20201208 Eva Voinigescu

Meet Eva Voinigescu, The Narwhal’s new outreach manager

With a background that’s ‘part start-up, part newsroom, part non-profit,’ Eva is well-poised to take our relationship with readers and partners to the next level

When Eva Voinigescu looks back on her path to The Narwhal, the throughline becomes clear.

One of her earliest memories of engaging with environmental issues is making a documentary on chlorofluorocarbons and the hole in the ozone layer with two other girls in Grade 8. She recalls walking through the empty cornfields adjacent to her suburban Ottawa development and narrating into the camera as she tried to recreate scenes from the documentaries she had seen on TV. After getting tongue-tied one too many times, she shortened “chlorofluorocarbons” to “CFCs.”  

At the time, it was just another school assignment. Now, looking back, she can see how fitting it is that she has ended up working in environmental journalism. 

That documentary ended up winning a national student award, marking the beginning of a long line of accomplishments.

Eva describes her professional experience as “part start-up, part newsroom, part non-profit.” She started her career as an account coordinator at an ad agency in Toronto before doing her master’s in journalism at Northwestern University in Chicago. After graduating, she worked as a video producer at an advertising start-up, a communications specialist at a non-profit that funds scientific research and a freelance journalist, producer and audience consultant. 

In her role as outreach manager, Eva will be liaising with partners and donors, as well as working on audience engagement to ensure The Narwhal continues to connect with readers in meaningful ways.

We got a chance to chat with Eva about the many hats she’s worn and the steps she’s taken to bring her to The Narwhal.

Eva Voinigescu

The Narwhal’s new outreach manager winning a national student award for a documentary she produced with two other girls in Grade 8. Eva’s fun fact about this photo: the two other girls are also now working in journalism. Photo: Eva Voinigescu. Photo illustration: Carol Linnitt / The Narwhal

Why did you decide to work in journalism?

There wasn’t any one moment where the decision was clear, but I’m a pretty curious person and I like figuring things out. I’ve always been a really good student and really liked formal education, so I’ve always seen journalism as a way to be a student forever — you’re always learning new things.

I had a lot of exposure to media as a kid — my mom always had Scientific American magazines hanging around the house and my dad was obsessed with the BBC and CBC. But ironically, they weren’t too keen on me going to journalism school. They wanted me to do something more stable, like business or science. We moved to Canada from Romania when I was young, so it’s very much the immigrant story in that sense. So even though I applied to J-school for undergrad, I kind of chickened out and I did a bachelor of arts instead. At the time, I convinced myself that it was a good middle ground between what I wanted and what my parents wanted. 

But after a couple of years, I still couldn’t shake the journalism bug and I’d also grown into myself more — the idea of talking to strangers didn’t scare me as much. So I went back and I did my master’s in journalism with a focus on science journalism and documentary.

How have you connected to nature throughout your life?

My family in Romania has farms and land in the countryside, so I’ve always liked to be in the garden, with the farm animals, and in open spaces. I definitely idealize the pastoral a bit too much. 

I also read a couple of books a few years ago, In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan and The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Waldman, that really changed the way I thought about the finite nature of our environment. 

I didn’t really come to embrace spending time in nature until my 20s and it’s partially tied to those books. It’s also partially tied to the fact that my mom moved to the West Coast and I got to experience those more dramatic landscapes regularly, in a way that I didn’t growing up in the suburbs of Ottawa and the east end of Toronto. 

Eva Voinigescu The Narwhal

Eva Voinigescu poses for a portrait in Toronto. “I’ve always liked to be in the garden, with the farm animals, and in open spaces.” Photo: Christopher Katsarov Luna / The Narwhal

What do you enjoy most about the job so far?

What I love about it so far is what a tight-knit team The Narwhal is. Having freelanced for the past three years, it’s so nice to have regular interactions with a community of people who are working toward the same goals and who are really smart and really passionate about the same things that I’m interested in. And not only that, but I think The Narwhal is really pushing the boundaries of independent journalism in Canada. They’re really challenging the old business model of journalism and working to make it sustainable again. 

Having this strategic business-minded side of my brain, it’s really exciting to be working for an organization that is willing to take risks, try new things and figure things out as they go, rather than being stuck in the old way of thinking.

How does your background in science journalism influence your work at The Narwhal?

