Interview #170 — Kumi Taguchi

by Colin Ho

Kumi Taguchi (田口久実) is a broadcaster, journalist, host, storyteller, and writer with over 20 years experience. She has worked with organisations like the ABC, SBS, Star TV, and NHK World. Previously the host of ABC's Compass, she is now the host of SBS’s Insight.

Kumi spoke to Colin Ho about the intimacy in her work, the ways playing in an orchestra is similar to facilitating discussion on TV, and being guided by the body’s intuition.

Your work has often focused on social affairs like refugee experiences and mental health, such as your story about returning soldiers and PTSD. You’ve mentioned in the past that a sense of responsibility and service guides your work. In what ways does this manifest in your practice as a broadcaster and storyteller?

When I really dig into what I search for in my work, I would say I am drawn to stories that are about displacement. In the case of refugees, it is about a displacement of home and place. For returned soldiers, a displacement of self and identity. I can think of a dozen other examples where that same theme pops up, and have no doubt I am interested in this because I have felt, and feel, my own sense of displacement.

The challenge is to turn these stories into real, breathing people. We can so easily lump individuals under one banner and assume their experience of life is the same. But every life is different, every person’s interpretation of their world is unique, and I try to bring this to my work.

When the Syrian refugee crisis was at its peak, I happened to glance across at some footage that was streaming into the newsroom. Hundreds of people were trying to get across the border to Jordan. My eye zoned in on one man. He was thin, bearded and looked beyond exhausted. He was pulling a rug behind him, a rug that would have been part of a family home. On that rug was a small child, a little girl. I think she would have been two or three.

The story in this case was a refugee crisis: numbers of people, government strategies, camps, NGOs. What I saw, and remember, was a father doing everything he could for his child. It’s this personal, intimate focus on individuals that drives me in my work.

You’ve mentioned that when you first started working in newsrooms and the ABC, you shuttled around from admin job to admin job without being given a shot at editorial work. It wasn’t until you worked in Hong Kong that your career began to gain momentum. Why was that?

I always wanted to tell stories but my only way in was through admin roles. I didn’t study journalism but knew I had it in me. I came across that chicken and egg scenario where I put my hand up for any research or production roles, and was told I needed the experience to do them—but could never get the experience.

At one stage, in my second admin job, I volunteered at an evening radio show, where I knew I could line up guests and write briefs. My approach was to get anything down on my CV that could show I was serious about the production side of things. I would go home from my normal job, eat dinner, rest for a few hours, then get up and go back to the office at 9pm and volunteer until about 11pm or midnight. Then back to my normal job the next day.

The big break for me came in Hong Kong. There, my English skills and work in the media up until then, counted for more. I said yes to everything and there was not as much emphasis on having every single experience box checked. I was reporting, running a weekly current affairs show and anchoring the news within a very short period of time. But, all that began after I turned 30, an age many told me was too late to get started.

Looking back on your career, how has your professional practice developed and evolved as you’ve moved from newsrooms, to hosting Compass and now Insight?

The most significant aspect is bringing more of myself to the job. In the beginning, my work was very much dictated by the news of the day, and the structure and tone of reporting hard news. There is a rhythm to it and a role to play within that space. Over time, I found myself drawn to roles where bits and pieces of my personality could come out.

With Compass, my boss, Jessica, encouraged me to take ownership of the stories I was involved in, and really stretched me to drop some of that news persona and be more me. That space is challenging, as walls and masks are comfortable protections, but the more I really invested in those stories, the more I realised it would be hard for me to go back to delivering facts only.

With big live events, like the Invictus Games, Australian of the Year Awards, and Stargazing, I could operate in a space where there was the buzz of a live broadcast, and the freedom to be my enthusiastic self—all within the parameters of a scripted, produced program. It’s a great balance.

Insight is everything I love about my work, in one place. I can bring myself to the role, yet have a certain level of protection of my person as I am a facilitator, essentially. But I do think you need a certain level of emotional openness so guests feel free to share—and viewers can sense you understand the ups and downs of life.

You have a great skill of listening and noticing—picking up threads in an interview or story, and being focused and present enough for the magical moments when someone shares more than you expected or the story goes to a place you couldn't have imagined. How did you develop this skill? What does it take in terms of what goes on behind the scenes and where do you think it comes from?

That is very kind, thank you. I will have to take your word for it because I sit in my own head and body and just do what feels natural to me. I actually have no idea where this has come from. I was never taught interviewing skills. I am inherently curious though and have always been fascinated by how we share our stories with each other. What we hold back, why we reveal, when we feel like our stories will be respected and trusted.

