Developing community narratives
The politics of power and belonging
by Sophie Otiende
Every text is written in a language, and the language always entails commitments to views of the world-of oneself, of one's reader, and of others-with which the writer must somehow come to terms. Similarly, every text is radically social: it always defines a speaker, an audience, and a relation between them, and it may define others as well, as potential readers or as the objects of the discourse. Every text thus creates a community, and it is responsible for the community it creates. This means that every text is at once an ethical and a cultural performance-whether its writer knows it or not-and it can be judged as such.
As someone that works in the antislavery sector, I often hear of people referencing the sector as a community. When they do, I always reflect on the definition of community and what it means to be a community. If the antislavery sector is a community, what are the ways we have been a community? What are the ways we are not? Are we one community?
The word “community” has generally become ambiguous because of how it’s been used in the past and how it’s currently being used. In the past, and sometimes in development work it’s used to refer to a group of people in a specific geographic location. Their location was used to infer that they had similar experiences and in some cases the same values. Therefore, in discussing communities there was always an assumption of some form of similarity in identity. Currently, the word is used more loosely and geographic location is not a huge factor when determining community but identity and connection are still important factors.
Defining community in antislavery work
To come up with a definition of that makes sense, I draw on the scholarship of a few people whose definition has helped shape my understanding. The first one is drawn from the experiences of survivors in the YOLRED project:
"I realised that I could not stay with my community anymore, as I didn’t belong, and they no longer wanted me."
The first part of my definition and understanding of community focuses on the idea of what it means to belong. Communities give you a sense of belonging and this looks different in each context. However, being wanted and treasured is part and parcel of that definition. In defining, community we have to explore the idea of how people end up feeling like they belong.
I also draw my understanding from Awino Aketch whose definition talks of community as not needing a physical space to be real.
"[What makes a community real is a] shared sense of politics, trajectories, and scholarship in conversation with and attuned to the question: who knows."
I like the idea of shared politics as an indicator of community and the idea that as a community we should always question: who knows? Awino argues that questioning this is foundational to feminist epistemic practice : “Who knows? How do you know that you know? And, how are those knowledges accessed, circulated and enabled to thrive to the benefit of the community? “[1] Therefore, in defining a community, shared values/politics are key as are the ways in which these politics translate to knowledge production and ultimately shape where we get narratives or community narratives.
Exclusion of survivors
Translating this back to our sector, to answer whether we are truly a community we have to ask, who belongs? How do they belong? If we look at our “community texts and narratives” what do they reveal about who we think knows? As a survivor leader working as a practitioner in this sector, I realise that feeling truly treasured and accepted as part of it, has always been an issue for me. I have rarely felt like I belonged in all the spaces in this sector and this I realise is mainly because when I look at the narratives within our texts, people like me are rarely authors, critics or seen as the audience for the text.
"In fact, those who are not included in the ‘textual community’ as either readers, writers, or critics occupy an unbreakable circle of objectivity: because they are outside the community, they do not speak; because they do not speak, they are objects; because they are objects, they do not speak, and as non- speakers they are outside the community. They are, or have been in our history, ‘slaves,’ ‘niggers,’ ‘women,’ ‘wives,’ even endangered species like foxes and whales."
Robin West, in reflecting on James Boyd White’s work on how we form communities and how we might improve them, focuses on the fact that texts or community texts are central in the development of community formation (West, 1989). White argued that a community that has consensus on its commitments will show/reflect this consensus in its text/narratives. When consensus is not reached then its narrative will have contradictions, ambiguity and disagreements. In reading this reflection, I could not help but think about the human trafficking/ modern slavery sector whether we are indeed a community and if so what our texts reveal about us?
Changing knowledge production in International Development
In asking the question about who knows and how do they know, the Antislavery Knowledge Network focused on the communities that have been most affected by the issues they were exploring. Most of the projects recognised the power dynamics that existed prior to the project and the fact that they were working with communities that are mostly objectified in text or voiceless in the “communal narrative” in the sector. The project was not afraid to think of ‘new language’ in the creation of narrative.
