What Is Your Story Coffee Table Book Draft

What Is Your Story?

Exploring empathy through black markers and worn pages of books.

We Believe Storytelling can lead to radical empathy, promote deep interpersonal connections, and demonstrate we are more similar than we are different.

Acknowledgeme Thank you.

To all of the Storytellers who have poured their hearts, dreams, fears, passions, doubts, hopes and everything else into the pages of these books, we say thank you.

To all of the libraries, donors, declutterers, purveyors of used books, we say thank you.

To all of the people who have believed in our story, have hosted us in their spaces and partnered with us, MoDA, Pandemonium Books, Book N’ Brunch, Second Self Beer Company, Design TO Festival, Georgian Gallery, USGBC, We Love BuHi, and to many more people we have met along the way, we say thank you.

To a team so lovely, so dedicated, so strong, people who dream of sharing the lives and dreams of others, people who listen and build and grow. To you, thank you.

And to you, dear reader, thank you. Thank you for supporting us in this journey and giving space for Storyteller voices to be heard. You too are filled to the brim with stories and for that we say, thank you for listening.

Thank you.

ents & Gratitude To Tania Saliba and Maria Ortega, the dreamers of this project, and to the team at Orange Sparkle Ball and Spark Corps, this could not be done without you. Seriously— It could not.

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Storyteller #001 what was wrong until I was diagnosed with Lupus at 17. All my life I have had people say “that it must have been really hard” or “you’re so strong”. I usually chuckle or say nothing - but the truth is it wasn’t and I’m not. The truth is, I’ve never known what it was like to not be sick so It’s just my life. This isn’t a “pity me” or “mind over matter” story - a lot of people are way worse off than me... This is just a story about me and how Lupus is who I am. It is the reason I can communicate, the reason for my optimism, the reason I’m confident (sometimes), and the reason I persevere. Being sick from a young age, I learned to talk. To tell how I felt and not just “it hurts” but to really think and explain and be open - I learned that you can’t get help if you don’t tell the people that matter. I learned to never take good days for granted. Even when they become more frequent than the bad. Watching my mom hurt for me even when I wasn’t in pain taught me to cherish people because you never know when someone won’t be there to love. Being happy with what you have helps things be brighter. At 16, medication caused me to gain weight and stretch marks to cover my body. It taught me that looks aren’t everything - that friends will still be your friends and strangers can still like no matter how you look. But if you shy away and hide, you’d never know they do. Lastly it taught me to never give up and to pursue what makes me happy. I was told to keep my life low stress for my health. But I didn’t let it stop me - life is too short to spend a single moment doing something that doesn’t bring you joy. Chase after what you love.

“

“

I have been sick since I was little. In and out of doctors offices non stop, no one knowing

Storyteller #1052

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#1052 Storyteller

Oranges have magical properties.

Throughout my childhood my father, who was a diabetic, would have reactions strong enough to make him physically unstable. You could

and very dear friend. You see, the man walking ahead of me was peeling an orange. How amazing that something not seen could make its presence so known. I could see its coloud, feel the little bumps of its peel and taste the sweet tang of its juice. My whole body relaxed and smiled. I began to breathe and I could feel my heart opening. But then I stopped in my tracks. Instead of my dad, I realized it was now me having the reaction. And this time the orance magic was instantly settling and bringing me back into my own body. Within the space that was opening up inside, came the awareness that the anxiety was not my full reality what a remarkable gift.

It never became easier to see my dad so desperate to ground himself. Trembling and with finger in such a state of discoordination that they tumbled and fumbled over each other he would tear at the peel of an orange and frantically shove the first available pieces in his mouth.

This same gift has been given to me many more times since always when I am beside myself with fear and anxiety.

feel the bottom was falling out of his world. Panic would seize his eyes and extend like a wildfire through his limbs. His whole body would shake and a sweet sickly sweat would emanate from his pores.

And then almost immediately you could feel his system settle. Organs began restoring their ability to connect and communicate with each other. My dad was coming back home to his body. Everyrhing was going to be okay and all because of an orange.

In the years following my dad’s passing the memories of these reactions faded until one day — one day when anxiety was riding me like a runaway horse again. The pressure in my head was becoming unbearable. It felt like rush hour within.

