Date: 05/13/2026

By: Miranda Hirezi Mugnier- Baton Rouge, Louisiana

Author of "Scattered Yet Whole" memoir, published on Thanksgiving Day in 2025

When Local Stories Go Unheard

 It is interesting how time changes not only our lives, but also the ways in which stories are discovered and told.

Thirty-five years ago, when I first moved to Baton Rouge from Kuwait, I was new to the community and had just begun my translation business. At the time, a journalist from the Metro section of The Advocate heard about me—without any outreach on my part—and decided my story was worth telling. She came with a photographer, captured an image of me working at my desk, and published a generous feature, complete with a large photograph and a thoughtful article.

I remember feeling seen.

Today, decades later, I live in Baton Rouge having built a lifelong career in translation and established what I believe is the only local translation company in the area. Recently, I published my memoir, Scattered, Yet Whole, a work that has been warmly received by readers. Naturally, I hoped to once again share my story with the local community through the same media channels that had once embraced it.

This time, however, the experience was very different.

Following professional protocol, I reached out to both The Advocate and a local television station, WBRZ, submitting a press kit and expressing my interest in being featured. These contacts came through referrals, which made me hopeful that my request would at least be acknowledged. I followed up respectfully. There was no response.

No acknowledgment. No guidance. No indication of interest or disinterest.

One reply did come—brief and courteous—but offered no clear direction. I believe it came because this cultural editor was showing respect to the person who referred me to her, and not out of interest. The silence from others, however, was what lingered.

This is not written out of bitterness, but out of genuine curiosity and concern. How does a local author—someone who has lived, worked, and contributed to this community for years—find a way to be heard? What is the process by which stories are selected, and how can those outside the media world better understand it?

In an age where communication is instantaneous, even a brief acknowledgment can go a long way. Interestingly, when I reached out to a national publication, The Washington Post, I received a prompt response confirming receipt and outlining a timeline for follow-up. It was a small gesture, but one that reflected professionalism and respect.

Local media plays a vital role in shaping community identity. It highlights the voices, journeys, and contributions of the people who live among us. For that reason, I believe there is value in opening a conversation—not only about access, but about transparency and connection.

I share this reflection in the hope that it invites dialogue. Not just for myself, but for other local voices who may be wondering how to navigate the same path.

Because stories still matter.
And so does being heard.