Jazz Kerr’s reflections on storytelling and movement strategy is part of Network Weaver’s BIPOC Editorial series. Learn more about the series and our submissions guidelines here. We invite you to connect with us at [email protected]

You may wonder why, in writing, I return so often to the land. The land is our first storyteller, and I do my best to stay grounded in its memory. Land is where liberation lives, and we must never forget it. Land struggles are environmental struggles, struggles of safety, belonging, and justice. I am called to this work by the land and the people compelled to protect, preserve, and steward it. To me, being a storyteller means witnessing our wins, our grief, and our pain to share lessons and strategies from it all. The breeze of my words carries seeds of hope and truth, creating waves of change while the world feels ablaze. 

Witnessing what is happening in Palestine, Congo, Haiti, Sudan, and so many other places, leads me to question our methods of resistance almost daily. I had the opportunity to participate in the ReOrganizing School. This year’s theme was ‘Mapping (Local) Resistance in a Global City.’ The space curated by the Mellon Fellow organizers explored the importance of thinking globally and acting locally. It also gave me a space to reflect on my role and strategy in this work. On day one, we dove into Grace Lee and Jimmy Boggs’ “visionary organizing,” which involves re-imagining our structures, institutions, relationships, and ourselves. 

During this reimagining it was clear to me that to be effective in movement work, I had to hone my craft. Some say the best way to practice is to teach, so I hope today you’ll learn a bit about the behind-the-scenes of storytelling and cultural strategy work. I am still new to the cultural strategy pieces and I look forward to learning from leaders who have honed this talent far more than I have. Crafting stories that can build or shift power is a practice in re-imagining. 

We often hear that the victors write the history, but in movements, this is not always true. 

Every movement is a collection of stories; some are whispers, and some are shouts. In my work, I aim to uplift the voices of the folks who are often unseen, unheard, or underrepresented. We are led to believe that movements are led by strong, charismatic, (often cisgender) men. However, I know that BIPOC individuals, queer and trans individuals, women, youth, disabled folks, and many other marginalized groups of everyday people both lead and sustain movements. There are unsung champions in every movement you can think of. For example, if you think of farmers, civil rights might not be the first thing that pops into your head. However, Black farmers provided collateral for bail, gathering spaces to strategize, and sustenance for many folks fighting in the civil rights movement. If you imagine a farmer today, the first thing that comes to mind is probably an older white man in a vast green field. This could not be further from reality. Farmworkers are underpaid, usually exploited migrant workers of color. Why don’t we draw these connections or know these stories? 

The answer is simple: there is an issue in our marketing. If we had better narrative control, Black farmers would be celebrated as pillars of the civil rights movement, and migrant farm workers’ exploitation would be the first thing we thought of before consuming food. Having a critical analysis is important to unearth these problems, but storytelling is about being intentional in how we package them. The best storytellers are culture-builders; beyond telling stories, strategizing to protect narratives from being co-opted and prevent our voices from being invisibilized. 

So, how does storytelling look for me? I focus on three main things: 

WRITTEN

In any story, we cover the basics: who, what, when, where, how, and why. When I started at FSNYC, I was tasked to collect the stories of our founders. I began by finding out who our founders were. I decided to ask them why Farm School was created, how and when they were involved, and what they did. Since we have nearly 30 founders, I knew I’d have to schedule interviews over Zoom. I ran through the list, sending intros and invites, and 12 founders replied. I wanted to know what information we already had around our founding; mainly, we knew that people wanted to learn to grow food in NYC. There was so much missing that the stories I gathered shed light on. I saw the labor of love each founder poured into FSNYC. They did not want other aspiring farmers to go through any of their same hardships. 

I was able to deeply understand the value of collaboration and applying diverse talents to accomplishing a shared goal. While a story about one of our more famous or traditionally successful founders might have performed better, I had to tell the authentic truth. FSNYC was founded collectively, and collective visioning is what led to our longevity. Our founders leaned on one another and into their strengths to allow us all to learn, grow, and participate in popular education-based urban ag training.

If we allowed the story to go a different way, it would be feeding into the harmful narratives of homesteading and the myth that one wealthy person or group practicing some sustainable farming strategies is creating a real change. Another critical piece in collecting these stories was consent. It was important to get permission from the folks sharing their stores to collect and share them and allow them to edit before publishing. Last but not least, I try to always provide context for this story about who Farm School is and the people who were in the room when it was created. Providing context lets people determine when it is appropriate to apply the lessons of a story. The stories of our founders are linked here, and the stories of other folks in our community are linked here. 

