Story Telling... A radical act?

Today, I listened to a talk. Well…I somewhat listened to a talk. The speaker wanted to advance the audience’s perspective, and to inspire us to create change.  Despite these good intentions, I checked out.

Before I go into detail about what caused my disengagement, I need you to know that I don’t consider myself radical. While I often support revolutionary and radical causes, I don’t consider the way in which operate radical. I recognize the detrimental implications of oppression, and injustice, and I attempt to create change within my peripheral. I believe in order to engage in genuine radical acts, one must create a counter culture. To me, radical acts are organized efforts whose aim is to completely shift the dominant paradigm. Conversely, I work within contexts that—If I am going to be completely honest—can perpetuate the status quo. Therefore, I am not radical, analytical… yes, critical…yes, but not radical. 

So let’s get back to this talk. The talk opened with a story. The speaker was an older white male, and I was intrigued at the prospect of establishing common ground through his story.  His story was about his tipping point—the moment that marked dramatic change in his life. The catalyst of his tipping point was a stranger. A stranger who taught the speaker that one must capitalize on the opportunities of the future. This notion catapulted the stranger’s, and consequently the speaker’s, careers.  The stranger in the story had earned a substantial amount of wealth by flipping land. Strategically, the stranger identified land that the government would eventually want for interstate development, purchased it, and eventually sold it at 10 times the purchase rate. The stranger was a millionaire; he jumped at opportunity and made a fortune.

The talk continued… celebrating the capitalistic sprit of the stranger… I became anxious and distracted. I couldn’t listen and began to feel uneasy. St. Louis, my home for two years, fluttered through my thoughts, and I remembered.  I too had met a stranger. This stranger also told me a story, but hers was one of loss and devastation. Her story was about the decline of St. Louis. When the interstate was developed in St. Louis, it destroyed communities and evicted residents of the city. Soon St. Louis natives were displaced, those with more affluence established and moved to the suburbs. This flight caused the decline of St. Louis, and the loss of its communities.  

The speaker did not capture this loss and suffering. The speaker’s story didn’t resonate with me; instead it made me feel disconnected and marginalized.  Glorifying a stranger who capitalized from the destruction of communities seemed counterproductive, but I had no voice. The storyteller did.

Stories have power, as do those who tell them. As a queer, woman of color, my story is often marginal and misrepresented. Today, the speaker told his story through a lens of privilege, not recognizing its negative implications. I listened, which reinforced the dominant narrative, a narrative that overshadowed the experience of those like me and affirmed the experience of the dominate group. Today, I reflect on these stories, and I challenge my readers to do the same. Broaden the perspectives of stories you share, learn unfamiliar and divergent stories,  and diversify the tellers of stories. Liberate yourselves from the dominant narrative, and include the voice of marginalized groups. 

Coincidentally, we approach Black History Month, a time when we celebrate and recognize the stories of black folks; I challenge us to take this spirit of identity affirmation beyond the confines of February.  It is not a revolutionary or radical act to include diverse perspectives and experiences; it is a necessary one.  Stories are innately human, and to deny voice to OUR stories is to deny US of humanity. Humanization is NOT a radical act; it is a basic right.