So earlier this year, I was informed that I would be doing a TED Talk. So I was excited, then I panicked, then I was excited, then I panicked, and in between the excitement and the panicking, I started to do my research, and my research primarily consisted of Googling how to give a great TED Talk.
Početkom ove godine, obaveštena sam da ću držati govor na TED-u. Bila sam uzbuđena, a potom u panici, pa sam bila uzbuđena, pa opet u panici, a negde između uzbuđenja i panike, krenula sam da istražujem, i moje istraživanje se sastojalo pre svega od guglanja - kako održati govor na TED-u.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
And interspersed with that, I was Googling Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. How many of you know who that is?
A uporedo sa tim, tražila sam na Guglu ime Čimamanda Ngozi Adiči. Koliko vas zna ko je to?
(Cheers)
(Ovacije)
So I was Googling her because I always Google her because I'm just a fan, but also because she always has important and interesting things to say. And the combination of those searches kept leading me to her talk on the dangers of a single story, on what happens when we have a solitary lens through which to understand certain groups of people, and it is the perfect talk. It's the talk that I would have given if I had been famous first.
Dakle, guglala sam o njoj jer uvek guglam o njoj zato što sam njen fan, ali i zato što ona uvek ima nešto važno i zanimljivo da kaže. Kombinacija tih pretraga me je uporno vodila ka njenom govoru o opasnostima jedne priče, o tome šta se dešava kada imamo jednu perspektivu kroz koju razumemo određene grupe ljudi, i to je jedan savršen govor. To je govor koji bih ja održala da sam postala poznata pre nje.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
You know, and you know, like, she's African and I'm African, and she's a feminist and I'm a feminist, and she's a storyteller and I'm a storyteller, so I really felt like it's my talk.
Znate, ona je Afrikanka i ja sam Afrikanka, ona je feministkinja i ja sam feministkinja, ona je pripovedač i ja sam pripovedač, stvarno sam osećala kao da je govor moj.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
So I decided that I was going to learn how to code, and then I was going to hack the internet and I would take down all the copies of that talk that existed, and then I would memorize it, and then I would come here and deliver it as if it was my own speech. So that plan was going really well, except the coding part, and then one morning a few months ago, I woke up to the news that the wife of a certain presidential candidate had given a speech that --
Tako da sam odlučila da ću naučiti kodiranje, onda bih izvršila napad na internet i uklonila bih sve kopije tog govora koje postoje, a onda bih ga naučila, došla bih ovde i održala taj govor kao da je moj. Taj plan je išao veoma dobro, osim dela sa kodiranjem, i onda jednog jutra pre nekoliko meseci, probudila sam se i čula vesti da je žena jednog predsedničkog kandidata održala govor koji -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
that sounded eerily like a speech given by one of my other faves, Michelle Obama.
koji je jezivo zvučao kao govor koji je održao moj drugi favorit Mišel Obama.
(Cheers)
(Ovacije)
And so I decided that I should probably write my own TED Talk, and so that is what I am here to do. I'm here to talk about my own observations about storytelling. I want to talk to you about the power of stories, of course, but I also want to talk about their limitations, particularly for those of us who are interested in social justice.
Tako sam odlučila da bi verovatno trebalo da napišem svoj TED govor, i zato sam danas ovde. Ovde sam da govorim o sopstvenim zapažanjima o pripovedanju priča. Želim da vam govorim o moći priča, naravno, ali takođe želim da govorim o njihovim ograničenjima, posebno za nas koji smo zainteresovani za društvenu pravdu.
So since Adichie gave that talk seven years ago, there has been a boom in storytelling. Stories are everywhere, and if there was a danger in the telling of one tired old tale, then I think there has got to be lots to celebrate about the flourishing of so many stories and so many voices. Stories are the antidote to bias. In fact, today, if you are middle class and connected via the internet, you can download stories at the touch of a button or the swipe of a screen. You can listen to a podcast about what it's like to grow up Dalit in Kolkata. You can hear an indigenous man in Australia talk about the trials and triumphs of raising his children in dignity and in pride. Stories make us fall in love. They heal rifts and they bridge divides. Stories can even make it easier for us to talk about the deaths of people in our societies who don't matter, because they make us care. Right?
