Tuning in to the zeitgeist or blissful ignorance?

My supervisor sent me a paper the other day (Jones, K The Qualitative Report Volume 9 Number 1 March 2004 95-112 http://www.nova.edu/ssss/QR/QR9-1/jones.pdf Mission Drift in Qualitative Research, or Moving Toward a Systematic Review of Qualitative Studies, Moving Back to a More Systematic Narrative Review - which I think it also strayed into how to interpret and analyse too). What follows is an edited version of an email I sent to her about it (done with her permission of course).

I included some of the methods touched on in the paper even in my initial research design (this makes what I did sound quite grand) eg going back to participants with issues and questions that other participants brought up. So although they have never met eachother participants have in fact talked to eachother. Likewise, I also set up conversations between participants and 'the literature' by asking their opinions on specific theories and analyses, particularly around class, and got their takes on those. I am also a great one for'grey literature' (that is stuff that is not written with scholarly intention but from which a great deal can be learned - in my case I look at Aimhigher websites a good deal)).

I'm never sure whether to be glad or disheartened when I read that there are actual labels that can be attached to these methods. Have I had my finger on the pulse of the academic zeitgeist when I come up with these ideas myself? Or have I simply failed to do enough reading? Is this kind of labelling of methods a more fruitful academic enterprise than simply doing and describing what you have done? Is it a useful shorthand? Or is it a throwback to, a remnant of, positivism? In the end I justify my approach by way of the term 'compelling methodology' which is very grand because sometimes my justifications are very practical ones. It was hard enough for example for participants to find space in their lives to see me - trying to get nine of us together at the same time would have proabably been impossible. And sometimes they are fundamental to my approach - it is the person's story that is the beating heart of the analysis - not their view on any particular issue. And so sometimes my decisions are both practical and central to my research philosophy.

So thanks for this - in the end I think the old adage of having the courage of your convictions is probably a useful one.

I went on a course last week which has led to my making 3 short video 'movies' about my research journey. I am hoping to put these on the blog next week.

Privates on Parade

I've been ruminating quite a bit on the notions of 'public' and 'private' since my last post, particularly as I am writing a paper to present at a conference (DPR8 'Power and the Academy' Manchester 6-8 April http://www.esri.mmu.ac.uk/dpr/). My paper asks 'what is needed if we are to re-imagine the academy?' and assumes the desirability of public spaces in which new knowledge is produced. However, what I did not appreciate when submitting my abstact was just how complex the notion of 'public' has become. Digital technologies have both expanded and fragmented meanings of 'public' so we live in an age of a 'global public' and also of 'intimate publics' (to borrow Lauren Berlant's term). This has added a whole new layer to my thinking on 'what's in a name'. It's also why I picked the title of this post (originally of a stage play and film - a satire not a 'romp') because it too has many layers of meaning (beyond the more obvious double entendre), and epitomises the situatedness of those meanings. How would such a title have been read, for example, in the 1940s? Or by someone whose first language wasn't English? Or for whom the term 'Carry On....' is incomplete? But what I found particularly pertinent was the allusion to what is revealed/revealable and when and where and by whom. Is the notion of global/intimate the same as public/private or does the former override the latter? And where does secrecy come into it? I have always had problems with 'secrecy' but had largely managed to resolve these by putting a clear conceptual boundary between 'secrecy' and 'privacy'. So with reference to my names I have no desire to keep them secret but I do want to keep them private (and in part this means I reveal them when, where and to whom I decide). However, the shifting lines between public and private are impacting on a distinction that has long served me well and I am being harried out of my comfort zone. No bad thing.

What's in a name?

When I was doing the MA in Educational Research at Sheffield (yes another one - the Women's Studies one was not recent enough to count as prep for doing a PhD - luckily because the MA Ed Res was a total joy from beginning to end and managed to turn me into a halfway decent researcher) we had a session on de-colonising research. Dr Jennifer Lavia started the session by asking us to think about our names. And I've been thinking ever since. You see I used to be known as Yvonne Jovanka Hermine Novakovic. But since getting married in 2005 I am Yvonne Downs. Being adamant that I am a feminist, changing my name and 'taking' my husband's name was no small matter. There was a reason I felt I wanted to, but to be honest I wasn't really sure what that reason was. I just knew I wanted to change my name.

