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One day I will never forget was a defining moment in my journalism career. As part of my new beat covering neighborhoods, I had driven to a house in northeast Flint where a family had been evicted. When I arrived, I found three black children standing on the sidewalk next to their belongings. None appeared to be older than 6. In my friendliest auntie voice, I asked if their mother was around. One little girl shook her head. She seemed to take to me. The other two stood mute. I asked another question. The little girl answered shyly. I don�t recall the question I asked next, but it drew an almost violent response from a boy who appeared to be the oldest. �Flint Journal,� he hissed at his sister to silence her as she started to answer. The frightened girl looked stricken but obeyed him. End of story. I drove away upset, not because I didn�t get the story, but because the exchange with those children showed me what an uphill challenge I faced on my new beat. Then-Journal editor Ray Stephens created the neighborhoods beat circa 1982 because he wanted to improve the Journal�s coverage of urban issues. But he told me privately that what he really wanted to do was improve The Journal�s relationship with the black community. I used to fondly refer to it as the chicken dinner beat because that�s how I went about it. Neighborhood groups still were very active back then. They regularly held meetings where food was served. I�d show up for even the most mediocre of events and got to know the people over a plate of soul food. I made a lot of friends and, as a result, a lot of solid contacts. By the time I left the beat in 1990, I had contacts in just about every neighborhood in the city. To this day, some of them still call me first with news tips. I�ll admit it. I�m proud of that because it means I�ve overcome a lot of the distrust like that expressed by a little boy who didn�t seem old enough to think the newspaper was his enemy. I�m still working to change that. Like the old saying about greatness, it is a role that was thrust upon me. As a black journalist, I have to wear two hats, to try to walk the fine line that makes me part of the solution rather than the media coverage problem. I need only to look at the 40-plus plaques and certificates lining the walls in my home to know that I have succeeded to some degree. Regular calls and e-mails also give me a much-appreciated pat on the back. Whether I like it or not, especially as a columnist, I feel a responsibility to be a spokesperson for African-American interests. I have worked for The Journal longer than any other African-American journalist. In 21 years, I�ve counted fewer than 21 African-American journalists working here, despite an almost total staff turnover. Our small presence remains a doubly vital one. Thankfully, there have been many days when I got to be a journalist first. As a suburban reporter, I traveled a lot of back roads and met many folksy characters. On the neighborhoods beat, I covered many evictions, drug and abandoned house complaints, beautification and urban gardening projects, crime watches and more. A highlight on the fashion beat was traveling to New York, Chicago and twice to Florida in the dead of winter. I�ve interviewed famous folks including Lou Rawls, national broadcast newsman Max Robinson, Martin Luther King III and candidates for state governor. All told it�s been an interesting 21 years filled with as many triumphs as disappointments. Not the end of story.
Rhonda S. Sanders is a Journal columnist and features reporter. She can be reached at (810) 766-6374 or rsanders@ flintjournal. com. 
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