The Generational Legacy of Journalists of Color: A Tribute

By Edward Iwata

This post is adapted from a speech I gave at the 40th anniversary celebration of the Asian American Journalists Association’s San Francisco chapter in San Francisco’s Japantown in September 2025. Its message to journalists—especially those on the margins of society and the “mainstream” media—is more important than ever. The event was organized by the chapter board and KTVU reporter and chapter president Jana Katsuyama.

When I look back at my career, I think about the role models and mentors early in my life. Even OGs have OGs, and their help and encouragement was invaluable to me as a young reporter. All were legendary journalism pioneers and fierce advocates of media diversity.

Unfortunately, not all media leaders embrace the real spirit of diversity. Some gatekeepers and careerists practice what I call performative or elitist diversity. That’s equity and inclusion for show, for professional and personal gain, not for the greater good of all. If they can’t use you, they exclude you. Only those with status, power and money are allowed at their table.

In contrast, the role models and mentors mentioned below walked their talk. They lived their diversity values, welcoming all. They empowered others, generously sharing their wisdom and experience. They treated all equally—from small-town reporters to big-time media executives, from low-income students to wealthy donors—regardless of one’s job title.

Without the legacies that they built as journalists of color, I would have fled the profession long ago because of the lack of opportunities for young reporters like me from the ‘hood and the barrio. From the 1960s to the present, they tirelessly paved the way and overcame segregation and discrimination in society and the media. Generations of journalists and I were blessed to learn from the best. We truly stand on their shoulders.

BILL WONG has been a groundbreaking journalist since the 1960s and 1970s, when he worked for the Wall Street Journal and Oakland Tribune, and when he founded Asian Americans in the Media, the predecessor to AAJA. For me, a kid desperate for role models, here was a fellow yellow journalist who was kickin’ ass big-time.

Bill celebrated the publication of his memoir, Sons of Chinatown (Temple University Press, 2025) with a big book party in Oakland, and the cultural center in Chinatown was packed—a real tribute to Bill and his iconic work. Bill also was honored with a 2025 PEN Oakland award presented by renowned novelist Ishmael Reed, who likened Bill to an Asian American James Baldwin for his fearless writing on racial issues.

When I recently took Bill to lunch in Silicon Valley, a casual business meal turned into a soulful, four-hour talk with an elder on journalism and life. I felt like a student again, learning from a wise sifu, a master. Thank you, Bill, for your stellar example.

ANNIE NAKAO was a relentless former reporter for the Hearst-owned San Francisco Examiner and the old Los Angeles Herald Examiner. After I graduated from college and was invisible to white journalists, Annie took my phone call and invited me to lunch. Her advice and moral support were invaluable. By far, Annie was the most prolific journalist covering Asian American issues over four decades, writing thousands of stories on our people and cultures.

In the 1980s, Annie and the late reporter Greg Lewis cofounded an influential diversity committee at the San Francisco Examiner. A decade later, the three of us relaunched the committee with a new sense of mission, to continue advocating for more diverse news coverage and the hiring and developmennt of journalists of color.

In 2010, Annie received AAJA’s Lifetime Achievement Award. I’m proud to have nominated her, and prouder that AAJA honored a humble, selfless reporter in the trenches for her extraordinary body of work. Thank you, Annie Nakao.

Outside of AAJA, the late NANCY HICKS MAYNARD was a former New York Times reporter and a renowned trailblazer who cofounded the Maynard Institute, which has trained thousands of journalists of color at UC Berkeley. (Her husband, the late Oakland Tribune publisher Bob Maynard, was the first Black publisher of a U.S. daily newspaper in the white-owned “mainstream” media.)

Nancy placed me at my first journalism job at the San Francisco Chronicle long ago. Luckily, she always took my phone calls after I had run-ins with racist editors over my advocacy for more diverse news stories on what one manager called the “eggroll beat.” A calming voice of reason, Nancy would say, “Don’t worry, you’re doing fine. I read your stories every day.”

Nancy was tough and demanding like a drill sergeant or a strict parent. She rarely handed out praise, at least not to me. Once, though, over lunch at the old Buttercup Cafe in Berkeley, Nancy smiled at me and said, “Ed, I’m really proud of you.” I nearly broke into tears in the middle of the restaurant. Thank you, Nancy.

As a straight, Asian American male, my most influential role models and mentors were two gay white journalists who truly revolutionized our profession.

The late, great RANDY SHILTS was a famed San Francisco Chronicle and KQED journalist who wrote bestselling books on the AIDS crisis, on gays in the military, and on Harvey Milk, the assassinated San Francisco politician who led the gay rights movement. (The Mayor of Castro Street was made into the award-winning film Milk starring Sean Penn.)

