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Many years ago, a webinar participant asked me how to “present our community and work in an authentic/dignified manner” and “avoid coming across as a ‘Western savior.”” I had two reactions: 1) brava for asking this question; and 2) the answer deserves more space than can fit in a webinar.

In response, I drafted an article about avoiding harmful stereotypes in telling stories other than one’s own. But even my own five questions didn't fully put to rest another question that’s remained on my mind for many years. I share that question here and invite your thoughts as I continue to mull over this example of telling someone else’s story across cultures:

After a great deal of preparation, including several introductions, countless phone calls and prepaid phone cards, and a long, dusty drive, I was filming a community leader in a country other than my own. This man had spent several years organizing his rural community to push back against a massive multinational company. He’d stood up for the rights of his neighbors, friends, and family against powerful forces in his own government. This was a man who recognized that what was happening around him was wrong and was taking action, despite the risks, to make things right.

In short, I admired the heck out of him.

Yes, I knew he was human and, like all of us, both flawed and multidimensional. But it was an honor to hear his story and be trusted to share it.

After conversations and discussions with many members of the community, my cinematographer set up our film equipment. We only had one day and a lot of ground (literally and figuratively) to cover. Full understanding of our project - check. Permission to film – check. Suitable background – check. Audio levels – check. Proper lighting – check.

We were ready. He was ready. And so we began. He shared his story and that of his community in powerful detail. We then traveled the area with him to collect more voices and more footage. After a long but productive day, we made the journey back to the capital city where we were staying.

In the wee hours of the morning, I began to log our footage. As I listened, I was again struck by this man’s courage. His willingness to take on an uphill battle for justice gave me hope and I wanted as many people as possible to understand what was happening and the actions they could take to address it.

(I'll also share that my inner development nerd was thrilled to hear him talk about FPIC, or “free, prior and informed consent.” That's “development speak” for not bulldozing over people’s economic, social and cultural interests without their input or permission. It’s a term tossed around in academic and legal circles, but this was the first time I’d heard the term directly from the lips of someone whose rights had personally been impacted.)

It was in reviewing the footage that I saw something that, when hearing his story live, both my camera operator and I had missed:

Just as he talked about the lack of FPIC of his community, a large fly landed directly on his forehead. And stayed... and stayed... for what felt like eternity.

That the fly was there isn’t surprising in the least to anyone familiar with the region. Our indoor location had open windows and flies are the norm in the midst of a hot, dry season. In person, the fly wasn’t a big deal.

But close-up on film for an audience unfamiliar with the region and unaccustomed to being so unfazed by flies? I didn't know how they would respond.

Would they listen to his story? Would they recognize how much work this man had done, understand the importance of the issues facing the community, and admire his courage? Or would they be too distracted?

The question I have yet to firmly answer:

Would sharing footage of that stupid fly that landed and stayed on this brave man’s face undermine his dignity?

Yes, there are options ranging from skipping all of that footage entirely to covering it with b-roll. Either option would render the question moot, but we'd then lose a considerable amount of footage.

We could also carefully edit out the fly in that footage, but would that violate the tenet of truth in documentary film?

I also know that, were we to make a longer film that provided time and space to get to know this man (i.e., character development), we could provide more context that would overcome or explain the fly. But that wasn't the film we were making, and I still wanted my audience to connect with a fellow human who doesn't look like them, doesn't sound like them, and - while interconnected in more ways than they know - leads a life quite different than theirs.

So I ask: How does this land with you? What decision would you make to ensure both authenticity and dignity?

- Piper Hendricks, CEO

Photo of a fly on a white background by Chris Curry