A Single Story of the Past

The past is not something fixed with an independent existence, a once-and-for-all set of events. The ‘past’ is the remembered past, and as such, it is something that is constructed and reproduced in a multitude of ways. In other words, what we refer to as the “past” is our historical memory a particular period of the past that is possible to hold.

From the perspective of conflict transformation, people can have too much of the “wrong” type of memory. With such memories the pain of the past never dies and the “ill” memories are reproduced and transferred from one generation to the next, into a future that has already been determined." --TrasnConflict, describing the work of The Center for Research, Documentation and Publication.

It's a provoking idea--not only as a history teacher, where the verb 'is' (or it's equally static relative 'was') appears just a bit to frequently--that we are (always) playing an active role in (re)making the past. And that not only do we possess our memories, but we choose--at least at a subconscious level--what to remember and what to forget. Oh Milan Kundera.

And, just engaging in a bit of retrospection, I see this process within myself--the choosing of what aspects of the past to celebrate, those to let slip to the side. The past--our experienced past, as well as transmitted (from relatives, culture, schooling...)--is received with the same subjective lenses through which we experience the present. Yes. Ok. on some level, I cannot dispute the existence of facts. Yes! Things happened in the past: things are built, destroyed, maps made, lines drawn. people killed. but the language with which we describe, memorialize, remember, reify these events--those simple words hold a world of subjective interpretation. did he die? was he killed? was he murdered or executed? a martyr or insignificant casualty of the cause? an insurgent? a civilian?

None of these words change the hard truth that he (she/it/they) are dead. but alter significantly how we make sense, how we explain this particular event. and which story, which narrative we choose to insert it into.

And one of the challenges of history is that there does not necessarily need to be one question, nor one answer. The way we approach the question--and the manner in which it is answered, is again, dependent on the questions we want to ask--and perhaps the answers (or kinds of information) we want to receive. One event can--and will be--remembered in a plethora of manners. And that the manner in which events are remembered depends (in part) itself on history.

Except--and one of the eternal challenges in contexts of oppression/violence/post-violence--is that these memories seem/do/act to serve concrete purposes--within the lives of individuals, and, perhaps in a slightly different manner, within the trajectories of communities, societies. Trauma--for individuals, especially when compounded with current/persistent/perceived oppression (often related to that trauma) makes it so much more challenging for that aspect of identity to be placed back within the spectrum of identities we all hold. new experiences, new understandings of events are then interpreted and catalogued within the context of this injustice.

(for example: in this, a patriarchal society, I feel my identity as a woman challenged in this community, which makes me even more acutely aware of (and willing to defend) my women-ness--this is the aspect of my identity that gets brought to the forefront, and shapes my perception of interactions, my understanding of history, of dynamics within society. It becomes increasingly difficult to take of my 'woman glasses' (and in turn substitute them for another pair, another perspective) until I feel I can express my femininity/womanhood without question, without challenge. And. just to be clear, this is an example, and perhaps a small one, for while the patriarchal system is certainly problematic, and ever-present--it perhaps is not the epitome of discrimination in this community.)

And this is also not to imply that these, my perhaps utterly obvious notes on trauma, pass undetected by folks at TransConflict, or the CRDP. but I'm still trying to understand how, through what processes, through what channels of education (formal and informal) can we equip people with the strength, courage, ability, belief in the reality of change (if we only make it) to critically examine our constructions of history--personal, communal. and constructively explore the wealth of identities available.

which brings me--perhaps in a very circuitous route to a TED talk from a few years ago, which still haunts me: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's The Danger of a Single Story. While she's exploring these issues within a different context--confronting colonial legacies in East Africa--but her insights on assumptions informed/(mis)guided by our single stories still provoke me.

And what I find so powerful about her talk--is that she also turns to scrutinize why and how others (namely the West/America) created single stories of the African continent (how did these stories come to be? what was their purpose? their function within larger contexts of domination/control/imperialism...)--and then how were these stories used to 'know' (or think they know), to define, understand her. How were these stories written onto her, by others.

In seeing how she created her own single stories--she could understand how others constructed their single stories. Seeing, identifying, challenging single stories is inherently a reflective practice, that confronts the systems of power interwoven through society, internalized by individuals. She says, "Power is the ability not just to tell the story of another person, but to make it the definitive story of that person...The consequence of the single story is this: it robs people of dignity. It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult. It emphasizes how we are different rather than how we are similar."

Sometimes, walking this line (or at least trying to) feels like a cop-out: in many sticky situations, this feels like the easy route to take, the easy words to say: 'but from the perspective of...'. It's hard words to take a stance with, or take a stance from, if the primary assumption is that there are always multiple grounds to stand on--and that each plot a person stakes out for themselves, has some justification (however crooked, twisted, misinformed or illogical--or at least crooked-seeming from another's perspective) we all draw our conclusions somehow. But. these conclusions change, shift, are burned and born again as our perspectives grow, modify, molt, grow new feathers. take flight.