Storytelling is how we construct meaning, communicate our values, and shape the frames we use to interpret the world. We use stories, which repeated over time become narratives, to communicate and socialize what people like “us” are supposed to do.
These narratives have been shaped across generations by power dynamics determining who gets to make decisions, whose voices are heard, and who has access to resources. In the community development sector, these dominant narratives—widely accepted stories that legitimize and reinforce existing power structures and marginalize communities of color—shape policies, funding decisions, and resource allocation. Toward An Anti-Racist Paradigm in Community Development: High-Level Research Findings identified eleven such narratives.
Acknowledging these narratives, while essential, is only part of an initial step. An intentional effort to advance anti-racist practices will go beyond naming harmful stories and actively counter them by creating opportunities to imagine and amplify stories that embody a much-needed shift in community development.
Consider what stories can move us from a scarcity to an abundance mindset or from a colorblind to an explicitly anti-racist approach. Imagine stories to reinforce the importance of decision-making processes that are of, by, and for residents. Amplify stories to reaffirm communities’ cultural wealth, facilitate healing, and uplift community-led journalism and storytelling traditions.
To support community development practitioners in this work, we developed the Crafting Anti-Racist Narratives for Community Development Toolkit.
In the tradition of my ancestors, I approach my practice as a narrative strategist to embody the Nahuatl precept of In Xochitl, In Cuicatl (The Flower, The Song). As a storyteller, I seek to co-imagine, craft, and share stories to manifest flowers and songs of joy, healing, liberation, and nourishment within my community.
I’m called to this work because, as a child, I learned our well-being is directly connected to the stories surrounding our lives. The stories my grandmothers and mom told me were always nourishing. They made me feel seen, heard, valued, and loved. As I grew up, however, I encountered other stories.
I learned about colorism, what it feels like to be labeled “illegal,” and how my resilience can be weaponized against me. These stories dehumanized me. For many years, they shifted how I viewed myself and engaged with others. Recovering myself required a deep commitment to engage in storytelling as a practice of freedom, radical reflection, healing, and critical hope. This personal journey is the reason why I believe narrative change is possible.
If stories can be told to separate and harm us, then stories can also be told to heal and reaffirm the connections we share. As you embark on narrative change work, I invite you to consider some of the lessons I’ve learned along my journey.
The word “radical” comes from the Latin word “radix,” which means “root.” Crafting a narrative strategy requires us to go to the root of our stories.
We need to reflect on the message we broadcast outward and the personal stories we carry within. To change dominant narratives, we first must understand their essence and discern our roles within them. Furthermore, as individuals, when we embark on this introspective journey, diving deep into our beliefs and biases, we wield a potent tool for change. By reflecting on and transforming the narratives we harbor within ourselves, we can demonstrate narrative change is possible.
As we reckon with the legacy and unfolding harmful impact of dominant narratives, our narrative strategies need to be guided by a commitment to collective healing. Do we merely aim to tell stories about justice, or do we strive to ensure that the very process through which we craft and share narratives is itself just and healing? No matter how well-intentioned, narrative change efforts without a healing-centered engagement framework risk perpetuating harm. Instead, our narrative projects can honor and uplift the healing knowledge, practices, and traditions that BIPOC communities have sustained across generations.
Lastly, as we examine and seek to counter dominant narratives, our storytelling has to embody what educator Jeff Duncan-Andrade refers to as critical hope – the combined capacity to acknowledge and engage with the pain and struggles in our communities, as well as the precious sources of joy, possibility, and hope inherent within each of us. Without criticality, our narrative change efforts can become race-neutral and sound like naive optimism. Without hope, our storytelling becomes deficit-based and detached from social justice movements’ legacy and unfolding work. In other words, we need to be critical of the systemic sources of racism and uplift our collective agency to build a just world.
As you engage in your narrative work, I wish you healing, joy, and transformation. May the stories we co-create acknowledge our past, nourish our present, and pave the way for a just future.
Luis Ortega is founder and director of Storytellers for Change. He is a multidisciplinary storyteller, facilitator, educator, and artist. Over the last fourteen years, Luis has worked with cross-sector organizations to co-design storytelling strategies and leadership programs to foster empathy, inclusion, and equity across communities.
The author is responding to the findings shared in the Anti-Racist Community Development Research Project, produced with support from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation (RWJF) to increase understanding of structural racism in community development and pathways to racially equitable outcomes that promote health equity. The views expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect the views of RWJF or ThirdSpace Action Lab.
© 2023 Robert Wood Johnson Foundation