VISUAL

In storytelling, I have also found it important to think about the visual aspects. When you imagine a farmer, this image is probably similar to the one in your mind:

Taking photos of our community tending the land is crucial. It shows that BIPOC farmers, Queer farmers, Women farmers, Disabled farmers, and many other types of farmers exist. This photo is a stark contrast to the one above:

In my work, I show people building the changes we hope to see. While animations can soften messages, photos of real people bring an added layer of authenticity. I make the photography process fun and natural since being photographed can be nerve-wracking. In visual storytelling, there is a strategy in how photos are colored to make them seem more or less recent. There is a strategy in the angles to make subjects seem more or less inviting. The ‘subject’ also plays a huge role in how the photo is received, for example many people in the civil rights and leaders never smiled in pictures. This was their way of protecting their image from being co opted. If movement leaders were shown smiling then the message of fighting for justice could be diluted. I try to show people smiling in our photos to showcase that joy has a space in movement work, and that plants are a key part of that joy. One other consideration about visual storytelling that shouldn’t be overlooked is the “professionalism” of a graphic. Fonts color overlays and spacing can give work perceived legitimacy. It is important to consider alignment, balance, contrast, repetition, proportion, movement, and white space. 

This is one example: 

Images can help start discussions and approach difficult topics. In this image we are questioning our food systems and legacy, looking at the battle between monocropping and small scale agriculture. 

ORAL 

As a Gemini, I was blessed with the gift of gab (a professional yapper, some may say). Shifting thinking and sharing ideas is transformative. Oral story traditions are ancient ways that knowledge and lessons were passed down. From songs to fables, hearing the comfort of a voice is one of the best tried and true ways to share a story or shape a culture. I love being able to adjust and respond to what resonates with the audience in real-time. With the rise of podcasts and short-form content, we can also have conversations publicly. Building, organizing, and educating the community sometimes looks like forging relationships out loud in real-time. To maintain relationships, I collaborate with students, donors, and partner organizations often. I enjoyed hosting a “waterside chat” while visiting Catalyst Collaborative Farm. We were collaborating on an event about food sovereignty and thought about food stories and relationships as integral to our work. I asked participants to explore what brought them to this work and what partnerships they looked forward to building. Speaking, listening, and reflecting in circles are some of the best ways to build community messaging and ensure you reach the full audience as you intended. I think that hearing a new idea from someone’s own voice makes us more likely to sit with and deeply consider it. 

What about Culture building and or strategy? 

For now, my best cultural strategy is to uplift the work I like to see. For example, I’ve been learning a lot about cooperatives being developed around the state. I am excited to witness these co-ops beginning because, in many ways, it feels like a testament to the Farm School founders’ stories. Each cooperative venture is another data point in shifting the harmful narrative that change is made in isolation. Also, using Instagram Live to show what the work looks like on the ground and allow folks to ask questions about it in real time. When I share, I hope to bring about a sense of understanding, clarity, and belonging. I consider how to bring folks into the work who might not have encountered it before. There can be a sense of urgency in a lot of our work, and we ask folks to move sometimes before they can fully understand in depth. This requires trust and a shared conviction in the belief that we are the ones we’ve been waiting for. It will be hard work, but there is a path forward. 

I am excited to learn more ways strategy and messaging can be effective in mobilizing and uniting folks. While there are so many other parts of my work we could nerd out about (like measuring impacts and monitoring impressions or analytics), I believe this story has come full circle. Please reach out if you’d like to learn more about the behind-the-scenes work in storytelling or share your own. Remember to tell stories truthfully and use your words to inspire action and uplift resistance!

What inspired you to write this particular piece?

I wrote this piece to reflect on how my current work ties into larger grassroots efforts. I enjoy communications work and see narrative building/ shifting as foundational in visionary organizing. I would like to bring more people into the work and think this piece can serve as a reflective roadmap into the field.

What does liberation mean to you?

Liberation looks like joyful healing. My father is from Costa Rica, where we have a phrase: Pura Vida. It translates directly to pure life, but to me, it means trying to leave the world better than you found it. To live intentionally, heal the land, restore the water and air, and care for our fellow cohabitants. Liberation requires the end of oppressive systems that exploit people and the planet. To me, liberation is hope, the ability to build or belong to a community that meets everyone’s needs and centers care, freedom, integrity, and justice. Liberation means all have access to joy that is not reliant on exploitation.

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