times of crisis, Palen said. And as a first-generation college student, she wanted to do research that both contributed new knowledge and had practical applications for daily life.

鈥淪o the disaster arena was a place both to help and give back in a serious way, as well as critically think about large-scale coordination, or lack thereof, as it's technologically mediated,鈥� Palen said.

Now, Palen is considered the creator and the leading authority in the field of crisis informatics, which focuses on the role of information produced by both official and unofficial actors when dealing with disaster situations in real time.

Her research has been cited more than 20,000 times and has won numerous awards. Highly relevant to the general public, Palen鈥檚 work has attracted media attention from outlets such as The Atlantic, CNN, The New York Times and PBS. She has also been recognized with election to the ACM CHI Academy and the prestigious ACM CHI Societal Impact Award for her work in crisis informatics.

鈥淧rofessor Palen is a brilliant researcher with incredible vision,鈥� said Kate Starbird, an associate professor at the University of Washington, in her nomination letter. 鈥淗er contributions to the scientific community and to the University of Colorado are both broad and profound. Her research has bridged theory and practice to contribute solutions to real-world problems and to define a new, interdisciplinary scientific field鈥攃risis informatics.鈥�

   is a multidisciplinary field combining computing and social science knowledge of disasters; its central tenet is that people use personal information and communication technology to respond to disaster in creative ways to cope with uncertainty.

From Science, volume 353, issue 6296

The science of mentorship

Starbird, now one of the world鈥檚 foremost experts on social media and disinformation, first met Palen over a coffee during a visit to CU before her first year as a doctoral student.

鈥淚 remember thinking to myself that she was the smartest person I鈥檇 ever met and that I was going to do whatever I could to find a way to work with her,鈥� Starbird said in her nomination letter. 鈥淟eysia was a 鈥榬ock star鈥� advisor鈥攚ho invested in her students鈥� personal and professional success.

Palen鈥檚 record as a doctoral advisor is 鈥渞emarkable,鈥� according to the award nominations. In fields that remain male-dominated, the majority of her past graduate students and five of her six current doctoral students are women. Several of her women advisees, including Starbird, have gone on to achieve significant success.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 think I鈥檇 be a researcher if I hadn鈥檛 met her鈥攊f I hadn鈥檛 had the chance to be advised by her,鈥� Starbird said.

As an instructor, advisor and mentor, Palen focuses on supporting her students as they learn to hone their own research ideas. She tries to figure out what people bring and where they want to go鈥攚hich only adds to the diversity of perspectives in the field, Palen said.

She thinks of it in terms of helping students learn how to crystallize their own curiosity into clear thinking. With practice, it becomes systematic鈥攖hen you can apply it to everything you can possibly encounter, she said.

鈥淲hen you work on difficult problems, if you鈥檝e got crystal clear clarity about how you鈥檙e thinking about something, you can really go far,鈥� Palen said.

During the spring 2023 semester, Palen is working on new research and ongoing grant projects. The distinguished professor award has liberated her to more fully integrate research, teaching and service, she said. It鈥檚 exciting to bring research thinking into the classroom and new questions raised by classroom students back into the lab.

鈥淭here's this real, deep satisfaction about feeling like an integrated scholar,鈥� Palen said. 鈥淯ltimately, you don't need a title or a rank to feel integrated along the lines of research, teaching and service, but I couldn't believe how much it helped to have my institution realize that about me.鈥�

Off

By Malinda Miller (Engl, Jour鈥�92; MJour鈥�98)

How do journalists connect with audiences? What are the biggest challenges they face? Has social media changed how they report a story?

As news media have fundamentally changed over the years, the Pew Research Center has regularly tracked audience media consumption and gauged the public鈥檚 perceptions of the industry. But in an effort to 鈥渃apture the other side of the story,鈥� last spring it surveyed almost 12,000 journalists, said Amy Mitchell, the center鈥檚 director of journalism research, in a Q&A.

The Pew study found that 77% of journalists surveyed would choose their career again but identified several areas of concern, including political polarization and the impact of social media. Researchers also found that journalists think the pandemic has permanently changed the news industry.

CMCI Dean Lori Bergen had many of the same questions. She talked with three alumni from across the country鈥擩ohn Branch (MJour鈥�89), Jackie Forti茅r (MJour鈥�13) and Vignesh Ramachandran (Jour鈥�11)鈥攐ver Zoom last summer about their day-to-day experiences as journalists.

Lori Bergen, PhD, is the founding dean of CMCI and currently on the boards of the Poynter Institute, Colorado Public Radio and the Colorado Press Association. Before joining academia, Bergen worked for several years as a journalist. She has co-authored several books, most recently News for US: Citizen-Centered Journalism.

