

Today we’d like to introduce you to Shayla Reaves.
Hi Shayla, can you start by introducing yourself? We’d love to learn more about how you got to where you are today?
I have always enjoyed writing. In 7th grade, my English teacher encouraged me to pick up a pen and paper. Every time my interests gravitated elsewhere, something pulled me back to writing. I started with poetry and expanded from there.
My words canvassed pages and school papers. Though I always liked the idea of journals, I failed to successfully fill all the pages in each one. I wanted what entered the journal to look nice, free of scribbles and scratch-outs. A hope in frequent conflict with my creativity.
“Your writing looks like chicken scratch!” my mother would often say, bringing attention to the artistry on my page. Outside of school, I really didn’t stay in the lines. My words gathered in groups, huddled between parcels of white. The blank space disappeared with each stroke, Ideas congregating in common threads. A mix of capital, cursive, and printed letters blotted the page. In the organized confusion, my thoughts found a tangible home.
I could always read what I wrote at the moment. If I needed those words months later, I’d type them. If someone else needed those words, I’d make them pretty.
And my efforts to write my thoughts would often end with ripped-out pages. No matter how many pages I ripped out, crumpled, and tossed in the trash, my imprint remained etched in each one.
Though I didn’t like the blemish of an error, I loved (and still love) the beauty and permanence of words landing in pen. The tip meshed against a blank white space disappearing beneath each stroke, the smooth surface a landing pad for thoughts.
Perfection can feel transient and elusive. It can differ by person, by industry, by family, by generation or even by culture. What’s perfect today may not feel perfect tomorrow. I drew a rigid line in my youth.
“I just want you to know she may be upset today,” Mrs. Fisher told my father in elementary school. He always arrived early to pick me up. His black and gray Nissan pickup parked first in the carpool line. The passenger’s side windowsill displayed a “peel-and-remove” sticker exhibit curated by my tiny hands.
Mrs. Fisher had to take a popsicle stick that day; my perfect behavior record crushed. She broke the news to my dad before I walked out the door.
“I left the room, came back and didn’t know what happened. I had to take a stick from both of them,” she said. Mrs. Fisher was fair. Taking a stick from my popsicle stick stash stung.
“Aww it’s gon’ be all right Shay,” my dad’s voice filled with assurance, I fell into the passenger’s seat a soul-crushed heap in a seatbelt. He could see further than I could in that moment. He has always had a way with words.
I’ve always been on a quest to find the right words. It’s an ongoing search for a better way to communicate with others. I really want people to understand.
Deep down I’ve always wanted to feel understood.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
For more than half of my career, I think I was looking for a newsroom to show me who I was.
I remember taking my first television job as a producer, special projects assistant and weekend reporter. I’d been honing my networking skills in college, attending annual National Association of Black Journalists (NABJ) conferences and handing out my Vistaprint business cards before I ever landed a job.
What’s on the business card of an eager college student? My name, university, year of graduation, a phone number, and an email address.
I remember walking the floor of the career fair, resume in hand, hoping to get my college clips reviewed by some of my favorite broadcast journalists. Our college counselor Loraine called my friends and I the “NABJ Groupies.” We walked the floor like we were supposed to be there, breaking character for moments of excitement. That’s Shaun Robinson! Did you see Jacque Reid? Joe Johns from CNN looked at my tape! We lived those moments, taking them in, year after year. It’s through NABJ’s internship program that I landed a summer television internship with the station that would become my first news employer.
The summer unfolded in Louisville, Kentucky, a place I would later call home for four years. Each day I showed up for my internship, dressed for the role I hoped to one-day earn. My closet, an ever-expanding array of business suits.
If Skittles had a “Corporate America in Training” pack, my closet would be the prototype. I had suits in every color. Pink, lime green, blue, you name it! Not all should have been there, but I planted my feet firmly in my dream. I wanted to become an anchor. I knew it would take years of hard work, but I needed people to see me in the shoes I wanted to fill from the beginning.
I committed to the Mac currant lip liner in college. I paired it faithfully with a C-Thru lip gloss. I believed I was something. I was my own star shining bright! One with slightly awkward suiting and a plan.
“I’m going to be at the network by 30,” I said to my friends. I didn’t know how, but I committed to the goal.
Notepad in hand, I showed up for my internship ready to learn from the pros. I spent many afternoons riding in the backseat, lessons flowing from reporters and photographers. My pen jotting down tips trickling from their lips.
I remember hearing a reporter use the expression “Scary moments…” to get into a story. A good question to ask on a perp walk, “Is this all a big misunderstanding?” another once said. The most important message came from one of my favorite photojournalists; people remember how they feel more than anything. I still take that with me today. They won’t remember 12 people came to the party, but they’ll remember the party made them feel happy.
It’s a concept translating beyond news. People remember how physical spaces make them feel, often returning to those that make them feel good.
That summer, I practiced writing my own versions of the reporter stories and putting the packages together. I would take my reel to the convention, confidently walking the career fair, feeling prepared for reviews. I wasn’t looking for a job, I was looking to fill my notepad. I soaked in information like a sponge. The information filling the pages would be my launching pad for the next school year. I would apply the words to my work, growing and building at each turn.
I graduated at the top of my journalism class at Northwestern University. Me, the kid once worried about getting in trouble for staying up too late to study. The kid whose mother would yell “go to bed!” my eyes peering down from the upstairs balcony, waiting for her bedroom light to flicker off. The kid eagerly waiting for my mother to sleep, so I could grab a flashlight, sit in the corner of my room and study in the dark when I didn’t feel prepared. I was definitely a nerd and embraced it. That’s the kid, now woman, taking on the world.
