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Artist Experience My fundamental belief as an instructor and a human is that everyone has a <br />story to tell and a unique and authentic voice that longs to be heard. <br />The first storytelling class I taught at the ArtsCenter (in 2019) began with <br />13 strangers. Six weeks later, we had an 18th birthday party for one of the <br />participants, who had signed up for the class because he felt painfully shy <br />at school. In class, Liam was funny, engaging, heartfelt, and deeply likable– <br />skills, he told us after he blew out the candles on the cake Nancy baked, <br />that he developed in class. <br />Although I am aware of my competencies as an instructor and feel <br />comfortable in the storytelling classroom, I knew what I was undertaking in <br />last year’s project–recruiting and working with a group of folks from <br />marginalized groups–was something of a stretch goal for me. I am a white, <br />cisgender, and heterosexual woman. Most of my classes are populated by <br />people who share those qualities. <br />Stepping into a space in which I was the minority was instructive and <br />challenging. Before I began advertising this class, I did some homework. I <br />consulted a friend who works in the DEI space and another who is disabled <br />and also a writing instructor. I read You are Your Best Thing: Vulnerability, <br />Shame Resilience, and the Black Experience (Brene Brown and Tarana <br />Burke), Beyond the Gender Binary (Alok Vaid-Menon), and Demystifying <br />Disability (Emily Ladau). I tried to educate myself more about what it’s like <br />to live in other bodies and how to hold space in an authentic and supportive <br />way. <br />I already do a lot of work in the classroom around making people feel safe, <br />and also as soon as this class began it became immediately clear to me <br />that these folks needed more support–more listening, more space to share, <br />more affirmation, and more time to feel safe than I was accustomed to. I <br />had intended to be mindful of taking up space with my voice, but I ended up <br />much quieter in the first few weeks than planned. <br />I learned a lot by listening–firsthand accounts of discrimination as well as <br />relatable, non-identity stories about mishaps and longings. By the midpoint <br />of the class, there was palpably more comfort in the room, in people’s <br />stories, voices, and bodies. <br />I expected this class to expand my capabilities as an instructor, though I <br />wasn’t sure what that would look like. Ultimately it taught me that the most <br />transformative learning and growth happens only when there is a <br />foundation of safety and trust, and that foundation takes as much time to <br />build as it takes. My expertise is valuable, but it means nothing without <br />showing up with open ears and firmly and compassionately holding space <br />for people to feel safe enough to express themselves. <br />Docusign Envelope ID: 53A18A07-6090-48C5-85EF-DAC4C4CD5BA4