Randy was a media superstar and I was a nobody, a raw rookie at the Chronicle, yet he treated me as an equal, with respect and dignity. As my deskmate, Randy shared his journalistic knowledge nearly every day; I learned more from him about reporting and writing than from all of my editors combined.

When I was working on a book project with another reporter, Randy referred us to his literary agents. He invited my wife and me to his birthday parties at his beautiful redwood cabin by the Russian River. During a rough time in my life, when I was struggling with a divorce and alcoholism, Randy let me stay at his apartment in Japantown here, until I got my act together. Critics said that Randy had a big ego, but I only saw his big heart. Thank you, Randy, for everything.

The late ROY AARONS was an Oakland Tribune editor, the founder of the National Lesbian & Gay Journalists Assn. and the author of Prayers for Bobby, made into a heart-wrenching movie starring Sigourney Weaver.

In what he called the hardest decision of his professional life, Roy came out of the closet to launch the NLGJA in 1990. When I interviewed him for a big Editor & Publisher story on NLGJA, I told him that I greatly admired his courage in a world of antigay bias and hatred. His eyes teared, and we had to take a break.

Roy was a gentle soul, but he looked and sounded like a tough guy from a gangster movie. After I told him over coffee at a conference that I planned to quit journalism, he glared at me with his dark eyes, jabbed a finger in my face, and said, “Dammit, Ed, you’re not quitting! You’re not leaving journalism. We need guys like you.”

Roy, you’ll be glad to know that I stayed for another 40 years. Thank you, Roy Aarons.

These mentors and role models came from very different cultural backgrounds, but their message to me was the same: Fight to tell your stories, and don’t give up.

I’ve followed that advice for my whole career, writing countless stories and giving voice to people rarely heard in the white-owned corporate media. Sometimes, though, even veteran reporters like me need to be reminded of that important lesson. And sometimes, that reminding comes not from mentors, but from longtime AAJA friends.

Last August, I dashed around Los Angeles like a madman, researching a memoir on my youth in South-Central L.A. and Little Tokyo in downtown L.A. My birthday was coming up, and unfortunately my wife and daughter couldn’t be in L.A. to celebrate with me. Fittingly, my oldest friend in journalism—former Los Angeles Times Japan correspondent Teresa Watanabe—took me to dinner in Little Tokyo.

We ate at a Japanese restaurant overlooking historic First St., the heart of the Japanese immigrant community since the 19th century. Our delicious dinners conjured memories for me of oshogatsu, the Japanese New Year’s feasts that took Mom, Grandma and aunties days to cook. Homemade sushi. Grilled salmon and mackerel. Steamed lobster and mountain vegetables from the old country. Real Japanese soul food.

As we sipped tea, I imagined my Dad, a carpenter and laborer, sweating his whole life to support his family in the ‘hood. I imagined my mother in her kimono-like dress, dancing down First St. to music that our rice-farming ancestors danced to centuries ago. Some 120,000 Japanese Americans—including 16 of my family members and relatives—were shipped like cattle to U.S. military concentration camps during World War II. Many were herded into buses in Little Tokyo on the street below the restaurant. Their spirits were powerful and haunting.

After long careers of telling the tales of others, older journalists inevitably reflect on our lives, our narratives. What lessons do we hope to pass on? What legacies do we hope to leave?

After dinner, Teresa gave me a gift and a birthday card that perfectly fit the moment. In the card, she had written “Dear Ed, my birthday wish for you is that you listen to your voice, write your story, and speak your truth.” Thank you, Teresa, for your friendship and spirit.

My generation of journalists still has a few big stories and a lot of fight left in us. But we’re in the last stages of our careers and our lives. So it’s up to your generation, you talented and passionate youngbloods, to pick up the torch and carry on the legacy for journalists of color and those on the margins of society. There still are lifetimes of righteous work for you to take on.

As we celebrate our chapter’s 40th anniversary, I’d like to pass on a birthday wish to everyone, young and old alike: Listen to your voices. Write your stories. And above all, speak our truths.

Here’s to 40 more years of great journalism.

Edward Iwata is an independent journalist and the author of Fusion Entrepreneurs: Cross-Cultural Execs & Companies Revolutionizing the Global Economy. Ed is an award-winning former news, business and investigative reporter for USA Today, the San Francisco Examiner & Chronicle, and the Orange County Register. He also has written for National Geographic, the Los Angeles Times, Newsweek Japan, Editor & Publisher, Nichibei News, Rafu Shimpo, and more. Ed and his wife were co-directors of Stanford University’s Okada House, a residence hall and community center that offers programs on Asian American/Asian topics. He is a cofounder of AAJA’s San Francisco chapter, and he oversaw diversity workshops for UNITY: Journalists of Color, the historic conference in Atlanta of all four minority journalism groups.