THIS IS Awkward

STORY BY Corrine Szarkowicz

PHOTOS BY Lindsay Lehmann

For more than thirty years, the Schwartz Visiting Fellow program has brought world-renowned experts in their fields to Pomfret School. However, this year’s speaker, Jessica Bruder, does not consider herself an expert. It was a slightly awkward moment in Hard Auditorium when she announced this belief immediately after being introduced as such. But Bruder lives for these awkward moments.

As an award-winning immersive journalist, Jessica Bruder writes about subcultures for publications like the New York Times, WIRED, and Harper’s Magazine, and in her book Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century. While much of the world is focused on instantaneous reactions, hot takes, and sharing uninformed opinions, she digs deeper. What most people summarize into simple, easy-to-consume headlines or sound bites, Bruder writes as complex narratives on the topic. As an observer and reporter, she has spent her career learning about others. “I meet people where they are and then spend a ton of time with them,” she explains. “If I were an anthropologist or sociologist, I would call this participant observation. If I were doing this without a professional purpose, I might call it being a stalker.”

Br uder describes immersive journalism as productive hanging out with PDS — people doing stuff. It is very different from PSS — people saying stuff, which is what a lot of journalism is. “When you’re with people doing what they do, you see a side of them that you won’t see if they’re just answering questions and projecting whatever sense of self they want to market,” explains Bruder. “When you are with someone in their environment and living a similar life, you get a real sense of who they are.”

For her book Nomadland, Bruder disregarded the guidance we all heard from a young age — don’t talk to strangers, especially those who live in their van. She did exactly the opposite. And she didn’t just talk to them! Bruder spent months living in a camper van, documenting itinerant Americans who gave up traditional housing and hit the road full time, traveling with them from job to job as they carved out a place in a precarious economy. The project spanned three years and more than 15,000 miles — driving from coast to coast and from Mexico to the Canadian border.

D uring her Pomfret lectures, Bruder told stories and shared photos of her life as a “faux-mad” and “workamper” — picking up litter as a campground host, pulling items off the shelves at an Amazon warehouse as a member of CamperForce, and working hard and dangerous shifts as an employee of the sugar beet harvest. “I don’t want to spend time in places where I feel safe and everyone looks and talks like me. I don’t learn anything new. To learn new things and grow, I need to break out of my comfort zone,” she says. “There’s a certain kind of discomfort that I think is actually healthy.”

Was it always uncomfortable? No. But Bruder knew she was on the right track when she thought to herself, “this is awkward.” And she pushed through the discomfort to get the story. “Can I pet your dog?” was a common icebreaker with the people she wanted to interview. After building a rapport, she was able to uncover the details of their story that most journalists who spent a day or two with the population would never learn and be able to report. “I’m the journalist who shows up, asks to talk to you, and two years later still hasn’t gone away,” jokes Bruder.

Br uder recounted when she first met LaVonne Ellis at the annual gathering of nomads called Rubber Tramp Rendezvous. At first, Ellis was dismissive of Bruder and her work. “You’re going to make us out to be a bunch of homeless vagabonds,” accused Ellis. But after three days, Bruder had not left and Ellis opened up. She shared her life story and how she had come to find herself living in a van. “After sticking around and becoming part of the furniture, people feel like they have a sense of who you are, and the relationship changes. They don’t think you’re just dropping in to get that hot take and then running away,” shares Bruder.

S ome of Bruder’s best stories come when she is away from home for a couple of weeks or months, immersed in someone else’s life. “We only get to live one life, and I want to slip into as many lives as I can.” Bruder shared how she backed her van — which she named “Halen” after the band Van Halen — into a boulder. She tripped over a different boulder after using a vault toilet in the middle of the night. That boulder was ironically positioned next to the outhouse so no one would back into it. She melted Van Halen’s antilock brake sensors and, once, was bitten by a Chihuahua. And after three years on the road, where she got her van stuck more times than she can count, she still has trouble parallel parking it. All of these funny stories are part of the writing process. “I have come to believe that if things don’t ever go wrong when I’m trying to do a project, I’m not doing it right,” shares Bruder. “Playing it safe is not where the best stories are, and it is not a good way to grow.”

The c hapter of Bruder’s life of living in a van is now over. Nomadland was adapted into a movie — much to her surprise. “It lacks the essential Hollywood ingredients. There is no sex. There are no drugs, no violence, no youth, and no celebrity,” she admits. In her favorite review of the film, one critic wrote, “ Nomadland appeals to the four quadrants of the show business apocalypse: menopausal women, people with life-threatening illnesses, people interested in poverty, and anyone with time on their hands who can’t find the remote.” Despite all of that, the film was named the 2021 Academy Award Best Picture, Frances McDormand won an Oscar for her work as the leading actress, and Chloé Zhao won Best Director.

Now Bruder is on to her next project — a book that expands upon her The Atlantic article “A Covert Network of Activists Is

Preparing for the End of Roe.” She has returned to the front lines with the soldiers fighting for reproductive rights, digging deep and sticking around to shed some light on their story. She believes immersive journalism can create a human connection, help the reader get to know others better, and create a greater world. And as a result, we have all benefited.

“ The beauty and power of close-up stories is that they help us feel beyond the limits of our own small lives,” explains Bruder. “Stories are a powerful weapon against stigma. They push back against prejudice, they value human dignity, and they make us — both tellers and subjects — less alone in the world. You have to admit to yourself just how much it is that you don’t know. That’s what it comes down to, being an expert at not being an expert. I get schooled all the time.”

W hile she doesn’t consider herself an expert, Bruder shared many words of wisdom about life throughout her lecture. To summarize her talk, she shared this piece of advice that she learned while living an awkward life as an immersive journalist.

“ You cannot write the script for what will happen when you report a story or when you work on any long project. Just like you cannot write the script for your own life. What you can do is drive like crazy in the direction that makes the most sense at the time. And if you find that the road has flooded out, or the overpass has crumbled, or the pavement has melted into hot tar — because all of these things will happen — you figure out a way to keep going. What will make you stand apart, no matter what you do in life, is how you adapt to those challenges.”