What struck me was this: She had felt sorry for me even before she saw me. Her default position toward me, as an African, was a kind of patronizing, well-meaning pity. My roommate had a single story of Africa: a single story of catastrophe. In this single story there was no possibility of Africans being similar to her in any way, no possibility of feelings more complex than pity, no possibility of a connection as human equals. How many times have we heard the same single story related to refugee populations? What danger does this pose to our own consciousness, and the information we spread to others?
Posted on: Fri, 24 Oct 2014 15:50:01 +0000
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