The Power of Stories

Sometimes I look around at the state of the world and I wonder why I’m writing at a time like this. It just feels like there are so many other important things I could be doing with my time, or at least more important things I could be writing about. There are wars happening around the world. There’s growing fascism and authoritarianism in this country. Telling stories about moments in my life that have caused me to grow and think about things in a different way can feel a little silly or unimportant.

And I believe in the power of stories to help people. I’ve had stories change my life. But in the grand scheme of things, what difference are my stories going to make? They’re not The Parable of the Sower or something similarly profound and relevant to current events.

Maybe not, but last night I was reminded of the power of regular, everyday stories.

My sister and I have been watching ER. Yes, that show about a group of ER doctors and nurses in Chicago that started airing 30 years ago.

It’s my first time watching it, and it’s gripped me in a way I couldn’t have predicted. Yes, I love the characters, which is usually the thing that hooks me. Yes, the storylines are interesting. But to me, it’s the way that they draw you in with these tools of storytelling so they can have important conversations about the world of healthcare that’s really hit me.

This was a show that highlighted the physical and social impact of an HIV positive diagnosis at a time when politicians and religious leaders pushed the narrative that AIDS was a punishment from God for people who were queer and sexually promiscuous. It brought up the challenges of trying to navigate the healthcare system without insurance (which has suddenly become a relevant topic again). After seasons of watching doctors ask if an incapacitated patient had discussed advanced care instructions with loved ones, I imagine this show sparked many difficult conversations between family members of what kind of care they might want if the worst should happen. There were storylines around race and bias, mental health, and dying with dignity that at the time were not often touched by primetime network television.

And the audience, who might have normally shut down when something too real or political came up, showed up week after week because they could see themselves reflected. In the diverse cast of doctors, nurses, patients, family members. The ordinary nature of who these people were, the conflicts they faced, the choices they had to make, even the idea that serious medical issues can and will hit you out of nowhere, made this show a train that people were eager to jump on no matter where it took them. And because of that, they probably opened themselves up to points of view they didn’t even know existed in the world and perhaps even listened.

I do want to acknowledge it’s not a perfect show. There’s some white saviorism, there can be a lack of empathy for certain populations like the homeless or drug users, there’s some stereotyping. Sometimes these elements are intentional to show that these characters are flawed. Sometimes it’s just that some storylines just didn’t age well.

But overall, it’s pretty incredible that there was a show that had this kind of platform and was so popular that it went on for fifteen seasons.

The episode I watched last night was the episode where Carter goes to work with Doctors Without Borders in Congo. Carter comes in from a place of extreme privilege just looking for something different and is quickly humbled when so much that would be standard care in the United States isn’t accessible in the small village where he’s stationed. He’s even more humbled when he finds himself on the front lines of the fighting going on there.

At one point, Luka—who is Croatian—tells Carter that he used to believe in fighting for something important. And then his wife and children died during the Bosnian War and suddenly it all seemed so pointless. Every single person around them just wants food for their children and a safe place to sleep. They don’t care who’s in charge or where the borders fall. So why is this war happening?

That’s the challenge to the audience. Why are wars like this happening when all anyone wants is food for their children and a safe place to sleep? Are they truly inevitable because that’s just human nature? Or do they happen because politicians and businesses plant fear and grandiose ideas of freedom so they can gain power and profit?

These stories don’t often offer a solution. But they spark awareness and conversation. And even more importantly, they spark empathy. That’s the true power of all stories, whether they are light-hearted escapes (which are important in their own right) or heavy stories about extremely serious issues. Without empathy, we can’t come together with others to build community and to support one another. Empathy allows us to see that even someone who’s extremely different from us is still a human being. That’s a skill that we desperately need in today’s day and age. So perhaps we need stories of all kinds now more than ever.