I received two grant application rejection letters this week.
I’m documenting one of them here because, well, there’s certainly an element of a personal confirmation bias. It’s the part of the solopreneur journey that needs to be shared amidst unicorn moments. Because it’s a reminder about my why — the work that I have been doing and continue to seek to do with and for Plates and who this project really is for. (Spoiler: It’s not for the masses. It’s for you — the reader, one of the early ones at this makeshift table.)
And so I tried to look at those rejections from a stance of empathy.
Why would National Geographic Society, who was seeking out rainforest story pitches, specifically from Southeast Asia, tell me that the general reason for their “no” to my pitch about the potential destruction of the 8000-year-old forest and customary land to the Orang Asli Temiar group was that it was not “diverse” enough? The fact that countless of their readers would have likely landed and taken off from the previous homes of the residents of Kampung Busut Baru, which is now right under the tarmac of the Kuala Lumpur International Airport, and the indigenous communities and the graves of their ancestors will be upturned into another ghost-town development, is not enough for a story?
The key part of the (what I assume is an auto-generated) response from the National Geographic Society’s Committee for Research and Exploration team was “the need for diversity among applicants and geographic areas. Most importantly, the Committee relies on extensive peer reviews to guide us in our recommendations”.
The grant page is no longer viewable on their main website, but in case you’re curious, here’s a copy reposted by Arizona State University. In the initial open call, this was the section that prompted me to apply: “Priority under this RFP will be given to projects led by journalists from and working with storytellers from countries within the relevant regions (Amazon River basin, Congo River basin, and rainforests in southeast Asia).” Boxes ticked. Portfolios sent.
Perhaps it was the “diversity” keyword that left me puzzled and with a less than pleasant lens. The words “peer reviews”, to me, in essence is about being “visible” and being in the circle, being one of those “people who know people”.
Having worked in a very toxic schmoozy space, which has taken years to scrub off, where it was required to seek recognition, selfishly harass the others for visibility, and slimily get on radars for the sake of it (think audience member who asks questions merely to show off how smart he is, but isn’t really asking any generous questions to contribute to the overall discussion) have been the antithesis of Plates from the very beginning. It was, again, the reason why I started Plates. Because it was the same faces, the same headlines, the same wasted media real estate; and gatekeeping based on the limited knowledge and connection a handful of people had and their decision on what is “important”.
It’s easy to appear “woke” and Tweet incessantly at influencers in organisations instead of doing the work — but that’s how some worlds work, and I choose not to be part of them. For some organisations, where full-time roles exist for engagement officers, public-facing editors, publicists and social media managers, creating buzz and remaining visible is their KPI.
And the short answer to my initial (long) question ‘Why would National Geographic Society, who was seeing out rainforest story pitches, specifically from Southeast Asia, tell me that the general reason for their “no” to my pitch about the potential destruction of the 8000-year-old forest and customary land to the Orang Asli Temiar group was not “diverse” enough?’:
It’s not safe enough.
It’s not known enough.
It’s not relatable enough.
It’s not common enough.
It’s not enough
— to them.
And that’s okay.
Because now, I’m going to find the others who can and will decide for themselves what stories are important to them. Call it direct to source, if you will. I will continue to seek out the others who feel it in their gut that there are stories they are missing out on because someone said it wasn’t relatable enough.
Two rejections this week. Two months of sunk opportunity cost spent working on them. No more. I’m doing it for you. I’m doing it for the others, like us.
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P/S I found this post here that highlights “networking” as key in grant applications. Hence, the need for grant-writing being a full time job. How would you divide your time between producing, creating, commissioning, distributing, and the lot, alongside grant-writing?
