II: Braiding Our Stories
Narrative 4 and OPEN DOORS HEAL THROUGH STRORYTELLING
What does it mean to know another’s reality? Can we really step into someone else’s shoes and see the world through their eyes? In a time of such intense polarization coupled with the isolation brought upon by the pandemic, how do we cultivate empathy and bridge gaps across cultural, political and geographic divides? In February of 2021 an unlikely group of high school students from Kentucky and the Bronx, and The Reality Poets on Roosevelt Island, would enter into conversation through a zoom room and embark on a journey to do just that.
Partnered and guided by Narrative 4, a global organization driven by artists, shaped by educators and led by students, this unlikely cohort would spend every Friday together on zoom over the next several months, practicing the art of empathy. Using Narrative 4’s core methodology, the story exchange, participants would listen to each other's story and take turns in re-telling their partners' story in the first person. This simple, yet powerful exercise, transformed the lives of all of us involved. It was amazing to watch students from the urban jungle of The Bronx speak of the realities of growing up in suburban and rural kentucky, and students from Kentucky speak to hearing the screeching sounds of the subway rattling through the windows; or a young able bodied teenager express the adversity faced by grown men in wheelchairs.
The exercise revealed that while we may never completely know what someone else’s reality is, we can at least relate to universal truths inherent in all our stories: the yearning to belong and thrive; the deep desire to feel connected; and knowing that our lives truly matter. The galleries, poems and reflections found on this chapter were all borne of our time together.
Where I am from Poem
By: Ezzaddin Aldaylam
I am from the land of the Arabia Felix
I am from the land of the first skyscrapers
I am from the farms of the red caffeinated cherries where morning is the only smell I
am from Heaven on earth
Hiking on the high mountain I come to a stop
I stop to admire the green carpets which cover the ground
I stop to hear the singing birds as if they were the Mousai
I wonder if Gaea had anything to do with this place
I am from a place of history and civilizations
I am from the land of Mocha
I am from the land where a child's favorite toy is a tire and a stick I
am from Heaven on earth
As I hike down the mountains I fall,
And when I get up I see a change in tone
The land is now covered with human ash
The birds are now bullets singing through the innocent souls
The red coffee beans are now blood drops from a child’s eye
I now wonder if Hades has taken over
I am from a place where hope was once a thing
I am from a reality that does not exist
My home was once heaven but now it's a hell
But now it's all just a Memory
A Memory that tries to reinforce its existence in the brain of a boy
A boy that has been afraid of remembering his home
The home where he grew up in
The home where he learned that hope is Endless
