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Lindsey Pouliot
Dr. Graham-Bertolini
12 December 2018
“But in order to make you understand, to tell you my life, I must tell you a story.”
– Virginia Woolf
Introduction
Amendment to their Constitution, which banned nearly all abortions in the historically Catholic
country. Such restrictive abortion legislation quite literally cost Irish women their lives,
including the life of Savita Halappanavar, a young married dentist who died at age thirty-one of
septicemia after being refused an abortion during a miscarriage in 2012 (Specia). The doctors
told her that the Catholic country would not allow the procedure until there was no fetal
heartbeat; the red tape of the Eighth Amendment kept their hands behind their backs as she died.
Over the last six years, Halappanavar’s name became a rallying cry for the repeal of the Eighth
Amendment, and her story, according to one young med student, “woke up young people,
particularly young women, to how easily something like that could happen” (Specia).
Constitution. With her family’s permission, she became the face of a movement, inspiring art,
protest, and the sharing of stories. Her family’s remembrance of her and the stories they told
about her brought her name to the lips of voters who chanted “Savita, Savita, Savita,” outside
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Dublin Castle before the announcement of the repeal. Even now, her name and story have
become synonymous with the reproductive justice movement. Her father, Andanappa Yalagi,
shared her family’s request: “Savita’s Law. It should be named for her” (Specia).
The repeal of Ireland’s Eighth Amendment was a study of empathy and the impact of
storytelling. As the world watched on, Ireland repealed one of the strictest abortion access laws
in the developed world. Stories like Savita’s emphasize the complex and personal nature of
women’s decisions concerning abortion, as well as the potentially devastating effects of the
criminalization of abortion procedures, and these stories have the power to influence the views of
Humans have shared stories for the entirety of humankind’s existence. Stories
communicate shared cultures, morals, lessons, and experiences that allow for the development of
empathy – the ability to imagine oneself in another’s situation, feeling their emotions and
understanding their choices. “Our capacity for empathy allows us to put ourselves in the other
College (272). Because empathy1 allows individuals to place themselves in another’s position, it
is a powerful tool not just in conversations between individuals, but nation-wide conversations
on polarizing topics. In small- or large-scale conversations, the empathy elicited from a listener
by a storyteller is a powerful influencer that has played and will continue to play a large role in
social justice issues, as demonstrated by the debate surrounding abortion. In this paper, I begin
1
According to Lesley University, social psychology researchers typically distinguish between two types of empathy:
emotional empathy and cognitive empathy. Emotional empathy consists of three parts: 1) feeling the same emotion
as another person, 2) feeling distressed in response to another person’s condition, and 3) feeling compassion for the
other person. On the other hand, cognitive empathy, also known as empathetic accuracy, refers more closely to the
skill that individuals may have regarding the ability to “read” and understand emotions. For the purpose of this
paper, “empathy” and definitions of empathy will be in reference to what Lesley University identifies as emotional
empathy, while cognitive empathy will be referenced as “empathetic accuracy.” For more information, see
bibliography entry “The Psychology of Emotional and Cognitive Empathy.”
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and unification within stories, and finally closing with a discussion on the importance of a more
varied collection of voices in the national debate surrounding abortion and abortion access.
Beginning in the mid-19th century, sociology in the United States shifted its focus from
qualitative to more quantitative strategies, heavily using math and data collection to validify
sociology as a field of study. In this type of sociological study, dubbed “positivist” sociology
(Berger & Quinney 1), data gained prestige, while personal narrative was denounced, reflecting
the respect Western science had for the concept of an “Aristotelian ideal” of logocentric
arguments – that is, using only logos3 and ethos4 in scientific, academic, and political arguments
(Gordon 292).
