I grew up in a family of storytellers. Some of my most treasured memories involve sitting at crowded tables listening to wildly disparate relatives from my large extended family argue and agree, laugh and cry, reminisce and philosophize – sharing the shape of the world as they saw it. I heard vivid recollections of struggle and happiness, greed and justice, success and failure, pride and sorrow. These varied expressions of humanity provided, and continue to provide, footing for how I understand myself, and they have fundamentally influenced my belief in storytelling’s role as a catalyst for social change.

As I moved through academic and early professional experiences, my roles changed but the through line remained the same. While writing an oral history capstone as a student, I fumed at stories of corrupt mine bosses in the Pennsylvania coal regions of my grandparents’ youth. During the 2018 election cycle, I sat in a dimly lit campaign office and listened to a born-and-raised San Franciscan tell me what it felt like to be living on the street in a city that she no longer considered hers. On a research fellowship in the Southern United States, I watched people grapple with how best to recount lives that were far too complicated to characterize in a single interview. Finally, working as a direct service provider in Seattle, I learned about the city’s history as I collected paperwork from residents who couldn’t afford skyrocketing rents.

Though varied in their scope, success in each of these positions depended on an ability to establish meaningful connections, so I quickly learned to navigate unfamiliar communities and operate in uncomfortable circumstances. On a daily basis, I interacted with people whose backgrounds were very different from mine, often asking them to share extremely personal stories and thoughts. The basis of these conversations was effective communication, the ability to build and maintain trust, cultural sensitivity and mutual respect. These qualities, honed through both frustrations and successes, were crucial to recognizing and honoring the dignity of peoples’ lived experiences.

My work over the past few years has deepened my belief in the power of story. The clients, interviewees and constituents who shared portions of their lives with me often came from communities that have long been marginalized and barred from access to resources. As a result, I frequently heard accounts of hope amid inequity, dreams amid systemic failures and life amid injustice. These stories, and the faces of those who tell them, have an incredibly motivating effect. I believe in the ability of stories to change the world. They have certainly changed mine.