I am also not a big believer in having a perfect list of questions that follow on from each other. Again, I am not sure why. I like to have a structure and idea of where a chat will go but also like to let a bit of serendipity to intervene. There will often be a moment in an interview where my instinct, or that curious part of my brain, sparks, and I like to follow that.

I have learnt that listening really is everything. Not only for what is said, and letting that lead and guide me, but for what is not said. What people don’t reveal, or where they hold back, is where the tougher parts of our experiences tend to lie: shame, guilt, fear. And those are the parts of people I want to get to know the most.

I have learnt that listening really is everything. Not only for what is said, and letting that lead and guide me, but for what is not said.

This might be connected to the previous question: how has your training and experience as a classically trained violinist—and playing in orchestras—has helped you 'read a room' and facilitate conversations and discussions?

Without a doubt, yes. Especially when I think of my time playing in orchestras. In an orchestra, your brain is doing so many things at once. Not only are your eyes seeing the music in front of you, and your fingers know exactly where to go and which note to play - which is an extraordinary feat in itself and built up through thousands of hours of practice and discipline—at the same time, you are listening to whether your notes are in tune, listening to the musicians around you to make sure you are all in synch, watching the conductor out of the corner of your eye, anticipating turning the page of music, and the phrase that is coming up. I could go on.

In a studio environment, I am facilitating a discussion, listening to responses, anticipating what is coming ahead; and at the same time, I might have my EP or the studio director in my ear, prompting me about a change in approach or a camera position. You have to be able to manage multiple demands on your senses and still hold firm and appear calm. It is a performance, on that level. And, much like performing in an orchestra, once you start, you just have to keep going.

When it comes to addressing injustice and inequality—you have a pretty no-nonsense approach. In what ways do hard questions, conversations, and stories help us face these deep, structural issues? Could you tell us about a time when you felt like your work made a difference?

I really don’t have a clear answer to this but right now I feel like every hard question and conversation should be told in as many ways as possible. You never quite know what will resonate with someone and what might affect change.

I used to think it was all about documentaries but now I look at how a story is being told and whether it is resonating. You can learn about the effects of addiction, for example, by watching a documentary, listening to a podcast, hearing a first-person account, watching a drama series like Euphoria, or reading a book like Beautiful Boy.

But caring about a story, a person, is only the first step. Unwinding ingrained structural issues takes time and perseverance. Think of conversations around mental health. We have come a long long way. A few decades ago, you might admit in a whisper that you had seen a therapist. Now, pretty much everyone I know is seeking help and we talk about it like we would the weather.

But those conversations and structures only shift when we step into new territory and actually do it ourselves. I used to paste on the smile and say all was okay when everything was going to the dogs. Now, when things are tough, I say they are. My friendships are intimate and honest. Emotional honesty begets emotional honesty.

In terms of my work making a difference, I feel like that is something I will never really know. I have had a lot of feedback from people about a documentary I made a few years back in Japan. I received long letters and messages from viewers, who said they felt understood. So, a difference? Maybe. Perhaps aiding others in their understanding of themselves is where my work lies.

There’s a photo of you from 2017 at the Premier’s Multicultural Media Awards with a young girl. Could you tell us a bit about it, and of reflections on the power of representation?

I was MC-ing a big event and they’re always really busy. You are up and down, getting your head across the next segment, and only able to sit for a few minutes here and there and throw a bit of food down to keep the energy levels up.

On one of these brief breaks, a little girl came up to my table and stood nearby. I said hello to her and said how I thought her dress was so pretty (red taffeta), and asked whether she was having a good time. Her name was Angela. She was seven and had long dark hair and almond shaped eyes like mine.

I said I had to leave and do some more things on stage but that I hoped she would come up and say hello again. The next time I sat down, Angela was there again. Standing a little closer this time. In her face, I saw me as a child. And I am sure in my face, she saw something familiar too.

That day, I had been struggling with the feeling that I was a token go-to person for multicultural events. I was not sure I wanted this role. But Angela made me want to step back into those shoes. If I had seen someone who looked like me at her age, I would have felt differently about my potential.

Towards the end of the night, I asked Angela whether she would like to come on stage with me. I wanted to make the point, publicly, about the power of that representation. She said yes, and we closed the event together.

Representation is everything. But it cannot be tokenistic. I know we will be making progress when I am asked to be on a panel about marathon running or sailing or creating meaningful content—not just about diversity or multiculturalism. It is happening. Just look at the success of Bridgerton.

Do you view yourself as part of a storytelling/broadcasting/journalistic lineage and community? Who came before you and helped pave the way?