I was in the subway having just exited a train at broadview station. The track street, flourescent lights, well worn concrete and white ceramic tile glared at me and it seemes all available floor surfaces were coated in dusty streaks of salt and the gritty slush of winter.

Within this context of dirty sterility a delicious smell suddenly embraced my nose. It was like being surprised by a chance encounter with an old

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Suddenly, “out of the blue” someone, usually a total stranger, will be peeling an orange near me.

Often, I do not even know how disconnected I am from myself until I smell the orange. Then without fail my whole body and being responds in a way that is so relaxing and restorative. I simply let things be. Interestingly enough, I have learned that I cannot buy and peel an orange for myself. It is truly a gift given — an experience to be received. My sense is this little truth is an important part of the blessing. It ensures the element of control on my part is minimized. Me buying and peeling an orange is like me taking charge and demanding of myself that I hold still rather than being surprised to “be” still. And what a difference there is between the two. One is a

reaction stemming from fear and the other a response rooted in love — which is all I wish to be.

Thank you!

Storyteller #037

14 MoDa Grand Opening Night . January 2019 . Photos By Camila Perez @camilaperezphoto

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Part I : Birth of an Exhibition

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“What Is Your Story?” began as a discussion around our design team’s office as we brainstormed for a project that could be entered into the Design TO Festival. It began as a question of where people were from and transformed into a simple notion of sharing stories as we became vulnerable with one another. At the start, we thought it would just be a one-time window display, but little did we know, it would grow beyond our wildest dreams. We were accepted into the Design TO Festival and partnered with Book and Brunch in January of 2019 to create the first “What Is Your Story?” window display at Pandemonium Book & Disc store.

The stories from the window display were shared from our studio along with two local pop-up events that we held in preparation for the design festival. The partnership with Book and Brunch was thankfully a success and we were so ecstatic for the impact that it had on the people around us.

To our surprise, The Museum of Design Atlanta (MoDA) out to our team and asked us to turn “What Is Your Story?” into long running exhibit to run alongside the Passione Italiana: The Art of Espresso exhibit for 3 months.

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No one would expect this But, it’s the truth.

For the entirety of my childhood, I was manipulated by my mom. Believed she was someone who “did” for me. I learned she only did for herself. I came out as gay and she used me as her token for attention.

“Being an accepting mother would make me look good.” At least that’s what I think she thought… I’ll never know the truth. I’ve had suicidal thoughts 2 times in my life, her being the cause. I’m only 20 years old. How could I go through this much pain & torture by the woman who birthed me? Now, she lies about how she “supported me from the beginning” only

to make herself look good. She did not truly accept me. She called me confused, sick, and put me in Christian counseling to get help. Said it was a phase. Little did she know my involvement in her life was the only thing that would be a phase. I am alive & will be ok wihout my mother.

Spread Love everywhere “whose who mind do not matter and those who matter do not mind.” Jesus Loves everone. No matter how hard she tries to ruin me and everyone who supports me, she will not win. She will live the rest of her miserable life desperately searching for love. Just not mine. I forgive you.

Storyteller #1118 18

Things I wish I could tell my family friends.

I was abused in my last relationship.

I have harmed myself in the last 3 months.

I am so insecure with my body.

I won’t find love, and I probably don’t deserve to.

I say I’m getting better, I’m not, I haven’t pursued my dream because I fear failure.

Storyteller #1140

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Storyteller #003. It took me 22 years to embrace my culture. Years of “Asian” jokes. Years of “your house smells”. Years of “Americanized Chinese food”. Years of pretending I wasn’t Chinese. Growing up in a majority white country it was difficult for me to understand the importance of being proud of my Chinese culture. It took a while...but I have learned to be proud of who I am! Storyteller #006. I have been in love with my best friend for two years and I’ve never told him.

Storyteller #007. I come from an

immigrant family, language barriers; cultural barriers. I often times feel alone, too self sufficient. I was also sexually abused by my own brother. I carry a lot of shame. But...it’s not my fault. My dad had lung cancer. My brother sold drugs and became an addict in high school.

My entire adolescence was about him. I watched him deal drugs in our home over 100x but I was the first to graduate from college, I

Storyteller #015. 55 and still searching for my path. The journey is the destination and the final landing is irrelevant. Storyteller #017. worked in Finance and now I’m a badass lady that works in tech. My background does not define me. I define me.

