THE year 2020 is a dumpster fire of a year, and celebrating my 30th birthday last month had a weird aftertaste. In June last year, as I was raising a glass to my last year as a 20-something, my friends and I were already talking about doing something special for the big 30. I imagined most of them coming over to Scotland for a weekend of celebration we would never forget. If I had been told, a year ago, that I would only be able to gather a handful of them and we would need keep a safety distance between each other, I would have said: this is a crazy scenario. In what strange, terrifying world would that be allowed to happen?

The past few months have been a personal and professional rollercoaster, but despite the horrors and the challenges of a coronavirus pandemic, particularly for freelancers who too often fall through the gaping holes of social security nets, I have plenty to be thankful for and excited about. The lockdown gave me a lot of time to pause and reflect, and luckily this hiatus allowed me to fulfil a lifelong dream.

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to write a book. So when the opportunity arose to take part in a fantastic book collection, and I was asked to write one about Scotland, I said yes … after I was done battling my imposter syndrome for weeks. It is now written, proofread, sent to the editor and ready to be printed. It should hit bookshops in the autumn, and if you read French and are interested in knowing how a newcomer sees and understands your country, then please get your hands on it and read it.

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It is impossible to miss the collection, beautifully called L’Âme Des Peuples (The Soul Of Peoples) by Brussels-based publisher Nevicata, on bookshelves: they are gorgeous wee books with fun, colourful covers, which aim to capture what makes a country, region or city special. The latest addition to the collection, penned by Nobel Prize winner JMG Le Clézio, focuses on La Francophonie, the French-speaking world. To add my work to the already existing 59 titles, dedicated to places all over the world such as England, Israel, Senegal, Vietnam and Mexico, written by established foreign correspondents and writers, feels very humbling. The sense of achievement is real.

What made me enjoy writing this book is that it made me fall in love again with my job as a journalist, which can be frustrating at times because of the uncertainty of working on your own, income instability and the struggle to find your place and your voice. What I find interesting about being a correspondent and writing in this newspaper is that I am able to say: this is what I see, with my own eyes, and what I hear, with my own ears, and what I have come to understand. What makes L’Âme Des Peuples stand out is that the collection embraces this subjectivity.

Its books always follow the same approach: an introduction to explain the reasons for choosing a particular place, followed by a first-person story exploring how the author got to understand where they are and who the people inhabiting this particular place are, and finally three interviews to further the reflection – on the past, the present of the future. The collection will make readers travel beyond their horizon, but more importantly, it will give them keys and tools to begin to understand what a place really is about. I am very grateful to Professor Tom Devine, award-winning journalist Dani Garavelli and outstanding poet Nadine Aisha Jassat for their insight.

Unsurprisingly, politics feature heavily in the book: Brexit, independence and Black Lives Matter are central parts of what I wrote, as well as the notions of nationality, citizenship, identities that are expressed in many shapes and forms. If I had to sum it up, the goal of what I wrote is quite simple: to show that Scotland is much more than the country stuck in myths, legends and history we all know from the postcards, Instagram photos and tales of loch monsters. I have nothing against them and, in truth, they are what brought me to Scotland in the first place, as a 20-year-old Erasmus student: I came for the haggis, the bagpipes and the kilts.

But Scotland is a real, 21st-century country, with many problems such as revolting inequalities and tragic drug deaths, many challenges like protecting the environment and transitioning to a green economy and society in the next few years while still using North Sea oil and gas. But it also has many ideas and elements we, on the continent, could draw inspiration from. I am not making anything up: after all, it is our own Voltaire, the 18th-century philosopher, who wrote, about the Scottish Enlightenment: “Nous nous tournons vers l’Écosse pour trouver toutes nos idées sur la civilisation” (We look to Scotland for all our ideas of civilization). Giving the right to vote to anyone who legally resides in Scotland, providing free period products in schools, having politicians advocate for an open, inclusive society, an unparalleled hospitality and human warmth, are among the many things this country should be thankful for and proud of.

Some will say what I wrote is not journalism, because it is too personal and too subjective, and journalism needs to be as neutral and objective as possible. I understand why one may think that, but I wholeheartedly disagree. Of course, we need truthfulness, sincerity and honesty. But our complex, messy world is more than facts and figures. To understand it, or at least be a little less wrong and uninformed as citizens, we need worldviews, conversations and connections. The result, while always well documented, thoroughly researched and in the best of faiths, will necessarily be subjective, and we should welcome that.

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When journalists are called biased and asked to be more objective on social media, chances are what they are really asked is to defend the worldview of their detractors, which is also subjective.

Provocatively, I would say that we should not ask journalists to tell “the whole story”. How could we? Journalists are normal human beings, limited by their experiences, shaped by their education, their social class, their gender, their colour, as well as a plethora of different factors and various formative life events. Subjective is not a synonym for wrong and invented and, as such, it is not subjectivity we should call out when we see it.

What we should call out is the deliberate twisting of cold, hard facts to defend worldviews that will harm certain groups of people, and ultimately our societies and democracy.

HAVING a few blind spots is only natural and we should all strive to eliminate them. This is precisely why the issue of representation is a major one for the whole establishment, not just politics. Journalism needs to include people from all walks of life, with as many diverse voices as possible, otherwise it will remain stuck with one monolithic dominant worldview, and fail to accurately show the world how it is, and how it could be.

This is the reason why whenever I am given the opportunity and space to write and produce content, I will take it. I think it is safe to say that in Scotland, as in France, you won’t see an awful lot of black women journalists who write about politics and society, or who hold elected positions. It is not because of a lack of talent or interest. It is hard to get into journalism and politics for pretty much everyone, but it is a little harder for some subsets of our countries.

This is also why pluralism in the press is critical, especially now the industry is struggling, and we see many excellent news outlets laying off staff due to financial difficulties. Some may cheer at the news of a newspaper or magazine going under, because they do not align with their politics, but we should be careful what we wish for. In the end, losing them makes us all poorer.