The morning after Trump’s latest post, an anonymous email appeared in my inbox:
“There’s more coming — she isn’t the only one.”
No signature. No context. Just a list of names — many familiar: journalists I knew, reporters I’d worked with. My own name was there too.
My heart froze. Perhaps it was a prank. Or a trick. But the timing, the wording, and the way the message landed just as I locked my door felt wrong. Dangerous.
It changed everything. The story was no longer just about Trump’s words. Suddenly, it felt like a whisper of something larger — a pattern. A threat. A warning.
Trump’s Latest Outburst
On Wednesday, President Trump attacked The New York Times White House correspondent Katie Rogers, calling her “ugly — both inside and out.” He posted the insult publicly on Truth Social after a Times article examined his reduced travel schedule and questioned his stamina at age 79. In the same post, he labeled the paper “The Creeps at the Failing New York Times,” dismissed it as a “cheap rag,” and branded it an “ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE.”
Just days earlier, aboard Air Force One, Trump directed another shocking insult — this time at a female reporter from Bloomberg News. When she asked about the release of files related to Jeffrey Epstein, he snapped at her, “Quiet… quiet, piggy.” The dismissive comment quickly went viral.
What This Means — And Why the Tip Terrified Me
These aren’t isolated outbursts. This is a pattern. Personal insults. Public shaming. Gendered attacks. A clear intimidation tactic. The kinds of remarks that can silence, deter, or make people feel unsafe.
So when I opened that anonymous message — naming me and other reporters — I felt exposed. Vulnerable. Not just rhetorically, but personally.
Because the message didn’t just reference past attacks. It promised more. The wording — “she isn’t the only one” — suggested that the harassment wasn’t random. It suggested organization. A list. A plan.
In that moment, journalism stopped being just a job. It felt like walking a tightrope before a storm.
I checked my locks that night. I double‑checked flight itineraries. I deleted old photos from my phone. And — even while breathing — I wondered: who had my name, and why?
What’s at Stake: Press Freedom, Personal Safety, Public Discourse
This isn’t just about one reporter receiving harsh words. It’s about the climate those comments create.
When the leader of a country — the most powerful individual — resorts to demeaning language against journalists, it sets a precedent. It signals that criticism, questions, and accountability can be punished with mockery, insults, and intimidation.
The anonymous tip? It’s a warning sign, and it matters.
It shows how quickly public vitriol can get personal.
It reveals that power, intimidation, and fear can extend beyond the screen or the page.
It threatens the foundation of a free press — and journalists’ safety.
If more attacks follow, it won’t just be one story unraveling — it will be the fragile fabric of media accountability under strain.
Conclusion: When Reporting Becomes Risky
I don’t know who sent that message. I don’t know what “more” is coming — but I know this: it’s no longer just about stories, scoops, or headlines. It’s about survival, security, and whether anyone outside our circle will see what’s brewing.
Journalism was always supposed to hold the powerful to account — but now, holding power to account feels like a risk.
The line between public reporting and personal vulnerability has blurred. And as journalists, we are left navigating both — telling the truth while protecting ourselves, knowing that speaking out can make us targets in ways we never imagined.