While the Aristotelian ideal arguably helped to advance sociology as a field of study,
exceptions to such rules must be made; this is especially true in the exploration of stories of
oppressed voices, who may not have any organized data or shared scholarly network but still
share the experience as a person of an oppressed group. Michel Foucault, a French philosopher
and social theorist, declared “truth” to be a construct of dominant regimes that was restricted by
the influence of so-called experts, which he suggested included almost exclusively white,
3
In ancient Greek philosophy, the logic or reason of an argument
4
In ancient Greek philosophy, the characteristics of a speaker that privileged his/her argument over others’
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middle- to upper-class, educated men (Berger & Quinney 3). Put plainly, the focus of sociology
on science and the work of scientists allowed for a continued erasure of issues that affected
individuals who were not part of the privileged groups, as is true for much of the histories of
science, politics, and literature. Most sociologists abandoned such positivist attitudes towards
sociology by the mid-20th century, largely due to the influence of sociologists like C. Wright
Mills, as well as the work of the civil rights, women’s, sexual liberation, and anticolonial
movements of the time, which pushed for an appreciation of minority and oppressed voices
(Berger & Quinney 2). By shifting away from “experts” of sociology and instead turning to those
with lived experiences that capture the state of society, the bounds of “otherness” and inferior
knowledges come into question, opening the door to a new definition of expert – someone who
lies at the center of a controversy, possibly by no fault of their own, and, as a result, has a story5.
In addition to sociology, other fields of study have embraced the positive outcomes that
result when using storytelling and listening to achieve success in a variety of industries. Rita
Charon, the founder of Columbia University’s Narrative Medicine Program, tells the story of a
colleague who saw a lot of arm pain, and because he listened to the other experiences of his
patients, was able to link the arm pain to stress-related causes and prescribed his patients with a
more complete treatment program that included both physical therapy and counseling; Toni M.
Massaro, a professor at the University of Arizona College of Law, acknowledges that “Judicial
decisions surely are explainable, at least in part, by a judge’s ability to understand, ‘hear,’ or
5
For the purpose of this research, “story” refers to a narrative of personal experience that is often reflective of a
larger societal pattern. Researchers vary with the naming of stories; John Beverly refers to stories of oppression or
hardship of a people as Testimonio, while Victor Villanueva refers to the stories of Latinx people as Memoria, and
furthermore, Adalberto Aguirre calls them personal narratives.
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empathize with certain litigants” (2109); and Paul J. Zak, founding director of the Center for
Neuroeconomic Studies, highlights its importance in business, advising his readers to begin
presentations with a “compelling, human-scale story” in order for better retention and recall of
one’s presentation message. These examples, along with others, prove that storytelling is not
only about sensitivity and humanity, but also about the accuracy of medical treatment, the
justness of the law, and the effectiveness of a sales pitch – all due to the empathy that humans
Empathy
The success of these programs comes from a better understanding of people, allowing
doctors to better treat patients, lawyers to better defend clients, and economists to better predict
markets; throughout this, the defining factor is empathy. Empathy, defined by Miriam-Webster,
is the “action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously
experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present
objectively explicit manner” (“Empathy”). With the right story elements, a listener glimpses
into the experiences of the storyteller, and, with the right story elements, can truly feel an
Physiological Response
triggered once one feels an emotional connection with a story and its elements. Zak, in his article
for Harvard Business Review “Why Your Brain Loves Good Storytelling,” explains the findings
of his lab in which the empathy experienced while listening to a story happens at a neurological
level; while listening to stories, human brains release neurotransmitters, the most notable being
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oxytocin, which Zak refers to as an “it’s safe to approach others” signal in the brain. David JP
Phillips, in his presentation at TEDxStockholm in 2017, explains that the effects of oxytocin on
human emotions include an increase in generosity towards, trust in, and bonding with the
storyteller: “In storytelling, you use empathy, so whatever character you build, you create
empathy for that character. And oxytocin is the most beautiful hormone of all, because you feel
human.”
Miriam-Webster’s definition of empathy can be broken down into three parts: the
listeners to vicariously experience the storyteller’s feelings and thoughts; and the concept that
these feelings and thoughts are not communicated explicitly. The implicit transference of
emotions from storyteller to listener6 through stories is called emotional contagion and “comes
into play in our reactions to narrative,” according to Keen (209). Simply, stories do not evoke
emotions because they tell listeners how to feel, rather stories’ emotional influence comes from
the narrative, specifically a listener’s ability to relate to the storyteller and characters7 in the
narrative, as well as culturally held beliefs and values in the surrounding society.
When listeners are able to see themselves reflected in a character in the story, those
listeners are experiencing character identification (Keen 214). According to Keen, “Character
identification often invites empathy, even when the fictional character and reader differ from one
6
Stories may be shared a variety of ways, including spoken word, written word, visual art, etc. For the purpose of
this research, those who consist of a story’s audience will be referred to as “listener(s).”
