[Refugees are expected to share and curate their stories, but this
can do more harm than good. The pressure of storytelling can leave
refugees feeling disempowered, and there is often the expectation that
refugees owe the wider public their stories. ] [[link removed]]


THE PRESSURE OF STORYTELLING: REFUGEE STORIES COULD DO MORE HARM THAN
GOOD  
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Rifaie Tammas
November 1, 2019
OpenDemocracy
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_ Refugees are expected to share and curate their stories, but this
can do more harm than good. The pressure of storytelling can leave
refugees feeling disempowered, and there is often the expectation that
refugees owe the wider public their stories. _

A refugee from Afghanistan poses with his daughter for a photo at the
Eleonas refugee camp, in Athens, Greece in 2017., PA Images

 

Ever since I was forced to leave Syria five years ago, I have been
sharing my personal story in the hope of raising awareness about the
human rights violations in my home country. My experience of
storytelling has been both positive and disappointing. On the one
hand, it has enabled me to make connections with several supportive
individuals who made me feel welcome. But on the other hand, the way
that refugees are expected to share and curate their stories can do
more harm than good.

Last year, I was approached by a prominent TV news network to discuss
US airstrikes in Syria. I saw the invitation as an opportunity to
share my academic perspective as the topic was closely related to what
I was researching as part of my doctoral degree at the time. The
interview proceeded with personal questions focused on my life in
Syria. As I was not being asked about the airstrikes, I requested to
share my view and they agreed.

A few days later, the reporter emailed with me the news clip of their
coverage of the strikes. The clip started with a brief summary of what
happened. I was then featured for a few seconds, half in tears and
conspicuously traumatized while mentioning the loss of my brother and
father. The clip then continued with a white Australian observer who
gave his “objective” and scholarly analysis of the situation.
While the journalist apologized for the “heavy editing”, this
humiliating experience taught me that despite my background as a
citizen journalist and an academic, for some I will forever be a
traumatized Syrian refugee whose primary role is to evoke sympathy and
tears.

Many organizations that work with refugees and asylum seekers also
fall into this trap. While most of these organizations are
well-meaning and do not directly coerce refugees to share their
stories, there is often an expectation that refugees _OWE_ the wider
public their stories. Thus, the expectation of sharing one’s story
can transform into an obligation. I realized this when I politely
declined an invitation to share my story from an institution that
supported me in the past. Instead of the usual understanding response,
a senior staff member at the institution said he was “very
disappointed” that I could not save a few minutes of my time to help
with their outreach work given what they have done for me.

Although refugees are free to choose the content of their stories,
there is an expectation that they should include some details about
their past in order to “move the audience” and inspire sympathy.
In preparation for refugee events, some organizers send a list of
prompt questions to refugee speakers about their life in their home
country, their reasons for leaving, the challenges they have faced and
how they have overcome them. There is an implicit narrative logic to
the questions: ‘tragedy’ to ‘success’, ‘hell’ to
‘paradise’.

“The curated form of storytelling prevalent nowadays tends to
marginalize or oversimplify.”

Some might claim that sharing refugee stories helps to raise awareness
about important issues and generate positive social change by
inspiring people and helping them better relate to the experiences of
refugees and asylum seekers. Of course, personal stories contribute to
achieving these goals. However, the curated form of storytelling
prevalent nowadays tends to marginalize or oversimplify the complex
context surrounding these stories.

While many refugees inspire others with their perseverance and
resilience, their trauma and their stories should not be packaged in
order to inspire. Refugees are not objects or vehicles of inspiration
and sympathy. By repeatedly requesting refugees to share stories of
why they have sought refuge, we essentialize their identities. People
with disabilities face similar objectification
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people treat their very existence and ability to lead their lives as
inspiring.

The whole paradigm of using stories to raise awareness and change
hearts and minds warrants further research. In my experience, the main
audience of refugee narratives are people who support refugees already
and tend to perceive these stories as a powerful demonstration of
resilience and contribution to society. But we should be aware that
the fetishization of success stories can ignore the painful reality
that for many refugees, surviving and adapting to a new life outside
of their home country is often overwhelming, difficult and painful.

“Empowering refugees does not have to come through emphasizing their
heartbreaking stories.”

It is critical that refugees and the institutions that work closely
with them are cognizant of the potential risks of sharing painful
details of refugee stories. Because many refugees may feel obliged to
accept requests of their supporters, being aware of the power
imbalance is critical. People also need to recognize that refugees and
asylum seekers have agency, and respect their right to determine how
and when they share their stories. Empowering refugees does not have
to come through emphasizing their heartbreaking stories. Resisting the
urge to ask refugees about their past life in their home country can
be difficult, especially given their unique first-hand accounts. And
while many refugees do not mind sharing their perspectives, we need to
be careful not to trigger painful memories.

Once they are resettled, most refugees try to move on with their
lives, focus on their families, establish new careers and contribute
to the society that has taken them in. How many stories do we hear
about the challenges of young people adapting to a completely new
education system? The difficulty of finding employment? The joy of
discovery in a new country? If we are genuinely interested in
supporting refugees, then we should focus on stories about their
present and future, not just their past.

[_Rifaie Tammas is a Syrian activist and a PhD candidate at the
University of Sydney, researching the relationship between mediation
and authoritarian regimes in Syria. He tweets at @rifaietammas
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