Loving the questions
Reflections from teaching “Storytelling and Communicating for Change” in the University of Vermont Masters of Leadership for Sustainability program.
There’s a reason I love teaching. Designing a syllabus and curriculum challenges me to think strategically about what information and tools folks need, what insights I hope they uncover using them, and how we can collectively help each other in the learning process. Inevitably, along the way, I solidify my awareness of what I have been picking up in my own journey.
And then, then the students ask more questions. They challenge me beyond my own realm of knowledge and experience. They say something in a way I’ve never considered. Their turn of phrase makes my writer’s heart sing. They surprise me with their observations and questions. They inspire me with their passion and inquiry and resolve and love of their communities.
They remind me how important it is to continue to love the questions…
Know the difference between “story” and “STORY“
The term “stories” is thrown around a lot in the “social good” sector; the word itself encompasses many meanings in the English language. In our work, we often see/use journalistic pieces, profiles of individuals, anecdotes, op-eds and opinion pieces — and group them all under the term “story.”
So in your use of the word “story,” be ever conscious of its relationship to the art of storytelling and what a story’s specific “requirements” (context, characters, dialogue, tension, lesson, scenes, real time, beginning/middle/end) are. There is real craft and artistic intentionality related to storytelling, and this can offer our sector an important tool that reporting, research, and rhetoric cannot achieve on its own — even with the most perfectly crafted messages or audience analysis.Why it’s important to get clear on who the audience is and who the changemakers are
Why it’s important to get clear on who the audience is and who the changemakers are
Here’s our challenge as communicators: taking the issues out of the realm of ideals and concepts and humanizing them, attaching them to people and specific places — either to those affected or to those with the decision-making power to start to change them. In other words, who is closest to the problem? Who is responding in the immediate problem? And who else can start putting the longer-term cures in place? Where are all the kinds of power operating? What is the best and most just way for a reader/viewer/supporter to be involved?
We have so many decisions to make besides the words and images we use. Zeroing in on audience often helps narrow and bring clarity. The purpose here is to put ourselves in others’ shoes and think through their motivations, which might be very different than ours, as we develop messaging.
Careful not to “should” all over your audience
The “should mindset” is communicated in rhetorical word choices like: should, must, have/need to, it’s time to. These are quite polarizing words that place the reader as either with you or against you. They can sound arrogant, forceful, or inflexible, and can alienate your reader/listener.
Of course it is important to remind folks that something matters. But if this is what we rely on this imperative as the vehicle for all our messages, there’s a couple of issues:
- It centers our perspective as the only one that matters;
- It doesn’t build a bridge to others beyond “the choir”; and
- Essentially it communicates our messages in an authoritarian manner.
Essentially you’re assuming everyone already thinks like you, or they should. That energy of “convince and change” is potentially dehumanizing. Certainly, that doesn’t necessarily make them bad word choices — there is a time and a place for imperatives.
“Effectiveness moves along relational lines. ‘Rightness’ remains frozen, surrounded by walls of shutdown.”
~Nina Smolyar
What if your learning journey was what was up for inquiry here, not other people’s behavior? What if all of those “shoulds” were turned into “I” statements or questions?
If you give people the “wonderings” of your own experience and inquiry, not just the “shoulds” of their own behavior, you’ll get much further in convincing people why it’s important. Be willing to be judged by what you’ve done and the insights or wisdom you’ve acquired, not the strength of the arguments you’re making.
In my own writing, I often switch out these words (which come so natural to people who care about sustainability or social transformation, who tend to be conscientious and ethical, with a strong sense of right and wrong, myself included) with: could/would, can, is important that… Another tip is to turn your mandate into a question that includes you and keep it specific, e.g. “Can we, as people with privilege, identify and call out the microaggressions we see in our workplaces?” rather than “People with privilege should build relationships based on respect and humility.”
If you give people the “outcomes” of your own inquiry, not just the “shoulds” of their own, I think you get much further in convincing people why it’s important.
Trouble is…not enough love
Who wants to be judged, chastised, or shamed?