Od kad je Adiči održala taj govor pre sedam godina, krenula je prava pomama za pripovedanjem priča. Priče su svuda oko nas, i ako bi postojala opasnost u pričanju jedne te iste stare priče, onda mislim da mora da ima i puno razloga za slavlje zbog procvata toliko puno priča i toliko puno glasova. Priče su protivotrov za predrasude. U stvari, danas, ako pripadate srednjoj klasi i imate internet vezu, možete da skinete priče jednim klikom tastera ili jednim dodirom ekrana. Možete slušati podkast o tome kako je to odrastati kao Dalit u Kalkuti. Možete čuti domoroca u Australiji kako govori o iskušenjima i uspesima podizanja dece dostojanstveno i sa ponosom. Priče čine da se zaljubimo. One popravljaju nesporazume i premošcuju jaz. Priče čak mogu da olakšaju da pričamo o smrti ljudi u našem društvu koji nisu tako važni, zato što čine da brinemo. Je l' tako?
I'm not so sure, and I actually work for a place called the Centre for Stories. And my job is to help to tell stories that challenge mainstream narratives about what it means to be black or a Muslim or a refugee or any of those other categories that we talk about all the time. But I come to this work after a long history as a social justice activist, and so I'm really interested in the ways that people talk about nonfiction storytelling as though it's about more than entertainment, as though it's about being a catalyst for social action. It's not uncommon to hear people say that stories make the world a better place. Increasingly, though, I worry that even the most poignant stories, particularly the stories about people who no one seems to care about, can often get in the way of action towards social justice. Now, this is not because storytellers mean any harm. Quite the contrary. Storytellers are often do-gooders like me and, I suspect, yourselves. And the audiences of storytellers are often deeply compassionate and empathetic people. Still, good intentions can have unintended consequences, and so I want to propose that stories are not as magical as they seem. So three -- because it's always got to be three -- three reasons why I think that stories don't necessarily make the world a better place.
Nisam tako sigurna, a ja zapravo radim na mestu koje se zove Centar za priče. Moj posao je da pomognem da se ispričaju priče koji osporavaju ustaljeni narativ o tome šta znači biti crnac, musliman, izbeglica ili bilo koja od drugih kategorija o kojima pričamo sve vreme. Ali došla sam na ovaj posao nakon duge karijere kao aktivista za društvenu pravdu, i zaista sam zainteresovana za načine na koje ljudi govore o pričanju stvarnih priča kao da je to više od zabave, kao da se radi o tome da se bude podsticaj za društveno delovanje. Nije ništa čudno da čujete ljude da kažu da priče čine svet lepšim mestom za život. Ipak, sve više me brine da čak i najdirljivije priče, posebno priče o ljudima do kojih izgleda da nikom nije stalo, mogu često da stanu na put delovanju ka društvenoj jednakosti. Ovo nije zato što pripovedači imaju zlu nameru. Baš naprotiv. Pripovedači su često oni koji čine dobra dela kao ja a, verujem, i vi. I publika pripovedača su često veoma saosećajni ljudi puni empatije. Ipak, dobre namere mogu imati neželjene posledice, tako da želim da iznesem ideju da priče nisu tako magične kao što se čine. Evo tri - zato što uvek mora da bude tri - tri razloga zašto ja mislim da priče ne čine nužno svet boljim mestom za život.
Firstly, stories can create an illusion of solidarity. There is nothing like that feel-good factor you get from listening to a fantastic story where you feel like you climbed that mountain, right, or that you befriended that death row inmate. But you didn't. You haven't done anything. Listening is an important but insufficient step towards social action.