John Branch (MJour鈥�89) joined The New York Times in 2005 as a sports reporter. He won the Pulitzer Prize for feature writing in 2013 for 鈥淪now Fall,鈥� a multimedia story about a deadly avalanche in Washington State, and was a finalist for the prize in 2012. He is working on several months long multimedia projects. @JohnBranchNYT

Jackie Forti茅r (MJour鈥�13) is the senior health reporter for KPCC and LAist.com in Southern California and has also worked in public radio in Oklahoma and Colorado. She has won two regional Edward R. Murrow awards in California and one in Oklahoma. She works on quick-turn stories and hopes at some point to not just be reporting on infectious diseases. @jackiefortier

Vignesh Ramachandran (Jour鈥�11) is a multiplatform editor for The Washington Post and co-founder of the Red, White and Brown Media newsletter on Substack, which focuses on South Asian American stories and community engagement. Previously, he worked at the PBS NewsHour, ProPublica, the Stanford Computational Journalism Lab and NBC News Digital. @VigneshR

Bergen: As we鈥檝e been talking, it鈥檚 great to hear the differences in the work that each of you are doing. There鈥檚 this common thread of storytelling and the way each of you have applied your interests and skill sets in ways of connecting. I鈥檓 curious, what are some ways you engage with your audience?

Ramachandran: The last two years the number of in-person interviews has dramatically dwindled. A lot of it has been sourcing engagement through social networks. This year I鈥檝e been experimenting with the audio function on Twitter to host conversations and see what issues people want to talk about. Some of the discussions ended up being more substantive and more engaging than I had expected, so it鈥檚 been a good experiment so far.

 鈥淚 just want people to remember, there are real people behind this news.
鈥擩ohn Branch

Branch: Most of my connections are still pretty traditional with readers. It鈥檚 the usual social media and reader comment kind of channels. I鈥檒l give you an interesting quick story, though. We did a big multimedia piece on a story I wrote about 18 months ago about the threat to some of the iconic tree species鈥攖he redwoods, the sequoias, the Joshua trees in California. A musical director at a pretty big concert hall here in California was moved by it and was trying to figure out how to connect arts to climate change. He commissioned several composers to write pieces off of that story. They鈥檒l be performing unique and original works based off something I wrote, which has never happened to me before.

Bergen: Amazing. Whoever thought you鈥檇 be the muse to an orchestral performance? Jackie, has social media changed how you engage with your audiences?

贵辞谤迟颈茅谤: I鈥檝e never not had social media as a journalist, so it鈥檚 not that different than what I was doing before. (The pandemic) has meant a lot of over-the-phone interviews that I would really have preferred not to do over the phone, but that鈥檚 just the way it had to happen. It鈥檚 been really difficult to have patients, family members, nurses, doctors crying to you on the phone, talking about how difficult it鈥檚 been treating people or going through COVID, and you鈥檙e not there in person. A lot of them didn鈥檛 want to have video on while we were talking. I think that has been the hardest part of the pandemic for me.

Bergen: That鈥檚 interesting. I brought my generational perspective to this because I wanted to delve into how social media may have changed some of your work, but you鈥檙e reminding me that this has always been part of your reporting.

贵辞谤迟颈茅谤: I covered the Planned Parenthood shooter in Colorado Springs. None of the institutions were on Twitter so I couldn鈥檛 pull any information from that. I was doing live updates because there was this shooter on the loose in Colorado Springs, and it was when people were traveling. It sounds morose to say, but we鈥檙e going to have another breaking news situation, and so now that institutions are actually putting that information out there, it helps from a journalistic perspective.

Ramachandran: In some ways it鈥檚 broken geographic barriers to reach people around the country or world. But in another sense, particularly when trying to reach marginalized communities, are we self-selecting the sorts of people who would want to speak out anyway or who are comfortable with engaging on those platforms?

When I was doing a lot of reporting on the pandemic spike in anti-Asian hate crimes and incidents, there were a lot of folks on the forefront talking about the issue on social platforms. But when talking to some of the folks who have been personally impacted by these issues, it鈥檚 trying to build rapport with someone whose child has been stabbed in a parking lot because of a hate crime. Trying to do that interview over Zoom is just a very different dynamic versus really ingraining yourself in the community and trying to understand the story and all its nuances and complexities. I think in some ways (Zoom) is such a useful tool, but in other ways, I think it鈥檚 a means to launch a conversation in a traditional way.

Branch: I think it鈥檚 just a different conversation when you and I are looking at each other, even if it鈥檚 through a camera. But I do worry that media companies will use it as a crutch and not send people out because it鈥檚 too simple and much cheaper to do it this way. I still think the best reporting is face to face, in person, not face to face over a monitor. It鈥檚 a totally different dynamic. I mean, I can see you in your little box right now, but I don鈥檛 know what the environment is around you. There鈥檚 not a whole lot of spontaneity when you and I are talking like this. There鈥檚 no, 鈥淟et鈥檚 just jump in the car and go get coffee somewhere,鈥� or I can鈥檛 see what you have posted on your refrigerator that might elicit a whole line of questions.