People don’t act from a thinking place, but an emotional one. For example, people often feel so dwarfed and overwhelmed by the climate crisis, for example, that taking action is even harder.
So instead of trying to shape peopleto “do the right thing” with our nonprofit communications, what if we were inviting them to do something for a place or a group of people they love?
Rather, what if the starting point in communications was belonging and connectedness? How would the words change? I love this practice as described by Adrianne Maree Brown:
“Move towards spaces that value us, let ourselves belong to those communities that know they want us, know they need us, know we have worth, know we deserve more than transactional care.”
How could “belonging” result in action differently than those old emotional nonprofit/marketing tropes?
Join us in…pain?
Of course talking to people who already think like us feels good, but it doesn’t get us anywhere. How do we then meet people “where they are” when their worldviews may be at odds with our own? Instead of trying to change them, think of your engagement as: What’s the next step on their own learning journey that they can take to get us all closer to the healthy future I see, rather than convincing them they’re wrong? What can we learn from the way they see “the systems” that surround the issue we care to affect/change? And thus how can we create messages that resonate with them rather than disregard other orientations to seeing the world?
Waking up to how unconscious you are is painful. Many times, we are inviting people to join us in a healing process, which can be scary and intimidating. Necessarily, confronting personal and societal pain is part of this, and it actually never ends (also tricky). So let’s make sure not to only talk about what’s hard, but especially about the joy and the liberation and the connection and expanded love that are also the “rewards” of taking this journey.
Sorry, emotions win.
Our education privilege and organizational cultures tend to dismiss the emotive part of storytelling, and view emotion as having no role in rational decision-making. This can be expressed as a preference for objectivity all the way to invalidating people who show emotion. Our thinking minds have been trained that “hard” numbers and “objective” data is more important. We want to believe that logic trumps emotion. (And yes, I use that verb intentionally as politicians are SO skilled at using storytelling within their rhetoric.)
Gotta break it to you though…the evidence is in and it’s not true. Emotions win. MAGA anyone?
Cognitive psychology tells us that we look for data, to confirm what we already “feel.” That is why even if data is part of our messaging, it’s best to present it second, as its most important function in persuasion is to help people rationalize why they feel a certain way on an issue.
Now the good news about stories and storytelling is, that in skilled and trusted hands/mouth, they can contain pathos, logos, and ethos. And really, what isn’t biased? It is *really* possible to communicate without some measure of our personal perceptions, emotions, or imagination? Most days, it seems to me, neutrality is just a thought experiment rather than a lived reality. This is the stuff philosophers debate, but we communicators have to get some actual work done. (Ha.)
I’ve actually come to see the pretense of objectivity or neutrality as a vestige of white supremacy and patriarchy. The “logic” goes: the personal and emotional (which are a core part of building relationships) are irrational and should not be part of decision-making. What bunk! What the denial of relationships means is that power is preserved, unchallenged, and anyone who shows emotion is invalidated.
The real question is who getsto show emotions in our organizations? (Hint: It’s often related to power.)
Whole people, fuller stories
Usually stories are told from only one person’s perspective. Imagine, even our own story about our own lives is only told from one perspective. How would our mother or our best friend or nemesis tell our story? It would be different… Portraying the wholeness of people — not just easily-observable-to-the-white/male-gaze characteristics — is vital. For example, people can be “reliable” and “poor” at once. People can be “salt of the earth” and “complicated.”
It’s impossible to capture the wholeness of any one person, especially when what you’re writing has to serve an agenda, investigate an issue or organization, or deliver on already-set expectations. I think that’s why it’s so important for organizations to declare their communications philosophy, so that all people within the organization can be on the same page and call each other out/in as necessary.
Manufactured urgency is one key barrier to fuller storytelling. It takes time for people to consider the implications of their decisions. And stories can be vehicles for people to consider consequences and be more inclusive. No wonder it’s not prioritized. Stories require people to slow down, and listen — not just achieve.
