Other than verify-verify-verify, very few lessons have stuck with me from my time in J-school (journalism school). One of those that did was by an editor, now no more, who guffawed as he told the class that he could bring out the newspaper without most of the editorial staff, but would never be able to do so if the printing press went on strike. It was my first lesson in the humility he expected from a journalist.

Around the period I joined journalism — an embarrassingly long time ago — 24×7 news channels came into our lives, and the cult of the star reporter was born. We saw them on hoardings high above traffic; on our screen as they covered wars live from bunkers on the frontlines; and at starry book launches where they were either releasing their own book or talking to someone who was releasing theirs.

Then came Twitter, renamed X, which extended that culture. And LinkedIn, an MBA-project, where the most vocal wins. When ‘likes’, ‘shares’, and ‘comments’ become a part of the race to celebrity, even if it is just among colleagues, it hides stories — stories of other people who have helped create the byline.

Enabling the reporter to do a good story are many hands. Several times, city reporters who need to file from a village may not have local contacts. English language newspapers are not as well-entrenched in rural communities across States as the local media may be. Big-city reporters reach out to these regional-language reporters for help. They are seldom part of the byline.

Also behind the byline are teams of people fact-checking, designing pages, and performing that most difficult task of all: getting reporters to file by a deadline. Today, as more and more people whose first language is not English enter the workforce, we even have a rewrite desk. They too work behind the spotlight.

Then there are the ‘deskies’, those who work the night shift, writing headlines, restructuring sentences, asking the reporter for more information. And editors, who identify potential stories and commission them to reporters, then prepare for back-ups just in case a story falls through.

These are all people who work on a single story. Unlike the stream of credits on a film or even sometimes on a YouTube video, the number of people who support a single reporter do a single story do not get a credit roll.

There are also the various organisational segments such as the advertising department that helps sustain the organisation, a brand team that promotes the brand, and the administrative department that makes sure reporters have transport and money.

The look-at-me culture is of course a top-down phenomenon. U.S. President Donald Trump has said he is “really smart” and is a “stable genius”. Prime Minister Narendra Modi has himself photographed from various angles. And let’s be honest, in a job-scarce market, it is almost mandatory to ‘put yourself out there’.

In the process, what is lost is the acknowledgment of teamwork. Business magazines lean into the trope that says, “she made it on her own”. But maybe she did have someone who cared enough to help her push through: a family member, a mentor, a friend. There are many people to thank on a reporter’s journey: an editor who made a budget available, a cab driver who got you through difficult terrain, or a colleague who had nothing to do with the story but read it and gave feedback.

Mostly though, it is the people reporters talk to for stories, people who open their hearts and homes to them — the man from a tribe fighting oppression in the mines; the woman who had been sexually assaulted in a conflict zone; or a parent who has lost a child to suicide.

So the next time you see “Read my story…” on X, remember, it is not only “my” story. It is a story that belongs to many who have accorded the reporter the privilege of recording history. When awards are won, how many times do reporters look back at the people they wrote about, to say, “Thank you, I’m here because of you.”