IS duck just like chicken?
What we can learn about balancing the “right” story, the “accessible” story, and SEO from my parents and a language preservation start-up
When I was in college, my parents visited and took me and some friends out to dinner in Chinatown. My dad grandly ordered Peking duck—it wasn’t every day, he said, that he got to entertain Harvard students!
One friend politely refused the duck, preferring familiar ingredients. My mom, who was determined that everyone should be well-fed, coaxed: “Duck is just like chicken. It’s nothing special.” My dad, who’d been proud of his flex, looked first nonplussed, then outraged. But my mother’s gimmick worked; the friend tried the duck and liked it.
Later that night, in their hotel room, my dad burst out: “Duck is not just like chicken.” It was twice the price! It was luscious and fat! It was all dark meat! In life, it could swim! And what did my mother mean by saying Peking duck was nothing special? It was an imperial dish! What was good enough for Chinese emperors, he remarked with withering sarcasm, should be good enough for my friend, even if she was a Harvard student.
My mother pointed out that ducks and chickens were after all related. They were alike enough. So went the conversations of my childhood…
If we get down to it, my parents had turned a dinner order into a debate about two different approaches to storytelling. My father wanted to tell a story about Peking duck that would contextualize it within the rich culinary history of his culture. My mother wanted to tell a story about Peking duck that would make it feel more familiar and accessible to her dinner guests. Both wanted my friends to eat the duck.
This tension between telling a story that is “right” and a story that is accessible has long been a challenge of social sector storytelling. There are three things we usually mean by “right.” We mean:
culturally authentic—like my dad’s abridged history of the duck.
technically accurate. My husband, who is an economist, often insists on using “non-metro” rather than “rural” to describe the communities he works with, because “non-metro” defines communities with specific population densities, whereas “rural” often evokes a story of a bucolic and agricultural way of being.
what is most true. Describing a community as having been systematically and historically denied access is usually a truer story than describing it as poverty-stricken and disadvantaged.
All of this—cultural authenticity, technical accuracy, and truth—sounds great, yes? But sometimes, the “right” story can alienate audiences because it feels confusing, unfamiliar, or discomorting. In contrast, an “accessible” story uses familiar language and concepts. It doesn’t make audiences feel too uncomfortable. It’s also more likely to reach audiences in the first place.
In this technological age, the “accessible” story is reinforced by the way in which audiences search for and are exposed to narrative content. Audiences use hashtags to find particular content on social media platforms, and SEO keywords and phrases to find particular content on the web. The more popular a hashtag, word, or phrase, the more effective it will be in increasing our narrative presence—and, usually, popularity reflects what is most familiar and accessible to the most people.
I’ve written a ton about how we in the social sector are responsible for how we tell stories. We need to avoid narrative bias. We need to narrate in dialogue with the social ethos, even if sometimes that means we need to contradict it. We need to uplift rather than denigrate our work and our communities. We need to speak truth. But to sustain our work, we also need to reach and engage new and existing audiences. So we have to think creatively about balancing the “right” story with the “accessible” story.”
for example…
The Language Preservation Project (LPP) is a phenomenal social startup aimed at reversing the trend of heritage language loss across generations through curriculum and cohort-based programs for educators and families.
Dr. Veronica Benavides, LPP’s founder and a dear friend, has dedicated her career to creating “linguistically and culturally affirming learning spaces and resources.” Her dedication is personal. As she shares in her bio, “growing up in Texas, she didn’t speak Spanish, the only language that her grandparents spoke. Later, she realized that the Spanish language was not the only absence from her childhood educational experience–she’d never seen herself reflected in the curriculum, period.”
In their first year, I worked with the LPP team to craft their organizational narrative. Almost immediately, we fixated on the tension between “rightness” and accessibility. LPP had a unique challenge in that its storytelling was directed at multiple storytelling audiences: school districts, teachers, funders, and families with a diversity of heritage languages. For each audience, accessibility meant something different.