Prvo, priče mogu da stvore privid složnosti. Nema ničeg boljeg od osećaja koji imate dok slušate sjajnu priču kada vam se čini kao da ste se popeli na taj vrh planine, je l' tako, ili da ste se sprijateljili sa tim osuđenikom na smrt. Ali niste. Niste učinili ništa. Slušanje je važan, ali nedovoljan korak ka društvenom delovanju.
Secondly, I think often we are drawn towards characters and protagonists who are likable and human. And this makes sense, of course, right? Because if you like someone, then you care about them. But the inverse is also true. If you don't like someone, then you don't care about them. And if you don't care about them, you don't have to see yourself as having a moral obligation to think about the circumstances that shaped their lives.
Drugo, mislim da nas često privuku likovi i protagonisti koji su simpatični i čovečni. I ovo ima smisla, naravno, je l' tako? Zato što ako vam se neko dopada, onda vam je stalo njega. Ali obrnuto je takođe tačno. Ako vam se neko ne dopada, onda vam nije stalo do njega. I ako vam nije stalo do njega, ne morate da se osećate kao da imate moralnu obavezu da razmišljate o okolnostima koje su uticale na njihov život.
I learned this lesson when I was 14 years old. I learned that actually, you don't have to like someone to recognize their wisdom, and you certainly don't have to like someone to take a stand by their side. So my bike was stolen while I was riding it --
Ja sam naučila ovu lekciju sa 14 godina. Naučila sam da zapravo neko ne mora da ti se dopada da bi prepoznao njegovu mudrost, i svakako neko ne mora da ti se dopada da bi stao na njegovu stranu. Dakle, ukraden mi je bicikl dok sam ga vozila -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
which is possible if you're riding slowly enough, which I was.
što je moguće jedino ako vozite dovoljno sporo, što ja jesam radila.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
So one minute I'm cutting across this field in the Nairobi neighborhood where I grew up, and it's like a very bumpy path, and so when you're riding a bike, you don't want to be like, you know --
U jednom trenutku, ja prelazim preko tog polja u naselju u Najrobiju gde sam odrasla, i put je veoma neravan, a kada vozite bicikl, ne želite da izgledate kao da, znate -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
And so I'm going like this, slowly pedaling, and all of a sudden, I'm on the floor. I'm on the ground, and I look up, and there's this kid peddling away in the getaway vehicle, which is my bike, and he's about 11 or 12 years old, and I'm on the floor, and I'm crying because I saved a lot of money for that bike, and I'm crying and I stand up and I start screaming. Instinct steps in, and I start screaming, "Mwizi, mwizi!" which means "thief" in Swahili. And out of the woodworks, all of these people come out and they start to give chase. This is Africa, so mob justice in action. Right? And I round the corner, and they've captured him, they've caught him. The suspect has been apprehended, and they make him give me my bike back, and they also make him apologize. Again, you know, typical African justice, right? And so they make him say sorry. And so we stand there facing each other, and he looks at me, and he says sorry, but he looks at me with this unbridled fury. He is very, very angry. And it is the first time that I have been confronted with someone who doesn't like me simply because of what I represent. He looks at me with this look as if to say, "You, with your shiny skin and your bike, you're angry at me?"