Bergen: Good point, John. I鈥檓 curious, what form is most of your content being created in and how is it distributed to audiences?

贵辞谤迟颈茅谤: Everything I do is multiplatform, from a 20-second spot to a full-fledged feature. If I go out to do a story, it鈥檚 pictures, tweets while I鈥檓 there, video, hopefully, depending on what鈥檚 happened. We create content specifically for TikTok. Usually I鈥檓 trying to find sources, but sometimes just to engage audiences. I kind of feel like the legacy journalists are just kind of catching up, to be honest with you, now that The New York Times and The Washington Post are like, 鈥淥h, audio is a thing.鈥�

Bergen: Well, that sounded like you guys need to respond to that one.

Ramachandran: Honestly, the last 10 years have been everything from print to writing for the web to audio work to video work to data analysis. I think the best editors have always given me the advice to just tell the story in the medium that tells the story best.

Bergen: I love that. It鈥檚 what we try to teach our students, but it always sounds so much better when somebody else says that.

Branch: I鈥檒l say that what has been one of the changes post-鈥淪now Fall鈥� is we have had a lot more conversations about the best way to present the story. Now, it鈥檚 like, what if this is nothing but a photo essay? What if this is actually a big, dynamic graphic? What if it is text? What if it鈥檚 video?

I鈥檓 working on a story now that we hope to make a full-length documentary. Some of my stories they鈥檒l have me read so we can deliver them to podcast and audio audiences.

I think it has kind of exploded the environment and the imagination that we have for what鈥檚 the best way to deliver this to people. It鈥檚 exciting times to be a part of it.

Making a difference

Bergen: Could each of you talk a little bit about your experience with how journalism has made a difference?

贵辞谤迟颈茅谤: I was the only health journalist in Oklahoma. We had a huge opioid lawsuit against Purdue (Pharma) settled, but Johnson & Johnson was the one that actually went to trial.

The trial happened to be in the town that I lived in, Norman, Oklahoma. I did a bunch of stories leading up to it, and then I just filed and filed and filed with NPR鈥檚 newscast. I was the only reporter that was there every day.

Because I tweeted the whole thing鈥攁nd that was really the only way that people knew it was happening because it wasn鈥檛 being broadcast live鈥擨 had a ton of people following me on Twitter, both for and against opioid companies, which was interesting.

It showed me how important local journalism is because I was there. I had other journalists telling me the only reason they came was because their editor heard what I was doing and thought, 鈥淥h, we better get over there.鈥� Parachuting in has its merits in some cases, but most of the time you need local people who know the ins and outs and the subtleties of what鈥檚 going on.

Bergen: Although my question was, how does journalism have an impact, what you鈥檝e really underscored is, journalists have an impact.

Ramachandran: Before the pandemic, I worked for ProPublica鈥檚 Chicago office. We were local reporters living in the communities that we were reporting on. There were tangible impacts of laws changed. We had colleagues who did investigations on the tax assessment system there; the corrupt assessor who ended up getting voted out the next election; how they were targeting Black and brown communities of Chicago in disproportionate ways; and then how those policies were kind of changed in Chicago.

In my own reporting on Asian American communities, it鈥檚 interesting to see a different sort of impact. I did a few stories on how South Asian Americans have a higher risk of cardiovascular ailments, and I got emails saying, 鈥淗ey, I signed up to get a heart scan,鈥� or, 鈥淚鈥檓 going to be talking to my primary care doctor.鈥�

Branch: One theme I鈥檝e had the last 10 years has been stories about CTE, the chronic brain disease caused by repetitive hits in a lot of sports. I鈥檓 here in Colorado right now, and I just saw a friend the other night who said, 鈥淚 can鈥檛 watch hockey the way I used to anymore, thanks to you. I can鈥檛 watch football the way I used to because of the reporting that you and your colleagues have done.鈥�

You know, anytime you hear somebody talk about political news or sports news or celebrity news, or on global news of some sort, I want to say, 鈥淵ou realize that鈥檚 media, right? You鈥檝e been bashing the media, but you realize everything that you talk about, everything that connects us through conversation is media.鈥�

I just want people to remember, there are real people behind this news.

Moments of joy

Bergen: I鈥檓 just curious, are there moments of joy in your work?

Ramachandran: I think when you tell the stories that you want to tell, tell the stories that impact folks, that kind of stuff is what keeps me going.

