A Belonging Story

In my first piece for this series, I touched on core norms I believe many of us already share—a belief in democracy, pluralism, the rule of law, and the fundamental right of all people to belong, as well as what we need to share more of—such as being open to working in new coalitions, sharing risk and learning, and embracing courage and complexity. These are strategies I think help us build a more effective, united front against accelerating attacks from Trump and his allies.

Yet the fight we are in right now is not solely about our institutions. We are fighting for our humanity, the humanity of those being abused by our system, and for the earth itself. We are fighting for a future which best represents our vision and values. And at the core, we are fighting for a collective story about who we believe we are and who we want to become.

Right now many things are happening simultaneously. When things happen, we are affected, and naturally we have our reactions and feelings. As I write this, the US government is in a shutdown. That we are in a shutdown is a fact we can probably all agree on. How that fact affects us, however, and how we feel personally about it will vary, based on many different factors about each of us. But in addition to our immediate, private reactions about the shutdown, we are likely to also try and make sense of the event through listening to and consuming others' reflections, and having discussions with others about its larger impact on our society.

This is what I refer to as collective meaning-making or sensemaking.

Let me give another example. We all know that a Civil War occurred in the United States. Again, we may have personal thoughts and feelings about that war. But we are also impacted by a larger, collective story about the Civil War. It may surprise some that there are those who reject altogether that there even was a Civil War in the US. These people are likely to call it a “war of aggression.” There is the event of the war, and then there is the story told about it.

My point is that important events do not just exist as static historical happenings—we make meaning of them together, and we need to make meaning of them together. The larger meaning of many of our most important stories continues to be contested and re-contested.

While the facts are not irrelevant, they do not alone tell us the full meaning or impact on our lives. We are actually more likely to use meaning in order to help us see facts. This turns the old saying “seeing is believing” on its head—as believing largely influences what we see.

What We Believe is What We Create

Stories are not just about the present or past, they help us shape our future. This is why stories play an essential role in our work to protect democracy. 

One story that Trump and his allies are offering is that we are not able to live together, and that if we do, we need to be fearful of each other. For those of us who believe that we not only can live together, but that we must, what is our story? Our beliefs are more than just observations of the world—beliefs impact our actions and the world. If we collectively believe banks and the stock market are about to fail, and act to withdraw our money, the withdrawal is likely to guarantee the failure. Similarly, if enough people believe that people of a different race or religion cannot live together, they are likely to engage in actions that call this story into the world. 

On the other hand, if people believe that people can and even should live together, they are likely to engage in behavior to call this story into being. This insight is one that is well-known in the context of education—students’ performance in schools will be greatly affected by the expectations of their teachers and parents. If a learner constantly, even subtly, gets the message that they do not belong and cannot do the work, they are likely to confirm this. While if we expect them to do well and create a belonging environment, they are much more likely to excel.  

What I am asserting is that the collective story we tell matters a great deal in shaping our actions and our reactions. Right now Trump and allies are asserting a narrow story of the US, where only certain kinds of people can participate. They strategically distort truth in service to their ideological and political ends, attempting to erase or reframe key parts of our history. Those being written out of our national story are disproportionately Black, Native American, and people of color. Even more pernicious is that Trump is not only aiming to erase significant people and events in history, they are also aiming to insert a new story instead. Reframing the institution of slavery on Black Americans as not only "not that bad," but possibly even good. 

When peoples’ histories and stories are not recognized or seen, when they do not even show up in the telling of our history, belonging cannot be realized. This is why fighting back and forward are both critical—we must resist the erasure of our histories, and we must at the same time insist on, and do the work of calling into reality, a story of a bigger we that includes all of us.

A Belonging Story

As our key structures fray, the longing for belonging becomes more acute among all people. What is the story we have to offer that rejects the dehumanization and division narrative that conflict entrepreneurs and demagogues have on offer, and offers an expansive story where all people have dignity, recognition, and the right to participate equally? Where people are seen and feel they are part of something bigger? 

A story rooted in belonging without othering does not require excluding any group in order to belong; it is a story where belonging is not earned, it is already unconditional. 

A belonging story also honors and celebrates difference—race, gender, religion, and all types of group identity are not rendered invisible in service to a larger, universal story or short-term political project. Yet it also holds room for nuance, acknowledging our complexity and multi-dimensionality. Our story rejects inevitability-thinking, and acknowledges the possibility of change, which allows space for people to also change and evolve.

People’s emotions, especially fear and resentment, are highly susceptible to influence. Our collective story should acknowledge and make room for fear, while also employing collective courage as a practice and strategy. While we cannot do away with fear, we can create space where we can move through fear together without breaking into smaller “we's," and without disengaging, betraying our stated values, or staying silent.

We The People

As important as stories are, they are not separate from collective action and structural change. In order to have affect and power, stories must be embraced by a critical mass and deeply resonate with a substantial portion of people. I will take this up more directly in my next essay on organizing. I began with the importance of both vision and story because I believe disjointed activity without an overarching narrative is less likely to have the desired impact we seek and need. 

As I mentioned in the last essay, our work in fighting forward must be done in the public sphere. The contest for a shared story cannot just be written in private spaces—we must engage with it through public discourse. We must not cede this critical ground to leaders who aim to not only impose their story, but try to deny us even the spaces to tell our story. This is why collective meaning-making, deeper collaboration, and gathering together are all vital antidotes in a time of crisis and division. 

We the people is a story, and it is one we must co-author together.