Eliza Anyangwe
I’m obsessed with stories. It seems to me that everything we believe about who we are, our place in the world and the forces that shape our lives is conveyed through stories – and yes, then reinforced with social, economic, military or cultural might.
I’m not just curious to hear new ones — I’m equally fascinated by how stories are told, which ones we choose to tell and what that says about the storyteller and the societies they live in. My own life, even before embarking on a career as a journalist, bears plenty of evidence to the power of stories.
Born in Cameroon and raised across Africa, as a teenager I began to wonder why the stories of our precolonial history, independence struggles or daily lives were stories almost exclusively about men. “Where were the women? What were they doing?” I wondered. Arriving in the United Kingdom for university, I soon realised that the erasure of women (not to talk of people who lived outside the gender binary) wasn’t reserved to the continent of my youth.
In Europe, questions about other parts of my identity revealed something about the stories people had heard – and the ones that had completely passed them by: “Where are you really from?” “Why do you speak such good English/French?” “Isn’t Africa dangerous?” Once, on the streets of Liverpool, an elderly man with cloudy eyes stopped me to ask why it was no longer considered good fortune to spit in his hand and rub a Black person’s head as he’d learned as a child.
Recently, on a politics podcast, I heard one of the punters put the second coming of Donald Trump down to storytelling. American voters found the Republican candidate’s story more compelling, he surmised.
Why am I telling you all this? Well, for two reasons. Firstly, as The Fuller Project’s new Editor-in-Chief, I’d like for you to know a little about me. Trust in the media is vital and building trust requires transparency. Secondly, by virtue of my role, I’ve been thinking a lot about what kinds of stories will cut through the incessant information noise most of us are drowning in. What stories should a global yet small nonprofit newsroom focused on accountability journalism that centers women and gender minorities be telling? And what stories do our audiences want us to tell and how do they want them to be told? These are impossible to answer without actually asking the questions.
The culture of the internet is open, participatory and collaborative. By now we are all accustomed to co-edited Wikipedia pages and influencers asking their followers to take actions. It might all be old hat across the web but some of it is new for Fuller. So I’m starting here. With an introduction and an invitation.
Hi, my name is Eliza, and it is my job to ensure that The Fuller Project’s journalism meets the moment and helps you make sense of the world; that the work we put out responds to the needs of a growing, global community who understand that the stories long told about gender have informed cultural norms, systems and institutions that shape our lives all over the world. We will make those norms and systems plain, hold those institutions to account and show you what contributes to equity, not just what undermines it.
Arguably the most universal story is the hero’s journey. Despite the variations that exist, the tale of a person who embarks on a life-changing adventure and “after near defeat” is victorious with the help of guardians, mentors or friends is told across cultures. I’m inviting you – a person who has subscribed to this newsletter and, in so doing, signalled a desire to be more than a passive consumer of our journalism – to journey with us and play a role.
I’ll write to you once a month, sharing our progress and experiments; seeking your input, insight or ideas. I’ve done this work long enough to know that just because something is noble or necessary doesn’t mean it’ll survive this bruising media environment. To survive we will need to be valuable to you. Are we?
I’d love to hear what you think of our work – and I look forward to journeying with you.
