After years of struggling with metrics, reporting templates, and complex data at a patient navigation program, I craved clarity about the right way to evaluate success. In graduate school, I naïvely told myself, I would find the answers to all my questions about which social initiatives worked.
Four words corrected this assumption. “Data is a story,” a professor said.
“Looking back, I recognized that just as in a novel, too much detail causes the audience to lose track of the plot, in evaluation, too much information obscures relevant findings.”
He explained that with any analysis or evaluation, you decide what questions you will ask and, therefore, what story you will tell with the data. I began to accept that while graduate education provided me with methodological tools, it could not give me one correct way to solve all my evaluation questions.
In my previous role with the patient navigation program, I struggled to identify key data points because we had not acknowledged that data was a story. I thought that if we didn’t give stakeholders all the information, they couldn’t make informed decisions. We formatted graphs and charts to display as much information as possible: reductions in 9-1-1 calls and hospital visits, patient contacts per month, meetings attended, and resource referrals.
Looking back, I recognized that just as in a novel, too much detail causes the audience to lose track of the plot, in evaluation, too much information obscures relevant findings.
If our navigation program felt the important story to tell was of our program as a bridge to long-term patient health, then the most relevant data would be on 9-1-1 calls and hospital use complemented by patient interviews and information about resource referrals. Data like number of staff contacts and meetings attended only obscured our message.
“To be authentic, the stories we tell with data must illuminate the historical and structural power dynamics affecting communities so that together we can work toward deeper solutions.”
Since joining Equal Measure, I’ve met colleagues who actively consider the role of data, storytelling, and equity in social change. As evaluators, there are many stories we can tell with data, but our goal must be to tell stories that are as authentic as possible.
To be authentic, the stories we tell with data must illuminate the historical and structural power dynamics affecting communities so that together we can work toward deeper solutions.
After a series of focus groups with youth from one project, we discussed strategies to further incorporate their perspectives—for example, having youth take photos of the program to discuss with us. Perhaps this change in methodology would help elevate youth voices and inform a Foundation’s future grantmaking strategies.
In an evaluation of a criminal justice diversion program, we’re discussing how to contextualize the role of personal motivation within the history of the state and region—ensuring we highlight structural opportunities for change, rather than placing blame on individuals.
Re-thinking data and stories by incorporating an equity lens makes the connection between data, storytelling, and power explicit.
“Recognizing that data are not inherently neutral forces those involved in social change to discuss fundamental questions about power.”
I’ve learned that data is a story, and stories have power: who tells a story, for whom a story is written, and who listens to a story are all questions that revolve around who has decision-making authority. Recognizing that data are not inherently neutral forces those involved in social change to discuss fundamental questions about power.
These new experiences and conversations helped me re-think previous data work where, without realizing it, we were addressing power-related issues. In my previous roles, we had not considered who the ultimate audience was for the stories we told with our data—researchers, executives, nonprofit staff, or community members.
Therefore, we didn’t realize the unintended impact of our data. We were blind to what results might mean for the program staff, volunteers, and community members who dedicated time to the work, and we recognized too late how “widget-counting” activities could become a metric by which staff judged themselves. Without considering the power of data collection and reporting, the tensions arising from how others interpreted our data surprised us.
Data, after all, is a story. And stories are expressions of power. By sharing stories that recognize historical and structural power and elevate community solutions, in small but meaningful ways, we start to truly make change.