Veroli Zhimo
“The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story that becomes the only story.”
In 2009, the Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie gave a TED talk called “The Danger of a Single Story.” It was about what happens when complex human beings and situations are reduced to a single narrative: when Africans, for example, are treated solely as pitiable poor, starving victims with flies on their faces.
For the most part, the single story conflated with Nagaland has been that of a ‘disturbed-area.’ The recent extension of AFSPA for another 6 months has further validated that single story in the eyes of the world.
Most recently, Maneka Gandhi and the People for Animals, India (PFA), have emerged as the giants of single story-ism. With one sweeping statement, they reduced pretty much all of Nagaland to the same single narrative: the ‘barbaric’ Naga story.
These stories have become identity markers.
During the TED talk, Adichie recounted speaking to an American student who, after reading Adichie’s novel centered on an abusive male character, lamented the fact that Nigerian men were abusive. Having just read American Psycho, Adichie returns his pity, and calls it a shame that “all young American men are serial killers.” The TED audience laughs at the absurd generalization and her point is clear: on a micro-level, the danger of a single story is that it prevents people from genuinely connecting with people as individuals. On a macro-level, the issue is really about power: almost by definition, there are many stories about the dominant culture so the single-story threatens to create stereotypes that stick to already disempowered groups.
Adichie's point was that each individual life contains a heterogeneous compilation of stories. If you reduce people to one, you’re taking away their humanity.
Power is the ability not just to tell the story of another person, but to make it the definitive story of that person.
Start the narrative with the failure of the Naga state, and not with the colonial creation of the Naga state, and you have an entirely different story.
Of course, Nagaland is a state full of catastrophes: There are immense ones, such as the horrific rapes and human rights violations in the name of AFSPA and depressing ones, such as the fact that at least a thousand people apply for one Government job vacancy. But there are other stories that are not about catastrophe. And it is very important, it is just as important, to talk about them.
Like Adichie says, it is impossible to engage properly with a place or a person without engaging with all of the stories of that place and that person. The consequence of the single story robs people of dignity. It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult. It emphasizes how we are different rather than how we are similar.
Stories matter. Many stories matter. Stories have been used to dispossess and to malign, but stories can also be used to empower and to humanize. Stories can break the dignity of a people, but stories can also repair that broken dignity.
While the key is to find a balance between those stories, the question that must be asked is this: is anyone willing to listen to anything other than the single story?
The writer is a sub-editor at The Morung Express. Comments can be sent to vzhimolimi@gmail.com
