Interview with Erin Kelly, Social Justice Editor for the Good Men Project

WG: For readers who may not be familiar with it, can you describe what the Good Men Project is?

EK: The Good Men Project is many things. First, it's a different approach to straight news, in the sense that many of our writers write from a personal perspective. We allow them to take a news story and write their response to it – or explore underlying themes of a story while weaving in facts and sources along the way. We also cover everything from current events to disability issues and pretty much everything in between. I think one of the reasons why GMP has been so successful is because of the level of diversity of our content, which gives way to a diverse audience.

Secondly, GMP is a platform for creativity, individuality, and writers using their voices. It's a place where people can come and share ideas, leave comments on stories we publish, and really be a part of a conversation. We're always looking for interesting stories and people who can tell those stories or even add something to a piece that wasn't already expressed. Most importantly, we offer a different, fresh look into what it means to be a good man in the 21st century, as well as in society and the world. Our slogan is "The conversation no one else is having" – and I think we're well on our way to living up to that, if we haven't done so already.

If your readers would like more info, our website is www.goodmenproject.com.

WG: Erin, you are listed as the Social Justice editor of GMP. Can you explain what that entails and how you became involved in the project?

EK: I'll start by saying my job as Social Justice Editor is two fold. Part of my job is to find and report on good, solid stories every week. The other part is to work with contributors of GMP, which includes finding new writers and formatting their stories (getting them ready to be posted online). I don't think one part of my job is more important than the other, because I've never looked at them as separate things. Every component is a wheel driving towards one goal - making GMP the best it can be.

I think there's an extra importance to being Social Justice Editor at GMP, at least for me personally. The main focus of 99 percent of all my articles is disability. That's huge, and something I take very seriously. I feel that the topic of disability is one that's often talked about in whispers – or kept in the dark for one reason or another. I find myself having strong feelings against that the more I write, so I try to find stories centered around disabilities that aren't always being covered in a "good" light by the media. I try to find a central aspect or theme of a story and go from there. It's crucial to humanize stories about disabilities, because that's essentially what they are. Human. It's also important to me to take that particular approach because a lot of the stories that I find are either just strictly statistics or hardcore facts about the disabled. The stories are too often reported in traditional journalism style, or written by someone who either doesn't have a disability or doesn't have first-hand knowledge of what it's like to be around someone who has one. I always respectfully keep that in mind when I'm working on a story.

As for the second part of your question, I'll try to give you a clear picture of my side of the story. I received an email pretty late at night on October 28, 2012. It was from Cameron Conaway, and, at the time, I had no idea who he was or why he was emailing me. So, I opened the email and read that he was the author of several books, a former MMA fighter, and current Social Justice Editor at GMP (in 2012).

I thought, 'OK, what in the world would an MMA fighter want with me?' Then, as that came out of my mouth, I read: "Erin, I've read your work for years in The Altoona Mirror. Would you be interested in writing for GMP?"

I should mention that The Altoona Mirror is the newspaper in my hometown of Altoona, PA, where I've worked as a columnist for almost seven years. For me, getting Cameron's email was completely unexpected and out of the blue – but I don't think it was that way for him. I think he knew exactly what he was doing in terms of the way he put that email together and he wanted to wait for the right time to write and send it. I don't know what prompted him to send the e-mail when he did or why he sent it at that exact moment. I'm just so incredibly grateful that he had the kindness and generosity to reach out to me at all, because that one email completely changed my life as well as the course of my career.

As we continued to exchange emails, I found out that Cameron was also from Altoona, and that we attended the same high school and college, Penn State Altoona – ironically at the same time. So, Cameron has known me (and my work) for years, but I've only known him for the past three. He was actually living in Thailand when he first emailed me, and we met in person for the very first time last year. The entire experience of connecting with him was just so surreal, and for him to offer me an opportunity like that so quickly – and without hesitation or asking about my cerebral palsy – told me he could way beyond the obvious. It's something I'll never forget and will never be able to repay him for.

I officially came onboard at GMP in 2012 when Cameron Conaway sent me that initial email, but I didn't become Social Justice Editor until October 2014. Cameron resigned from GMP last year to pursue other ventures in his career, and the other Editors who were there put out an inquiry for a new Social Justice Editor to help fill Cameron's position. I inquired, just to see what it would entail – and they offered me the position about a day later. I wasn't expecting to be get the job, nor to be offered it at all. I was just curious. That's why I inquired. The fact that I now have my former editor's job is why GMP is especially important to me, and it's why I work as hard as I do.

WG: You mentioned that you tried to find stories that weren't being cover in a good light by the media. Can you give some examples of those stories and what you did in terms of countering the negative images you found in them?

EK: A lot of the stories I find and report on are in a negative simply because of the nature of the topic. For example, I've written stories about hate crime towards the disabled. I've also covered a story that was originally reported by CNN. The story was about a young man with Down syndrome who died in a movie theater. Police who happened to be off duty tackled him to the ground, injured him pretty severely, and killed him – all because he wanted to go back into the theater to watch the same movie he'd already watched.

