Public access television: ‘More than a soundbite’

Editor’s note, Nov. 3, 2025: This piece was initially published on Nov. 28, 2023, and the below copy has been updated and fact-checked for the 2025 Civic Media Magazine, a project of The Objective, News Futures, and members of Free Press’s Media Policy Collaborative. You can read the updated letter to the editor and find more pieces from the series here.

As an African American media maker and scholar who passionately studies communication history, I spend much time reflecting on how and why I got involved in the public access television movement. 

It wasn’t the Wayne’s World parodies that lured me into the field, nor was it the off-beat, late-night, I-can’t-believe-this-is-on-television programming that piqued my interest. I was drawn to this medium and its hyper-local, hyper-participatory communication practices when I learned how Black people — in nonprofit organizations, social justice movements, and educational groups — used it to disseminate relevant information to their immediate communities.

When I saw this in action 20 years ago, on my first day at Atlanta’s public access television center, People TV, I was hooked.

Public access television has occupied a unique space in the broader realm of community-created media for over 50 years. Whether you call it community TV, public access, PEG (public, educational and governmental), or something in between, the one thing that defines this type of television is its participatory nature. It typically offers regular people opportunities to be involved in media-making processes. This distinguishes it from PBS. Also, community television is non-commercial, prioritizes locally made programming, and offers educational opportunities (via its programming or direct services). Typically, these parameters are defined by their agreements with the local cable operators and government agencies.

I’ve heard veteran practitioners say, “Public access television was social media before there was social media.” It was once the only game in town that enabled ordinary people to electronically exercise free speech in the public sphere — sharing their thoughts and convictions via television without state or commercial interference. 

In the wake of the current local news industry collapse, there is a perfect opportunity for the roughly 1,700 community-access television operations currently managing 3,000 channels in the United States to play an integral, revised role in doing what they have done for the last half century — democratize local communication while promoting civic health. 

In the 1990s and early 2000s, the medium was applauded for its novel practices and principles, even though its eclectic presentations of community life were often seen as vanity-driven, low-quality, and off-putting. But since its heyday — in the 1980s and ‘90s when some 2,500 local cable access channel operations existed in the United States — new critical questions about the relevance and value of local access television in the 21^st century have emerged.

Do we still need local access cable channels? What’s the value of this medium when you don’t know who or if anyone is watching? Why do we even need community media centers now when it’s so easy to go online, make your own video, and instantly reach a global audience? 

These are valid questions and concerns that have, honestly, caused me to toss and turn many nights. Nevertheless, whenever I start to feel jaded skepticism creep in, I remind myself why I decided decades ago to forge a career in access television and why it is the focus of my dissertation. 

One day, while setting up for a studio shoot at People TV, Thomas “Hodari” Tyler, a senior coworker and mentor of mine, casually turned to me to tell me about an old saying: ”Public access television is more than just a soundbite.” 

At the time, I didn’t think much of what he said. It sounded corny at first, but because of my upbringing, I gave my usual respectful response — a smile and a nod, coupled with a mental note to revisit later. Hodari was an Antioch College-trained filmmaker and community media devotee who cut his teeth in the 1970s Black Arts Movement. I admired how he had mastered being an affable cynic devoted to radical Black liberation principles and ideologies. People TV had been Hodari’s home since the 1980s (back when I was still playing with G.I. Joe toys and watching Scooby-Doo). And there we were, operating the cameras and video switcher together. We were two generations bonding while, as he used to say with a satisfied grin, “helping our people get their message out.”

Reflecting on memories I made while working alongside people like Hodari, I realize that my fundamental understanding of and commitment to this practice is wedded to the non-performative, civic communication side of public access television. Hence, I typically regard what Hodari taught me, and what I now continue to practice, research, and identify with, as community access television — an intentional, community-centered approach to producing local television that serves a clear civic purpose. 

We focused on helping our neighbors tell in-depth stories and share information they thought was relevant to whoever was watching. We weren’t preoccupied with finding the most colorful characters and soundbites to put on TV. We were in the business of building relationships with local storytellers and information purveyors who were committed to promoting civic health. We also taught teens and community groups how to make their own media while being critical of harmful, biased mainstream media perspectives.

Hodari’s wisdom and the lessons I learned while serving organizations like People TV, Philadelphia Community Access Media (PhillyCAM), and the Alliance for Community Media (ACM) are all resonating as I contemplate what needs to be done in the next decade to improve our country’s local media ecosystems. 

In sum, two things make community access television’s infrastructure relevant and valuable today. First is its infrastructure — the community media centers, distribution channels (via cable and streaming platforms), and knowledgeable practitioners who strongly believe in sustaining and improving civic information systems. Second is the knowledge we can glean from community access television’s roots in prosocial activism, public education, and civic communication movements. 

I ultimately want to see community media practitioners and centers included in the burgeoning civic media movement. Dwindling cable subscription revenue has become the preeminent threat to local access television’s future existence. However, with more community-engaged research, grassroots partnerships, and creative funding strategies, we can preserve, upgrade, and expand community media centers in ways that position them as anchoring hubs in the civic media movement.  

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Antoine Haywood, Ph.D., is a journalism assistant professor at the University of Florida’s College of Journalism and Communication. His research, informed by extensive practitioner experience, focuses on understanding the relevance and value of community access television infrastructure in the digital age.

This piece was edited by James Salanga. Copy edits by Bettina Chang. Fact-checking by Bashirah Mack.