G’day friends and hi to any new subscribers!
When I first had the idea for this newsletter, one of the first people I approached was Lagipoiva Cherelle Jackson, a Samoan journalist who covers climate issues in the Pacific for outlets like The Guardian and the BBC. I’ve followed her work for years and love the passion that she has for journalism and her community.
The Pacific doesn’t get a lot of coverage compared to others places, especially now with oil prices and conflicts dominating the headlines. But as I’m from Sydney, I find the region absolutely fascinating and important, having reported from there many years ago.
Lagi has always championed Pacific voices and journalists, especially those covering climate impacts so, of course, I’m thrilled to feature her in this month’s newsletter.
And here she is in all her Chiefly glory! ✨
Can you tell me about your career story and how you got to where you are today?
I started journalism at 19 as a cadet reporter for the Samoa Observer in my home country of Samoa. I learned from some of the best journalists in the Pacific. At 25, I became editor of Newsline Samoa, the nation’s second-largest newspaper, where I was able to decide what led the news of the day. I worked for various Pacific Island publications before stringing for international outlets including the Associated Press, AFP, and Al Jazeera.
More recently, I served as the Climate Collaborations Editor at the Associated Press, and later founded The New Atoll, which tells Pacific stories from home and abroad.
I currently report for The Guardian on Pacific issues and contribute to the BBC on climate coverage across the region.
Where are you based at the moment?
I’m based in Portland, Oregon, in the United States where I continue to write internationally and am also serving as a Scholar in Residence for Pacific Island Studies at Portland State University, and I spend part of each year in Samoa and New Zealand, where most of my family live.
Why did you want to become a journalist?
I wanted to tell the stories of my island, Savai‘i, which was often under-reported in national media. I wanted people to see that our stories mattered too, that our lives and landscapes deserved the same attention as those in the capital.
How did you learn to navigate newsrooms and what advice would you give?
At the local level, I started out intimidated by my older colleagues. Eventually, I received their guidance and mentorship. If you come from a close-knit community, lean on those who came before you. If you’re working abroad and find yourself a minority, go gently into the newsroom - observe, learn the culture, and then speak. Be patient with yourself and allow grace when you make mistakes.
My experiences have been different locally and internationally. In Samoa, there was a mix of support and competition, but ultimately, we were a family who leaned on one another. Internationally, I often felt like the outsider, especially as a climate journalist, because my lens was shaped by Pacific realities that global media did not always understand. Still, I’ve worked with incredible editors and colleagues who’ve helped me grow and strengthened my craft.
How does your heritage and background influence your journalism?
In every way. I come from a deeply cultural upbringing in Samoa, as the daughter of a high chief, and now a chief myself. I center culture in all that I do.
My education and work abroad have taught me how to navigate other spaces with respect and adaptability, but my foundation is Samoan. My ethnicity is always a strength in the newsroom because it brings a perspective rooted in community, reciprocity, and respect.
How do you cover climate change when it also affects your community?
For a long time, I tried to report from an “objective” stance, as if I were external to the story. Over time, I realized that such detachment is a Western construct. As an Islander, I am part of the story. To convey the true magnitude of climate change, I invite my audience to walk in the shoes of my ancestors, my family, my friends, my children.
There is emotional weight to this work. When extreme weather strikes, it hits home. But these are our lived realities, and they must be told with honesty, care, and courage.
What does “unbiased” and “impartial” mean to you as a woman of color in journalism?
In my reporting, unless I am directly covering my own community, I focus on the facts and the perspectives that shape them. When you do your due diligence and verify your work, bias becomes difficult to accuse.
Western journalism often assumes that neutrality belongs to a certain type of reporter. For people of color, we don’t always have that luxury - our very presence challenges the norms of “objectivity.” I believe integrity comes from accuracy, transparency, and fairness. Never cross into advocacy, but also don’t deny your worldview as a woman of color. Your lived relationship to the story is part of what gives your work truth and depth.
What advice would you have given yourself when you first started?
Be gentle with yourself. Keep it simple. Ease up on your perfectionism. Focus on having a conversation, not an interrogation. The best stories come when people feel seen and heard.
Is there a story you’re most proud of?
I’m proud of my reporting for The Guardian’s “An Impossible Choice” series, which explores the existential nature of the climate crisis across the Pacific Islands. It remains close to my heart because it elevates Pacific voices on their own terms.
Despite the challenges in the industry, why do you remain in journalism?
I stay in journalism because Pacific Island stories need to be told by us, for us, and about us. That conviction keeps me going. People of color must remain in this field because our perspectives reshape global narratives.
We see the world differently, and that difference matters. Know your craft, build your network, and take every opportunity that aligns with your purpose.
What brings you joy, and how do you protect your energy?
I focus only on stories that matter to me - the ones that move my heart. I protect my energy by avoiding spaces and conversations that drain it.
My joy comes from my community, my students, my family, and from knowing that the work I do contributes to something larger than myself.
There’s something about how deeply connected Lagi is to her people, island home and community that makes me so envious. Because I come from a family of refugees, I’ve never had a strong connection to a place or homeland.
But hearing her speak about the Pacific and its people with so much conviction, while highlighting the importance of journalism in elevating their voices, gives me goosebumps!
See you all next month,
Lin
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What I’ve been checking out lately:
🤓 I’m currently diving into a lot of alternative media and newsletters like Mother Tongue, The Chow, FatBoyZine and RADII which is a nice reprieve from all the nerdy journalism ones I subscribe to that, to be honest, simply fill me with existential dread.
📚Given the state of the world, I only have the emotional bandwidth to binge-read romantasy or YA fiction right now! So I just started ACOTAR and Fourth Wing which have been quite entertaining; unbelievably cringe at times 🤢 yet strangely comforting (good trying its best to triumph over evil etc). Send me some book recommendations!
📻 I’m also trying to brush up on my Cantonese (my mother tongue) by listening to SBS Radio’s Cantonese programme. Anyone else in the diaspora feel this sudden urge to reconnect with their roots as their relatives/parents age?
🎤 And finally, like the rest of the planet, I’m checking out the BTS doco on Netflix ✨