It's absolutely tragic that there's that much violence towards the disabled out there, but someone needs to cover them in a human perspective. I'm incredibly lucky to be the person who gets the opportunity to do so. Like any regular news story, there aren't many that go beyond straight facts and figures. I can't say anything against that, because that's what reporters are supposed to do. However, I have the chance to dig a little bit deeper and weave some of my own experiences into the pieces I write, if they're appropriate for the topic. So, when I'm doing research for a story, I try to find resources that are relevant to the topic. For example, if the story is about abuse of the disabled, I try to find websites for help centers or shelters.

A lot of research goes into writing any story, probably more than most people are aware. I usually take a few days just to do good, solid research before I even start writing. If it's a story like the ones I mentioned, I'll make sure I leave myself a few extra days for research or whatever I need to do. I don't think research is limited to "big" stories; it can be applied to personal pieces as well.

I always think about how I feel when I'm writing I tend to write about things that stay with me when I do get a chance to do personal essays. It allows me to be free, and lets whatever is in my head flow onto the page. That doesn't always mean I keep it, though.

WG: If you had to name two or three stories that you feel best about having written (in addition to the story about the man with Down syndrome), which ones would they be an why those particular stories? Are they still available on the Good Men Project website for readers to look at?

EK: This is probably one of the toughest questions anyone has ever asked me, at least from a professional perspective. Every story I've written for GMP means something to me personally, because I look at each one as its own project. However, there are several pieces I've done that I'm very happy with and proud of. One is a story about my grandparents, who both passed away before my career as a writer really blossomed.

Another story is a rather in-depth one I wrote about the links between gender and disability. It was intense all the way around, both in the writing and research of it. I'd say it probably took three months to do, from start to finish.

Lastly there's the story about Cameron I wrote shortly after he resigned from GMP. I especially feel best about that one because I'd learned so much from him about crafting a good solid story up to that point. I felt I showcased everything I gained from him in that one particular piece. I still feel strongly about it, for the simple fact that it's so personal.

There are probably more stories I feel best about writing, but these three immediately popped into my head. I'm including links to them below, plus the story about the boy with downs' syndrome at the movie theater. If you can use these in the interview, great. If not, that's OK too.

WG: In addition to writing for GMP, you are also a poet. Can you talk about your poetry a little bit.

EK: Poetry wasn't always my first love, but it's something I definitely gravitate towards and have a passion for. I didn't really have a formal introduction into that world except for a few poetry classes I took in college. I found that I really enjoyed being in that world, and wanted to stay in it as long as I could maintain a balance between that and my other work. It's a completely different medium than any other project I work on, and it's a creative way to escape when I need a change of pace.

I currently have a book of poetry written, and am looking for an agent so that I can have it published as a collection. On a wider scale, I have been advised by my professors at Penn State Altoona that the ability to write in all genres is very rare and people usually specialize in one or the other but do not continue to write in all of them. Poetry allows me the opportunity to write in all avenues from newswriting, narrative, prose, short stories, fiction and poetry. In fact, my senior project in college was based on poems that I've written.

WG: Would you mind giving us a sample of one or two of your poems and telling us a little about their composition?

EK: The first poem, "I Can't Win or Lose" is about my wheelchair. More importantly, it's about what I see from the view and perspective that my chair gives me.

I'm spinning in circles,
clutching the control
of my life.

All names can see my story, but not
all lips ask my name.

All bodies look like mine when
they sit in a chair…

…except when lives walk away from
pieces of existence
spilt on poker tables.

I wrote it at a time when I was feeling a bit defeated, not just from all the "baggage" of having cerebral palsy – but also from the general negativity of people not dealing with life and just walking away. I was frustrated, because that's not the way I was raised. I've spent my entire life fighting, scratching, and clawing to get where I am today, and I've waited a long time to have stability in my life - be it through family, friendships, my career, or what have you. So, I think it's a combination of all those things that made this particular poem very easy to write and put down on paper, even if I wrote five or six drafts of it before closing in on the final product.

EK: The second poem, "Parade", is very similar to the first, in the sense that it's about perspective. However, it's not written from my perspective. I wanted to take myself out of this one and just try to paint a picture.

Diseases in suits walk the streets,
where I write for
the company of empty minds.

I watch blimps float passed
fields of comprehension.

I look down.

Children try to laugh while
building sandcastles on concrete.

They throw down their tools
when they see a waste of age
behind a clown's face paint…

…but wait, here come pretty little lies
dressed in a woman's lipstick.

I heard she always uses
the glow from a cigarette to
find her way home.

I look up.

Blackened hands chisel bricks
off of weathered buildings, but can't
lift the haze off my front lawn.

Criminals congregate on the fence,
hung over a drunken moon.

Has everyone kissed the enemy?

No, I guess it's just me now.

I did take small influences from different people in my life to write it, but that's as far as the personal aspect goes. This poem was one of the first things I wrote in my first poetry class at Penn State Altoona, and I haven't done much editing on it since. I've changed a few words and phrases here and there over the years, but that's about it. I just like it. I think there's something about it that makes it feel like it could be about anyone. It's universal in that way, and reading it now (roughly ten years after I wrote it), I see that it fits right in with the many underlying themes of Social Justice that we try to tackle at GMP.

