Mom: How’s it going? What r they doing?
Me: So far they’ve hugged and talked a little bit. I think they’re going to meet up again soon. Will lyk what else happens
Mom: Thanks I love u my little mole
From spying on my brother and his middle school crush and reporting back to my mom as her “mole,” to eavesdropping on who-had-a-crush-on-who in elementary school, I’ve always been described as a nosy kid — or, as my mom would say, inquisitive. I was simply a child born into a world with infinite things to learn about. How could I not be curious?
Fortunately for my parents, this showed up as an eagerness to learn. I read dozens of books back to back for fun and was wildly excited at meeting a tutor weekly. Admittedly, I developed a bit of an ego from being praised by teachers, but let a kid have her moment!
Adults encouraged my constant inquiry, finding it absolutely adorable — that is, until questions about photosynthesis and long division rules became questions about my parents’ friends’ marital problems, which aunt hated which uncle, and my mom’s salary (which is still mysterious to me, even as a 20-year-old).
But still, I wondered, what was so important that they were talking about? And why could I not know?
Apparently nosy children weren’t supposed to meddle in “grown-up” business, not at home or at school. Relatives gave me looks when I tried to find out who they were gossiping about, and teachers gave me warnings when they caught me listening in on their conversations. But still, I wondered, what was so important that they were talking about? And why could I not know?
The answer always seemed to be something along the lines of “you’re not old enough to understand,” “you have no business in this right now,” or, the gutting, “don’t you have homework to do?” From what I gathered, once I reached a certain age and became “old enough,” I would be eligible to join the mystical, exclusive club of “allowed-to-know-grown-up-business.”
OK, my kid-self thought. There are rules I have to abide by, even if I don’t completely understand them, so fine, I’ll wait (that won’t stop me from trying).
These were skills and tools I needed to practice, not bad habits I needed to fix.
Thanks to high school, I didn’t have to wait long. For the first time I was encouraged to be nosy, writing for our student newspaper, The Watchdog. I learned that eavesdropping, digging, and peeking are necessary in a democracy. These were skills and tools I needed to practice, not bad habits I needed to fix. Good journalists serve as watchdogs over the government, authority figures, and other powerful institutions. They need to be pretty damn nosy!
At home, I still wasn’t accepted into the “old-enough-to-know” club, but by the time I went to college, I continued to find ways to use my nosiness for, let’s just say, the good of society, loosely defined. Socially, I find myself perking up at the sound of other people’s juicy storytimes while eating lunch; staring wide-eyed at the text messages of people sitting in front of me in lecture halls; and questioning my friends about why they hate that one guy they hate.
I want to know what everyone else knows, or better yet what they don’t know, and what I can do with the information I collect. I can only hope that this doesn’t come off as rude. But even if it does, if that guy is as horrible as they say, shouldn’t other people be aware? If someone said something that crazy, isn’t it worth knowing?
To shine a spotlight on an important story that is more important than ever was incredibly rewarding, and looking back on it, I couldn’t have done it without my nosiness.
Professionally, I’ve continued to build my skills as a happily nosy journalist. I’ve worked as a student writer for UVA Today, the University’s official publication, for the greater part of my college career. This past summer, I interned at the National Press Club Journalism Institute in Washington, D.C., where I was tasked with seeking information and writing stories regarding press freedom and the state of journalism. There, I put together my favorite piece from the summer: a small story with major implications from Montgomery County in Maryland, where student journalists are fighting back against a prior review policy that entails censorship.
To shine a spotlight on an important story that is more important than ever was incredibly rewarding, and looking back on it, I couldn’t have done it without my nosiness. In order to even find this story, I had to do a little bit of stalking (research) and a whole lot of gossiping (interviews). I had to do the same thing to even get the opportunity to work with NPCJI, and to get my UVA Today job.
Stalking, digging, wondering, and asking have led me to the wonderful peers, mentors, sources, and fellow journalists who have helped me get to where I am now, and for that, I am forever grateful.
I’m lucky to have the opportunity to pursue a career I love and am so passionate about, while staying true to who I am — who I’ve been for all my life.
I used to be ashamed of my nosiness; it felt like a part of me that only harmed other people, like something I couldn’t control. I realized what felt like innocent curiosity to me, an urge to know more, could come off as prying, invasive, and inappropriate. I wanted to turn it off. But how does any breaking news break without a bit of meddling? How is anyone in power held accountable for the horrific things they do behind closed doors if someone isn't curious enough to insert themselves into their business?
Unlike in elementary school, I’m now getting rewarded for my eavesdropping, for my nosiness. It’s a part of me that I need to do my job, and it has become an integral part of my life, something I will never feel ashamed about again. I’m lucky to have the opportunity to pursue a career I love and am so passionate about, while staying true to who I am — who I’ve been for all my life.
To all adults: think twice about scolding kids for being in your business. They could be the next Iris writer.
To nosy (inquisitive) kids: continue the fight. You’ll mole yourself in there eventually!
