Stories Matter: They Evoke Raw Emotion, Offering a Glimpse of One’s Identity by Hannah Lacap
Throughout the years, stories have been passed down to people for generations. Whether they be shared orally or historically-recorded, stories have continued to persevere against the ravages of time, offering timeless pieces of writing and explaining various concepts to us, from cultural folklore to scientific discovery. I’ve come to realize and appreciate an essential aspect of every person, and that is every individual bears a unique and eccentric story that is waiting to be shared with the public, whether it be a story surrounding themselves or simply a fictional one.
These stories offer a glimpse into an individual’s candid vulnerability and raw emotion. Although not all of us are great authors like Shakespeare, Homer, Kafka, or Plath, manifesting the storytelling and writing prowess that these brilliant men and women have come to possess, we mustn’t degrade our abilities by ultimately shunning our stories away, keeping them hidden, and thus concealing our voices from the eyes of the public.
As the naive, little girl I was at the age of 8, I shared a very similar outlook with many kids my age: I viewed my parents as stern and unbreakable with a firm disposition. In my household, my father commanded respect and discipline, and as a child, upholding these principles had its challenges. I’d always find myself in heated arguments against my father.
During these intense disputes, my father’s powerful voice and tone easily overpowered mine, nevertheless I’d repeatedly and forcefully insert my opinions and perspective on the matter, attempting to assert my dominance while subsequently adding fuel to the fire. It was quite evident that there was a wall between us, a wall that my clueless self never acknowledged, perhaps refused to acknowledge. So when my father freely disclosed a story about his past, I was completely caught off-guard.
He explained that when he was younger, it was apparent for him to not return home, and he would instead indulge himself with an eventful night of partying and drinking. Every word he spoke, I could observe that this wasn’t an easy story to tell as it held painful memories that lingered of utter regret and shameful guilt. His normally powerful voice was now low and brittle, choking and stumbling on his words. And his sharp eyes were now soft and quivered in hesitation. As I gazed into his hazelnut eyes, I was in awe of who I was speaking to. By sharing his story, my father had willingly revealed his vulnerability to me, shattering my false view of him as a stern, strong, and strict father who seemed to bear a heart of steel. Upon listening to his story, a sudden realization struck my mind. My father was human, someone who possessed human emotions and has encountered happiness, regret, and even fear. Because of his story, I was given the opportunity to view him in a new light.