I thought I understood what contributor-centred storytelling meant until I landed in Beirut on an October evening last year. I met with an incredible group of local women who would challenge so much about how we think we should tell the stories of people affected by disaster, writes Becky Mansell, Content Manager at the DEC.

I was in Beirut to facilitate a co-creation storytelling workshop with eight women displaced by the conflict in Lebanon who are receiving support from a community centre supported by funds from the DEC Middle East Humanitarian Appeal.

I was with Jess Crombie, senior lecturer at University of the Arts London and consultant in ethical storytelling. She has spent the last ten years designing a methodology that allows the people in front of the camera to play an active, meaningful role in how their stories are created, shared, and understood. We were now going to pilot using this methodology for reporting back on DEC appeals.

What I did know was that we would be spending a week with these women, developing our understanding of the contributor-centred methodology together, and working with them to direct how their own stories are told when the DEC reports back to supporters in the UK.

After warm welcomes and finding common ground through sweet treats and strong Lebanese coffee, one of the women playfully asked, “So when are you taking our photos? I’m ready to tell my story." We all laughed, but her words captured exactly what this process was trying to do differently. That expectation didn’t come from nowhere; people generally expect storytelling to happen to them, not with them.

I saw that gradually the idea began to land that we were inviting them not to simply be subjects in our storytelling process, but partners in shaping it."

Through the workshop it became apparent that the participants didn’t immediately understand what we were trying to achieve but the first shift was noticeable. We talked about imagery and looked at photographs of Syrian refugees in a displacement camp together. Each of us shared our interpretations of what the photographs communicate, and together we reflected on how a single image can shape our perception, why framing matters as a result, and how stories like these can travel. I saw that gradually the idea began to land that we were inviting them not to simply be subjects in our storytelling process, but partners in shaping it.

What came as a surprise was what the women chose to prioritise in the stories. We asked what they wanted people in the UK to know about what they're living through, and every time they redirected the story outward to their shared struggle, to their community, to the collective experience of people in Lebanon. They wanted the world to understand what everyone was navigating, not just their own personal situation. 
 

These were women who had been displaced from their homes with their families due to the conflict in Lebanon, and were being supported at a community centre run by Mouvement Social, the local partner of DEC charity Christian Aid. 

This is what they chose to focus their stories on:

• Lebanon’s water crisis - how their daily lives revolve around ensuring they get enough water for their families and the vital support they receive from the centre
   
• Livelihoods and skills training - cooking and sewing sessions that give them independence and the possibility of earning an income, reducing their reliance on aid
   
• Children and caregiving - the realities of caring for children, or being children themselves caring for their parents
   
• Physical and mental health - the challenges they face and the psychological support provided by the centre’s social workers

Their choice of stories wasn’t a world away from what we might typically gather as communications teams working in the NGO sector, but the fact that it came from them, was what made all the difference.
 

Where I felt the biggest shift was during production. The first morning felt uncomfortable at first. We split into groups with filming starting in one of the cooking classes Leila* attends at the centre. I slipped into my default mode starting to direct shots with the videographer, thinking ahead to how it would cut together. 

Jess stopped me with a gentle reminder of how it should work, so I stepped back and asked Zeinab, Laila* and Sobhiye*, “What do you think matters in this room visually? What should we be noticing that’s relevant to Leila’s story?”
 

The direction started small, details on a shelf, the way ingredients were laid out, but something changed as we went. The women began suggesting angles, moments, sequences, they weren’t tentative for long. Abir showed a real eye for colour and composition and grew rapidly in confidence working with our photographer, Carmen. Others like Leila* focused on what was being said during interviews and how it would be perceived.

Stepping back felt uncomfortable at first, but unexpectedly, what I found on the other side felt more natural than many traditional shoots I’ve been on."

Stepping back felt uncomfortable at first. I was interrupting a professional instinct, but unexpectedly, what I found on the other side felt more natural than many traditional shoots I’ve been on. I think this is because instead of using my experience to interpret and translate someone else’s lived reality into a structured story, that lived expertise was guiding us and we were building it together. The storytelling craft was still there, but wholly in service of their perspective. 

The impact of the process became clear on the final day. We shared rough cuts of the footage and photo selects with the group so that they could see what they helped create and provide guidance for the final outputs. It’s hard to put into words how it felt to witness them seeing their stories reflected back for the first time. 

There was jubilant celebration at the powerful portraits local photographer Carmen had worked with them to capture, and they shed tears for each other’s interviews as well as their own. When we asked what they thought they all agreed, “This is our reality.”

There were inevitably challenges to working in this way. The process took time and we had to surrender some predictability... but what we gained was shared authorship and a collection of stories that feel representative...

There were inevitably challenges to working in this way. The process took time, we had to surrender some predictability, and there was a real possibility the women would decide to remove emotionally powerful moments from their stories, or that the visuals wouldn’t align with what audiences might expect to see. But what we gained was shared authorship and a collection of stories that feel representative rather than interpreted.

Co-creation isn’t always possible when reporting on live disasters. In an emergency rapid response, time and capacity are constraints for our member charities and their local partners, not to mention the people on the ground whose first priority is survival. But when space allows, inviting contributors into the framing, production and review of their own stories doesn’t just redistribute power, it expands what we see.

The most lasting shift for me wasn’t about outputs. It was a deeper understanding of the role perspective plays in storytelling. When the people who live the story help shape how it’s told and see it before the world does, storytelling moves from extraction to collaboration, and that changes the room.

*Names changed to protect identity