The Danger of a Single Story

“I’m a storyteller.”

Adichie begins her speech with these words. The speech, which examines the power of stories and declares the need for many stories, articulates her motivation and responsibility as a storyteller. As a Nigerian author, Adichie is working toward the goal she advocates for: the existence of many stories.

“What this demonstrates, I think, is how impressionable and vulnerable we are in the face of a story, particularly as children.”

Adichie does not demonize or demean people who have believed single stories. She understands the power of story itself, arguing that we are all susceptible to believing single stories. She therefore recognizes that people who have offended her with their single stories—her American roommate, her American professor—might have absorbed single stories about Africa as impressionable children.

“But because of writers like Chinua Achebe and Camara Laye, I went through a mental shift in my perception of literature. I realized that people like me, girls with skin the color of chocolate, whose kinky hair could not form ponytails, could also exist in literature. I started to write about things I recognized.” 

Adichie references Nigerian author Chinua Achebe and Guinean author Camara Laye. These African writers undermined her single story of books as necessarily about foreigners (especially Westerners). This empowered Adichie to write from her own context and eventually to become an important voice in postcolonial literature. Later in her speech, Adichie explicitly articulates the importance of Nigerian writers, readers, and publishers. This earlier depiction of herself as a Nigerian child impacted by African authors builds her argument.