Your Story Has Power (but only if you start at the beginning)

If I’ve learned nothing else throughout the process of writing my father’s biography, it’s that telling our stories has immense power. Knowing, understanding, and embracing our narratives is one of the greatest forms of freedom. It’s what allows us move through the world with confidence.

Photo by Etienne Girardet

But, here’s the thing. We all have a backstory, so when we begin the tale of our lives based only on what we remember or know about ourselves, we don’t have the complete picture. It’s like starting in the middle of a novel—not only would you have a ton of questions, but the resolution at the end of the book wouldn’t be as meaningful and it might not even make sense.

For better or for worse, The Book of Your Life begins with your family’s narrative. When we understand our collective past and the experiences of our parents and extended family members, it tethers us to something bigger and puts our lives in proper perspective. It gives us a framework to which we can build upon.

The benefits of shared family stories have been documented by psychologists at the Family Narratives Lab at Emory University. They found that adolescents who can recite detailed stories about their parents’ childhoods have greater self-esteem, competence, and have fewer behavioral problems. Teens tend to make a strong connection between their own experiences and the experiences of their parents (good and bad), and children use these stories to understand something deeper about themselves.

Unfortunately, much of what I learned about my father’s life, I didn’t uncover until after his death. I didn’t have a complete picture of my grandparents’ lives or my mother’s life until she was eighty and I was forty. That’s when I began interviewing her for my book.

I’ve interviewed several amazing senior-citizens, and I discovered they don’t shy away from being vulnerable or candid. They love talking about their lives, and are just waiting for someone to ask them questions.

My mother got to the point where she was singing like a bird. She shared stories of resilience that were wonderfully uplifting. She also revealed stuff that made me cringe. Family histories are sometimes heavy, painful, and shrouded in secrecy.

Like most parents, mine chose to conceal the most unpleasant aspects of their lives. Whether motivated by fear, shame or both, parents often remain tight-lipped about negative experiences. Children pick up on that silence, though. Sometimes, they discover a family secret in a way that causes discord and triggers hurt feelings that last.

It’s understandable to feel that some information should be left unsaid. But it’s important to consider that storytelling can be vehicles for healing. When secrets are forced into the light and acknowledged, the grip they had on our life loosens.

Talking with my mother brought us closer. I learned about her and my dad’s sorrows, regrets, joys, and successes. I learned about our nation’s past from their perspective. There are so many lessons embedded in their experiences.

Countless narratives from other people deserve to be told, and I learned that my story includes a responsibility to amplify those voices.

All family history can be useful, whether serving as cautionary tales or helping us to understand our own beliefs and behaviors. They help us convey who we are to others, and in America, this is especially important in BIPOC communities.

Too often, the history of Black and Brown Americans has been distorted. Sadly, when we don’t know our past, we cannot tell our stories, and when we can’t tell our stories, we become fodder for someone else’s agenda. Historically and even today, the dominant culture has assumed and communicated things about us that aren’t true; they’ve framed our existence and created dangerous policies based on blanket statements and myths.

Mexicans are rapists.
Illegal immigrants are taking your jobs.
Asians are meek.
Black people are thieves.

Sound familiar?

Lord knows, I’ve been followed around in a store more times than I can count, even as I’ve watched White shoppers walk out the door with merchandise they didn’t stand in line to purchase.

As the mother of three Black sons, I know they are viewed with suspicion in more ways than I am. It hurts my heart to know I can’t control that, but I’ve always tried to instill in them the importance of defining themselves before others do.

I love what Kamala Harris has been saying a lot on the stump, something her mother used to tell her: “Never let anyone tell you who you are. You show them who you are.”

You can only show who you are when you know who you are (I said that).

I could say so much more about the power of your story, but I’ll end by summarizing something I recently heard Dr. Daniel Black say (his commencement address at Clark Atlanta University went viral earlier this year).

Dr. Black said that, when we write our own story, we will discover what we missed—what we don’t know, what we didn’t do, what we got wrong, what we still need to make happen in our lives.

That really made me think.

We can’t change the past, but understanding how we can improve, evolve, and ultimately fulfill our God-given purpose on this planet is, perhaps, the whole point.

So . . . what’s your story?

The world is waiting.

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Kelly’s book, THE WEATHER OFFICER, will be available Fall 2024.