As a nonprofit communicator myself, my constant battle is to be true to that wholeness/potential, and invite well-meaning do-gooders to think deeper — and into healing. When I have experienced healing within relationships, families, and communities, the complexity of individuals and the potential of humanity emerges. Can we put this at the core of our content?
Reframing the hero’s journey
The constant use of the hero’s journey as a storytelling mechanism has an impact on people’s views of collective action as a social change strategy. If people continue to believe that they have to overcome risks/problems/obstacles on their own, this may just lead to more isolation and despair.
I’m more aware all the time of the falsity of heroship, as well as villain hood. One of my favorite set of questions of my nephews as we read books that portray this binary is: So why do you think so-and-so [villain] is acting that way? Who did you think so-and-so [hero] got help from?
Let’s portray our heroes as accountable, as cooperating, as being delegated to. Can our communications reflect that overcoming of obstacles or transformation (even within ourselves) cannot happen on our own?
Yes, individuals together make up the collective, so how else can the hero’s journey be altered?
“When one is concerned with changing narrative frames, it’s important for discomfort to become a familiar character, not just during the journey itself but as an ongoing ‘normal.’” ~Corina Pinto
A hero’s journey’s lesson is not always found in the “resolution” of the conflict. If our storytelling represents our lived experiences in truthful ways, we can represent complexity and offer inspiration to find collective solutions.
Trust that the details can come
Are there times when there’s a need to be technical and delve into the complexity of an issue or situation, even if it is hard for general audiences to understand?
Not until you have an audience’s attention and commitment to action. And also when we’re sure the added technicality/complexity is serving the whole, not just our own egos and desire to be seen as “expert.” Before that, I believe it’s wasted breath/effort because being bold in our communications is key to attention-grabbing.
The details/nuance will have their time. Communicators rush to offer them much too often. Instead, focus in on what you want the reader to DO. Joe Schmoe on the street will never care about nuance the way you do. Ever. And it will certainly never drive anyone to take action.
Is it more important that the reader understand everything that you do? –or– Is it more important that they are attracted, invited, engaged (in what are fleeting moments devoted to reading something)?
Who are you?
I was at a TEDx event last year and the first speaker (who organized the event) didn’t introduce herself and just launched into her welcome. I was miffed and disappointed. Some would say this is a small thing, but by not introducing herself, she reinforced her own status, i.e. “everyone should know who I am.” That is antithetical to inclusive communications.
Within institutions, it might be necessary to drop our credentials into conversation or a presentation with upper-up’s, to help us communicate from a confident (yet not cocky) place that is ultimately more grounded in our experience. Because of the dominant cultural bias towards “objectivity” and positional power and authority, your credentials signal important aspects of so-called legitimacy to people who don’t know you.
At the same time, I also believe it’s possible to claim one’s “expertise”in a way that communicates a profound commitment to learning. No one expects someone who has three years experience, to know as much as the person with 20 years experience.
Knowing when to (and when not to) wield our credentials is important, but when speaking formally with external audiences, I believe it’s a person’s responsibility to introduce yourself and help people situate you to the context. It invites people to trust you and want to listen. I want no one to minimize their strength or contributions, andI want no one to assume they have the right to command people’s attention.
If you aren’t confident in your skills and lived experience, folks can’t trust you. We honor people’s dignity when we ask them for that trust rather than assuming we have it.
Why are you?
My personal do-gooder story contains “incredible aliveness, deep struggle, pain, and confusion.” I suspect there are many other “changemakers” who might describe their stories that way as well.
So I have some good news and bad news for you. Let me start with the bad: Scary and vulnerable as it may seem, we need more people to tell their stories, the “why” behind what they do. Because the story we have about ourselves is basically the river that flows underneath everything we do. In it flows our deepest motivations — often unconscious — that push us forward, that present obstacles or dictates our reactions to obstacles, that keeps us going. When we share our story, it invites every single person who hears it to think about their own story as well…and thus we all have a water source to share. Stories are where we go to liberate, to heal, to build community. They are powerful. Oh wait, that’s good news!
