Ethical storytelling: Power, consent, and dignity in practice
A guest post by Morgan Cataldo of morgan&co
Stories shaped by lived experience can - and do - bring social issues to life and spark change. When done well, ethical storytelling isn’t just about avoiding harm. It’s about attending to power: who is seen to hold it, who isn’t, and how that shapes the stories we both tell and receive.
It’s about creating spaces and approaches that uphold a storyteller’s dignity, authenticity, and agency. Ethical storytelling helps us share stories that not only educate and inspire action, but also honour the lives and truths behind them.
What is ‘ethical storytelling’?
Ethical storytelling begins with the awareness that telling a story is never neutral. Too often, power dynamics dictate the frame: they influence which voices are amplified, which are left out, and how we come to understand people, issues, and events.
In this sense, ethical storytelling is a practice of power-awareness and relational responsibility. It invites us to pause and reflect, not just on the stories we hear, but on the roles we play in shaping and receiving them.
It also calls us to reframe. Instead of focusing only on what someone has lived through, ethical storytelling asks: What meaning has been made? What strengths or shifts have emerged? What else is true about this person’s life, beyond the problem?
When we ask these kinds of questions - with purposeful intention, genuine consent, and humility - we create space to share stories on a person’s or communities’ terms. Not to extract meaning or provoke emotion, but to honour complexity, challenge assumptions, and shift the systems that shape how stories are received.
Where do power and consent fit in?
Power dynamics shape whose voices are being represented, who is doing the representing, and who stands to benefit.
Traditional narratives about social issues often position organisations or facilitators as the ones who ‘empower’ individuals - as though power is something that can simply be handed over.
But this framing obscures a person’s own role in their growth, and often leaves them indebted to the very system that now claims to have helped them.
Ethical storytelling seeks to shift this framing - away from organisational performance or validation, and towards the storyteller’s agency, voice, and choice.
Consent is central to this. Not as a tick box or a signed form, but as a living, relational process. True consent is ongoing. It prioritises the storyteller’s wellbeing over the audience’s curiousity.
We often see consent in action through trigger warnings at the start of articles containing traumatic content. These are provided to protect the audience. Yet it’s a consideration that is rarely embodied in the story-gathering process, where intrusive questions are freely asked of the people most likely to be impacted.
A more ethical approach ensures that the storyteller retains agency throughout the process. This might involve checking in regularly and seeking consent at each stage. For example: “Here are the questions I’m thinking of asking - how do they sit with you? Is there anything you’d like to add, skip, or change?”
Consent also means offering choice — in what’s shared, when it’s shared, how it’s shared, and whether it’s shared at all.
For example, several years ago, I invited a young person to reflect on their experience of leading a youth-driven project for a non-governmental organisation.
We kept consent at the centre of the process, offering a variety of ways for them to share their reflections. They chose to write the article themselves, at their own pace, using optional reflective prompts.
At no point were they pressured to share more than they wished. They were consulted as the piece moved through multiple departments and iterations, and retained full authorship over the final version.
These kinds of approaches not only seek to reduce harm and help prevent re-traumatisation - they honour a storyteller’s right to set boundaries, retain narrative control, and remain the author of their own meaning, right to the very end.
In another example, I recently supported someone who was sharing their experiences of mental ill-health and navigating the service system for a book chapter. A journalist - pre-screened and briefed with a strong foundation in trauma-informed reporting - drafted the piece.
Crucially, the storyteller was given the opportunity to review, edit, and remove anything that felt uncomfortable, overly identifying, or misrepresentative.
With my support as their advocate, they were able to pause, reflect, and process what surfaced as they read the draft. By the time the chapter was published, there were no surprises. The storyteller knew exactly what was included - and had consented to every word.
How can you help your organisation transition to ethical storytelling practices?
It starts with reflection, looking closely at your campaigns and case studies to consider whose voices your organisation has amplified and how those voices have been framed.
A good first question is whether your organisation has focused on sensational or traumatic details to create emotional impact. A better question is: What deeper meaning or learning could have been shared instead, on the storyteller’s terms?
Here are a few practices that can help your organisation move from extractive to more ethical storytelling:
• Treat consent as a living practice. Always ask for and honour the storyteller’s consent, especially when discussing sensitive or traumatic experiences. Be transparent about where and how stories will be used and respect when someone says no, or changes their mind.
• Resist organisational saviourism. Move away from narratives that position the organisation as the hero. Instead, highlight the storyteller’s own insight, growth, and capabilities, without claiming credit for it.
• Invite diverse ways of telling (or not telling). Invite people to share in the formats that feel most natural to them, whether through conversation, poetry, artwork, movement, or silence.
• Illustrate multitudes. Avoid reducing people to a single story or identity. Honour complexity, contradiction, and change. Let stories - and the people in them - unfold and evolve.
• Move beyond exceptionalism. Celebrate not just personal achievements, but the networks of support and the systemic conditions that made them possible or that still need to change.
• Reflect and question. Ask why certain stories are being told, whose interests they serve, and how they might impact the person whose story it is. Build in processes for feedback and pause.
These principles apply to more than just storytelling
Ethical storytelling is, at its core, about how we relate to and represent others, making its lessons broadly applicable.
Principles like consent, agency, dignity, and the recognition of complexity reach far beyond storytelling. They’re relevant across advocacy, education, research, and community development - and they offer something quietly transformative in everyday life: in how we listen, relate, and make meaning with others.
Ethical storytelling is a practice of listening, power-awareness, and relational accountability - values that ripple out into how we run workshops, write policy, build strategy, conduct research, co-design programs, and engage with communities.
It reminds us that genuine collaboration isn’t just about inclusion - it’s about shifting authorship and power.
Want to learn more about ethical storytelling and design practices?
If you’re looking to deepen your practice, I invite you to read Designed with Care: Creating Trauma-Informed Content, where I contribute the chapter Does this feel dignifying? Considering, telling and sharing more ethical stories.
If your organisation is ready to move from performative to purposeful storytelling, I offer lived experience practice workshops and ethical storytelling consulting to support you in that shift.
Other recommended resources include:
Chicago Beyond
Why Am I Always Being Researched?
Grace Tame
‘The older I get, the younger I was’: What’s it like to be the subject of News Corp Coverage?
Kate Marple
Tyson Yunkaporta
Right Story, Wrong Story: Adventures in Indigenous Thinking