The other day I watched Becoming – a documentary about Michelle Obama’s two-year book tour. It focuses on qualities of hard work, perseverance and self-confidence. It is about how working hard and having enough faith in yourself can land you in the presidency I guess... or how it did for them. It’s about how hard it was for them to become the exception, and it’s about fostering new exceptions. It features people basking in the shine of their glamour, like hikers warming their hands at a campfire.

I can’t help but feel an uneasy ennuie. I like the Obamas. I believe their story. But does the narrative feel worn to you? Like advertising for excess capacity?

Do you know how often the Obamas talk about story? Thirty-four minutes into Becoming, Barak makes an appearance and says to an aid:

“It’s fun listening to her tell these stories, some of which, part of me, is like (…) ‘That’s not exactly how it happened!’”

Michelle’s response to his on-stage teasing is:

“My book, my version of reality!”

At the end of one of the shows, Barak has his hand on his wife’s back as they’re heading toward a car and he says,

“You’re just a good storyteller.”

Their production company Higher Ground has a mission “to harness the power of storytelling” and the documentary American Factory is their first investment. In a ten-minute feature interview with the producers, the word “story” is said 21 times. The repetition is to emphasize that everyone has a story, that there is power in telling stories, that stories create connection and solidarity and that there should be more stories out there.

The word “story” has taken on the importance of an anchor, not the kind that moors a ship, but the kind used in rock climbing, to which are attached ropes and rock climbers. I wonder if it’s enough to secure higher ground for very many given the nature of the sport.