I am the first woman in my family to graduate college. I didn’t have any career oriented females to be my role model growing up. I work hard so that I can be that person for my little sister. I’m paving the path, and if I mess up, I don’t know what that means for the future women in my family.

Storyteller #020. Our first kiss, London. You know the one. 33017. The one that dries my tears. The

one that changed our lives. That breaths life into our love. That one on our walks to...I love kissing you. That wakes my heart skip a beat.

That takes my breath away. The one on our wedding day. That fills me with your unconditional love. That reminds me of our promise to us. Walk, talk, kiss. #iloveus #justus #manincluded #ourstory.

Storyteller #053. Sorry, It’s a girl. I am a child of immigrants

and my parents finally gave up their hope for a son after their 4th attempt, and 4th daughter, ME. I was born in 1995, the same year that India banned Prenatal Sex Discernment, due to female feticide, the murdering of female fetuses before birth. In India, my mother was pulled out of school and arranged to marry my father at age 14. She never went back to school and was expected to move to America in 1981 and dedicate her life to her children and husband. But I was a woman born in the U.S. So I was ashamed and scolded for doing things that “aren’t acceptable for women” - Playing cards, driving, living my hair down, laughing too loudly, eating meat, speaking over a whisper in public, loving math, going to college, working out, being too dark, wearing shorts, refusing arranged marriage, and smiling too much. But I did these things anyway. It took me 20 years to accept that being a woman shouldn’t be an apology. And my mother’s life was a reflection of her generation, not herself. So I studied hard and I went to college to be an engineer, something that women are discouraged to do everyday. I was able to do it because of my parents, and I did it for the next generation of Indian daughters so they can

Storyteller #54. “The next person who tells me they’re pregnant is FIRED” said the owner at Vs company baby shower. Did he know I was pregnant? Storyteller #201. My family didn’t have a home for a year when see what it means to be a woman.

I was in college. It made me extremely anxious about money. None of my friends knew it was the reason I stayed at school over breaks.

Storyteller #206. I’m afraid I’ll never be happy enough to satisfy my loved ones. Storyteller #216. I have forgiven my mom for disappearing for days (weeks) at a time & driving drunk with me in the car all those times. I hope she forgives herself.

Storyteller #232. GUILT. When I was a little girl, my mom asked once if I wanted to move with grandma. I said no. She never asked again.

Not after the black eye, not after being beaten with a belt, not even after he bought a rifle to play while drunk. She got pregnant again.

She left only after I went to college. Now she is hostage of an aggressive non verbal daughter with autism. She even never complains.

She was on

FIRE.

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Storyteller

She Wasn’t Going To Live Shut Down #247

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Storyte #353 Storyteller #379

eller

Storyteller #699

Part II : Scaling Up, Becoming Flexible

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After the amazing opportunity of exhibiting at MoDA, we have been granted more exciting opportunities that have taught us an immense amount of lessons whether it be from hosting a small town exhibit or a two day pop-up in an expo hall. We have since built our own pop-up shelves and have created a system to share stories written the same day.

We are learning to scale with the spaces we are given and have learned to thrive where planted. We have been thankful to participate in exhibits in McDonough, GA, in partnership with the Greenbuild Conference through the United States Greenbuild Committee, as well as through a local non-profit organization by name of We Love Buford Highway. We don’t know what the future will hold, but we are excited to participate in more events whether it be pop-ups or long standing exhibits. Being able to scale and quickly think on our feet has been an invigorating experience, even though at times it feels like we are flying by the seat of our pants.

If anything, one of the biggest lessons we have learned as a team is to say “yes” to most things, try everything and learn from mistakes.