7
For the purpose of this research, “character(s)” refers not to fictional individuals in a narrative, but rather real
individuals who play a part in the retelling of a lived experience.
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another in all sorts of practical and obvious ways,” continuing to explain that empathy for
characters seems to only require “minimal elements of identity, situation, and feeling, not
necessarily complex or realistic characterization” (214). Whether the listener connects to the
storyteller in terms of age, race, class, personality, similar experience, etc., the resemblance
between the two need not be apparent for the listener to feel empathy for the character to whom
he or she relates. Character identification builds solidarity between storyteller and listener. John
Beverly, a literary and cultural critic at the University of Pittsburgh, defines solidarity as “the
capacity to identify with their own identities, expectations, and values with those of another”
(324). Thinking in terms of the national abortion debate, character identification can be easily
accomplished through a personal story, especially because the leading reasons women seek
abortions are relatable to many women, including the interference that parenting a child would
cause with their existing responsibilities (education, work, existing children/dependents), the
financial impossibility of supporting a child, and/or the existence of relationship issues that
would result in a single-parent or unsafe situation. For example, if one were to share a story that
describes a university student getting pregnant during her junior year of college and seeking an
abortion, other university students will identify with her, at least in knowing that university
courses and the cost of college are already a great deal to bear. This story would resonate more
with the audience of university students than, say, the story of Savita Halappanavar discussed at
However, the story of Savita can connect with listeners in another way, through the
ability of stories to transport readers and the resulting empathy that arises when imagining
oneself in the situation of another. Situational empathy, according to Keen, “responds primarily
to aspects of plot and circumstance,” and as such, “involves less self-extension in imaginative
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role taking and more recognition of prior or current experience” (215). That is, those who listen
to Savita’s story may not have experienced life in Ireland, the struggle of dental school, the
excitement of her first pregnancy, the pain of a miscarriage, or the fear she felt for her life;
however, listeners are able to imagine that array of emotions when a story is told well. Often, the
most engaging stories are those which make listeners feel as though they are present for the
events and emotions that unfold, taking them to a place that they may have never been, but feel
is a convergent mental process, a focusing of attention, that may occur in response to either
fiction or nonfiction [stories],” according to Melanie C. Green and Timothy C. Brock, scholars of
Altogether, these story elements create a perspective that listeners otherwise may never
have experienced but through the words of the storyteller. “[Narrative] invites the reader into the
situation it describes through the medium of the eyewitness narrator,” according to Beverly
(324). The effects of personal stories on listeners, according to Green and Brock, can include
beliefs that the narrative may challenge, creating “narrative-based belief change.” This
malleability makes readers less likely to disbelieve or counterargue story claims, thus having
further influence on their beliefs (Green & Brock 702). Additionally, strong character
identification or situational empathy can form bonds between storyteller/character and listener
very quickly, creating empathy so strong that the “experiences or beliefs of those characters may
then have an enhanced influence on readers’ beliefs” (Green & Brock 702). Keen tells readers
that stories can elicit a whole array of emotions, from pain and pity to elation and pride (209),
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but certain key elements impact empathetic responses, such as the kind of emotions the story
elicits, a listener’s personal experiences, and belief systems to which the listener belongs.
stories that elicit negative emotions are more likely to develop empathy in listeners. Clifford
generally involve more thinking, and the information is processed more thoroughly than positive
[emotions]… thus, we tend to ruminate more about unpleasant events – and use stronger words
to describe them – than happy ones” (qtd. in Tugend). Stronger words can contribute to the
effectiveness of transportation, making the vicarious experience of readers through words more
vivid, and thus, more influential in forming empathy, which is why, as Green and Brock explain,
“in the canons of literature, the bulk of the stories entail human suffering. Massaro asserts that
“someone who has suffered pain is more likely to personalize the suffering of others and be
affected more strongly by it” in her article “Empathy, Legal Storytelling, and the Rule of Law:
New Words, Old Wounds?” (2012). As everyone has experienced suffering in one way or
histories and cultural contexts affect the way we understand automatically shared feelings”
(209).
