Reflecting on Society through Fictional Storytelling
By Sidhika Tripathee
Hi! My project is a recording of a reading of a fictional story, “Justice” by Mariame Kaba, followed by a guided meditation. Throughout and after the guided meditation, I ask questions about the importance of fictional storytelling, and its impact on hope. My aim is to help listeners think of tools to reimagine a more just future and ways to create loving communities of care.
If you’re interested in the motivation behind this project, please check out my personal essay below!
Transcript of Story and Guided Meditation
I will be reading “Justice” by Mariame Kaba. Afterwards, I will lead a guided meditation reflecting on what the story is about, the importance of fictional storytelling, and its impact on envisioning a new world. I hope to guide you in imagining this new world through reflection and some meditation.
Before starting this story, I want you to take a deep breath. Breathe in. Breath out. Breath in. Breathe out. Close your eyes if that is comfortable.
Justice, by Mariame Kaba. Illustration by Bianca Diaz
[image id: An illustration of a naked woman floating face-up in the water. She has tiny people climbing on her and forming circles on top of her body. ]
The ocean is a special kind of blue-green and I’m standing
on the shore watching a woman drown. My friends
and family members are witnessing the same scene, or
maybe it looks different to their eyes. They are grieving;
I am not. I turn to my mother (who is a man) and
whisper in his ear: “vengeance is not justice.” And again
“vengeance is not justice.” I let the wind carry my words
because human beings (even highly evolved ones) can’t
hear spirits.
I was sixteen when I died.
Darn, I did it again. I rushed to the end of the story
before telling the beginning. I am one of those girls. You
know what I mean; the kind of girl who eats dessert for
dinner and reads the end of the book first. Everyone
calls me impatient. Impatient should be my first name.
I love water and swimming. My father (who claims no
gender) says that I must be descended from a fish and
not a person. Mama says that he should have named me
Aqua. Everyone seems to want to call me by a different
name than my actual one, which is Adila though my
friends call me Addie.
I live in Small Place (SP). If someone asked me to
describe the sights, sounds, and smells of home, I’d say
that SP is very green. I mean you can smell the green and
the salt water and you can hear the wind rustling through
the trees. We’re family in SP. No, we aren’t all related but
we trust and love each other. While arguments and conflicts happen,
we always resolve them. My parents are
SP’s chief peace-holders. If you are wondering how one
becomes a chief peace-holder, it’s simple really. Anyone over
twenty years old is eligible. Every five years, a
representative group of SP residents gather to consider
candidates. Peace-holders are not special or better than
anyone else in SP. The only requirements are a desire to
serve and a commitment to embody and hold true to our
community values. Those values are revisited, reviewed,
and sometimes revised annually. Peace-holders’ primary
responsibilities are to make sure that all of our
conflicts are swiftly and peacefully addressed.
Once, I asked Mama why he thought that he was
selected as a chief peace-holder. He looked at me for a
moment and then said: “I was over twenty years old, willing to serve,
and I never forget our common humanity.”
Mama said that I am good at holding others and myself
in our humanity. I’m not sure what he means. I do know
that everyone makes mistakes and that we all deserve a
chance to be held accountable for them so that we can do
and be better next time. Maybe that’s like my life philosophy or something.
Anyway, what I love the most about
living in SP is that we look out for one another; when one
person in our community experiences harm, all of us
are harmed. It’s one of our most sacred and important
values.
Though my parents are peace-holders, all of us are
circle-keepers. We discuss all of our issues in circle. We
celebrate in circle. We mourn in circle. Basically, circles
are how we communicate and how we connect. Anyone
in our community can call and keep a circle at any time
and for any reason. There are no special skills to learn;
all you need is to listen and to make space. All ages are
included.
I mentioned that we’re family in SP. We are a close knit community
but we often get visitors from other
places. Last month, for example, a woman visited SP.
She is a distant relative of our neighbors. She came
from somewhere called Earth, which is very far indeed.
There’s nothing memorable about the Earth visitor
(EV). Her hair is long and brown. She’s pale like she
doesn’t spend a lot of time in the sun. The only thing that
stood out is that she walked around SP carrying a knife
in her purse. She said that it was in case she “ran into
trouble.” She added that on Earth, “women could never
be too careful.” I didn’t understand what she meant.