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I’m meeting a boy in a coffee shop tomorrow. I like coffee.

things, considering I’m also a boy. I don’t know what I’m go

suck at art but the other boy is very good so I’m trying my

South. Not what I had in mind but it was a good thing” I’m

fee. I also like boys. I’m only supposed to like one of those

I’m gonna tell my mom. I hope the coffee there is good. (I

my best) “changed his business from ladies to men in the

I’m meeting a boy in a coffee shop tomorrow. I like coffee.

things, considering I’m also a boy. I don’t know what I’m go

suck at art but the other boy is very good so I’m trying my

South. Not what I had in mind but it was a good thing” I’m

fee. I also like boys. I’m only supposed to like one of those

I’m gonna tell my mom. I hope the coffee there is good. (I

my best) “changed his business from ladies to men in the

I’m meeting a boy in a coffee shop tomorrow. I like coffee.

things, considering I’m also a boy. I don’t know what I’m go

suck at art but the other boy is very good so I’m trying my

South. Not what I had in mind but it was a good thing” I’m

I also like boys. I’m only supposed to like one of those thin

gonna tell my mom. I hope the coffee there is good. (I suc

best) “changed his business from ladies to men in the Sou

. I also like boys. I’m only supposed to like one of those

onna tell my mom. I hope the coffee there is good. (I

y best) “changed his business from ladies to men in the

m meeting a boy in a coffee shop tomorrow. I like cof-

e things, considering I’m also a boy. I don’t know what suck at art but the other boy is very good so I’m trying South. Not what I had in mind but it was a good thing”

. I also like boys. I’m only supposed to like one of those

onna tell my mom. I hope the coffee there is good. (I

y best) “changed his business from ladies to men in the

m meeting a boy in a coffee shop tomorrow. I like cof-

e things, considering I’m also a boy. I don’t know what suck at art but the other boy is very good so I’m trying South. Not what I had in mind but it was a good thing”

. I also like boys. I’m only supposed to like one of those

onna tell my mom. I hope the coffee there is good. (I

y best) “changed his business from ladies to men in the

m meeting a boy in a coffee shop tomorrow. I like coffee.

ngs, considering I’m also a boy. I don’t know what I’m

ck at art but the other boy is very good so I’m trying my

uth. Not what I had in mind but it was a good thing”

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Storyteller #348 32

Storyteller #346 33

Part III : A Cycle, A Conversation

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The stories people have to offer are permanent. Stories are infinite and when they are shared, they are brought into full life. We have seen the power in telling a person “Your story is important, as important as words published in a book. You deserve to be heard.” It is a statement that disarms the storyteller, breaks down their walls, and begs questions of vulnerability. Despite skepticism, we can confirm that no matter how similar or unique, all stories deserve to be heard. While developing “What Is Your Story?” We wanted to think about how an anonymous, two-way communication cycle could be developed while maintaining a sense of community and safety. What came out of development were postcards. To allow storytellers autonomy to choose the reader’s level of access by either providing an email or an address, gave an opportunity for exhibit goers to respond. It turned into a beautiful cycle of encouragement, empathy, and shared experiences. Even if all of the storytellers have yet to receive their postcards, we know, the responses are valuable, fully human, and ready to continue the conversation.

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She moved Jupiter when she was 5 years old.

Scientists and astronomers everywhere threw down their writing utensils and reading glasses and calculators.

Pushed away their laptops and telescopes; then, with teas and coffees and energy drinks forgotten and cold (or lukewarm and flat) tore at their hair and hijabs and lab coats in a frenzy of confusion, frustration, exasperating and sheer, childish and excitement.

Jupiter was her favorite plane

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Storyteller #249

Storyteller #1007

#1007 Storyteller

And I miss her when she is gone. Two houses are not better than one. Let go — play safe? Do it for the children’s sake. We are not broken. We are divided to keep our girls safe from our son. I miss her when she is gone. And I miss her when she is gone. Two houses are not better than one. Let go — play safe? Do it for the children’s sake.

We are not broken. We are divided to keep our girls safe from our son. I miss her when she is gone. And I miss her when she is gone. Two houses are not better than one. Let go — play safe? Do it for the children’s sake.

We are not broken. We are divided to keep our girls safe from our son. I miss her when she is gone.

oHe hurts people at age 12… crazy crazy. tHe find sharp things irresistible. When swe found the knives stashed away and dhidden we did not believe he would rhurt his sisters. We were wrong. All the Imedicine in the world doesn’t make him ssafe. He hurts people at age 12… crazy ycrazy. He find sharp things irresistible. .When we found the knives stashed away dand hidden we did not believe he would rhurt his sisters. We were wrong. All the Imedicine in the world doesn’t make him ssafe. He hurts people at age 12… crazy ycrazy. He find sharp things irresistible. .When we found the knives stashed daway and hidden we did not believe he rwould hurt his sisters. We were wrong.