And here’s the other good news! We are free — right now and always — to tell as much or as little of our story as we want. We can share snippets, or the whole long thing. We can go deep into it, or tell is as if it were something emotionally separate from ourselves. Your story is always under your control.
The other good news is that when you sense you have “mastery” over where you are with your story right now (because it does change as you change), people will understand it. You will give them permission to have whatever experience they’ll have and you can know that wyou’ll be fine, regardless of their reaction. Each time, you will learn to trust that that story, and the transparency about your motivations and passions and experiences that goes with it will invite people in. When you “own” your story, you are valuing your own voice, and asking other people to do the same. Many of us are on a journey to claim our space and our rights. When we claim our stories (as well as our expertise), we affirm our self-worth and our interconnectedness.
Also, no one’s story is written or shared alone, which is why I’m all for more blurred lines between our professional, personal, and spiritual lives. When you have the courage to go “all in” on your story, you ask people to see their own suffering as a bridge to other people. It is a form of loving accountability to yourself and with others.
When people root for you, they root for your issue because they can see how you are directly impacted and how you want to reimagine what’s possible! Who wouldn’t want to be on that train?
For my fellow white women
I am asking us (myself included) to risk more in telling your story of reckoning with racism: What feelings and realizations have been evoked as we’ve learned more? Personally, my journey has brought up shame, sadness, shock, rage, grief. Did I say shame? And these are all really hard feelings to stay with. Everything in our society (along with my specific upbringing) taught me to avoid negative feelings and minimize their impact on others. Whiteness has left so many ill-equipped to talk about feelings, and this permeates every institution in our society.
Whiteness makes it hard to have any tough conversations — since everything is “supposed” to be easy and comfortable. When we share our stories with other white people, we allow people to be curious about what we’ve learned. Like any muscle, the more it is exercised, the easier it will become. (I promise.)
Even if our stories feel unfinished (because they always will be), visibilizing the specific changes we’re making to other white people (please don’t ask for a gold medal from people of color) honors our own humanity. Humans make mistake, and generations before us have been part of grave atrocities.
“We have to do more than offer seats at the table. We have to look at where the table is, how the table is set, and who built the table in the first place. We might find that the table would actually serve collective liberation by becoming firewood.” ~Lauren Akin
I still don’t know how white women can or will be included in the journey of collective liberation in the long-term. But to be given the opportunity to make things more equitable, to use our privilege for good now, is a duty and also a gift — an invitation to go deeper into our own humanity.
Leaders, critics, and friends
Here’s the deal: as leaders, we will get criticized — by all kinds of people, all the time. That’s the part of leadership I’m making my own peace with right now. It’s ultimately about trusting myself, and releasing the need to please people, and grounding in my truth, which will and should continue to evolve! That means any criticism/feedback I receive are simply a blessing on the learning journey if I can see it that way.
The circle of “friendly critics” or “critical friends” that can offer me feedback as I use my voice and have more courageous conversations is invaluable to me. Their presence means I’m not alone in figuring it all out on this never-ending learning journey. They remind me that every time I stretch my voice, my head, heart, and gut will offer me the information I most need.
Our WEIRD (Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, Democratic) lives means we put lots of value on words, but in reality, they come and go. What’s important is that we continue to learn and adapt.
Turns out what makes us compassionate friends and effective leaders, is also what can make us good communicators.
Loving the questions
Living with incommensurability is a lifelong journey. Indeed, it requires a lot of generosity and love. I also want to hold that it’s ok to have our reactions to people we encounter or things we read — even if negative. That anger or sadness and disappointment are useful teachers. For me, especially on issues of racism, they show up to demonstrate where the respect and dignity is missing. We build our mindfulness to choose whether and how to communicate in reaction to them. Liberation for all will require all parts of us to be present and we are training ourselves how to let the dissonance ring out, and still hold the line. Lifelong…
Communicating across difference requires us to keep asking questions — a constant balance that requires active discernment. Embrace the tensions as a continuing teacher. They are blessings that will continue to serve you.
