Early on in my journalistic career, when I was much younger, I’d make a joke here and there about women in the media, especially in regard to their looks.
The older I got and the more women in media I came across, I started to understand the horrific things they have to go through in a white male dominated industry. I thought it was bad for me as a young black male and in many ways it is still a struggle, but I never had to deal with anything like what Star Tribune’s Amelia Rayno went through.
Minnesota’s AD Norwood Teague resigned after his freaky texts to employees at the school were revealed, but it wasn’t just employees, it was reporters as well. Here is just a small and frankly scary part of Rayno’s story.
Since coming to the university, Teague had presented himself to the media as someone who was a good source and not afraid to get blunt. For a reporter, that was extremely valuable. After he arrived, and before Dec. 13, 2013, he and I had drinks five to seven times, all but one of those occasions in a group setting. I also attended several cocktail parties at his house. I was happy to have such a useful window into the program. We talked about basketball, coaches and his plans for the department.
So I agreed to have that drink. But this December night was different. Teague asked me about my longtime boyfriend, as he often did. My mistake was acknowledging that we had just broken up. The switch flipped. Suddenly, in a public and crowded bar, Teague tried to throw his arm around me. He poked my side. He pinched my hip. He grabbed at me. Stunned and mortified, I swatted his advances and firmly told him to stop. He didn’t.
“Don’t deny,” he said, “our chemistry.”
I told him that he was drastically off base, that my only intention in being there was as a reporter – to which he replied: “You’re all strictly business? Nothing else?”
I walked out. He followed me. I hailed a cab. He followed me in, grabbing at my arm and scooting closer and closer in the dark back cabin until I was pressed against the door. I told him to stop. I told him it was not OK. He laughed. When I reached my apartment, I vomited.
Later that night he texted: “Night strictly bitness.’’
I stopped speaking to Teague unless it was absolutely necessary. When he wanted to get a drink, I told him I was busy. I avoided him as much as possible. Losing meaningful access to an athletic director isn’t a situation a college reporter wants to find herself in, but to me it was the best of all the bad options.
He noticed the change.
“Ur no fun anymore,” he texted.
“U seem obtuse.”
“Ur radio silent.”
“U think I’m gross.”
“Ur giving me a complex.”
“U hate me, I’m toxic.”
That is scary and I understand why she didn’t tell her story until now. One of the problems with being in media, is that you can be easily blackballed for things far less than what she just described.
When you are young and trying to make it in the business, you have to bite your tongue on a lot of things, I am sure it felt good for her to get it off her chest and hopefully this will give paused to any other man in a position of power at a network, team or school not to be such a creep.