Storytelling and Archiving as Wellness Practices
On a humid August day, the two of us walked State Street, passing out flyers for our oral history study. Our research team has an ethos to examine Black life: with stories of texture and nuance that reveal the diversity and complexity of Black diaspora. We knew our research would not fully reflect this complexity without one important demographic: our brothers and sisters facing housing insecurity.
As we handed out flyers in Elizabeth Link Peace Park, a small reprieve from the storefronts of State Street, we met Madrell and Kaberry. Madrell launched into a passionate monologue after we pitched our project, and we interviewed the two of them on the spot. To avoid the glaring sun, we gathered in the shade. Kamari stood shifting his weight, offering stories about wanting a place where he could just be. Madrell’s frustrations alternated between being Black in America, never receiving his “40 acres and mule,” and life in Madison as a houseless person. As the conversation continued, more people, mostly Black men, began to congregate. Some listened while others occasionally chimed in about their own experiences with local police or how challenging it was for them to find resources and jobs.
For a moment, we had all fallen into community, practicing a tradition deeply rooted in Blackness. It’s a practice we can trace back to West Africa, where griots played pivotal roles in preserving cultural knowledge through oral traditions. After the transatlantic slave trade uprooted millions of Africans, oral tradition became a means of survival and resistance for enslaved people. In that legacy, generations of African Americans have used storytelling as a tool for healing. Research has shown that storytelling has therapeutic benefits for people facing trauma, grief, or adversity.
A study published in the spring 2021 issue of the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences journal found that storytelling lowers cortisol levels. Another study from the Center for Trauma and Embodiment demonstrates that storytelling lessens the effects of Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD). When we finished interviewing Madrell and Kaberry, several others rushed forward, ready to share their experiences. Although we didn’t have time for more interviews that day, we want to return. As we walked back to campus, Madrell joined us part of the way, expressing his gratitude for us listening to his story. But the honor was certainly ours.
We are The SoulFolk Collective: a community-based research group in the Department of African American Studies at the University of Wisconsin–Madison. In today’s political climate that is actively erasing and silencing the voices of minoritized people, we must fight to ensure that our stories are placed in the historical archive. The SoulFolk Collective marries practical research with solutions that address antiblackness. We plan to use our new monthly column in Umoja to illuminate this work. We honor this legacy of using oral histories to pass on stories of resistance and joy for collective healing.
Notes:
This piece’s title, “Watch your health, that’s your wealth,” is quoted from Chance the Rapper’s song “No More Old Men” (featuring Jamila Woods) from his 2025 album, Star Line.
Our collage utilizes artwork titled “‘The Paradise Edict” by Michael Armitage (2019).
