How we tell our stories is important. Ngugi Wa Thiong'o noted, "Sharing stories is the oxygen of the human spirit." Telling our stories has the power to change lives. However, when we tell our stories and they lack accuracy, facts, or even a modicum of truth, important details can become distorted. What begins as a story can easily turn into myths, untruths, or outright lies. During the Presidential debate, we heard a mix of stories—some were truthful, while others were fabricated lies. The question posed to us, the listeners, is how do we discern truth from lies? How will we determine which stories are true and which are fantasies or falsehoods? Is truth about serving our own self-interest, or is it about the well-being of the larger community to which we belong? Are our own personal stories the only stories that matter?Have we become a narcissistic nation, focused primarily on individual gains? As the saying goes, "How's that working out for you? Let me know." We've pursued this path for generations, but at some point, something more crucial must come to the forefront—what is at the core of our American character? What is the story that speaks to all of us, not just some, especially those with privilege? Why am I reflecting on these questions? While traveling through middle Georgia this past week, I saw signs that read, "I'm voting for the felon." Is this an aspect of our American story, part of our collective character? Yes, I am fully aware that there are ongoing appeals in our judicial system contesting the verdict rendered by a jury of peers in New York City. At its core, our American system of jurisprudence—and the principle of being judged by one’s peers through a jury system, a key aspect of our democracy—is being tested.
As a nation, our character is under scrutiny. How did we develop it, and who helped shape it? Character matters because it allows us to build a narrative that is truthful, honest, and grounded in integrity. Character is about integrity. In Yoruba tradition, this is reflected in the concept of Omoluwabi (omo-ti-olu-iwa-bi): omo (child), ti (that), oluwa (custodian of iwa, or character), and bi (born). It refers to a child born of the custodian of good character, or a child whose character reflects that of their parents. The question is: will we, as a nation, embrace the collective responsibility for shaping our character, or will we continue to follow the path of a privileged group that refuses to acknowledge its generational advantage?
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