My prediction as we head into a year marking a consequential milestone for the country is that, in the spirit of our founders, journalism must be revolutionary — but we must now tell the whole story.

America was founded 250 years ago on ideals that were bold, unfinished, and disruptive by design. The National Association of Black Journalists, which I now lead, was founded 50 years ago because Black journalists understood our country’s founding ideals were not being honored in the press — or in practice. And The 19th, the newsroom I helped to start, was founded five years ago with a similar premise: that journalism had failed too many people, for too long, for refusing to fully grapple with issues of race, gender, and power.

Three different founding moments. One shared truth: Each was born not to preserve institutions or the status quo, but to challenge them — and to make their promises more real for all.

At our sesquicentennial in 2026, journalism will play a central role in framing the story of who we are and who we aspire to be. This is also an opportunity to continue the ongoing work of American Revolution, clear-eyed about history, honest about power and reflective of the emerging democratic majority of our nation.

This work is to confront who has been denied full belonging and to tell the story of race and gender as part of the American story, with rigor, courage, and clarity.

For too long, both our country and our profession have failed to live up to our founding ideals, treating race and gender as episodic concerns to be addressed in moments of crisis, then sidelining them when political pressure, economic strain or backlash sets in. It’s an approach that has resulted in incremental and inadequate systemic change, leaving us with a distorted public record and understanding of democracy itself, instead of the most honest and accurate record of who and where we are as a country.

The attacks on journalism we are witnessing, from political intimidation, to disinformation, and media consolidation, are deeply tied to attacks on diversity, equity, and inclusion across American life. Efforts at erasure and exclusion are not separate from efforts to undermine press freedom, but part of the same strategy to make choices about whose voices, identities, and truths are allowed to exist.

A revolutionary journalism rejects this model, and is part of the work of perfecting our union. Our profession has always helped define who belongs in the American story.

We know what a more revolutionary approach can look like. Newsrooms committing to sustained democracy coverage beyond election cycles. Journalists interrogating power with consistency. Outlets centering lived experience, recognizing that impact cannot be measured by numbers alone. And reporters willing to name backlash for what it is — a deliberate attempt to roll back hard-won gains and suppress accountability.

Audiences are ready for a revolution in journalism, which in many ways is already here. But to rebuild trust requires courage and credibility that comes with coverage that helps them understand their lives and their country, and that does not retreat in the face of controversy.

This moment is not as a crisis to manage, but as a mandate for change. Both NABJ and The 19th were founded as acts of disruption in service of truth. As America prepares to mark 250 years, journalism must do the same.

A revolutionary journalism for 2026 will be about accountability, inclusion and truth-telling — especially when it is difficult, especially when it is unpopular. It will understand that freedom of the press means little if only some voices are protected.

America’s founding ideals were radical, but they were also limited by who they excluded. Without intentional effort to perfect them, they risk becoming tools of erasure rather than engines of democracy.

The work before us now is not to celebrate those ideals — but to make them real.