The BuildX project chose to speak the language of safety in architecture and understood that realistically defining safety without the people that have felt unsafe would be exclusive. Language is a huge barrier in the building of knowledge in communities. When communities define acceptable language for passing information and value certain languages over others, what ends up happening is those without the language to articulate themselves are excluded. West describes it best by defining language as the thing that defines the insider and the outsider in the textual community (West,1989). The primary quest that most AKN projects sought is to give language to outsiders so that they become insiders.
The work done by the AKN partners such as YOLRED and Donkosira with graphic novels, animation and film, or City Hearts and the University of Ghana marking sites associated with contemporary and historic slavery, remind us that the legacy of trauma is the same in the past and the present.
When you look at each project, we are reminded that for all forms of slavery when we centre survivors and the people excluded we can find new language that is more inclusive and I dare say more ethical.
The language of numbers versus narratives
The truth is that the language we have generally used in the antislavery/trafficking sector and more widely in international development has been exclusive and most of the time has not been understood by the people it’s supposed to serve. For example, the sector has generally prioritised numbers over narratives. Our quest to measure how big the problem is in numbers sometimes prohibited us from listening to the narratives, anecdotes and poems that those that struggle with the language of our sector have. In thinking about how obsessed we are with numbers in the sector, I wrote a poem that was inspired by the narratives in this project.
Numbers
Percentages
Statistics
Never our names
Never our names to remind you that we are people
Never our names to remind you that we exist
Numbers
Percentages
Statistics
Our trauma
Collective not individual
Collective because we are always a group
Never individuals with names
Never individuals with individual aspirations
That’s why it’s easier for you to dream for us
Your dream for us
Cages us in the same ways we were broken
Your dreams for us
Sees us as limited
Sees us as victims
Sees you as our saviours
Numbers
Percentages
Statistics
You continue to dehumanise us
If only you could say our names
If only those names were not as heavy on your tongues
If only the death of our individual dreams could haunt you
Sophie Otiende
Numbers
Percentages
Statistics
Never our names
Never our names to remind you that we are people
Never our names to remind you that we exist
Numbers
Percentages
Statistics
Our trauma
Collective not individual
Collective because we are always a group
Never individuals with names
Never individuals with individual aspirations
That’s why it’s easier for you to dream for us
Your dream for us
Cages us in the same ways we were broken
Your dreams for us
Sees us as limited
Sees us as victims
Sees you as our saviours
Numbers
Percentages
Statistics
You continue to dehumanise us
If only you could say our names
If only those names
were not as heavy on your tongues
If only the death of our individual dreams
could haunt you
Sophie Otiende
Finally, in reflection of AKN projects, we cannot discuss their impact and the work they have done without the discussion about access to money to implement these projects. We have to think about the fact that a normal grant making process focuses and measures impact based on numbers. The donor pre-determines what the project is, how to measure impact and how funds are generally to be spent. As a result It is important to note that most of AKN’s projects in the normal development grant making process would either not be prioritised or would be seen as risky.
Creating inclusive antislavery community narratives
A few things are clear as I conclude my reflection on this work: As a sector, we cannot say we are a “community” without attempting to break some of the barriers that we need to address for survivor inclusion to be a reality and how we can make survivor narratives part of our community narrative. How do we do this?
- Change our grantmaking processes. If, where and how we invest our money as a community is already exclusive, we should not be shocked when we do not have inclusive representation in our final products. We all agree that grant making processes need to change but that is not going to happen overnight and while we advocate for better ways, we have to find solutions right now or accept that exclusion is a norm.
- How AKN facilitated grant process and management allowed small organizations to explore subjects that they would not normally explore through a normal grant making process. They took over the process of managing the bureaucratic process of grant making and allowed small organizations that did not have the systems to manage or access these grants to do so through them. When big organizations ask, how can we show solidarity to small organizations, this is a good example of how. Give access.
- Accept that power dynamics exist as we can only find solutions when we accept that they exist. Most of the projects identified this, they were not afraid to deal with the fact that some partners came to the table with more power than others and sought to address those dynamics together.
- Recognise that current language and systems are not inclusive and the only way to change that is to listen to the language of the excluded and document the language of the excluded. Find a new language if needed. The AKN projects showed that this is possible. Inclusion is not just about bringing the excluded into the room, it’s about access, its about ensuring that they enjoy the same privileges as everyone else and that includes the right to language, communication and being seen as experts.
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