What kind of trouble would you need a knife for? And
why would you be in more danger if you identified as a
woman? If anything happened, she could just call a circle and together
we’d address the issue.
We never locked our doors in SP and our Earth visitor (EV)
insisted that this was unsafe. “What if someone
wants to steal something from the house or what if they
want to hurt someone?” she asked. My mother told her
that everything in our house was community property
and could be used by anyone. There is no such thing as
private property in SP so no one had reason to steal from
anyone else when they could simply share what others
had. Besides, everyone in SP had their basic needs of
food, clothing, and shelter met. Health care and education
are also freely provided to all members of the community.
EV then asked my father if they were afraid for
me and my siblings’ safety. My father simply shook their
head and went to the kitchen to make dinner. Daddy is
not the talkative one in our family.
I was so confused by EV’s questions that I kept the
dictionary tab on my computer open. I looked up words
that I didn’t understand like “fear” and “stealing.” I
read the definition of “fear” as “an unpleasant emotion
caused by the belief that someone or something
is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.” This
definition led me to look up more words like “dangerous” and “threat.”
While I was searching the web, I
found a story called a folktale about how people on Earth
address conflict and harm. Basically, it goes something
like this:
While swimming across a pond, Sis Goose was caught
by Brer Fox, who in some versions of the story is a sheriff.
A sheriff is a police officer in case you don’t know.
I had to look that up too. We have no police in SP. Anyway,
Sis gets pissed off because she believes that she has
the right to swim in the pond. After all, she’s not bothering anyone.
She’s just minding her own business. So
Sis decides to sue Brer Fox. But when the case gets to
court, Sis Goose looks around and sees that besides the
sheriff who is a fox, the judge is a fox, the prosecuting
and defense attorneys are ones too and even the jury is
comprised entirely of foxes. Sis Goose doesn’t like her
chances. Sure enough, at the end of the trial, Sis Goose
is convicted and immediately executed. The jury, judge,
sheriff, and the attorneys all picked at her bones, which
seems even crueler. The moral of the story is: “When all
the folks in the courthouse are foxes and you are just a
common goose there isn’t going to be much justice for
you.”
I worried about this place called Earth and decided
that it must be a terrible place to breed such scared, mistrustful, and cruel people.
I was glad to be living in SP
and resolved to keep my distance from Earth.
At dinner, EV resumed her relentless questioning.
She asked where all of the criminals were housed. When
we stared blankly, she became agitated and yelled “the
bad people, the bad people, where do you put them?”
My mother said that there was no such thing as bad people,
only people who sometimes did a bad thing. Our
visitor laughed bitterly. “Okay then,” she said, “where
do you put the people who do bad things?” Finally, I
spoke up. “We don’t put them anywhere because we all
do bad things sometimes and through our relationships
with each other we acknowledge the harm we’ve caused
and then we do our best to try to repair it.” EV looked at
me like I had grown another head. “You have no prisons here,
no jails?” “No,” was our collective response.
Then Mama asked: “How exactly do your prisons and
jails address the needs of those who have experienced
harm?” EV responded that jails and prisons offered
accountability and punishment and that a strict justice
system is especially important for women. My father
asked if punishment was justice and added: “How do
those who are locked in your prisons and jails heal? Are
they improved by the experience?” That was their word
limit for the day, I think.
Our ways and values were alien to EV and she was
clearly disturbed by them. That night, I did some
research about the punishment system on Earth and
was shocked that the harmed person played almost no
role in the process. The trials (I looked up that word
too) were the State of Indiana v. the name of the person
who caused harm. Also, it didn’t seem like all of the
“crimes” were necessarily very harmful or that all of the
harms were considered “crimes.” I read one story of a
young girl who was raped and they actually blamed her
for drinking too much at a party. The person responsible
for her pain didn’t have to acknowledge the harm they
caused or make amends. In SP, the entire community
would have focused first on the needs of the young girl,
then we would use circles to discuss what had happened
and insist that the person who committed the harm take
responsibility. They would be assigned several members of
the community to support and guide them in
completing the agreed-on restitution. I have to admit
though that I had a hard time imagining such a thing as
rape happening in our community.
