Writing with Fire

The stunning Academy Award-nominated documentary about a newspaper in India run entirely by women is a reminder of the enduring power of grassroots journalism.

In the traditional journalism career, you start out a tiny outlet working a million hours a week for poverty-level wages. You cover things like roads that aren’t fixed and minor crimes for which no arrests are made. If you’re good you move up to a bigger newspaper or station covering major regional stories for slightly less penurious pay. And if you’re lucky — not the same thing as good — you might break into big-time work at a state or even national level.

As you climb that peak and the early work recedes into the distance, there’s a practice among journalists themselves to deride it as small-time and unimportant. (“Chicken dinners” is a common phrase, as in thank God I no longer have to cover those.) But as you start to rub shoulders with sheriffs, governors, CEOs and senators, I think there’s a tendency to lose sight of those eye-level encounters and “little” stories involving real people and things that happen to them.

Believe me, for most people any news story they appear in is usually one of the most significant events in their life.

“Writing with Fire” is at once a stirring documentary about journalism and a reminder to journalists about the vital importance of what they do — whether they’re grilling a police chief who won’t act on a rape charge, asking a prime minister about his party’s platform… or even penning a movie review.

Directed by Sushmit Ghosh and Rintu Thomas, the film has been nominated for an Academy Award in the documentary feature category, and deserved to be. I’m working to catch up on the few nominated films I hadn’t seen prior to the Oscars on March 27.

Covering a span of several years, it covers the work of the newspaper Khabar Lahariya (“Waves of News”), which operates in the strife-ridden Uttar Pradesh region in India. It covers a time when they’re transitioning from a weekly printed paper to mostly video-based reporting distributed on YouTube, Facebook and WhatsApp.

Their stories focus on people-centered issues important to the impoverished locals: roads that are a rutted mess, canals that have collapsed and aren’t providing water for the crops, youth lacking education and job prospects, and (all too frequent) rapes that are not pursued by the police.

What’s astonishing about this endeavor is that the operation is run entirely by women in a country not exactly on the forefront of gender parity, and not only that they are Dalit — members of a caste so low they are often referred to as “untouchables.”

You can often see the dazed expressions on the face of the (entirely) male officials these female reporters encounter, sticking smartphone cameras in their faces and demanding answers to their questions. They’re not used to their position being challenged in any way, let alone by unaccompanied women they see as beneath them.

There are about two dozen journalists total at Khabar Lahariya, and we watch them covering every kind of story imaginable. As you might figure, they are especially attuned to those involving the abuse of women or the exploitation of the region’s resources.

In particular, the film focuses on three women. Meera is the chief reporter and most experienced of the newsroom, leading the charge on switching to video as their primary format. But she deals with a lot of pushback at home: a husband who doesn’t support her (he tells the interviewer he’s surprised they haven’t failed yet, and expects they will soon), children whose studies are languishing and a community that sees her as an irritant.

Suneeta is younger, unmarried and fearless. Early on we see her in a situation where she’s surrounded by dozens of men while reporting on an impassable road. One well-heeled fellow dismisses her because she walked there; real news organizations provide cars, cameras, etc. Suneeta stands him down when he inquires about a bribe, informing him that he may be used to paying bribes, but she doesn’t need one to do her job.

Then there is Shyamkali, one of the youngest women, who is shy and unsure of herself. At their monthly meeting she admit she has published no stories because she doesn’t know how to work the smartphone she was issued. But with some tutoring she is soon out in the field again, asking questions and making an impact.

One of the background themes of the documentary is the rise of the BJP, a fundamentalist Hindu group that would rather focus on praising Lord Ram and protecting sacred cows that developing the economy or elevating women. They wear bright orange colors and like to carry swords, and the threat of violence against the women journalists is never far away.

But they persevere on, their YouTube audience growing from a trickle to a stream to millions. Comments on their stories start to turn negative and even threatening. A recurring challenge is the suspicion that a woman working outside the home, often at night, must be promiscuous.

“Sometimes I think it’s a sin being born a woman,” Suneeta admits during a low moment. “First, she is made to feel like a burden on her parents. Then she becomes a slave to her husband.”

The filmmakers interview their subjects, but the bulk of the movie is them just following the reporters around as they do their job. On top of everything else, it’s a fascinating look at Indian culture as it grows into one of the world’s superpowers.

Watching this amazing film is an inspiration — I would highly recommend it be shown in journalism schools. Beyond its considerable value as entertainment and education, “Writing with Fire” is a fervent call to arms to the next generation of those who want to report the news, wherever or whomever they may be.

“Writing with Fire” releases on digital platforms March 22 and on DVD April 26.