Branch: I find joy in small places, like when I鈥檝e written a nice sentence. Most of my joy comes in very private moments: When I鈥檝e received a callback that I鈥檝e been waiting for, or just got off the phone on a really good interview, and I can鈥檛 wait to tell my editor what I鈥檝e just found out.

贵辞谤迟颈茅谤: I think I find the most joy when I get to take a listener somewhere that they don鈥檛 normally go or hear from someone that they wouldn鈥檛 think to speak to. What I really love about audio is that I can take 20 seconds and let that quote breathe. It has a pacing to it. It鈥檚 very experiential.

Trust and credibility

Bergen: What are the biggest challenges you face as journalists?

Branch: Credibility and maintaining trust with audiences that are as fractured as ever. I work in what鈥檚 derisively called the mainstream media. I worry about how we get that mainstream news to a wide swath of people, across socioeconomic lines, across political lines, across racial divides, so that we鈥檙e all working with a core set of facts. That鈥檚 become trickier and trickier as the years have gone by.

Bergen: And that鈥檚 probably not going to change in the future.

Branch: Our goal at The New York Times is to keep delivering truth as we believe it should be told and hope that people come around, and not try to bend to certain people, not just play to your audience. I think that鈥檚 what the original journalism tenets were鈥攄eliver truth as unbiased as possible and let people absorb it as they absorb it, but don鈥檛 try to steer your news to an audience necessarily. That鈥檚 tricky, because you get into conversations about bias and unintended biases and so on. We鈥檝e been doing it for 170 years. We鈥檒l keep going and hope that more people keep believing what we鈥檙e delivering.

贵辞谤迟颈茅谤: I would add to that: staying relevant. In order to be consumable by younger audiences, we really need to get more Black and brown people in newsrooms and in positions of power within newsrooms. You know, I can think of one public radio station that has a woman as the CEO or president off the top of my head. So, we talk about diversity all the time. We talk about diversity in sources, but we really need more diversity
in journalism.

Ramachandran: I feel like earlier in my career, I would鈥檝e said it鈥檚 the economics of journalism, which I think is definitely a concern, but it feels like we鈥檙e going to figure that out. But to John鈥檚 point, I鈥檓 personally very concerned鈥攁nd I feel like it鈥檚 a challenge for journalism鈥攖his credibility and trust question. I think that鈥檚 just the biggest thing we鈥檙e going to be grappling with for many years.

贵辞谤迟颈茅谤: I will say having been a reporter in Oklahoma at a public radio station where people don鈥檛 really like journalists, that as I consistently did accurate, solid reporting, I got respect. It took a little while, but as I kept doing the good work, people realized that I wasn鈥檛 biased.

Bergen: Just a good reminder how much relationship building can have an impact on this.

Branch: To what Jackie said, that鈥檚 my mission, just keep doing the good work. I don鈥檛 know what else we can do.

Off

By Lauren Irwin (Jour鈥�22)
Illustration by Dana Heimes

In November 2020, Audrey Mayes (MMediaSt鈥�22) watched as 13 mostly urban counties outvoted 51 mostly rural counties, approving gray wolf reintroduction in Colorado.

To Mayes, the vote on Proposition 114 was a clear demonstration of the state鈥檚 rural-urban divide, and it showed rural voices being drowned out. She decided to do something about it.

As Mayes formulated the topic of her master鈥檚 program final project, she focused on uplifting and highlighting rural perspectives on Colorado wildlife issues and controversies. She gathered information from scientists, ecologists, outdoor business owners, farmers, ranchers, and parks and wildlife employees to combine her two interests鈥攚ildlife and media鈥攊nto a three-part podcast.

鈥淲ithin the discussion of the (proposition), the rural voices were just not being heard or being pushed into the background, and that鈥檚 where I really focused my attention in raising the rural perspective within these spaces,鈥� said Mayes, a recent graduate from CMCI鈥檚 Media and Public Engagement master鈥檚 program.

Through research, interviews and personal experience, she found that it鈥檚 difficult for rural people to engage with news media because of technological challenges, like poor internet access, distrust of media or, most commonly, lack of time.

Mayes knows firsthand that her target audience is busy. She grew up in rural Texas, spending most of her time outside, hunting, fishing and learning from family about rural traditions and lifestyles.

鈥淚f the sun鈥檚 up, rural people are usually working,鈥� Mayes said.

With hectic schedules in mind, Mayes knew she needed to create a media project that would be easily accessible鈥攁nd a podcast seemed like the perfect solution.

鈥淭he reason I made it into a podcast is that it鈥檚 easy to consume. You can pay attention to them, but you can do other things,鈥� she said.