I tako se krećem ovako, vozim sporo, i odjednom, na podu sam. Na zemlji sam, pogledam gore, i taj dečak se odvozi na otetom vozilu, što je moj bicikl. On ima oko 11 ili 12 godina, ja sam na podu, plačem zato što sam uštedela dosta novca za taj bicikl, plačem, ustajem i počinjem da vičem. Instinkt se javlja i počinjem da vičem, „Mvizi, mvizi!“ što je „lopov“ na svahiliju. I sa svih strana, svi ti ljudi izlaze i počinju da jure. Ovo je Afrika, znači pravda mase na delu. Je l'? Zalazim iza ugla, i oni su ga zarobili, uhvatili su ga. Osumnjičeni je uhvaćen, oni ga nateraju da mi vrati bicikl, i nateraju ga da mi se izvini. Ponovo, znate, tipična afrička pravda, je l'? Nateraju ga da se izvini. I tako stojimo nas dvoje jedno naspram drugog, on me pogleda i kaže da mu je žao, ali me gleda sa takvim razuzdanim besom. On je baš, baš ljut. To je prvi put da sam se suočila sa nekim kome se nisam dopadala samo zbog onog što predstavljam. Posmatra me onim pogledom koji kao da kaže: „Ti, sa tvojom blistavom kožom i tvojim biciklom, ti si ljuta na mene?“
So it was a hard lesson that he didn't like me, but you know what, he was right. I was a middle-class kid living in a poor country. I had a bike, and he barely had food. Sometimes, it's the messages that we don't want to hear, the ones that make us want to crawl out of ourselves, that we need to hear the most. For every lovable storyteller who steals your heart, there are hundreds more whose voices are slurred and ragged, who don't get to stand up on a stage dressed in fine clothes like this. There are a million angry-boy-on-a-bike stories and we can't afford to ignore them simply because we don't like their protagonists or because that's not the kid that we would bring home with us from the orphanage.
To je bila teška lekcija - da mu se nisam sviđala, ali znate šta, bio je u pravu. Ja sam bila dete srednje klase koje živi u siromašnoj zemlji. Imala sam bicikl, a on je jedva imao hranu. Ponekad su poruke koje ne želimo da čujemo, one koje čine da želimo da iskočimo iz svoje kože, one koje su nam najpotrebnije da čujemo. Na svakog omiljenog pripovedača koji vam osvoji srce, ide na stotine njih čiji glasovi su nerazgovetni i grubi, koji nemaju priliku da stoje na sceni, doterani ovako lepo. Postoji milion priča o „ljutim dečacima na biciklu“ i ne možemo da ih ignorišemo samo zbog toga što nam se njihovi protagonisti ne dopadaju ili zato što to nije dete koje bismo doveli kući iz sirotišta.
The third reason that I think that stories don't necessarily make the world a better place is that too often we are so invested in the personal narrative that we forget to look at the bigger picture. And so we applaud someone when they tell us about their feelings of shame, but we don't necessarily link that to oppression. We nod understandingly when someone says they felt small, but we don't link that to discrimination. The most important stories, especially for social justice, are those that do both, that are both personal and allow us to explore and understand the political.
Treći razlog zbog kog mislim da priče ne čine nužno svet boljim mestom je to da se često tako uživimo u našu ličnu priču da zaboravimo da sagledamo širu sliku. Tako aplaudiramo nekome kada nam govori o svojim osećanjima srama, ali to ne povezujemo nužno sa ugnjetavanjem. Klimamo glavom sa razumevanjem kada neko kaže da se osetio malim, ali ne povezujemo to sa diskriminacijom. Najvažnije priče, posebno za društvenu pravdu, su one koje čine oba, koje su i lične ali nam i dopuštaju da istražimo i razumemo političku stranu.
But it's not just about the stories we like versus the stories we choose to ignore. Increasingly, we are living in a society where there are larger forces at play, where stories are actually for many people beginning to replace the news. Yeah? We live in a time where we are witnessing the decline of facts, when emotions rule and analysis, it's kind of boring, right? Where we value what we feel more than what we actually know. A recent report by the Pew Center on trends in America indicates that only 10 percent of young adults under the age of 30 "place a lot of trust in the media." Now, this is significant. It means that storytellers are gaining trust at precisely the same moment that many in the media are losing the confidence in the public. This is not a good thing, because while stories are important and they help us to have insights in many ways, we need the media. From my years as a social justice activist, I know very well that we need credible facts from media institutions combined with the powerful voices of storytellers. That's what pushes the needle forward in terms of social justice.