All the medicine in the world doesn’t

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Part IV : Sustaining an Exhibit

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Being born under a non-profit organization comes with hardships.

Funding is a huge one. When challenges arise, our team tries not to shutter at the weight of possible dire outcomes, but put our heads together to think about the problem at hand. With the rate “What Is Your Story?” grew, we could not keep up with the supply of books needed to sustain the exhibit. We started asking family and friends for donations and spring cleaning, but to no avail, we finally reached a dead end. After many cold calls, we came across the local library network. They pointed us to community organizations called “friends of the library” groups. Through these groups, we were presented with a world of used and reused books. We partnered with a few groups and we now have a way to sustain the exhibit. We are proud to say “What Is Your Story?” is fully donations based and has been community driven since its birth. We are excited to see what growth will come in the future, but we are passionate about continuing to reuse unclaimed books and partnering with groups who support these opportunities.

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882

I am Vulnerable…

I’ve made mistakes so early in life. They shape what I am and I fear they will shape what I will be. I’ve grown to acknowledge them placing weight on my physical and mental health, so much so in that they’re strangely comforting. It’s almost cozy to be afraid. There are times I’ve tried to break away, gave it a real good shot, only to crawl back to what was most familiar to my soul. It’s refreshing being me. I come back occasionally. Maybe some day I’ll venture away and live a life foreign to any other experience I’ve tried and never look back. Until the next time I’m feeling like me. Then again, in a grander scope of things it’s technically all me. Still vulnera-

Sto

ble, still regretful. Still content in my own skin.

I am still me.

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oryteller

I have the I’m frustrated by shortest him. Maybe I’m temper with no better. my dad I don’t have I have a life a life worthy worthy of of telling

living

Truth is I am What is doubtful the point? about religion.

Please share!!!

My dad never But he made learned how certain that I to ride a bike.

always had a bike

I let my Now I fear I may brother get never regain some me into drugs. of those passions.

Parenting I remain a young hopeful adult who is despite incarcerated

Storyteller #011

I'd rather be a dog than a person, because then I wouldn't have to decide for myself If I was good or bad.

Also Sorry that this isn’t really a story and sorry for apologizing.

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Storyteller #208

I’ve been thinking about Time.

Storyteller #700

It always feels like it’s slipping away, nothing or onward, and I want nothing more to walk right by its side but my face just can’t match his stride.

I know deep down it’s my own perception, my own expectations. But it’s hard not to feel left behind… by everything I thought I could accomplish.

Storyteller #293

Part V: A Culture of Empathy

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Through “What Is Your Story?” Our team has collectively experienced tangible empathy. One in which we have learned to actively listen to the people in our lives and the events they experience. At first, empathy is confounding. Why listen to the struggles of others when we already feel the weight of the world? When we start trusting, start listening, and start seeing the world through a lens different than our own, we start understanding one another, supporting one another. Through these times of learning, we have found when people feel heard, they start finding relief, comfort, and strength. Through meeting people who have walked through the doors of the exhibit and hearing them say “I needed that.” “I have never told anyone that.” “Wow, I feel so much better.” we have seen the strength in allowing them the space to share. Sending out responses of support and encouragement from strangers has also shown us that people who do not share personal ties are capable of care. It’s a cycle that has allowed us to meet so many people with beautiful stories and many more who have continued a culture of elevation which we hope continues to spread.

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Morality confuses me. Death does not scare does. Will my life, art, and activism mean Essence. To plant a garden is to believe be good enough. I would love to find pur chest hurts thinking about this. All peopl have 1 planet...let’s start acting like it. P or environmental justice. I am black an $$$ OutlearnOutrun My blackness. I use people. I hated myself. I’d internalized whit Colorblindness is bs. Say it loud, I’m black attoo. The inspiration was the merging of Combine their strength--he is the lion: pow determined matriarch and unable to forge attooed. I’ve gotta stop forcing permanen sustain and destroy. “You can never be ove High school→ college → dental school → c since I left home & I’m still in school. My a kid. I hear & read all the struggles people h & not working hard enough. I hope @ the blessings. I always feared getting hurt, so