For years, the formula was simple; study, get good grades and move ahead.
Not the case in the real world.
I sent out more than 40 tapes trying to land my first television job out of college. Three responded. The number included my NABJ internship station. It’s an employment offer I would later accept.
For the first time, I was truly the new kid on the block in a station full of veteran anchors and reporters.
It didn’t matter where I went to school. It didn’t matter how hard I worked to get there. I was literally starting over.
Sometimes you have to abandon the way you’ve always been to find who you’re meant to be. It’s a scary thing, the person accustomed to controlling learning how to let life simply play out. Faith, perseverance, support and adapting to change helped me get to where I am today.
As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I’m a creative deep thinker who loves to laugh and help others see the best of who they are. I believe my approach to people sets me apart from others.
For people to share the realist, truest parts of themselves, they must feel safe. Safety includes knowing your vulnerabilities will be handled with compassion, sensitive and care.
While working in Florida, I remember arriving for a live report on a makeshift memorial honoring a school crossing guard killed on the job. No matter how many years I’ve worked as a reporter, I still feel anxiety about knocking on a door after a loss. While preparing for the live report, a family member showed up and spoke with my photographer outside the live truck. My photographer learned he was the crossing guard’s son and asked if he’d like to speak with us. The son said no, left and returned after my first report. He came back with his father’s partner who recently had surgery. When they saw I was the reporter covering the story, they decided to speak. I didn’t have to knock on the door. They came on their own. How I showed up and treated others navigating loss (before them) resonated in that moment. They felt safe. That mattered to me.
We never know whose lives we are going to change and how they will change our lives in turn.
A few years ago, I met a woman named Dawn. She lost her daughter Jenna to a DUI driver. I reported on the story. Months later, her husband sent me a message on social media asking if I would send his wife a text message. For them, they said the manner in which I did my job every day, gave them some comfort knowing I was the one there the morning of the crash. We later met for dinner. They told me the meeting provided them some closure they’d been looking for after losing their daughter.
I found out Jenna’s favorite color was orange. Before moving out of state, I connected with Dawn for breakfast and brought some bracelets and earrings I made in that color. She wanted to wear all three at once! We laughed. We cried. Most importantly though, we made a lifetime connection.
While Dawn and her husband may have needed closure/comfort when we met, I think meeting them reminded me that what I do every day matters. How I do my job matters. People like Dawn and her husband are two reasons why. We still talk to this day.
I’m most proud of myself for finding the courage to bring the realist, truest, parts of myself to my work in television. It has taken years to embrace the disowned parts of myself. The reward has been worth the work. Authenticity takes courage.
For years, when I was feeling down, I would create the most colorful vibrant crafts. During 2018 and 2019, I challenged myself to see what would happen if I crafted all the time, happy or sad. By embracing the things I felt drawn to do, I began living in a constant state of possibility. I believe, by doing things I’m most passionate about, I show up most authentically in the world and attract more people into my life that draw out the realist, truest parts of who I am. Through the process, I learned it’s okay if all of me doesn’t fit in the box checked news. When I accepted that as okay, it made it easier to be myself in news. I was no longer looking for news to show me who I was. When I found myself, my whole world changed.
Right now, I report for WCCO mornings and anchor the noon newscast daily. I participate in talker segments twice a week for WCCO Mid-Morning and tell stories about people making a difference in the Twin Cities. I bring energy, joy, compassion and kindness to my work. I am curious, engaging and make people smile. in June 2021, I launched an online conversation series called “Let’s Chat.” I have connected with more than 80 Minnesotans so far through the digital series and look forward to connecting with more.
Prior to joining the team in December 2020, I reported for television stations in Louisville (KY), Columbus (OH), Tampa (FL) and Greenville (NC).
How do you think about luck?
I believe luck happens when preparation meets opportunity.
Looking back at my college years, I see a girl hungry for a dream. She lived life with intent, committed to a path. She worked tirelessly to align her skills with her goals. She wanted to fit in the “television” box. She methodically approached what looks like an impossible task; being a perfect fit in a subjective field.
If anyone was going to do it, she could. If anyone could do it, she would.
I don’t believe my perception was off. How I perceived myself aligned with where I was and the experiences I had through that point in life. I didn’t know what I didn’t know. I can’t penalize myself for experiences I hadn’t yet had.
It’s easier to look back and laugh, seeing the impossibility of this task; the illusion of perfection.
I haven’t always been able to say that. However, I am someone who invests in what she believes in. Finding laughter in my dream is a sign of growth. I can laugh at how I “was,” not feeling like I’m defending a version of myself I still I am. To be the exact same girl I was in college now, is to have lived a life less than I’m capable of living. I’m not anchored in who I was. I’m anchored in the truth of who I’m destined to be.
I have traveled to create the career I want to have in television. Right now, I am in a place with managers who say “We want you to be yourself!” The most authentic parts of me have a home.
As I embrace who I am, I am connecting with other creative people, learning new things and genuinely feeling excitement and energy about life. Positive things continue to happen the more I create. For me, creativity is about more than physical tangible crafts. It’s about creating friendships, building relationships and making new connections.
I can’t wait to see where this journey leads. I look forward to what happens as passion, purpose and dreams continue to collide.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://minnesota.cbslocal.com/personality/shayla-reaves/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/shaylareavestv
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ShaylaReavesTV | https://www.facebook.com/letschatwithshayla/
- Twitter: https://twitter.com/wccoshayla
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCJWn51J1P2p8Y0QV8H4Qs4A