Fighting Bias, Bigotry and Racism through Storytelling

Years ago, when I was working for a non profit in the Tampa Bay area we had what we affectionately called "Oprah Moments." This was the most diverse staff I've ever had the fortune to work with...diverse with regards to gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, language, age...the one thing that bound us all together was our devotion to fight bias, bigotry, and racism. That was our mission. We were charged with finding new ways to achieve this lofty goal while also implementing tried and true methods. 

The days were long and the pay was short. But I'll never forget the relationships I had during that time of my life. I do not keep up with many of my colleagues as we've all gone our separate ways as the agency took on a very different direction. But the thing I'll remember most were those "Oprah Moments." 

These moments just happened extemporaneously. My colleague and intern, Viancca's desk was right beside mine and my colleague, Tarra's was across the room (actually two rooms but with the divider opened). There were two ancient chairs in the middle of the room kinda cocked at an angle (and I remember a big mirror?). It was not uncommon for other colleagues to come in, have a seat in one of the chairs and we'd just chat. Sometimes it was work related and sometimes it wasn't. Limewire was popular at that time and sometimes we'd listen to the newest downloaded song, clip, file, etc. I don't think YouTube was around and FaceBook definitely wasn't. But we chatted. We shared stories. Stories about family. Stories about hair. Stories about beliefs. Stories about religion. Stories about our hopes, fears and dreams. We talked. We got to know each other as humans, brothers and sisters in this journey of life. Little did I know, but in those moments we had achieved our mission of fighting bias, bigotry and racism. Perhaps this was the most powerful component to ANY of the programs we ran...talking and listening. 

Ultimately, as the organization began its restructuring, I was the first one to be let go. The level of betrayal I felt has stuck with me for years, not because my co-workers actually did anything to me. But because the moments and stories we shared as colleagues actually created a surrogate family for me when my own family was 900 miles away. It's hard to have that ripped away from you. 

But now, 15ish years later, I am able to reflect on that moment, and those feelings of betrayal, as testimonies to the power of sharing stories. In sharing stories we also share our vulnerabilities. The byproduct? Personal strength. Collective strength. And the manifestation of our mission...to fight bias, bigotry and racism. 

Over the next couple of days, please join me in stepping into vulnerability to find strength through sharing a story with someone who may be different from you. How you define that difference is up to you. Be prepared, though, you may find yourself with an extended family and the world a little better as a result!