Why Those Who Tell Stories Rule Society

I have always had this urge to do something for the community. I felt the need to speak where others are afraid or can't speak for themselves. I might have a word for that now—a ‘human rights defender.’ I am not the one who has suffered the most, but I stand firmly when it comes to women’s rights. I am the one who questions and challenges traditions, mindsets, and systems that lock women out from experiencing their full potential. From mothers to women leaders in Africa, I have had the privilege of supporting their journeys.

One day my director of programs informed me that I would represent the organization at Defender's Day in Stockholm—a special event for human rights defenders from every corner of the world. I was lost in excitement and imagination.

I immediately began my visa process. To cut the story short, I had to get my visa from another country—Kenya—because there was no time to apply from Tanzania since I was travelling to Kenya for work. I was betting on this, and I’m glad it worked. When I landed in Stockholm, the process at the airport was smoother than I expected—no excessive questioning, no need to present all the documents I had painstakingly printed and carried. I felt new in a new place, discovering life in another colour, another world to admire. From the clean streets to the way people expressed their emotions, everything was striking. I saw a couple walking together at the airport, gently caressing each other's arms, some kissing their goodbyes. It was lovely to see such depth of humanity in real life, in the public’s face. 

Defender's Day ignited my passion for storytelling. One session, in particular, transformed my thinking. It was led by Ahmad Helmi, a serious yet hilarious Syrian human rights defender whose story was both fascinating and almost unbelievable. In this session, we sat in a circle, just like how grandmothers sit around a fire telling stories to their grandchildren in my country. Ahmad didn’t have a presentation. “You’ll understand why,” he said. The screen remained black for most of the time, only occasionally did he switch it on to show a picture before returning to our world. A world of imagination, shaped by our own words. As a co-founder of the Ta’afi Initiative, he endured forced disappearance and detention for three years and now fights to end torture and forced disappearances in Syria.

“It is very hard not to love someone when you know their story,” he said.

I almost felt out of place when I joined the session—there was no presentation, and the circle seemed full. I picked a chair and started a second row where others soon joined. Little did I know this would be the most captivating session for me. Ahmad shared his story—how he grew up without a celebrated talent like other kids. He was a chubby child, often teased, but he discovered his superpower: storytelling. Using this gift, Helmi and his team recognized the urgent need to address the crisis of missing persons in Syria. Through relentless advocacy, they achieved a significant milestone in June 2023 when the United Nations General Assembly voted to establish an independent institution to uncover the fate of Syria’s missing persons.

“How many of you write reports, proposals, and blogs?” he asked. Many hands shot up. Then he said, “Make sure you tell a story in everything you write.” Replace statistics with stories. Let people know, feel, and do something through your stories. At that moment, I was hooked—there wasn’t a single second my attention drifted outside that room.

When you tell a sad story, you create a negative impact.

There is a physical reaction from your audience when you tell a story. Stories allow people to live the lives of others, by taking them on a journey. When you tell a sad story, you evoke a sad emotion. To prove this, he invited people in the room to share their own stories. Each one transported us to another world. The most interesting part was how he encouraged us to observe the framework of a compelling story:

Introduce the environment. Introduce the challenge—obstacles. Share the hero’s journey. Present the transformation and climax. Avoid stating the moral of the story at the end—humans are hunters; let them find it themselves.

Our session ended with members engaging each other in stories. Hearts full of stories to tell, the hunt for justice, peace and fulfilment of human potential continues. I left Stockholm with a thousand stories to tell and new ways of doing it.