Saturday, September 24, 2011

The Untold Story

Last year during the first Braddock Project, my initial inclination for a story was one very similar to Emily Bazelon’s piece—I wanted badly to address public misconceptions and misrepresentations of my subject, Braddock. There were problems with writing that kind of story though. Since Braddock wasn’t exactly a sensational nation-wide concern, a media critique would necessitate a kind of literature review at the beginning with critiques alongside it. My sense was that I’d have to represent the myths about Braddock in an exceedingly fair way in order for my critiques not to sound whiny or nit-picky. And then there was the matter of reader interest—who would care about the way a small borough of Pittsburgh was represented, beyond locals? It seemed the story would need to broaden out about the follies of the media, what we overlook when we expand a local story into a national one. That’s a much different story than a Braddock-focused one, so I abandoned it, feeling it was part of Braddock's narrative, but not the story itself.

Bazelon’s story of the Phoebe Prince suicide had the benefit of being national and she did lots of on-the-ground reporting to find more information beyond the common telling. I should say that I largely agree with her argument—it’s important to acknowledge Prince’s depression as a contributing factor to her death. (The fact that so many readers jumped to “blaming the victim” criticism in the comments makes me think Bazelon’s entirely reasonable argument wasn’t executed quite right.) I would characterize the piece as a behind the scenes tale of a girl's torment/ers. While we learn about Prince, it's not really about her.

Ultimately, though, what’s the point of making an argument for the bullies and attacking a DA and the school district? As I read Bazelon's piece, all I could think about was how much it reminded me of the ridiculous gossip of high school—and not in the good, capturing-how-a-place-feels way. I’m not actually made to care about what went on between these kids, and I don’t care what Bazelon thinks she can abstract from Prince’s school essays (what kid tells the truth in those things?), and truthfully, I didn’t find the bullying all that out of the ordinary. (Which doesn't make it right, of course.) The story comes across as bickering.

In a larger sense, it seems like the media glommed on to a bullying story that ended in suicide because both have been hot topics in recent years. I think that’s part of what Bazelon’s project is pushing against, that this isn’t just about bullying gone too far, that it's about adults oversimplifying and misrepresenting actions teens take without considering several sides of the story. The problem is that result came across as a defensive, sprawling shame piece where she's right doing her journalistic duty and exposing everyone else's wrongs, rather than humanizing the players, convincing readers that there's more to this story than a tragic event.

By chance, I came across another David Dobbs article, released just this month, about the teen brain. In it, he argues that teens do stupid things not so much to drive us crazy, but because their brain systems aren't totally in sync or under their control yet. He ends with a plea to look at those years less as an annoyance and more as a growing process. This was what I wanted from Bazelon—rather than (perhaps unethically) digging into Prince’s medical records and private life, which could be construed as victim-blaming, why not avoid that and back up her claims about guilt with some detached yet applicable information about teen brains and behavior? Obviously Dobbs’ article wasn’t around when she wrote hers, and perhaps some of the studies he mentions hadn’t been completed, but Bazelon could have beefed up her claims with science, psychology, anything really beyond just saying Prince was depressed and these kids didn’t understand the gravity of their actions. That would have pulled her article out of the realm of media criticism and into more well-rounded journalism, into a story about how we understand and deal with teenagers, and teenage crises. That's the real point behind the story.

I also think Bazelon’s choice to stray into criticizing the DA was an odd and unnecessary one, even though I agree that the attorney acted overzealously. This was again a moment where she could have used evidence to say "here's what the DA isn't recognizing" and called on authority other than her rhetorical and journalistic powers. Just because she and some townspeople are upset about an action doesn't make them worthy of authority.

I suspect Bazelon was hoping to steer the conversation about bullying in a new direction with her article, to stand up for the demonized little guys. Her analysis though feels disjointed, incomplete, and off point. The title itself “What Really Happened to Phoebe Prince?” isn't even the right question because we know almost exactly what happened, fact-wise (though to her credit, Bazelon did flesh out an understanding of the events). The end of her article hints at an agenda much different from the Prince-focused story her title suggests:

In the end, the next chapter of the South Hadley bullying story isn't really about innocence versus guilt. It's about proportional versus disproportional punishment. All of the kids accused of hurting Phoebe Prince have been kicked out of school. They have been the focus of intense, public rage. They've been blamed for the suicide of a vulnerable, troubled girl. They will live with this always. Maybe that is already enough.

It's not about discovering what happened to Prince. It's about what resulted after her suicide and whether those results were fair to those involved. It's about teenagers making choices they don't fully understand. It's about a town full of people who don't know how to react to those choices. It's not revealing an untold story.

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