Likewise, chosing not to be public about my middle names was motivated by something I was not able articulate. My son Jonah asked me recently if I didn't like them (no, I love them) or was embarrased by them (he's 17 and so is easily embarrassed. I'm 50 and my threshold is somewhat higher). I haven't lost or dropped my middle names - I just no longer have them on official documents (although they crop up now and again for example on my 'O' level certificates). After Dr Lavia's seminar I was able to think more deeply about what's in a name and had reached an understanding of my motivations but it wasn't until last week that I finally articulated them.

Talking to one of my participants (we often stray beyond the boundaries set by the research topic) I told her that I became tired of having to enter into a conversation every time I gave my names. This was more than simply having to spell them every time, tedious as that was. No, what got to me was having to reveal aspects of myself in answer to the questions they prompted. 'Novakovic? Where is that from? From my dad. It's Serbian. (At one time to say Serbian was akin to saying 'from the devil himself', such was the demonisation of Serbs in the media 'reporting' on wars where there always have to be good guys and bad guys). No, not from Serbia. From Croatia. (How come? Oh God which century to start in?). And Hermine? My mum's name. No she wasn't English. Austrian. Why was she in England? (How far back do I go, what details will satisfy, what assumpions are you making, how much do you understand, when will this ever end?). Am I English? (I often felt sorely tempted to answer this in full, but then just gave the yes that made life so much easier). And on and on and on. (Why didn't I just say mind your own business? Well sometimes, often, I needed these people to do things for me and why antagonise them? And they meant no harm - curiosity is not a crime and anyway, I was brought up to be polite).

This is just to give a flavour of what answering the question 'what is your name' could occasion. As Dr Lavia pointed out - a name says not only much about you, it says much about your history and the context in which you are you. It is a densely packed case. And now, more than the relief of no longer having to 'disclose' parts of my 'self' to strangers in settings incongruous with intimacy, I no longer have to implicate others (my parents particularly) in the formation of that self. In answering questions about my name I was simultaneously saying too little and too much. So I have restored those aspects of me which I wish to keep private to a private sphere, problematic as the notion of a private sphere may be. It irks me sometimes that no one questions Yvonne Downs because it says much about the workings of power, which was kind of where Dr Lavia went in her seminar (but in a far more nuanced and sophisticated and critcally astute way - I don't wish to do her an injustice). But most of the time I hug to my chest the knowledge that in saying my name I am not giving myself.

'righteousness and antagonism too often prevail'

The above quote comes from Daphne Patai (When method becomes power (response) in A Gitlin (ed) 1994 Power and Method: Political activism and educational research p64). I have been returning to some texts (on methodology where that is understood as being a very broad church) that I read some time ago and often refer to. I thought it would be a good idea to remind myself of what was actually written instead of basing my interpretation on what I had last written about them. Daphne Patai expresses my feelings about some (most even) of the writing on methodology really well in the quote above. Unfortunately her paper seems to be written in the same spirit of righteousness and antagonism that she criticises. I won't bore you with why I take issue with her opinions, but it amazes me that discussions about methodology seem to unleash the beast. I refer here both to what is said and how it is expressed. Here's an example (there are so many it's quite hard to choose) .

Sara Delamont says 'I don't believe in interviewing' ... because she doesn't trust interview data... because people lie and delude themselves. (Confessions of a ragpicker in H Piper and I Stronach Educational research: Difference and Diversity p89). Well yes they do, but surely the point is that your methodology and the methods that support this have to be those which are demanded by what you set out to do. There is no way I could have done my study using the observational method that she terms 'proper fieldwork'. She could have made her point without rubbishing what other people do but that doesn't seem to be the way it's done in debates over methodology (I choose my words deliberately here - I could equally have said in the bun fight over methodology). Now I have a lot of time for Sara Delamont and learnt so much from 'Knowledgeable Women' (1989) and I was quite shocked (and, I have to say, disappointed) to hear her being so dismissive.