I think it makes a really good foundation for working at The Narwhal because even though a lot of what I’m working on is actually business focused — brand strategy, events, media and partner outreach — any business decisions we’re making have to be compatible with the bigger mission, which is to produce in-depth journalism about the natural world. My understanding of journalism, branding, technology, communications and relationship building all really help me in my role.

What does good journalism look like to you?

It’s a tough question to answer succinctly because there’s so much that goes into good journalism. But I think for me — and I think this is at the core of what The Narwhal does — good journalism provides context. It speaks to the complexity of a situation, even if that makes the takeaways less definitive. It respects the humanity of the people who are sharing their stories. 

I think good journalism is also not dogmatic in how it’s practised. It’s flexible to changing as needed to address the moment we’re living in and to best serve people in the moment we’re living in. To not just serve principles, but to serve people.

What are three random things about you?

I went to journalism school in Chicago, so I’m a bit of a deep-dish snob. The best one I’ve had in Toronto is not at a restaurant. It’s the one my partner and I make at home and the secret ingredient is cornmeal. And that’s all I’ll say.

One of my first memories encountering wildlife is being charged by a ram at my great-aunt’s farm in Romania when I was four or five. The ram came at me and hit me in the stomach and it actually sent me flying, but luckily my bones weren’t broken. 

I’m pretty obsessed with podcasts and I am a committed speed listener — I have to play them at double speed to get through them all. I really loved Bear 148, and I also produce a podcast about the energy transition in Alberta and Canada.

Like a kid in a candy store
When those boxes of heavily redacted documents start to pile in, reporters at The Narwhal waste no time in looking for kernels of news that matter the most. Just ask our Prairies reporter Drew Anderson, who gleefully scanned through freedom of information files like a kid in a candy store, leading to pretty damning revelations in Alberta. Long story short: the government wasn’t being forthright when it claimed its pause on new renewable energy projects wasn’t political. Just like that, our small team was again leading the charge on a pretty big story

In an oil-rich province like Alberta, that kind of reporting is crucial. But look at our investigative work on TC Energy’s Coastal GasLink pipeline to the west, or our Greenbelt reporting out in Ontario. They all highlight one thing: those with power over our shared natural world don’t want you to know how — or why — they call the shots. And we try to disrupt that.

Our journalism is powered by people just like you. We never take corporate ad dollars, or put this public-interest information behind a paywall. Will you join the pod of Narwhals that make a difference by helping us uncover some of the most important stories of our time?
Like a kid in a candy store
When those boxes of heavily redacted documents start to pile in, reporters at The Narwhal waste no time in looking for kernels of news that matter the most. Just ask our Prairies reporter Drew Anderson, who gleefully scanned through freedom of information files like a kid in a candy store, leading to pretty damning revelations in Alberta. Long story short: the government wasn’t being forthright when it claimed its pause on new renewable energy projects wasn’t political. Just like that, our small team was again leading the charge on a pretty big story

In an oil-rich province like Alberta, that kind of reporting is crucial. But look at our investigative work on TC Energy’s Coastal GasLink pipeline to the west, or our Greenbelt reporting out in Ontario. They all highlight one thing: those with power over our shared natural world don’t want you to know how — or why — they call the shots. And we try to disrupt that.

Our journalism is powered by people just like you. We never take corporate ad dollars, or put this public-interest information behind a paywall. Will you join the pod of Narwhals that make a difference by helping us uncover some of the most important stories of our time?

See similar stories

Travelling the Buffalo road: Indigenous nations are rematriating bison to the prairies

Get the inside scoop on The Narwhal’s environment and climate reporting by signing up for our free newsletter. Grey clouds loom overhead as a group from...

Continue reading

Recent Posts

Our newsletter subscribers are the first to find out when we break a big story. Sign up for free →
An illustration, in yellow, of a computer, with an open envelope inside it with letter reading 'Breaking news.'
Your access to our journalism is free — always. Sign up for our weekly newsletter for investigative reporting on the natural world in Canada you won’t find anywhere else.
'This is not a paywall' text illustration, in a reddish-pink font colour
Your access to our journalism is free — always. Sign up for our weekly newsletter for investigative reporting on the natural world in Canada you won’t find anywhere else.
'This is not a paywall' text illustration, in a reddish-pink font colour