stories
“Relational activists share stories, something powerful and distinct from storytelling. While telling stories can lead to empathy, the act can also create barriers between the speaker and the listener. Storysharing, by contrast, is reciprocal. We believe that if you want to connect with someone, you have to be open to sharing a part of yourself as well. Making sense of each other by showing vulnerability helps us build compassion and break down barriers, rather than creating new ones.”
stickability
One idle Sunday, Michael Clarke was heading across his mum’s estate when he saw an elderly woman had slipped down one of the accessibility ramps. She had hit her head close to her temple and her head was resting in a pool of her own blood. Michael instinctually began to run through the maze of the estate to collect a first aid kit as well as towels from his mum’s house and returned to the site of the accident. (While talking to Michael it is obvious that he often acts instinctually, one story he told us finds him running through a burning building to save a bison.)
He had some experience with first aid so made sure to place a bandage on the wound and applied pressure with the towel for 20-25 minutes. While he was helping her he explained what he was doing in order to comfort her. They began speaking and he found out that her name was Madeline, she was 84, she spoke about her big family and her former career as a midwife. The ambulance had been called and another bystander got in contact with Madeline’s daughter. Michael accompanied her to the hospital while Madeline’s family arrived and supported her until the tests came back. He describes the experience as ‘a connection between humans’.
That connection has proved a lasting one as he still occasionally goes round for a cup of tea and a chat. Michael is 24 and has been in the care system for thirteen years, he lives alone with his cat Mr Whiskers and spends his time educating social workers through activism and consultancy. His spirit of charity and empathy spreads through his work with children to random acts of kindness such as the time he walked from Camden to Waterloo distributing cupcakes to anyone who would walk by. He believes that everyone has needs, his job is creating a space for those needs.
connection
Faye’s mother was barely 16 when she had Faye premature. She was paired with her Camden social worker Patrick shortly after the birth and the first thing they bonded over was music. Patrick found Faye’s mother a bedsit to live in and began integrating her and Faye into his own family. He and his wife were foster parents so it was a natural transition that Faye’s mother became like their eldest daughter, often going to Patrick’s wife for advice.
Faye and her mother visited Patrick’s house often, at least once a week, sometimes staying the night. Faye’s mother arrived in the UK from Jamaica just five years before and Faye remembers when she decided to showcase her culture through food. She cooked her new family fish for dinner, however, this became an amusing challenge as they had never eaten fish with bones still inside. Faye and her mother even called Patrick and his wife ‘mum and dad’, a good indication of their inseparable bond.
Faye remembers at the house she was treated like the other young children, receiving anything and everything Patrick’s other children received. The sun-dappled memory she is fondest of has her sitting on the stairs watching him comb through his red mullet and moustache in the mirror for twenty whole minutes to make sure they were in good order before he left the house in his three-piece tweed suit, it was the 1970s!. When Faye and her mother left the UK for the West Indies for ten years they still kept in contact with Patrick’s family, and when Faye returned she got back in touch with them. At her mother’s funeral in 2001, Faye fainted and it was Patrick that caught her. Now, even though everyone has moved on, the young are old now and live all over the world, but still, they chat on the phone, Faye spoke with them just this week. The power of connection.
culture
Azara grew up speaking English, in the Northern region of Ghana where her family lived English is taught as the primary language. When she went to boarding school age 8 she found herself not understanding half of the student body. They spoke Twi which is a language spoken in South and Central Ghana. For a long time, Azara was blocked from a side of social and academic life as she was unable to express herself in Twi. Azara only knew a couple of keywords such as 'come' and 'go'. She was teased for not knowing the language and her vocabulary mistakes. Till one day, she casually responded to a comment speaking Twi. The language clicked in her brain and her school friend's conversations opened up to her. Azara's peers were confused by this rapid language acquisition and refused to believe that she had not been keeping her fluency a secret.
Many years later in London she was organising a family group conference for a woman named Alice, who also grew up in Ghana. They started the first meeting in English and as they were talking Alice asked her in Twi to 'speak your tongue, not in English'. They laughed and Azara thought about her time in school speaking Twi. In the flow of their conversation, Azara was reminded more and more of the language and they spoke together comfortably. Azara was touched that she and Alice could connect through a shared language, that she picked up so suddenly all those years ago.