Current Situation
Part of the “cultural contexts” to which Keen refers includes the cultural groups and
belief systems with which a listener identifies; “narrative empathy intersects with identities in
problematic ways” (Keen 223). One’s cultural groups and belief systems impact their personal
identity, which can have the opposite effect on character identification if a stance is firmly
instilled within the listener. For this kind of listener, some stories may shift their view of the
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storyteller from protagonist to antagonist, particularly if they have been exposed to what
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie refers to as a “single story.” Adichie says that single stories are
created when people are shown “as one thing, as only one thing, over and over again, and that is
what they become,” while also emphasizing that “how they are told, who tells them, when
they’re told, how many stories are told, are really dependent on power.” In the national
conversation concerning abortion access, the two discourses of power are the pro-choice
discourse and the pro-life discourse. The pro-choice discourse, led by Planned Parenthood,
women’s rights activists, and healthcare providers, paints itself as a champion of women, while
painting the pro-life discourse as oppressive, old-fashioned, and hateful. The pro-life discourse,
on the other hand, is led by religious activists and conservative politicians and preaches itself to
be a family-oriented and faithful mission, while condemning the pro-choice discourse as sinful,
Single stories like these form cultural narratives8 of what is and is not acceptable
behavior in society. In an article titled “The Intersection of Relational and Cultural Narratives:
Women’s Abortion Experiences,” researchers Marjorie McIntyre, Beverly Anderson, and Carol
McDonald suggest that women should make their own reproductive decisions using discursive
practices, meaning that the women making these decisions should “create [their] own narrative,”
applying her own experience and perspectives to come to a decision with an adequate, if not
comfortable, decision for herself while “writing” her personal reproductive narrative; however,
8
Cultural narrative should not be confused with cultural context or discourses of power. Cultural narrative, in this
research, references the attitudes for a given culture of any size or purpose, such as one’s church, campus, district,
workplace, city, state, or nation. Any of these can have a culture and therefore a cultural narrative. Discourses of
power, on the other hand, are those who carry recognized authority in their stance on a larger scale, like politicians,
churches, Planned Parenthood, etc. Cultural context consists of both cultural narratives and discourses of power, as
well as other important contextual elements like time period, regional political trends, the opinions of friends and
family, etc.
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McIntyre et al. warn that the influence that cultural narratives have on women as they attempt to
form their own reproductive story: “There is a risk… that the woman’s experience will be
defined through these competing cultural narratives and that in the process, her own narrative
In Fargo, we can even see the way that one’s cultural context contributes to the creation
of cultural narratives that silence, or at least limit the audience of, women’s stories if they do not
reinforce either of the two discourses of power. At the annual North Dakota Women in Need
Fund fundraiser “Choice Desserts,” women share grateful stories of receiving help and funding
for desperately-needed abortion procedures and reproductive healthcare, while, in contrast, Fargo
Shanley High School’s March for Life fundraiser “Cupcakes for Life,” featured post-abortive
women shared their heartbroken stories of regret and guilt after their abortion procedures. The
separation of these events then, creates a separation in which those in attendance of Choice
Desserts will only hear a positive story of abortion, while those at Cupcakes for life will only
hear a negative story, and the stories of women with mixed feelings are not shared at all.
Selective story sharing such as this works, not to highlight the women who tell their abortion
stories, but rather to highlight the way the stories support the claims of one “side” or the other.
When individuals “choose sides,” so to speak, they become entrenched in the discourse
of their choosing. “What we do is we commit. We dig in. We are entrenched because we care;
we are passionate. And we surround ourselves with people who share and buttress our views…
We collect people who tell us that we’re right,” says Jessica Waters, the Associate Dean for
reproductive rights law, during her 2016 Ted Talk in Baltimore. This surrounding of oneself with
those with similar views leads to the instillation of the single story, as one repeatedly hears
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abortion. Over time, this makes the possibility for solidarity with an individual from the “other
side” much more difficult; it becomes easier to dismiss the words of an individual who can be
Without the willingness and openness not only to hear an argument, but also to listen to
stories and question cultural narratives, the polarity of the issue becomes increasingly extreme,
[The growing polarization] has left us with a Supreme Court so sharply divided on this
issue, the decisions are often five to four, whether it’s an issue of abortion restrictions or
access to contraception. It’s left us with a reality that abortion is a litmus test for political
candidates or federal judges. It’s left us with a House of Representatives that is willing to
shut down the federal government over funding for Planned Parenthood. And it’s left us
In North Dakota, the stakes are even higher, and the state’s cultural narrative leans strongly
towards a pro-life ideal. North Dakota is one of only four states to have a “trigger law” in place,
which would mean that, if Roe v. Wade were overturned, abortion procedures would be
immediately illegal, and with Justice Kavanaugh’s recent appointment to the Supreme Court, it
could be a possibility in the near future. Pro-choice representatives only account for about 17
percent of the members of the 66th North Dakota Legislative Assembly (“66th Legislative
Assembly Members”), making it almost impossible for legislation protecting abortion access to
be passed in place of the trigger law in a state where obtaining abortion services is already
difficult. Women seeking abortion services in North Dakota are subject to a 24-hour wait period
permission if under the age of 18, and a lack of public funding support except in the cases of life
endangerment, rape, or incest. Seventy-three percent of North Dakota women live in counties
that do not have clinics, and as there is only one clinic on the far eastern side of the state, women
may have to drive hours to reach the clinic (“State Facts About Abortion: North Dakota”). Any
additional hurdles, and the sole abortion provider in North Dakota could be forced to close its
doors, restricting one of the many choices available to desperate pregnant women.