In April, Mayes published her podcast, Where the Aud Things Are, on Spotify. With a title borrowed from the children鈥檚 book Where the Wild Things Are, Mayes knew her wildlife focus, plus the 鈥渙dd鈥� lifestyle of rural people and her name, Audrey, fit together to create a name representative of the content she was creating.

Mayes has received audience engagement and positive responses since debuting the podcast. In some cases, people have suggested she expand her coverage to different states or submitted topics for her to cover.

She plans to continue producing the podcast while she pursues a career in media and conservation with Vista Outdoor Inc. as Remington Ammunition鈥檚 marketing specialist.

鈥淐onservation is immensely important to me because loving wildlife . . . was instilled in me when I was a young child,鈥� Mayes said. 鈥淢y hope is to allow future generations the same opportunity by conserving traditions, wildlife and wild spaces.鈥� 

Off

By Hannah Prince (Jour鈥�22)

As Emma Rabius (StratComm鈥�22) walked across campus, she was deep in thought about a class assignment: create a climate-focused project that would change student attitudes. It had to be good, she knew. The winning idea would be submitted for grant funding.

Once in class, Rabius proposed a localized, campuswide 鈥淢eatless Mondays鈥� campaign.

鈥淚鈥檝e always been on the trajectory of wanting to do some kind of good for the environment,鈥� Rabius said. 鈥淚 started making changes in my personal life, trying to eat more local foods.鈥�

Within minutes, her idea was declared the class favorite. Weeks later, the class鈥檚 work became a reality鈥攖hanks to funding from Mission Zero, a Boulder-based climate action organization.

In spring 2022, the Meatless Mondays campaign was one of seven projects in the College of Media, Communication and Information to receive grant funding through Mission Zero. The organization, founded by Scott King (ElEngr鈥�85), offers learning opportunities, funding and support for climate-focused academics at 兔子先生传媒文化作品.

This year for the first time, Mission Zero partnered with CMCI, donating $25,000 to further climate-focused work in the college.

鈥淭his is the first time we鈥檝e had money to execute a campaign, something students have always asked for when working on a strategic communication project,鈥� said Associate Professor Erin Schauster, faculty lead for the Meatless Mondays project. 鈥淵ou can鈥檛 get more real-world than that.鈥�

In Schauster鈥檚 strategic communication class, each student group developed a unique campaign strategy to explain to audiences the substantial climate impact of meat production and consumption.

One group encouraged non-meat proteins as part of an exercise-focused diet. Another advocated for using alternative milks in coffee, and a third group urged students to avoid eating meat on Mondays. The class used its $4,825 grant to advertise and buy materials, like non-meat protein samples, coffee tumblers, seed kits for herbs and tailored tote bags.

鈥淓very group had to do research about climate change, meat consumption, best practices for climate change communication, and about what CU was already doing in this space,鈥� Schauster said. 鈥淎 lot of that research inspired their ideas.鈥�

In other areas of CMCI, the six grantees used different methods to tackle climate action. Some emphasized storytelling by offering film awards, incorporating climate topics into student publications or using interactive platforms to communicate climate issues to the public. Others included community partners, like the Denver Museum of Nature and Science and the Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment (CDPHE).

Emma Piper-Burket, a PhD student in the Emergent Technologies and Media Art Practices program, received $500 from Mission Zero to fund a film project visualizing ecosystem change over time.

The film will show the life cycle of mountain pine beetles, trees, petrified wood and humans. Mountain pine beetles are one of the most severe threats to the health of Western conifer forests, according to the U.S. Forest Service. Her film captures the beetles as they make patterns in the bark鈥攁 behavior that ultimately contributes to the death of the tree.

鈥淚 try to be really present with the environment,鈥� said Piper-Burket, who uses media to investigate interactions among nature, society and the human spirit. 鈥淚鈥檝e scaled back and now film the things that are coming to me鈥攖rying to be gentle with all those things that are happening and responsive.

Phaedra C. Pezzullo, associate professor of communication and media studies, received $2,175 from Mission Zero to focus on environmental justice storytelling in Colorado.

In the graduate-level Foundations of Environmental Justice course, her students partnered with CDPHE to pilot digital storytelling projects about the Lower Arkansas River Valley and Pueblo County using ArcGIS StoryMaps. The interactive stories are housed on the state鈥檚 new Environmental Justice website.

Students interviewed Colorado residents about their communities and integrated audio clips in the story maps, which also include photographs, reporting and resources for public engagement. Each story opens with what people love in their communities.

鈥淓nvironmental harm, whether it鈥檚 climate change or toxic pollution, is not just about the numbers and the science, but it is also about human relationships,鈥� Pezzullo said.

The project prioritized environmental and social issues, including how climate change affects marginalized communities, said Anthony Albidrez, who is pursuing a master鈥檚 degree in journalism.

