I had to debate with myself for a long time, whether or not it was okay for me to use the word “journalist” when people asked me about my profession. After months of being surrounded by “real” journalists and reporters I have realised however small or insignificant my work has been so far in my career, it is okay for me to use the word for myself. The kind of work that I produce does fall under “journalism” whether it’s good or bad. The “perks”, as I call it, are the many reactions I get from people when I introduce myself as a “journalist”. I have gotten thumbs up from people who were almost always satisfied, glad and impressed by the very fact that I worked for a newspaper. However, many a times, I had to face people who were not so fond of the word that I have learned to value so much. A few days ago, I had gone to an esteemed university (which I am not going to name) for conducting interviews for a cover story I was assigned to write for the newspaper’s weekend magazine. There, I felt a warm welcome that I had felt several times when people regarded me with the amount of importance that I believed came with my profession. This warmth lasted for a long hour or so until I was rudely slighted by a man who seemed like an outsider and had been there for some paper work with a professor. The man clearly didn’t approve of the fact that I was a journalist. His skepticism was very apparent in his intonation, “Oh the condition of the police and you guys are very bad, isn’t it?” I was clearly not ready for that, I am not a person who doesn’t have ready retorts (politely of course) either. I weighed my options: my article, the deadline, the civility I have gotten thus far and time. So I let it go, I pretended that I heard nothing and I hadn’t noticed the way he gave me a condescending look. I have wronged myself and my “clan”. I should have asked him what he thought the work of a “journalist” entails; I should have asked him what he actually meant. Perhaps, silence was one of the smartest things to do at the moment, but I could have done something to actually know why that man, who probably like many others, thought we are in “bad condition”. These words can be interpreted in different ways. I only regret being silent because it was not the first time I had felt uneasy in my own skin because of my profession. There was another instance where I had to face scoffing and blatant insults from a street vendor who sells roasted peanuts and lentil seeds. He made a derogatory hand gesture as if I were a fly and said: “Go away, I am just a vendor, what do you want to know? There is nothing to say.” One might say, perhaps there was something wrong in the way I approached him. Well, civility works with everybody else; I don’t deem that’s the incorrect demeanour. Everyone around that man was as dumbfounded as I was. My reaction couldn’t be completely dumb. I understand that there had been many instances where journalists failed to live up to their names. As a result “media ethics” have recently become a searing topic of discussion that’s slapping most of the “real” journalists and reporters I have mentioned, along with those who really need to be slapped, with the words. I have seen many from my clan, working relentlessly during the Savar tragedy. I see them every other day at work and it’s very irritating to accept that these responsible people are put on the same plane as those who actually need to pay heed to work ethics. I don’t understand why people readily generalise or readily assume that we are all here for the glamour, quick fame, sensationalism or whatever “bad condition” means (I am at a loss). Many of us are doing what we do because we love it. It will be fair if people point fingers at individuals who might need to straighten his/her way. Discriminating all the journalists based on what a few journalists are doing wrong will inspire people to mistrust us even more. One might take this piece as an apology (in all sense of the word), but I do hope the reader will consider what I am trying to say.