As the world consumes headlines, breaking news, and viral footage, the stories of those behind the bylines—journalists—are often forgotten, ignored, or worse, silenced. In the age of information, those who risk everything to inform the public are increasingly finding themselves at the mercy of violence, intimidation, and neglect.
One such voice recently took to social media to express the pain and trauma of life as a journalist in Nigeria. Feature Editor of Thisday Newspaper, Mrs Chiemelie Ezeobi recounted a harrowing experience on March 24, 2025, when a soldier delivered a forceful slap simply because she unknowingly stepped into a camera shot while covering an assignment.
“I was busy doing my job and unknowingly entered his shot! He slapped me—just like that,” she wrote, her emotional outpouring triggering a flood of buried trauma. The video she saw online may have prompted her reflection, but the wounds were deeper than just one slap.
From sexual harassment on the job, to being held at gunpoint with five colleagues, to being physically assaulted by a security aide of former President Muhammadu Buhari—despite having full accreditation—the reporter’s testimony exposes a painful truth: journalists, especially women, face relentless abuse in the line of duty, with little to no protection.
“My chest still hasn’t recovered totally,” she wrote of the incident with the presidential aide, who knocked her phone from her hands and struck her without provocation. “I had three security clearances to be there,” she added, highlighting the impunity that often surrounds such attacks.
The glaring question is: who protects the press?
While media houses demand coverage in war zones, political rallies, disaster areas, and protests, there remains a disturbing silence when their staff are assaulted or endangered. Colleagues like Precious, Esther, Sunday, Eugene, Dapo, and Chinweuba may offer moral support, but institutional backing is often lacking. For many reporters, it’s a lonely battle.
“I questioned my career choice that day,” she admitted. “We rarely talk about the safety or security of journalists. Just get the job done, they say.”
Despite facing daily risks, many journalists in Nigeria still live in financial precarity. The irony of risking one’s life to report on the plight of others—only to return to a life of hardship—is a bitter pill. Who advocates for their welfare? Who ensures accountability when journalists are assaulted? Who listens when they cry out?
This latest experience isn’t just a cry for help—it is a call to action.
Media unions, government bodies, security agencies, and the public must do more than praise journalists on World Press Freedom Day. They must protect them. They must pay them living wages. They must ensure justice when they are harmed. And most importantly, they must *care*—genuinely and consistently.
Because in the end, if those who tell every other story are silenced, who will tell theirs?