re me but the idea of life being insignificant n anything to my God and to the earth? in tomorrow.. I am afraid that I will never rpose in life, but sometimes it’s hard. My le have a right to a clean earth. We only Protect the earth above all else. I stand nd I used to think that I couldOutlearn ed to look down my nose at other black te racism. But no more, black is beautiful and I’m proud. He asked me to design this of two powerful animals with a single line werful and commanding. I am the elephant et his transgressions. We never got these nt things on temporary situations. Create erdressed or overeducated.” -Oscar Wilde continuing ed → teach! Almost a decade age says I’m an adult, but I still feel like a have gone through & I think I got off easy end of this journey I can pay back all the o I kept a jar with a fund that would help

“I dream to only belong to the earth again, like my ancestors.”

“After plenty of failed relationships, this could be the one.”

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“I need help I want to scream.” “ I know I’m not ‘damaged’ but I know that I feel as though I am” 61

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“We focus on the good we see in each other despite our differing points of view.” but we are friends because we choose to not focus on what others say should separate us.

We focus on the good we see in each other despite our differing points of view. The world would be a better place if we could all learn this lesson and apply it frequently.

Storyteller #239

I am a mid-50’s male. I grew up in a Conservative Christian home and I would still describe myself as a Conservative Christian although some would more than likely disagree. A few years ago my wife started a new job at a company owned and operated by the most endearing and genuine person I have ever met. She loves her employees, her clients and the extended families of both. I have come to treasure her friendship. It is a curious friendship in that she would describe herself as an opposite of a conservative Christian,

toryteller #27

I think that I am disgusting to my husband. He does not touch me much anymore. This morning I brushed his back to embrace him and he walked away saying “we are late” Like we don’t have a second to spare for each other.

I N T I M ACY Now adays my intimacy is with my baby boy. I never knew of the intimacy between mother and child. I long for intimacy with my husband again. But not the aggressive slap ass thrusting intimacy.

“He enjoys being a tough guy but he never used to avoid me.”

He enjoys being a tough guy but he never used to avoid me. I have patience. I have persistence. I will look in the mirror and make the change. Be careful my own actions and words and thoughts.

E M PAT H Y

Part VI : Dreams for the Future

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We don’t know how “What Is Your Story?” will grow or change in the next month, much rather the next year. Even with all uncertainty, we can be fully prepared to grow, change, and learn more about people and the stories they hold. We dream of sharing space in places big, small, far, and wide. We dream of elevating stories that look much different than ours. We dream of bringing empathy into every community we touch.

We dream to keep love of stories and love of people at the forefront of what we do. We have learned so much from this exhibit. We have had the pleasure of meeting people from all walks of life. We have seen a cycle of support and encouragement on all fronts, and we want to be there for more. From its conception, this exhibit has never moved in one direction, it has always been messy, scrappy, agile, but it has always been authentic. “What Is Your Story?” is not perfect, but it shows that life is not perfect, humans are not perfect — and that’s okay. Ultimately, we don’t know where “What Is Your Story?” will go, but we do know, we want to be along for the ride every step of the way, no matter how bumpy.

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I am a black man in corporate America. I hope and dream that one day, organizations recognize the power of diversity and the necessity of equity.

It’s so hard walking into environments that feel unwelcoming duetothe lack of racial representation.

It makes me ask the question” If there are no other people of color in this room, do the people in this room even want me here?” would they rather not have this homogeneous environment punctured by my brown presence? When I walk into these rooms, I also feel immediate pressure to alter my truest personality to make sure I do not exacerbate negative stereotypes against my race. I am instantly aware not only of who I am but also who others think I am, whether good or bad. Being a black man in America is hard. I learn often of fellow black men (unarmed) who are shot in cold blood and have learned to become numb to keep the tears back.

We are strong, but we are hurting. What I shared isn’t even scratching the surface. We need allies.

We need to be heard, loved, respected, and given a chance, sincerely, black man in corporate america.

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Follow us to keep up with all things “What Is Your Story?” see what’s happening with the project and browse our digital gallery. @what_isyourstory www.whatisyourstoryexhibit.org

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This book was designed and produced by:

HUGE thank you to the people who have partnered with us along the way. We could not have done it without you.

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2019 - 2020