鈥淓nvironmental justice for me is amplifying the voices of the frontline communities that are facing continued environmental degradation and the continued impacts of climate change,鈥� said Albidrez, who interviewed residents in Fowler, Colorado, part of the Lower Arkansas River Valley.

Through their Mission Zero projects, CMCI faculty and students connected climate issues to the daily lives of Coloradans and their neighbors鈥攁ll through stories shared in innovative ways. They sought to reveal why it鈥檚 so vital that all stakeholders take climate action.

鈥淣o story is the last word,鈥� Pezzullo said. 鈥淣o conversation is the final conversation on environmental justice. There will always be challenges, and to find a way to make peace with ethical decisions is just one step.鈥� 

Off

After the historic 1921 flood in Pueblo, Colorado, the iconic riverwalk reverted the Arkansas River to its historic location through the heart of downtown. Credit: sea turtle-CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 via Flickr

By Hannah Stewart (Comm鈥�19)

This spring, graduate students in the College of Media, Communication and Information took environmental justice into their own hands through the art of digital storytelling.

As part of an environmental studies graduate level course, students joined a state-led effort to address environmental injustice around Colorado. Their role was to research the histories and environmental issues in communities statewide, then compile it into online stories for , an interactive mapping and health screening tool launched in June.

鈥淪tories are an important complement to [CO EnviroScreen] because they humanize the issues that communities are facing and place them into a context of everyday life,鈥� said Michael Warren Cook, a PhD student in the communication department who participated in the project. 鈥淚 think stories move audiences to empathy and action in ways that quantitative data alone cannot.鈥�

The Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment and a team from Colorado State University launched CO EnviroScreen to help identify communities that have a heavier burden of negative health impacts caused by issues in their environments.

For many communities, systemic challenges create barriers to resolving the issues. The open-source tool could help people maximize funding efforts, and help avoid, reduce and repair environmental harms, .

CO EnviroScreen opens with a map of Colorado that displays counties on a scale from most to least burdened. Interactive graphs show how counties score based on a variety of factors, like environmental exposures, climate vulnerability and sensitive populations.

But the project doesn鈥檛 just focus on data: It digs more deeply into the stories behind community health challenges and resiliency. That鈥檚 where CMCI joined in.

In the Foundations in Environmental Justice course, led by CMCI Associate Professor Phaedra C. Pezzullo, students drew on their training in environmental justice studies and multimedia storytelling to share the stories of communities disproportionately experiencing environment-related health impacts.

鈥淧eople are proud of where they live and where they come from,鈥� said Anthony Albidrez, a journalism master鈥檚 student and the student lead for the project. 鈥淟earning firsthand about why people call a certain community home allows us greater insights into their lives as human beings.鈥�

For a story on , students researched the impacts of a historic 1921 flood, superfund site, coal-based power plant and steel mill. They dove into water quality issues in the and explained the impacts on agriculture and drinking water.

For each project, they created a unique ArcGIS StoryMap to share their work. The platform overlays photos, maps, text, audio recordings, web links and other elements to help readers explore each topic.

The StoryMaps show more about these communities than just data: They show history, relationships and resiliency.

鈥淭here is a deficit framing that shows up in a lot of environmental work鈥攅.g., 鈥榃hat's wrong with this place?鈥欌�� Cook said. 鈥淎lthough environmental injustices are critically important to highlight, this project also gave us the opportunity to hear about what people love about a place, and the ideas and solutions that communities are already proposing and implementing to address environmental injustices.鈥�

This class was supported by a Payden Teaching Excellence Grant and a grant from Mission Zero, a Boulder-based organization aimed at combating climate change. Find the by selecting the StoryMap layer on the interactive map, and explore the gallery of images below.

The Comanche 3 power plant in Pueblo County is the state鈥檚 largest single emitter of greenhouse gas emissions. It is set to close by 2031, thus ending coal-generated electricity in Colorado. Credit: Anthony Albidrez

A freight train makes its way through Otero County, Colorado. Credit: Carol M. Highsmith, Library of Congress

Otero County is prone to having droughts, which means water quality is an ongoing concern. Credit: Carol M. Highsmith, Library of Congress

Ranchers in the semi-arid Lower Arkansas River Valley prioritize managing the environment to care for crops and livestock. Credit: Carol M. Highsmith, Library of Congress

The Arkansas River picks up contaminants on its way from the Rocky Mountains to the eastern plains of Colorado. Credit: Carol M. Highsmith, Library of Congress

Situated in Colorado鈥檚 eastern plains, the Lower Arkansas River Valley is subject to an unpredictable climate. Credit: Melissa Bukovsky

The Historic Arkansas Riverwalk of Pueblo broke ground in 1996 and was completed in 2000. It has become a symbol of community resilience and is key to economic growth. Credit: Carol M. Highsmith, Library of Congress

The Colorado State Fair, a staple of the Pueblo community, first began in October 1872. Credit: Carol M. Highsmith, Library of Congress

Off

How online spaces like Twitter and YouTube are helping trauma survivors reinvent their worlds

By Lisa Marshall (Jour, PolSci鈥�94)

Samira Rajabi was walking to class the first day of her second year as a PhD student when the media studies scholar lost her balance and hit the ground.