Ali nije reč samo o pričama koje volimo naspram priča koje biramo da ignorišemo. Sve više živimo u društvu gde su veće sile u igri, gde priče zapravo za mnoge ljude počinju da zauzimaju mesto vestima. Je l'? Živimo u vremenu gde svedočimo opadanju značaja činjenica, kada osećanja vladaju a analize, to je malo dosadno, zar ne? Gde cenimo ono što osećamo više nego ono što zaista znamo. Skorašnji izveštaj Centra Pju o trendovima u Americi ukazuje da samo 10 procenata mladih ljudi ispod 30 godina „ima puno poverenja u medije“. Ovo je važno. To znači da pripovedači dobijaju poverenje u isto vreme kada mnogi u medijima gube poverenje u javnost. Ovo nije dobra stvar, zato što, iako su priče važne i pomažu nam da dodjemo do uvida na mnogo načina, mediji su nam potrebni. Iz mog iskustva kao aktiviste za društvenu pravdu, znam odlično da su nam potrebne verodostojne činjenice iz medija u kombinaciji sa moćnim glasom pripovedača. To je ono što će pogurati stvari u pogledu društvene pravde.
In the final analysis, of course, it is justice that makes the world a better place, not stories. Right? And so if it is justice that we are after, then I think we mustn't focus on the media or on storytellers. We must focus on audiences, on anyone who has ever turned on a radio or listened to a podcast, and that means all of us.
U krajnjem pogledu, naravno, pravda je ono što čini svet boljim mestom, a ne priče, zar ne? Dakle, ako je pravda ono čemu težimo, onda mislim da ne treba da se fokusiramo na medije ili pripovedače. Moramo se fokusirati na publiku, na svakog ko je ikad upalio radio ili slušao podkast, a to znači na svakog od nas.
So a few concluding thoughts on what audiences can do to make the world a better place. So firstly, the world would be a better place, I think, if audiences were more curious and more skeptical and asked more questions about the social context that created those stories that they love so much. Secondly, the world would be a better place if audiences recognized that storytelling is intellectual work. And I think it would be important for audiences to demand more buttons on their favorite websites, buttons for example that say, "If you liked this story, click here to support a cause your storyteller believes in." Or "click here to contribute to your storyteller's next big idea." Often, we are committed to the platforms, but not necessarily to the storytellers themselves. And then lastly, I think that audiences can make the world a better place by switching off their phones, by stepping away from their screens and stepping out into the real world beyond what feels safe.
Još nekoliko reči kao zaključak o tome šta publika može da učini da svet bude bolje mesto. Dakle, prvo, svet bi bio bolje mesto za život, mislim, kada bi publika bila znatiželjnija, skeptičnija i postavljala više pitanja o društvenom kontekstu koji je stvorio te priče koje oni toliko vole. Drugo, svet bi bio bolje mesto kada bi publika prepoznala da je pričanje priča intelektualan posao. Mislim i da bi bilo važno da publika zahteva više tastera na njihovim omiljenim sajtovima, tastera koji, na primer, kažu: „Ako vam se dopala ova priča, kliknite ovde da podržite pokret u koji vaš pripovedač veruje.“ Ili „kliknite ovde da doprinesete sledećoj velikoj ideji vašeg pripovedača.“ Često smo odani nekoj platformi, ali ne nužno i samom pripovedaču. I poslednje, mislim da publika može da učini svet boljim mestom tako što će isključiti telefone, skloniti se od ekrana i kročiti u stvarnost izvan onog što deluje sigurno.
Alice Walker has said, "Look closely at the present you are constructing. It should look like the future you are dreaming." Storytellers can help us to dream, but it's up to all of us to have a plan for justice.
Alis Voker je rekla: „Pogledajte pažljivo sadašnjost koju kreirate. Trebalo bi da izgleda kao budućnost o kojoj sanjate.“ Pripovedači mogu da nam pomognu da sanjamo, ali je na svima nama da imamo plan za pravdu.
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)