It was billed as UNITY, and during this time of cutbacks, buyouts and downsizing, the only unity seemed to be unity in despair for the future of newspapers.

Since I work at a newspaper, I know about that despair. Few newspapers are hiring and this year has been the worst for newsrooms ever. Many of those journalists who gathered in Chicago were the lucky ones, the ones who still had jobs. But the ink-letting is not over, and some of those UNITY attendees will go home to pink slips.

But for me, UNITY, and meetings of its member organizations: Asian American Journalists Association, National Association of Black Journalists, National Association of Hispanic Journalists and the Native American Journalists Association, have ceased to be places where all journalists are welcome.

I didn’t spend a lot of time at the convention. Sure, my job kept me quite occupied, but I didn’t see a lot of places where I fit in.

As much as UNITY calls itself a gathering of journalists of color, it is decidedly a gathering of journalists whose places of work are owned and operated by White people.

I’m not dissing those people who write for the Washington Post or USA Today or CNN or NBC or BET. Since the first Black reporter was hired by a White publication, there has been a bit of a disconnect. I kept looking for places where journalists of color who work for minority publications were included in the mix. Bryan Monroe of Ebony/Jet (a Black-owned publication) was the host for the convention, but there weren’t a whole lot of places where journalists at Black publications were included.

I sat on a panel, sponsored by White-owned Black Entertainment Television that talked about covering violence in the community. I was one of only two journalists on the panel, and probably the only person on the panel who had directed news coverage in the Black community. I noticed that William Egyir, formally of the Amsterdam News was on a panel, and Bankole Thompson of our sister paper, the The Michigan Chronicle, was on another. It was pretty sorry representation.

It was not just the Black journalists. I didn’t notice a lot of representation from Hispanic-owned publications or Asian-owned publications or Native American-owned publications. It is as if those publications have become invisible, yet, as I read all of the literature, those publications are the ones that are growing, because they serve a particular demographic niche, and serve it well.

And despite the name, UNITY, not everyone is invited to take part in the quadrennial journalistic love fest. I served on a panel with Ray Hanania, who can’t seem to get the National Association of Arab-American Journalists included in the UNITY melting pot. While reporters were questioning Barack Hussein Obama about whether he is complaining too much about being called a Muslim, the organization of Muslim-American journalists was not invited to take part in that discussion. How would I feel if it was left to Tom Brokaw to ask questions that pertain to Black people? Oh, that’s right, that’s why Black newspapers, and minority journalism organizations were founded in the first place.

There are more than 200 Black newspapers in the United States. Many of them have long histories of writing stories about Black people in the United States. For a long time, they were the only place a Black journalist could work. The Chicago Defender is more than 100 years old and journalists at this publication have been the cream of the crop (and still are). It is the same with journalists who have graced the pages of the Pittsburgh Courier, the Philadelphia Tribune and the Michigan Chronicle and other publications.

I’ve worked at Black newspapers in several cities, and I know the job they are doing every week to cover stories about Black people that other newspapers, mainstream White newspapers, will only cover on a slow news day. It doesn’t mean that their job is more important; it only means that, dammit, it IS important, no matter what you might have gathered during UNITY.

The next UNITY convention in 2012 should make a point of reaching out to those publications of color, not just the journalists of color. There is a rich heritage there, and since some of the founders of NABJ and NAHA and NAJA and AAJA got their starts at publications that were owned by people who looked and talked like them, it would be good to remember where they came from. It might even help them understand where they are going.

(Lou Ransom is executive editor of the Chicago Defender.)