I do. I have a deep respect for the craft of journalism and know it is built of the back of so many others. I see myself as a caretaker of the profession, as someone who advocates for the power of story. I know I am replaceable. But while I am lucky enough to do this for my job, I want to continue to build on the legacy of those who have told stories before me.

The documentary of you travelling to Japan is such a moving, fly-on-the-wall exploration of belonging, identity and heritage. In it, you also talk about the sensation and feeling of peace in your body when you’re in Japan. Has there been another time when you’ve trusted this embodied intuition?

Thank you. I have others to thank for that, so much is in the filming and editing and the crafting after the fact.

I think this is easiest to answer the other way around—when I have not trusted my intuition. My first solo overseas trip was to Russia and it was transformative. I won’t go into the details but basically I came back a different person. All I thought I knew about the world, all I had valued, had been upended.

I did not want to leave Russia. I felt a sense of strange belonging there and I had an opportunity to stay. A friend knew how to get me a visa. She and I would make films together, we had it all planned. I could picture it and I wanted it. I felt an incredible sense of peace and purpose.

I told my friend I would go back to Sydney and return to Moscow after a few months. But once I got back home, my head got in the way. I chickened out. I made excuses—that I had a job, that it was rash to leave etc. The reality is, my job wasn’t amazing. I was leasing an apartment. I was single. There was no logical reason not to go. Just fear.

I have thought about that moment many times over the years, with regret. I wish I had had the courage to defy convention and just live life my way. Our heads can drown out that inner, knowing voice, and I am much more mindful now of when that is starting to happen.

Perhaps aiding others in their understanding of themselves is where my work lies.

When Teresa and I visited you, you told us about how you collect quotes and words of wisdom. Is there something in that email thread that is resonating with you right now as you begin a new chapter in your career hosting Insight?

I did an interesting exercise in January about choosing a yearly theme. I am not into resolutions but this really resonated. I sat down with a cuppa and took a good few hours to work through the concept and I came up with one word: ‘fearless’.

This word has helped me a lot since then, especially at moments when I have to make a choice, or perform. I am hyper critical and have moments of deep doubt. There have been a few times, either in work or in life, when I have felt myself defaulting to the Kumi who makes herself small.

In those moments, I have closed my eyes and reminded myself of ‘fearless’. I have thrown my shoulders back, held my head high, and forced myself to bring out that part of me I know exists. It has really helped.

You’ve recently purchased a new camera and you’re also writing a book. Could you tell us about this camera, and your projects and creative outlets outside of your work as a broadcaster, journalist, and host?

The first job I really wanted to do was to be a war photographer. I have always loved photography and the idea of documenting life. Looking at the world through a camera forces a shift in perspective. Being an over-thinker, finding ways to change focus, literally, is very important.

I wanted a Canon AE-1 for a while and found this on e-Bay. It came from Japan. I wanted a film camera. I wanted to be more considered about what I shot. I wanted to wait for the film to be processed. I guess I wanted to slow things down a bit.

Writing is a balm for me. Writing is another way I can make sense of things and although I find the book a struggle, when I am putting words on paper, I feel engaged, peaceful, excited, understood, and inspired. Words are magical.

Honestly, creativity is what drives me. I love one-on-one time with friends and the beach and running, but on a Friday night, I am truly happy if I am writing, or analysing a video clip, or listening to music, or watching a series or a film. I constantly marvel at what we humans can create.

Do you have any advice for emerging journalists, writers, broadcasters, hosts?

Never forget you are being paid to learn about the world, and what an incredible privilege that is.

What are you listening to?

The Avalanches new album, We Will Always Love You.

Daft Punk, Random Access Memories.

And I am into a young, German artist who goes by the name, Roosevelt.

What are you reading?

Owls Do Cry by Janet Frame

Untamed by Glennon Doyle

Quiet by Susan Cain

Who are you inspired by?

Rafael Nadal. I could have filled this whole article just writing about him.

And my daughter.

How do you practice self-care?

I go for long walks with no aim. They might end up being a whole day, through the city, over the bridge, wherever my heart leads me.

Every now and then I have a pyjama day, where I do not leave the house. I watch television series, movies, listen to music, eat whatever, whenever, and put my phone away.

Above all, I eliminate the word ‘should’ from my vocabulary.

What does being Asian-Australian mean to you?

I really don’t know. I am still figuring this out.

Even as a young child, I saw myself as a citizen of the world. I pictured my little person floating above in the skies, landing wherever she wanted to. I would become part of that soil and its people for a moment or two, before taking off again.

I still feel a bit like that and as soon as I try to define myself, or put myself in a box, I feel trapped and misunderstood and a bit lost. I think I belong in the stars.