The more I learn about griots and their surrounding history, a heavy sense of responsibility settles in. For those tuning in for the first time, a griot is a West African storyteller. Storytelling is one of the oldest forms of art and political commentary. I’ve been following a few storytelling guilds, joined some emails lists and soaking in the overall community. Why do I continue to be surprised that I feel odd in every group I’m associated with? Why does it continue to surprise me that the things I want said aren’t being said? You’d think that my experience being on this planet would have cemented that idea that, “I’m different.” You’d think I’d learn that this experience of feeling “other” is a universal experience since we are all atoms that orbit around our individual hearts. And yet, I get that familiar kick that says, “Guess it’s time to find my place.” This makes me equal parts frustrated and excited at the apparent vacancy. There are so many societal conflicts that aren’t being discussed in the medium of stories.

Or rather, they are discussed in a much more general way. I’ve heard stories about kindness and generosity. Stories about embracing history and planning for a united human future. But what about the everyday struggles in my life and the lives of my friends/family? What about the right to be who you are sexually? What about the feelings of gender minorities? What about the brown people across the globe? I see European storytellers talking about Anasi the spider but where is the larger appreciation for the people that created him?

But here I am. Completely new to an arena and I’ve decided (once again) to change things. How inventively arrogant. Yet, how can I expect change if I am not willing to individually contribute to it? This is becoming an exhausting troupe in my life. But it all comes from the idea of revolution.

What is My Revolution?

I want to share stories and perform them for audiences around the world. I believe that face-to-face communication is one of the most powerful means of conveying passion and intention. I want people to hear my stories and feel a greater connection to others around them. I want to remind people that minorities are a vital part of our universal makeup because we are all individuals. By the nature of our design, we are separate pieces all looking for our space. If we can not appreciate the minority of one type, there will never be freedom to appreciate the uniqueness of ourselves. I want to promote the idea that every person has a place in this world and that by working together across all lines of identity, there are strong commonalities and potential for unity. In doing so, my focus will be related to social activism and civil rights. I can’t tell stories from any other point of view. My eyes are feminist. My skin is brown. My sexuality is queer. My gender is fluid. And everything that makes me who am I wants to reach out to others who feel… different. To convey the ideas that have been trapped in the language of elitism and academia.

I know I have privileges. I am college educated and in my time I’ve had access to vast amounts of literature that wildly changes my worldview. I am blessed with the understanding of big words and academic vocabulary. I have people resources who are willing to create a safe space to let me work out the issues that arise when my prejudices collide with information I’ve gather. For a long time, I assumed everyone had this. Even if we pretend that everyone on earth can Google information (which I hope is apparent that this is not the norm), we can not pretend they all have the practice or ability to understand what they find without conversation and context. I know I need help dealing with my internal and external bullshit. I’m sure others do as well. That illustrates the power of stories.

You hear about Cinderella and you might come away with a feeling that dreams can come true. Or one person hears that marriage is the ultimate prize for a woman. One hears that a happy ending needs a boy and a girl. One wonders if every step-mother is secretly a villain. People don’t always contruct morals with their linear thought process. But when you hear a story, it gives you something that you carry with you. For many, we learn that dreams can be reality but only for beautiful white (although slightly dirty) paupers who are chosen by the elite if they clean up well and have delicate feet. Wouldn’t it be radical if the story is told in a way that didn’t reinforce destructive societal norms? Wouldn’t it be great if I could tell stories without people feeling excluded from the happy ending? Wouldn’t it be fabulous if I could convey concepts with imagination and passion? We can use stories to help destroy the seeds inside us that bloom into bigotry and oppression. Everyone creates justifications for their personal actions. The villian believes they are the hero. But what if we told them the other side? What if we made them think or laugh or cry? It becomes harder to cast someone as a disposable extra in your life once you’ve heard them speak.

I need this. This is for every time I jumped up and squealed when a TV show casts a brown actor. For every message board that teems with excitement when a queer person wins an award. This is because the way my genitals are shaped is completely irrelevant to whether or not I’m allowed to live in peace. We celebrate these things because they do not happen nearly enough. We all feel so alone and different. We keep looking for other outsiders too. We search for it more than we’ll admit. Perhaps more than we realize. It feeds us every time a minority gets to whisper above the roar of systematically designed silence. There has to be stories to share the struggles of the oppressed that don’t rely on troupes loaded with emotionally triggering images.

I think so too. So I’m going to try.

Who is my audience?

My audience is people who want to understand but perhaps do not have standard avenues for activist education. I want to talk to people inside and outside of activist circles in language that is approachable and non-condescending. Adults who come for the entertainment but leave with a greater education about social justice. Because at heart, identity is an intensely personal journey with accompanying experiences. We’ve created lots of beautiful S.A.T. words to describe it. However, I still remember my Fiction Professor repeating, “Show, not Tell”. Meaning, people often need to see what is happening before they can discuss it in theory.

Why am I qualified?

I am qualified because I am several different types of minorities and so I have learned a great deal about the intersection of various social issues through personal life experience. I’m qualified because I’m passionate about exploring. I know throughout the process, I will be faced with my own personal prejudices and I continually ask people to share them with me. I won’t admit to always knowing but I will commit to always learning.

I went to college and learned how to navigate academia but I understand the frustrations of translating concepts to a larger audience. I feel that terminology and theory are important but not if they form a barrier between humans. Those dividing lines separate useful information from others because of privileges like reading comprehension skills, location and internet access. All language at its core is supposed to bring us closer and I feel that storytelling is one of the strongest (and most ancient) forms of sharing concepts in ways that can be universally understood.

I am extremely passionate about the topic and have donated my life to education on a one-on-one level. I will gain a great sense of satisfaction from this journey. I also feel a personal call to this mission as a thank you to the many powerful people who helped shape me.

But most of all, I’m qualified because I am the only person who can tell my stories. I also think my stories are worth sharing. And that’s the way it is, the way it was, and the way it always will be.