One day after school, I went for a swim. I got naked
and dived in the ocean. I was floating with my eyes closed
while thinking about my friend Noliwe, which brought a
smile to my face. Noliwe is my most favorite person in
SP next to my parents and siblings. I was jolted out of my
daydream when I heard someone approach. I opened my
eyes and saw that EV was staring at me. She had a knife
in her hand.
I was sixteen when I died.
I was killed by a visitor from a place called Earth who
couldn’t believe that there were no prisons in SP. Mine
was the second murder ever in our community and it
fell to my parents as chief peace-holders to ensure that
the harm caused was addressed. For days, people across
our community convened, communed, celebrated, and
consoled each other in circle. There were talking circles,
mourning circles, circles of support, and celebration
circles. They happened at dawn, in midmorning, in the
evening, and in the dead of night. For days, members of
SP told stories about my life through tears, anger, and
laughter. There was, however, no talk of punishment or
vengeance. Neither would bring me back.
After weeks of centering my family members and
friends and of showering them with love, support, and
food, the SP community turned its attention to my killer.
EV was included in all of the previous circles and so she
had experienced the community’s outpouring of grief
and loss. She heard stories about my life. She knew the
extent of the pain felt by my community. After she killed
me, she turned herself in to my parents. Her first words
to them were: “Where will you put me?” They responded
in unison: “In circle.” And so it was that EV came to
understand the impact of her actions on an entire community.
And so it was that she experienced remorse for
her actions and sought to make amends. And so it was
that my community held EV in her humanity while seeking
to hold her accountable for her actions.
The first murder that occurred in SP happened
decades earlier. The ancestors created our Justice Ritual
in response. After several days of mourning and celebrating
the life of the person killed, the killer’s life and
actions are explored. In a series of circles, participants
discuss why the violence happened, how it happened,
and who was harmed. Community members are asked
to stand in the shoes of the person who committed the
harm, to consider the conditions that underlie their
actions, and to examine their own roles in perpetuating
those conditions. It was an acknowledgement that no
matter how hard we try to purge ourselves of emotions
like jealousy, envy, and anger, they remain within us
and can negatively impact our relationships. Remaining
aware of this is important to maintaining peace.
When circles have been exhausted, the killer is taken
to the ocean, tied up, and dropped into the water. This
empathy ceremony takes place in front of the entire
community. The immediate family members of the victim
are given the option of saving the life of the killer
or letting them drown. If the family saves the person’s
life, they are then required to take the place of the person
killed within the community. They are expected to
pay a debt for the life taken for however long the harmed
parties deem necessary but they do so within the community,
living as integrated members.
I saw my father motion to my mother. He nodded his
head. EV was rescued from the ocean. When we hold
each other in our humanity, what other outcome could
there be? Vengeance is not justice.
I was sixteen when I died and my name was Adila,
which means “justice.”
Meditation
I want you to take a couple of breaths with me. Breath in, filling your stomach with air. Breath out, letting it all go. Feel your forehead relax and your shoulders release. With each breath, feel each muscle in your body loosen. On your next breath, as you breathe out, close your eyes if you haven’t already and feel the world around you getting quieter.
I want to you to think about the story you just listened to.[pause]
What emotions did it bring for in you? [pause] How does your heart feel?[pause]
Do you feel warm and happy, or frustrated or confused, or something else? Why do you think you feel that way? [pause]
What questions do you have at the end of the story? What is left unanswered? [pause]
Can you imagine how the lessons from this story can be used to reenvision our world? What needs to change? [pause]
I will raise a few questions to help with this thought process but please feel free to pause the audio at any point to reflect longer on certain questions. [pause]
What are some ways that structures of care can be changed to prioritize healing? [pause]
How can we refine justice? Would there be police or police figures in this new definition of justice? If so, what would their role be? [pause]
What are some structures we need to get rid of to achieve this new world? What are some tools we need to create? [pause]
And lastly, are you ready for this change? Why or why not? [pause]
Whenever you’re ready, come back to the world around you. Start to listen to the sounds around you and slowly open your eyes. Think about how you feel right now and why. Try to use your thoughts and feelings from this meditation in exploring new perspectives in your daily life.
Goodbye.