The glare of the lights bore into me, as I stood beside the humming sound of the live truck. . Behind his gear, the cameraman and I both locked eyes, as he gestured with his finger, and I heard the voice in my ear say, “Robin is live with more on the story.”
The opportunity to give more, tell more, was an adventure. As a journalist, telling a story in all its forms—the joyful, the tragic, the painful, the unexpected—felt like a profound responsibility. I saw my work as a service: to inform, to enlighten, and yes, sometimes to entertain. Curiosity fueled me, and my reward came when someone who thought they didn’t matter was given a space to be heard. That’s when I felt the most successful. And I’ve learned that the heart of powerful speaking lies in the same place as powerful journalism: in the ability to tell a story that makes people feel seen, understood, and moved to action.
For years, it was fulfilling. Over time, though, spaces for certain voices shrank. Traditional media narrowed its lens, deciding—often implicitly—whose stories were worthy. Social media, while seemingly opened potential opportunities, also expanded the noise while erasing guardrails. As an African American woman, I found myself in a space where I didn’t quite fit. I was told, in ways both subtle and explicit, that my perspective didn’t matter. Furthermore, those I wanted to highlight didn’t count.
In telling others’ stories, I realized I also needed to reclaim my own.
During that journey, I recalled one of my heroines, Mrs. Fannie Lou Hamer, the Mississippi civil rights activist born into sharecropping, forced to drop out of school in the 6th grade, and seemingly given a life-sentence of destitution. I learned about Mrs. Hamer when I was an undergraduate, taking a class about women in the Civil Rights Movement. During that class, I discovered a woman who was often relegated to being a footnote in history. She suffered terribly indignities until she could no longer endure it – and risked her life to take up the mantle of fighting for voting rights for everyone in this country. Women like her made it possible for me to have a say in the direction of my own life.
As I pivoted away from traditional news, I knew I wanted to tell her story. But when I approached various outlets with the idea of a documentary, the rejections piled up. So I created my own production company. I had little money, but I had faith—in her, and in myself.
That film became the foundation of my career as a filmmaker. Since then, I’ve produced multiple award-winning documentaries about African Americans in history who fought for equality—stories that matter now more than ever as some try to erase or rewrite aspects of our past. My work has been guided by one conviction: information promotes transformation. When we tell the truth about who we are and where we come from, we empower people to shape who we can become.
Today, that conviction drives my latest project: Democracy Does: The Civic Power Playbook. It’s a podcast that breaks down the policies affecting our communities, but more importantly, it shows people how to take action. It allows me to do more than tell stories—it allows me to give voice, to validate lived experiences, and to help create change.
Stories allow audiences to see themselves in the message; they create connection, trust, and possibility in ways facts alone never can. For any speaker, a well-told story becomes a bridge between information and transformation. It invites people not just to listen, but to feel, to reflect, and ultimately, to act.
About the author: Robin Hamilton owns the ARound Robin Production Company, based in Washington, D.C., and is host and producer of Democracy Does: The Civic Power Playbook.
https://www.aroundrobin.com/democracy-does/