Final Reflection:
I initially joined this project because I was frustrated by the events of my sophomore year. Though I was neither personally involved in nor afflicted by either side, it felt like the institution had failed to protect offended students and effectively educated the offending students. The lack of communication and understanding during this time made me cynical towards the overarching goal of higher education and made it feel like progress could only be achieved by working outside of the system.
This project has radically challenged my perceptions of what happened that year and my opinions on systemic vs. individual change. At the beginning of the semester, I was much more insistent on structural reform. I supported more punitive polices that would firmly establish expectations for incoming students before another incident occurred. After talking to multiple people involved in the events and listening to Dana’s interviews, I realized that very few others wanted to take that path. Instead, my peers were healing through simple conversations with each other. I could not wrap my head around it. Storytelling felt too superficial and overly sentimental to be a solution. Ironic, considering that I want to be a professional storyteller and often have to prove the legitimacy of my passion. In the context of Bowdoin, it felt like traditional activism that demands structural change should be the first step to true reform. After all, we had plenty of facilitated discussions that went nowhere…so why keep trying to talk?
During the presentations last week, I felt a twinge of regret for choosing this project. Last semester on the Breeze Bus to Portland, I joked that if I got into this seminar I would write a musical about millennials. Fortunately, I didn’t (that musical apparently already exists ). But I did wonder what would have happened if I chose a project closer to my own personal experiences or passions. The presentation went well, but it was very much Dana’s handiwork. This was her passion project and I often bowed to her discretion when it came to decisions and the overall vision. I was happy to do so, but did feel a bit alienated. At the time of our presentation, it still felt like there was not really a point to the project.
It was not until this week that the ultimate goal clicked for me. Yesterday, Dana and I recorded ourselves as we shared our thoughts on the issues and perspectives we were curating. It felt much easier than writing a script and recording, which had made me self-conscious about my voice. I started the conversation still skeptical about the use of storytelling and hungry for a tangible outcome. As we spoke, I realized how much I still needed to learn from others as an individual. Throughout this year I have had to confront the ways I have been inconsiderate to others – making assumptions, saying comments that belittle certain jobs or identities, and violating privacy / trust. Dana repeatedly emphasized how white students needed to be heard. I kept resisting until I realized that most of the people I have hurt unintentionally are white. Our differences go beyond our skin, but I had generalized all of us into a group. This made me no better than those whom I have consistently criticized for abstracting/objectifying people in classes based on identity. That is what stalls conversation. My lack of understanding could have been avoided by listening to people’s stories before making a snarky comment – or at the very least, thinking about how a joke could affect someone more than me.
As a writer, this is what I have been trying to portray in my work. I have been relying on storytelling since sophomore year to deal with my own frustrations from the parties. My play [recur] was originally conceived as a way to educate white audiences on microaggressions by getting them to empathize with the experience of a Black woman in computer science. Telling Ada’s story was such a challenge that I worked twice as hard to be considerate and respectful while learning about identities that are not my own. I made sure to always ask permission, consider the historical context of every line and the intent vs. impact within/around the plot. I listened to people as they told their stories and vowed to write a story that gave those stories justice.
I wanted to take an abstract issue and humanize it, which is the ultimate purpose of storytelling. Storytelling is the sociological imagination in practice – the specific events are tied to universal themes. The self is linked back to society. It is inherent in story structure – the hero’s arc consists of their journey away from community and back again. Confrontation, reflection, redemption. I need to revisit these lessons. After the performance of the play, I realized that I sacrificed story to focus on structure and systemic issues. What the story needs is more humanity. I need to be more patient and allow for intimate moments that show the characters as people, not points.
I am so glad that I did this project. I feel more connected to the material now that I have had my own revelations. This podcast combines my deepest passions in complex and surprising ways. Dana has been absolutely fantastic. She is a gifted listener who knows how to draw insights out of others with a gentle hand. She is also incredibly dedicated and put weeks of work into making a high quality product. We have not agreed on everything, but she has pushed me to reconsider my views and we ultimately realized that our journeys had similar trajectories. We both started out expecting something from the institution, becoming cynical, and pulling away. Now that we have spent time listening to the stories of others in intimate conversations, we are ready to give these insights back to the institution. Is storytelling a subversive form of activism? Are we willfully being co-opted by the College in order to insure the preservation of a collective memory, which could in turn spur future movements? Sure. For the moment, we are simply attempting to bring the private to the public and tie biography to history – make Millz proud.