Conclusion
If the United States and North Dakota are ever going to come to a solution that is fair and
thoughtful of all their citizens, the polarities that dominate the powerful discourse of the abortion
debate must be put aside, and real women must tell their stories. Each woman with a story
deserves to be heard, including those who stand against it, those who stand for it, and most
importantly, the women who have not been adequately represented by either of the polarities.
The more women share their personal narratives concerning abortion, the more chances arise for
character identification, situational empathy, and solidarity to begin to form in others, resulting
in greater acceptance that the reproductive choices women make can be seen as moral, just, or at
least understandable to listeners. In this tumultuous time, their stories must serve as what Beverly
calls an “emergency narrative,” which he explains is a story with urgency that represents the
circumstances. Coinciding with the slogan, “the personal is political,” emergency narratives
serve not only as a means to form solidarity and empathy but also as a call to action for those
who empathize with the storyteller. “We have to get out of those polarities and see what’s in the
middle… That space in between [the polarities] is the reality of women’s lives,” Waters tells
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listeners, “It is the joy and the struggle. It is the multilayered complexities and the decisions they
For the sake of time and scope limitations, this research, due to its complex nature,
touches upon but ultimately lacks a full discussion on narrative authority and a full discussion of
cultural narrative as it applies to North Dakota. If I were to continue the research and expand on
the concept of narrative authority, I would begin with Adalberto Aguirre’s article, “The Personal
Narrative as Academic Storytelling: a Chicano’s Search for Presence and Voice in Academe,”
which expands on the authority that society gives to different social groups and the reasoning
behind instances where groups are dismissed. Victor Villanueva applies similar reasoning and
arguments to a debate about personal narratives in academic writing in his article “Memoria Is a
Friend of Ours.” To illustrate more clearly the complex and polarized opinions in the ongoing
abortion debate, I would incorporate passages from Faye Ginsburg’s “Procreation Stories:
ethnographic study of pro-life and pro-choice female activists in Fargo, which also provides
insight into how little the debate has changed since the study’s release in 1986.
Closing Statements
Despite these limitations, my research illustrates the role stories have played and will
continue to play in the polarizing debates that erupt in the United States. While partisanship and
polarities haunt our political and personal conversations, the empathy humans are capable of
feeling remains a powerful tool in motivating others to loosen tightly-held beliefs and achieve
what Green refers to as “narrative-based belief change” (702) through character identification,
situational empathy, and solidarity. Without the noise of cultural narratives, discourses of power,
Pouliot 15
or unfair predispositions, trust formed between reader and listener can create a bond and
malleability that, with the right story, can be more influential than logic, facts, or statistics. All
we have to do is listen.
Pouliot 16
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Additional Reading
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Education, vol. 18, no. 2, 2005, pp. 147-163. Taylor & Francis Online, doi:
10.1080/0951839042000333956.
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10.1363/3711005.
Gillette, Meg. “Modern American Abortion Narratives and the Century of Silence.” Twentieth
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Nook, Eric C., et al. “Prosocial Conformity: Prosocial Norms Generalize Across Behavior and
Empathy.” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, vol. 42, no. 8, 2016, pp. 1045-
jasonmitchell.fas.harvard.edu/Papers/Nook_prosocialconformity_2016.pdf.
Villanueva, Victor. “Memoria Is a Friend of Ours: On the Discourse of Color.” College English,