Stories We Tell

Kitty Genovese

In the documentary, "The Witness" Kitty Genovese's killer Winston Mosley and his son tell stories that baffle me. The documentary traces the effort of Kitty's younger brother Bill to uncover what happened on that fateful evening of 1964 when she was stalked, raped and murdered.

Winston Mosley's son Revered Steven tells Bill that his family were afraid for his safety because they believed, incorrectly, that Bill was part of the Genovese crime family. Further, the Reverend wonders if it was Kitty's racial slurs that spurred the attack. He also reminds him that the Mosley children lost their father and suffered the label of being children to a murderer. 

In the later segment of the film, Mosley himself sends a letter to Bill suggesting the crime was committed by someone else who was never captured and that he was merely the getaway driver for the actual killer.

What perplexed me is how each story placed the subject, the storyteller in a kind and "good" light. And it reminded me that we don't like to tell stories of ourselves which show us as accursed, as horrible, as ugly. We figure out a way to develop stories which gives our existence some legitimacy -- whether as heroes or hapless victims, as kind but naive, or street smart but not well-read, or philosopher but a recluse. Some twist to twist ourselves into light.

I thought about some prisoners who show remorse and it occurred to me that those who do so often have good reasons. Some have become religious, "found God", or some have gained education, or found new ways of living. It is as if they have managed to displace old stories by becoming subjects of a new story, a new vantage point from which old stories can be dispassionately viewed and analysed.

"I have now found light and now I see error of my old ways of being." "I now have a law degree and can defend myself better. Now I will use my education for the society." "In prison, I began to help others and found great joy. I am now a changed person."

Stories are told from these changed perspectives, where the changed subject is in "good" light.

I have also noticed that when remorse happens without concurrent change in storytelling, i,e, you become the "horrible" "invalid" entity in the Universe of things, the result is depression and suicidal behavior. For the mind and spirit is unable to not love itself!

It occurs to me that perhaps we need to approach the concept of self-love differently. That perhaps self-love is a given, that it is always already there, in each of us. All that we need is to change the stories that we tell ourselves and others. That as soon as we can find ourselves as subjects in "good" light, as valid entities in the Universe, the tortured struggle of the mind ceases.

It also occurs to me that the reason we have conflict is because 1) Our stories are threatened by others' stories; 2)We attack others' stories. As long as we try to move others or ourselves away from good light, as long as we seek to dehumanize, invalidate other subject positions, there is no ground where we can meet as community. It is psychically and psychologically impossible. It is against the life spirit.

How can we use the nature of storytelling to create community?

A personal example comes to mind. I have a good friend who is a radical right-wing supporter. I am a lifelong liberal. Our ideologies are diametrically opposite. We are both committed to our values and beliefs. And yet this has been one of the deepest, sustaining and tender friendships I have ever had. There has never been a point at which he has judged me, or held me in contempt. In times of need, he has been one friend who has stepped in to help selflessly.

What this friendship has done is to stop me in my tracks from ever dehumanizing his ideological community. I cannot in my life ever use terms like "sanghis", "modi bhakts", "neanderthels", or the many other labels that reduce the other to only one dimension of being. (I must admit I do not know if I have a similar effect on him.)

Please note, his ideological stance infuriates me at times. I sometimes wonder why I should maintain any contact with him. Or why I don't argue loudly and ferociously with him on various positions.

What I have realized is that the friendship has allowed me to be displaced from existing subject positions (read: me as a liberal to me as a friend). The friendship story has its own validity and "goodness". As a friend, he is impeccable. And that friendship means a lot to me. And it prevents me from taking an all-or-nothing stance on issues.

Both stories co-exist. I have not ceased to be a liberal nor he a right-wing supporter. We have also stayed friends. Except that the friendship has allowed me to the see the other as a human. From what Buber called, the "I-It to the I-Thou".

It has allowed me to revisit conflict resolution and dialogue. The very miserable fact that although we mouth dialogue and inclusiveness, we are nowhere near it. That all we do is to sit in our own shells and throw stones at each other.

In my doctoral research, I reflected on the concept of "disidentification", a process by which people cleave off existing identity positions to move into larger more inclusive identity states. For e.g. expanding from being a liberal to a friend, from expanding being an Indian to the Earthwoman. That if we were less attached to our various identity positions, to the various ways in which we portray our characters in the stories we tell, could we intersect more closely as humans?

I believe so. It is sometimes troubling. It sometimes seems impossible. But this I know, our stories make us isolated. Our stories attempt to bring justice where the community as a whole is finally injured. We do not heal as a community, we are not restored to health as a community. We simply become amputees in the Universe.

So I say, maybe try changing your stories a bit?