The Danger of a Single Story and Why It Still Shapes How We See the World
Have you ever realized you were wrong about someone not because of anything they did, but because of the story you told yourself about them? That’s the trap Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie warns us about in her powerful TED Talk, “The Danger of a Single Story.” And once you hear her examples, it’s almost impossible not to reflect on your own.
Adichie explains that a “single story” is what happens when we reduce a person, a place, or even an entire culture to one narrow narrative. It’s the moment we decide we already know who someone is before we’ve ever met them. And the danger? It creates stereotypes that flatten people into one dimensional characters. It breeds ignorance. It strips away humanity. Worst of all, it keeps those without power firmly in the margins.
I’ve always tried to resist falling into that trap. I like to understand how and why people end up where they are. But even then, I’ve had moments where a book or a story cracked my perspective wide open.
One of those moments came when I read A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier by Ishmael Beah. Before opening that book, I had little to no understanding of Sierra Leone’s civil war. The kind of distant, oversimplified narrative you get from headlines. But Beah’s memoir pulled me into the world of child soldiers in a way that was raw, human, and unforgettable.
Yes, his story includes unimaginable trauma. But what struck me most was everything beyond that. Beah wasn’t just a boy soldier. He was a child who loved rap music, a teenager who found refuge in storytelling, a young man who rebuilt his life, moved to the United States in 1998, and eventually graduated from Oberlin College. His life is not a single story about being a solider at a young age.
Even the book’s cover echoes Adichie’s message with a quote from Carolyn See of The Washington Post: “Everyone in the world should read this book… We should read it to learn about the world and about what it means to be human.”
And that’s exactly it. When people share their full, complicated, beautiful, painful, layered stories, we’re reminded of our shared humanity. We see people as whole beings not caricatures shaped and judged by assumptions from their behaviors.
Adichie talks about how she once viewed her childhood housekeeper through a single story of poverty. It wasn’t until she learned more about him, his talents, his dreams, his family, that she realized how incomplete her understanding had been. We’ve all had moments like that, even if we don’t always admit it.
But the good news? We can choose differently.
When we open ourselves to multiple stories. When we listen, read, ask, and stay curious we begin to dismantle the oversimplified narratives that divide us. We start to appreciate the richness and diversity each person carries. And slowly, we move closer to seeing one another in our full humanity.