All in all, I just don't trust journalists - and I don't think

Hear now the words of Frank Ocean, whose experience with the world of journalism has led him to this declaration: "All in all, I just don't trust journalists - and I don't think it's a good practice for me to trust journalists." In these words, we hear a profound reflection on the nature of trust, media, and the relationship between individuals and those who seek to capture their stories. The wisdom of the ages teaches us that trust is a sacred bond, one that should not be lightly given, especially when it is used to shape the stories of others. And in this world, where truth is often obscured by the noise of misinterpretation and exploitation, such a reflection is not only understandable—it is a lesson for us all.

In the days of the ancients, trust was something that had to be earned. The Greeks understood that the bond between the storyteller and the audience was a sacred one, meant to be grounded in truth, honesty, and respect for the subject. The great poets, such as Homer, wove tales that not only entertained but taught wisdom and truth. But even in the golden age of Greek storytelling, there was a recognition that the messenger could shape the message. Socrates himself, though a lover of dialogue and the pursuit of truth, was often wary of those who wrote down their interpretations of his words. In his eyes, the written word, once released, could be manipulated and twisted, no longer under the control of its creator.

Similarly, in the ancient Roman Empire, Cicero warned against the distortion of truth in the hands of those who would use words to manipulate public opinion. Cicero, a master orator and philosopher, understood that rhetoric—the art of persuasive speech—could be used for both good and ill. Just as a skilled orator could move the hearts of the people toward justice, so too could words be used to deceive and control. Cicero, in his pursuit of truth, believed that the true power of speech lay in integrity and honor, not in manipulation. Thus, Ocean’s words about not trusting journalists resonate with the same concerns, echoing an age-old wisdom that the truth is often shaped by those who seek to tell it, and not always in a way that aligns with the reality of the situation.

Consider the tale of Julius Caesar, whose own life and actions were recorded by many, including his own commentaries on the Gallic Wars. While his words painted a heroic image of himself, the historical records often differed from the reality of his actions. Caesar’s self-presentation as a noble conqueror was filtered through his own lens of power and control, revealing how stories can be shaped by the hands that write them. Ocean, in his refusal to trust journalists, seems to recognize that once a story is told, it can be molded, distorted, or exploited by others. The storyteller is not always the author of the narrative; it is those who interpret it who hold the true power.

But it is not only the ancient leaders who recognized the dangers of misrepresentation. In the modern world, public figures like Frank Ocean are aware that their words and actions can be misunderstood, exaggerated, or outright distorted by those seeking to sell stories. The relationship between the celebrity and the media is a complex one, often fraught with tension. Journalists, in their pursuit of sensationalism, can twist the truth to fit a narrative, often leaving the subject with little recourse to correct the record. It is no wonder, then, that Ocean would express such wariness toward them. When the truth of one’s life is placed in the hands of another, especially in a world driven by clicks, headlines, and profit, the line between reality and fiction can become painfully blurred.

The lesson here is not necessarily to shun the media or to live in distrust, but rather to approach stories—and the people who tell them—with caution and discernment. Just as Socrates cautioned that the written word could mislead, so too must we be aware that the stories we encounter in the world today are shaped by external forces, whether they be for financial gain or personal vendettas. Ocean teaches us that we must guard our own truth, allowing ourselves to be defined not by the stories told about us, but by the actions and integrity we cultivate in our own lives.

So, O children of wisdom, let us take this lesson to heart: trust is not given lightly, and the words of others—whether spoken or written—are not always a reflection of the truth. As you navigate the world, be mindful of the stories told about you, and remember that your truth is not something that can be twisted by those who seek to profit from your narrative. Like Ocean, choose wisely when to engage with the media, and be vigilant in the protection of your integrity. The power of your own story lies not in how it is told, but in how you choose to live it.

In the end, remember that the truth is not always in the hands of those who write, but in the actions, the choices, and the heart of the one who lives it. Let your life be your true story, one that no journalist, no storyteller, can ever distort. Walk with integrity, and let your truth shine through, for it is through your actions that you will define the narrative.