Bienvenidos al proletariado (gracias Barbara)

You are going to be trying to carve out a career in the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression. You are furthermore going to be trying to do so within what appears to be a dying industry. You have abundant skills and talents –it's just not clear that anyone wants to pay you for them.

Well, you are not alone.

How do you think it feels to be an autoworker right now? […]. They've got skills; they've got experience. They just don't have jobs.

So let me be the first to say this to you: Welcome to the American working class.

You won't get rich, unless of course you develop a sideline in blackmail or bank robbery. You'll be living some of the problems you report on –the struggle for health insurance, for child care, for affordable housing. You might never have a cleaning lady. In fact, you might be one. I can't tell you how many writers I know who have moonlighted as cleaning ladies or waitresses. And you know what? They were good writers. And good cleaning ladies too, which is no small thing.

[…]

But there is this difference: A laid-off autoworker doesn't go into his or her garage and assemble cars by hand. But we –journalists– we can't stop doing what we do.

As long as there is a story to be told, an injustice to be exposed, a mystery to be solved, we will find a way to do it. A recession won't stop us. A dying industry won't stop us. Even poverty won't stop us because we are all on a mission here. That's the meaning of your journalism degree. Do not consider it a certificate promising some sort of entitlement. Consider it a license to fight.

In the '70s, it was gonzo journalism. For us right now, it's guerrilla journalism, and we will not be stopped.

Barbara Ehrenreich, con la que uno no está de acuerdo en casi nada excepto en cómo ve el periodismo, en su intervención ante la promoción 2009 de la Escuela de Periodismo de Berkeley el pasado 16 de mayo. Aprendan los alatristes.