鈥淚t felt like someone had pushed me from behind.鈥�

Weeks later, she found herself in front of her laptop at midnight鈥撯�揳 CD of her new MRI brain scan in her disc drive鈥撯�搒couring Google for hints of what was wrong with her. Even before doctors gave her a diagnosis the next day, she found a YouTube video by a man named Daran on his surgeries for 鈥渁coustic neuroma鈥濃�攖he same kind of tumor she rightly suspected was filling the space between her inner ear and brain stem.

Rajabi emailed Daran asking for advice. By morning, he responded: 鈥淜eep your sense of humor.鈥� It was her first experience receiving online support.

Nine years and 10 brain surgeries later, Rajabi serves as an assistant professor of media studies at CMCI. The word 鈥渓augh鈥� remains tattooed on her forearm.

Her new book, All My Friends Live in My Computer, offers a glimpse at an often-overlooked upside of social media鈥撯�損articularly for those experiencing trauma.

鈥淭here is this narrative that social media is the boogeyman,鈥� says Rajabi, seated in her brightly painted office. 鈥淏ut it鈥檚 more complicated than that. People are also using these platforms to create communities and find belonging.鈥�

From Africa to Boulder: Smartphones as tools

Rajabi found the way to her specialty鈥撯�揳 unique intersection of media, trauma and disability studies鈥撯�搗ia a circuitous route.

She earned her degree in business management from 兔子先生传媒文化作品 in 2007, just in time for the Great Recession. After stints as a wine rep, retail clerk and yoga instructor, she returned to school to get a master鈥檚 degree from the University of Denver, where she studied how social movements use technology to mobilize change.

In the U.S. at the time, headlines warned of the tech addiction and loss of privacy the digital revolution could bring. But in the remote hills of Uganda and Rwanda, where Rajabi traveled after graduating, she discovered women鈥攊ncluding victims of sexual violence鈥攗sing their phones to connect in previously impossible ways.

鈥淭hey wore necklaces with their cellphones woven into them. It was a point of pride,鈥� she recalls.

Though she planned to return to Africa for her doctoral work, Rajabi鈥檚 tumor, which she named Herbert in a blog she shared on Twitter, had other plans. While benign, it was golf-ball-sized and growing, threatening to paralyze her facial nerves, steal her hearing and worse.

鈥淚 was told: In two years, this could knock out your brain stem and you鈥檒l stop breathing and won鈥檛 understand why,鈥� she says.

At 26, Rajabi was left with a harrowing choice between surgery and radiation, and 鈥渨atch-and-wait.鈥� Again, she flipped open her laptop, seeking answers and solace from fellow young people who鈥檇 faced the same thing.

She chose surgery, and without missing a step at school she also pivoted toward a new doctoral thesis posing the same question now at the center of her book: How do people use digital media to respond to the big questions that trauma forces them to ask鈥撯�揳nd is it helping?

The many shades of trauma

Through seven years of research, Rajabi uncovered many truths about trauma鈥撯�搃ncluding that it can take many forms.

One personal example included in her book is the Trump administration鈥檚 2017 executive order banning travel from Muslim-majority nations. As a second-generation Iranian, she says, she felt the sting deeply and personally.

鈥淭rauma is when our meaning-making schemas get broken, and the ways we once made sense of the world stop working for us,鈥�  she says. 鈥淟ike when you live your whole life in a country and are suddenly told you don鈥檛 belong there anymore.鈥�

Through interviews with the curators of the online exhibit 鈥淏efore We Were Banned,鈥� with the Iranian American comedian Maz Jobrani, and with the creators of the Instagram page Banned Grandmas, Rajabi found that the online world can become an indispensable vehicle for activism and creative expression.

Her book also details the photojournalistic blog of Angelo Merendino, whose wife, Jennifer, was diagnosed with breast cancer just five months after they met.

His blog, The Battle We Didn鈥檛 Choose, documents their love and her death via poignant black-and-white photos. Once a link made its way to Facebook, the response was heartfelt and extraordinary, Rajabi says.

鈥淪omething about the way he captured her journey really resonated with people.鈥�

Rajabi also documents the frenzy that unfolded online after Denver-based CrossFit athlete Kevin Ogar suffered a crippling spinal cord injury while hoisting a 235-pound barbell over his head during a competition.

