Switchin' to glide

We had an exam in one of my classes in which we were asked to “discuss the relative usefulness of storytelling as strategy for empowerment,” and I thought I would post my response and leave it open to comments:

The term “empowerment” is to some scholars empty rhetoric, a “free-floating signifier” of sorts that can imply a relationship in which one person has power to give, and another to receive, or more generally, it can be spoken of as a “zero-sum” relationship. (Gore 3) Therefore, “empowerment” may not be the best term to use when discussing storytelling as a strategic method towards the diverse ends of sharing histories, finding personal healing, building relationships, and affecting social change. Rather, speaking of the specific positive effects of storytelling may be a more efficacious manner in which the tangible results of this practice can be interrogated.
First and foremost, oral storytelling is one of the oldest modes of transmission of history. Far before the written word, cultural memory was stored in the minds of the oral storytellers and accordingly passed on to successive generations. Even with the advent of the written word, there was a seeming compulsion to leave something of oneself behind in the form of stories. Where this narrative becomes complicated, however, is in the hierarchies that have developed in terms of whose stories are told. Simply put, the dominant class in any society gives itself the hegemonic power to construct historical and cultural memory, as this is a means of consolidating power, and the subjectivity of the non-dominant class is effectively erased. Thus the power to tell stories in order to transmit, share, and construct histories holds a sort of cultural currency; if stories are currency, storytellers can purchase their place in history. This is important for the non-dominant class in any society, as for this class any act of knowledge production is an act of transgression against mainstream narratives, (hooks 63-4) which can in turn affect a truly post-modern historical narrative in which there is not one speaker, but a cacophony of voices.
To speak as a part of this cacophony can be personally fulfilling and therapeutic, especially for people who have experienced trauma or violence at the hands of a member of a dominant class. This is intimately related to both the effects of “building relationships” and “affecting social change” as well. The experience of telling one’s story after possibly repressing it or not being allowed to speak it can be transformative for the storyteller, as the full burden of holding that knowledge inside can be dissipated among the receivers of the story. The receivers of the story and the storyteller are also able to feel a certain amount of intimacy towards one another, as sharing about oneself is an integral part of building understanding and friendships across all sorts of barriers. When relationships are formed of the basis of shared stories and understanding, there also exists a marked potential for social change, as receivers of stories are more readily inclined to be allies, and storytellers are much more likely to feel invigorated enough to champion their own rights when they feel that they have really been heard.
As per comparing storytelling to other means of “empowerment,” it is impossible. If storytelling were defined as one particular practice its revolutionary power would be boxed-in. Surely marching through the streets tells a story, as does writing a book, or recording an oral history; in the words of Naitô Chizuko, “[s]tories pervade – everywhere. One could even say that stories are not only that which is written to be literary, but that which is routinely born out of an arrangement of words.” (Chizuko 1) For the marginalised, storytelling is a means to challenge prevalent discourses which degrade them and maintain the unequal status quo.