I’ll table the complexities of multilingual storytelling for a future post. But here’s a sample of the dozens of conversations that the LPP team had about “rightness” and accessibility:
The “right” story was that LPP was creating “linguistically and culturally affirming” curricula and programs, which proactively respected and celebrated learners’ heritage languages and cultures. But most teachers are familiar with the term “culturally responsive,” which can sometimes translate to a more reactive approach. In the past year, people googled “culturally responsive” up to ten thousand times monthly, whereas they googled “culturally affirming” less than a thousand times and “linguistically affirming” less than a hundred times. See this screenshot comparing search trends over the past 12 months.
The “right” story was that LPP supported “emergent multilinguals.” It was right because LPP serves people who don’t necessarily see themselves as already bilingual, or fluent in more than one language. It was right because people may have more than two heritage languages. It was also right because it didn’t elevate one language above another. Yet, the K-12 education system largely continues to use the terms “English Learner” and “bilingual.” Bilingual also felt more familiar to the everyday vernacular. In the past year, people googled “bilingual” between ten thousand and a hundred thousand times monthly, whereas they googled “emergent multilingual” less than 100 times. See this screenshot comparing search trends over the past 12 months.
The “right” story was that LPP “decolonized” language learning using “liberatory learning and unlearning” to promote bilingualism in homes and schools. It was “right” because people didn’t lose their heritage languages and cultures over generations due to individual whimsy, laziness, or neglect. It was “right” because it acknowledged the troubling history of systemic cultural erasure, one which includes Native American boarding schools and students being punished for speaking Spanish in school. But “decolonization” and “liberatory” are discomforting words, often relegated to stories of either the past or of other societies, not our own. Tellingly, in the past year, the top five Google queries regarding “decolonization,” were: 1. What is decolonization? 2. What was decolonization? (story of the past); 3. the Cold War (story of the past); 3. decolonization in Africa (story of another society); and 5. decolonization in India (story of another society).
Ultimately, Dr. Benavides and her team decided that they had to advance the “right” story about decolonizing language learning through culturally and linguistically affirming programming and resources. Telling an alternative story would ignore truths too important, given their org mission and values, to be left out. However, they decided to use the term “bilingual” because it told the most immediately accessible story for families. They would also use the hashtag #culturallyresponsive to elevate their presence among audience members searching for specific support.
long story short…
In a perfect world, the “right” story would also be the most accessible. Sometimes, it is. But when “rightness” and accessibility are in tension, we need to nail the balance in our storytelling. To do so, we need to filter through what we mean by “right” and decide which aspects of “rightness” are we willing to let go of, so that we can better reach and engage our audiences—and get them to eat that delicious Peking duck!
When we justify the “right” story as being technically accurate, we may be worried about story confusion (e.g. my husband wanted to be crystal clear about which geographic communities he works with). That’s a great reason for technical accuracy! But sometimes, our attachment to technical accuracy is actually an excuse for what I call masturbatory storytelling—talking in a way that makes us feel good about ourselves, i.e. “we’re so smart!”
When we justify the “right” story as being culturally authentic or true, we might have strong convictions about the importance of conveying that truth or authenticity to our audience (e.g. LPP wants people to know the troubling history behind generational language loss). But sometimes, our attachment to authenticity and truth might also be an excuse for masturbatory storytelling—talking in a way that makes us feel morally superior, i.e. “we’re such good people!”
So, maybe the questions we need to ask ourselves are these:
Which of our attachments to “right” storytelling are masturbatory and which are rooted in conviction and purpose?
For those attachments to “right” storytelling that are rooted in conviction and purpose, how can we teach our audience what we mean and bring them along for the journey?
How can we use accessible SEO terms and hashtags to elevate our story presence, even while we advance an overall story that is right?
And finally, if you’re in the Boston area and looking for some delicious duck, check out two of my favorite Chinese restaurants: Ming’s and Hong Kong Eatery. Also I have to agree with my dad… duck is not like chicken. Far more delicious!
