Truth

I had an idealized image of my parents, like most kids do, until I was fourteen years old, and I nearly lost my dad to a stroke. This event, already very difficult, was compounded by the fact that illness has a tendency to cause much stress throughout a family. My childhood image was about to come crashing down mainly because often, my family was too reluctant, or too afraid, to just tell the truth.

It might have been at that point where I became interested in writing. It was a way for me to cement my truth in a lasting way – a way for the story to feel important, maybe worth remembering. Overtime, my exercise in keeping my own sanity, an interest in other people’s truths as well through journalism.

Being able to understand other people’s life-altering events enables me to put my own situation in a new perspective. The truth is, I am grateful for the times that my life is not easy. Perseverance, grit, and perspective are all results of challenges, and although it would have been nice to keep an idealized image of my family forever, I believe the trade off was worth it because I am the sum of my experiences.

An example of this honesty that I am so in awe of is encapsulated in the the story of Ashly Lorenzana, an escort and a meth addict. Ashly was the most honest person that I have ever met. Talking with her for less than an hour, I got to know an incredibly articulate and engaged woman who challenged my pre-conceived notions of drug addicts. Through her, I was able to see the person behind the addiction, past the “I don’t really cares” right through to the intense struggle and sadness she lives on a daily basis, and what happened to cause it. 

Through listening to and writing about people like Ashly, I am continuously learning about my own family. My struggle figure out my own family inspired my writing, my photography, my desire to understand and convey people’s stories, and cut through lies and find truth.

Whatever happened to Stephen Glass, the infamous New Republic associate editor, who fabricated twenty-seven articles, did not lead him to the same conclusion. My question then is, what’s the point of lying? We have fiction. Write fiction. Maybe it’s a symptom of the pressures of society, the 24-hour news cycle, and the constant, visceral need for information in the digital age, but journalism seems to be struggling with the core tenant of truth telling. If a journalist tries to say a fact at a debate, correcting a presidential candidate whose interests are self-serving, he or she gets booed. When a journalist does an enlightening feature, it doesn’t get enough clicks to warrant a follow up. Writing is supposed to tell us about our reality – what we really need to hear, not necessarily what gives us an adrenaline rush – and we need to be able to know that it’s real.

-Sean Eckhardt