By Rodgers Mativenga
In Zimbabwe’s unfolding journey toward more inclusive journalism, media literacy has emerged as an indispensable tool not just for journalists but for society at large.
While reporting standards are improving through targeted capacity building and editorial reforms, the sustainability of these gains depends on the public’s ability to critically interpret and respond to the media they consume. That’s where media literacy matters most.
The recent launch and dissemination of the Reporting Guide for Media Practitioners, developed through robust media engagements spearheaded by freelance journalists, marks a critical milestone. It provides foundational ethics, language sensitivity, and editorial guidelines for reporting on marginalised groups, including the LGBTQI community.
But even as the guide influences newsroom conduct, another front remains under-addressed: how audiences make sense of representation once the stories are published.
Media literacy equips individuals with the analytical skills to decode the intent, framing, and implications behind what they see in print, on screens, and across platforms.
For members of the key population whose portrayals in mainstream media have often been distorted, stereotyped, or sidelined media literacy offers empowerment. It enables people to challenge tropes, reject harmful narratives, and demand better coverage.
Historically, the portrayal of the key population in Zimbabwean media has leaned on stereotypes. Stories frequently framed them as subjects of scandal, legal drama, or social controversy.
Rarely were they depicted in multidimensional ways as leaders, innovators, artists, parents, and friends. The public, fed a limited diet of narratives, formed assumptions based not on reality but on editorial bias. That cycle can only be broken when readers are taught to question representation, not passively absorb it.
Increased media literacy efforts, particularly those grounded in community-based education and civic spaces, can serve as counterweights to historic media distortion.
When students, readers, and digital citizens are empowered to recognise framing, bias, and context, they become active participants in the media ecosystem. They don’t just consume stories; they interrogate them. And that interrogation is the breeding ground for accountability.
Programs that encourage young people to analyse the representation of the key population and its broader societal implications are essential. They foster empathy by unveiling narratives of joy, resilience, and everyday life—far removed from the crisis-centred portrayals of the past.
While the Reporting Guide has given journalists a stronger framework for ethical coverage, media literacy is the public’s tool to hold that coverage accountable.
For Zimbabwe to truly embrace inclusive representation, the journey cannot end at the newsroom door. Libraries, schools, community centres, and digital platforms must invest in media literacy programming that helps audiences become more than recipients; they must become critics, collaborators, and advocates.
The public must learn to recognise when a story challenges stereotypes and when it reinforces them.
They must spot omissions, ask why voices are missing, and demand broader visibility. And they must celebrate media that affirms human dignity while calling out narratives that perpetuate harm.
If media literacy is widely nurtured, Zimbabwe won’t just have better journalists—it will have a society that understands how stories shape reality. And in that understanding lies the power to build a more inclusive, informed, and equitable future.