The grainy, 5-second video of the accident went viral, drawing both condemnation by critics who viewed the activity as unsafe and a flood of support for Ogar from the CrossFit community. Devotees mobilized on Twitter and Facebook to craft memes that raised $300,000 for his care, and Ogar himself鈥撯�搘ho now owns a gym and is an advocate for adaptive CrossFit鈥撯�揵ecame an overnight online inspiration.

鈥淪ocial media can be a dark and ugly place but it put so much love in this person鈥檚 life at a time when he was truly suffering,鈥� Rajabi says.

 鈥淭here is this narrative that social media is the boogeyman, but it鈥檚 more complicated than that. People are also using these platforms to create communities and find belonging.

Rejecting the 鈥榮uper-crip鈥� mentality

Such stories aside, social media is not free of pitfalls for the traumatized, Rajabi stresses.

She agrees with disability scholars in their critique of the way society puts pressure on disabled people to embody a 鈥渟uper-crip鈥� mentality, which positions disability and trauma as things to be overcome rather than to be lived with.

Ogar鈥檚 narrative, complete with OgarStrong hashtags and corporate sponsorships, was a clear example.

鈥淲hen we are traumatized, we are told to overcome鈥攏ot just find a new normal but to dig in and find a superpower lurking inside of us,鈥� Rajabi said during a talk for TEDxBoulder.

This mentality, she adds, likely complicated her own battle with Herbert.

Six weeks after her first surgery, inspired in part by motivation she found online, Rajabi returned to the gym, only to suffer a spinal fluid leak that required further surgeries. In retrospect, she says, she may have felt pressure to return too soon鈥撯�揳nd there are, she concedes, other problems with the social media space she frequently inhabits.

鈥淚t is co-optive. It is demanding free labor of its users. It is algorithmically meant to keep our eyeballs on the page so it can sell us more things,鈥� she says. 鈥淏ut it can also be full of really beautiful eruptions of love, creativity and coping.鈥�

For that reason, Rajabi argues, it is critically important that such spaces be protected from exploitation. Amid a global pandemic, in which social media has become a social lifeline for many, that message is more important than ever.

鈥淢y hope is that we鈥檒l start thinking about how we can orient social media less toward commodification and more toward care,鈥� she says.

In the meantime, she hopes her story and research will help others navigate their own trauma, whatever form it may take.

鈥淭rauma unmakes the world but we get to be the builders of a new world. I now know that I don鈥檛 have to shove down my trauma and make it go away,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 can move through it, and there are people who can move through it with me.鈥�

Off

By Stephanie Cook (MJour鈥�18)

To administer effective medical care, providers rely on their patients for accurate information. So what happens when the provider asks the wrong questions or the patient isn鈥檛 comfortable revealing the truth?

As a social scientist focused on end-of-life communication, Carey Candrian (Comm鈥�04; MComm鈥�07; PhDComm鈥�11), an associate professor of health communication at the CU School of Medicine, is focused on this paradigm鈥撯�揺specially as it relates to the LGBTQ community.

Candrian鈥檚 research shows that, for patients who don鈥檛 identify as cisgender or straight, traditional scripts used in medical forms, intake questions and admission conversations tend to overlook critical elements of their life experience.

  鈥淭hink about the script we all get in health care: Are you married? Do you have kids? And now think how isolating and silencing that script can be when you don鈥檛 fit,鈥� she recently explained in an interview with PBS NewsHour. 鈥淚 think the language we use around health care needs to be reimagined.

For elderly patients, especially, this dynamic can pose a painful and scary conundrum.

鈥淒o you come out and risk being treated poorly, or do you stay silent and hide a fundamental part of who you are?鈥� she says. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 a heck of a choice, so our other option is that we break these scripts鈥撯�搘e open them up in a way that gives people space to answer in a way that fits them.鈥�

Candrian first noticed the limiting nature of traditional medical scripts while shadowing a hospice admissions nurse early in her career, she recently told CU Anschutz Today. Her interest in communication, though, goes back even further.

鈥淚 got into a major in communication pretty randomly,鈥� she told NewsHour. 鈥淚t was the first day of class, and it was a large lecture hall, and the professor got up the first day and said, 鈥楶eople are not the problem. It鈥檚 the way people talk that鈥檚 the problem. And if you want to change culture, you need to give people a new vocabulary.鈥欌��

For Candrian, providing this new vocabulary is a critical mission with a massive scope.

鈥淐urrently, there are 2.4 million LGBT seniors in this country, and nearly half鈥撯��48% of them鈥撯�揾ave not shared that with their doctors,鈥� she says. 

Learn more about Candrian in CU Anschutz Today and on PBS NewsHour.

Off