WG: In explaining "I Can't Win or Lose" you mention people's general negativity and the lines

All names can see my story, but not
all lips ask my name.

seem to extend that negativity to include indifference. Among the things that disability literature tries to achieve are giving voice to views that are frequently marginalized and the countering of negative stereotypes, so I'm wondering if from your own experiences you can discuss some of the specific attitudes or behaviors that you feel are problematic.

EK: I'll start by saying that most of the problems I experience with people have to do with simple common courtesy. I often encounter people who assume I can't hear or speak, so they automatically get in my face and start talking in a louder tone. Similarly, I also come across people who treat me like I'm five years old and am unaware of what's going on around me, simply because they see that I'm in a wheelchair.

That may seem like a small thing, but it quickly manifests itself into a big problem. I think you could even go as far as to say it's a personal problem, because disability is a very personal thing. When you're on the receiving end of that kind of treatment, you tend to take it personally because you know that people are looking at your disability, rather than actually looking at you. I think the general stigma of disability is the driving force behind that, and it would be foolish not to acknowledge the fact that the act of showing common courtesy is problematic for everyone at times, not just those with disabilities.

I honestly don't experience as much negativity or problems any more since I started writing my column in The Altoona Mirror (my hometown newspaper) almost seven years ago. At the time, I wasn't necessarily thinking of the attitudes others might have had towards my cerebral palsy as a problem. My whole goal with my column was just to help people be more comfortable around me and to let them know it's OK to say, "Hi." I'm incredibly grateful to be able to say I've achieved that goal because now, my local readers have been known to literally run up to me, hug me, and ask for my autograph.

It's extremely rewarding to see that kind of reaction. I never felt that kind of love growing up as a kid in my small railroad town of Altoona, Pennsylvania. I had to work for it. In fact, when I started getting bigger job opportunities as a writer, I realized I no longer had the luxury of seeing readers' reactions to my work. I only had the comments they wrote to let me know how they felt – and that still holds true for the majority of my work today.

For me, it all comes back to common courtesy.

WG: Tell us about your column in The Altoona Mirror.

EK: My column in The Altoona Mirror is called "The View from Here". It runs on the first Thursday of every month, and it's basically just stories about my everyday life. It's very laid back compared to my other work. I've written about everything from my pets (my household currently has three dogs and two cats - although we've had birds, turtles fish, and rabbits over the years), my family, friends. I pretty much write about anything that pops into my head that's not research- intensive. I really enjoy writing it, because I always know I'll get to start every month out with a nice, easy-going narrative piece before I dive into my research related stuff.

Two of my professors in college actually worked for The Mirror. One of them asked me what I was going to do after college and I said "I'm going to work for you at The Mirror." He went out into the hall to talk with my Mother and repeated to my Mom what he asked me. She confirmed that this was my goal and suggested he use this class time as an interview to my job. The other professor who worked at The Mirror was actually the editor of the college newspaper and she was instrumental in validating the current position I still hold today at The Mirror, almost seven years.

I think the biggest reason why I enjoy it so much is because of the of the people who read it – either faithfully or for the very first time. They're a local audience and they're not shy about telling me what they think, which was a part of the goal I had all along when I was first offered the position. When readers e-mail me, they tell me they feel like they know me personally because I've shared so many pieces my life with them. In turn, they often share stories about their experiences with me – or tell me how my work has effected them. It's such a good feeling, beyond any other feeling I could ever get doing anything else.

My goal of this column was to educate and entertain my readers by making them feel comfortable talking with individuals with a disability. In the beginning people would tell my mother, whom I was sitting beside, that they loved my column, but now they direct the conversation directly to me. They actually feel comfortable in communicating with me and that was my main purpose of this column. Now it's just a lot of fun!

WG: Erin, I want to thank you for taking your time to tell us about The Good Men Project, your poetry and your column for The Altoona Mirror. Is there anything else that you'd like to bring up that we may have glossed over or not mentioned before we close?

EK: It's been my honor and pleasure. This entire interview has been both rewarding and humbling. I would like to take the opportunity to thank first and foremost my family and friends, who have been my anchor and support throughout my life and career. Their continued optimism keeps me reaching for the stars. I have also been surrounded by many creative people and mentors whose critiques, whether negative or positive, have helped me pave the path I'm on today. They have become my inspiration and drive. I can only hope that what I've accomplished so far has made them as proud of me as I am of them.

My journey as a writer continues largely because of the people who read my work, as well as those whom I've had in my corner since Day One. I think I'd be dishonest if I didn't recognize that, because success at any level takes a true team effort.

To close, I just want to say I'm so incredibly grateful. If I've learned anything from all this, or have left people with an impression or message, I hope it's the fact that you can never truly judge a book by its cover. I think I'm most proud that my work is being read by everyone, not just those in the disability community. That's really what keeps me reaching further in my career, and just trying to make each article or poem that I write better than the one before it. I enjoy being recognized for my abilities, not my disability, and I think it's gotten to a point where my readers inherently know that without me having to say too much at all.