This is a picture of my best friend and me. We have been friends since we were both four years old.

Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie tells the narrative of the dangers evoked by telling one version of a multiversion story.  She acknowledges that people often have notions of stereotypes which unintentionally pass judgement, and she enlightens her audience that one story is not definitive for all.  Introspectively, Adichie elicits the realization that not a day passes by where I do not think of the blessings I have been granted along with the life I have been given. Considering the hardships many generations of families face in the United States alone, my parents endured sacrifices to prevent my sister and I from having to, although that is not the end result for many.  Despite common associations and misconceptions, single stories are more than economic status, education level, and physical appearance. One of my best friends appears to be just like me: we are both nineteen-year-old college students who love to relax and spend time with friends and our large Italian families. Her single story, however, sets her apart from the large majority of individuals our age.  The beginning of her single story began when she was fifteen years old. One day in 2015, I went to the mall with my best friend, and that night she went to sleep without knowing her life would be forever altered the following day. An emergency surgery revealed a tumor to be in one of her intestines. The severity of her condition was unknown, but she was diagnosed with Peutz-Jeghers Syndrome (PJS), a rare genetic disease that drastically increases her risk of getting cancer while causing her to get tumors throughout her body. Her family worked diligently to find the best doctors and treatments, only to discover that her disease is incurable.  Not many people are affected by this disease and even less are aware of its existence. At that point, despite the unclear future she faced, her family and friends believed the hardest days to be behind them. The sickness from within did not match the person from outside: she does not match the stereotypical descriptions of being sickly, frail, and weak. She defies the odds and is a strong, courageous young woman who does not allow for her setbacks to be her downfalls.

This image is from my friend’s sixteenth birthday; it was just a year after her diagnosis of PJS.

Although her progress has been consistent, events took a turn for the worse in December 2019.  She told me that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and I was left heartbroken once again. This “single story” affects me on a personal level because no one ever expects for a loved one to experience it.  By looking at her, she seems to be completely normal and healthy; one would never guess that my friend standing at five feet tall is one of the strongest people I have ever known.  The relationships she has with people are genuine, and she touches the hearts of everyone she comes across. She witholds the information of her sickness and disease, never divulging to a soul of the battles she is attempting to overcome.  Her rare disease and now cancer battle have allowed her to build strong relationships between herself and her supporters. She has built a strong foundation by herself.  It takes a strong individual to overcome what she is experiencing, but it takes an even stronger soul to not allow her weaknesses to define her character.  Adichie points out that, “the consequence of the single story is this: it robs people of dignity. It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult. It emphasizes how we are different rather than how we are similar.”1   The single story of an ill person is written so that they look weak, they have no hair, and they are disabled physically, mentally, and emotionally.  The single story portrays their differences and identifies them in society to be dependent on others. Considering this, Adichie also states, “So that is how to create a single story. Show a people as one thing, as only one thing, over and over again, and that is what they become.”2   When surveying the power relationships between herself and those surrounding her, one can only blame society for spreading this misconception.  By depicting sick individuals to be visually different, people begin to perceive them as different beings who do not possess similar qualities. Going against this, the relationships my friend has built between herself and her friends, however, disprove the single story of sickness: she is strong, physically and mentally able, and so unbelievably genuine, courageous, and independent.

There is power in numbers, and with that comes strength. In honor of my friend, her family founded a foundation for people with rare genetic diseases a number of years ago.  Through this foundation, they have come in contact with people from all over the world, some even having the same rare disease as my best friend. Her family has helped so many other families deal with their hardships.  I first realized their impact just a few years ago; every year, they host a benefit dinner to raise awareness for those with life-threatening diseases. It is an occasion to give back to those in need, but it is an emotionally heavy event.  While her family speaks, time halts for everyone in the room. My best friend’s family has granted a voice to those who feel alone and hopeless that their quality of life has drastically declined. The more that this foundation expands and the more that their message flourishes, the more people and victims are reaching out to share their stories.  Her family has connected people from all over the globe. People are navigating their voices to be heard and to be related to, and it is a beautiful community to be a part of. The power relationships formed as a result of my best friend are solid and irreplaceable as no one could possibly fathom or relate to what they are enduring. I learned from my best friend that disease does not have a face, and it does not know a single story. As stated in Adichie’s talk, “The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story.”3   Looking at my friend, no one would know that her body is fighting her.  Our bond and friendship have only grown in the last several years, and it is still due to what we share in common, but it is now the result of being there for someone who still puts everyone above herself. The powerful friendship dynamic we share is a direct result of the amazingly strong individual she has become, and I admire her for it. I admire her for keeping her head held high in the midst of what is undoubtedly the darkest time of her and her family’s lives. I observed the power of multiple narratives, and I have witnessed how they brought unity among people who may have lost hope and faith along the way. Just like Chimamanda Adichie faced assumptions about her culture and origins, people could assume that my friend is handicapped because of her condition. Judging an entire population based on a small fragment of knowledge denies people of their own narratives.  Culture and sickness do not have definitive looks. There is diversity in every person, and power thrives within that diversity. “Power is the ability not just to tell the story of another person, but to make it the definitive story of that person.”4 One narrative portrays one voice, but when multiple people express their stories, the power that is evoked is one-of-a-kind, and I have faith that one day, these voices will be able to transform society to look at people with broader minds and bigger hearts.

__________________________

1 Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, “The Danger of a Single Story,” October 7, 2009. TED video, 13:54, https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=630&v=D9Ihs241zeg&feature=emb_logo.

2 Ibid, 9:26.

3 Ibid, 13:11.

 4 Ibid, 10:01.

Bibliography

Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi, “The Danger of a Single Story,” October 7, 2009. TED video,

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=630&v=D9Ihs241zeg&feature=emb_logo.