I'll probably be accused (again choosing my words deliberately) of relativism here but why can't supposedly intelligent people state their case without demolishing others? To my mind this shows a lack of sophistication that I find quite staggering. The 'debates' here remind me more than anything of the 'bickering' that my sons used to indulge in a while back ('is' 'not' 'is' not' 'is' 'not'). I got bored of it then and I'm still bored with it now. It makes me want to leave the room or shout 'that's enough' or 'grow up'.

That's why reading Stanley and Wise (Breaking Out 1993) and Stanley (Feminist Praxis 1990) was such a refreshing change. Others may disagree but to me their approach may well resonate with other accounts and epistemological, ontological, theoretical and methodological stances and certainly leaves me in no doubt about where they are 'coming from' but somehow they are also able to be 'generous' in their reading of other positions, perspectives and views. I first read these texts when I did an MA in Women's Studies at Bradford University way back in 1990 (the 1983 edition of Breaking Out obviously) and they blew my mind. I have since then developed my own thoughts and am not quite so awestruck (not quite) but I still have the utmost respect for the way they do it. We are academics not the 'nodding dogs' you get on the parcel shelves of cars but being critical is not a byword for being nasty. Or maybe it's me that needs to grow up.

Philosophy becoming practical

If you've read my profile you know that I am concerned with ensuring that what I do in my research supports my research philosophy (which kind of came to me while I was doing my MA rather than being something I consciously developed but which has definitely been of huge significance and relevance since). Having submitted it to a number of interrogations, I concluded a while ago that life history research would be the way to ensure I was faithful to this idea of 'praxis'. And I still believe this is the case. However, I did have a bit of a wobble the other day (yes another one).

My supervisor sometimes asks me to be a 'critical reader' for some of the stuff she writes. I always feel this is more to my benefit than hers but I picked up on a point which led her to respond that life history isn't for everyone. They might not feel comfotable with, indeed might not be able to handle, all the stuff that comes up. So I had a big think about how I was 'doing' my life history research. I have sometimes been concerned that I can be quite 'hard' when participants cry for example. Now in 'real life' I am known to 'fill up' at the drop of a hat. It concerned me that I was maybe doing the kind of thing I abhor - along the lines of stop crying and give me the data. However, thinking through the question 'who might life history be for?' as a research methodology, led to the realisation that the reason I didn't cry in the research interviews was because I was doing what I had been trained to do as a life coach, that is 'holding safe'.

Now I have been very quiet about being a coach since re-joining the academy in 2006. There is so much rot on the telly that comes under this heading which I would be mortified to be associated with. I found it tiresome to constantly explain what I was doing when I was doing it and it is a relief not to have to get in to that any more. And I also feel that academics can be most disparaging, particularly when it is about something they have the luxury of not needing to know anything about (a kind of metaphorical loosening of the intellectual corsets). So I keep silent. But I know now that if I had not had this background and the practice of creating a space in which people feel comfortable to talk I would not have heard the stories I have heard. Of course there is a danger that participants reveal more than they intended. I hope I can mitigate this possibility by asking them to check transcripts and amend as they see fit (although amendments have been rare so I'm not entirely convinced this is a useful anti-dote).

The point of the blog today - when I should be transcribing - is that I now feel quite resolute in my conviction that, regardless of what I produce in the way of a thesis, at least how I produced it will be congruent with what I set out to do. And that gives me a very warm glow.

Pushing the boundaries

The dates say it all. I knew I would not be doing a daily post but it is quite shocking to find that well over a month had elapsed since my last post. It was in part the Christmas factor - it creates a fair amount of work in a timetable that is already overburdened. Something had to give.

However, it reflects to a greater extent my struggles with my work. Perhaps it is inevitable that there will be lows, times when I get lost and wonder what exactly I am doing; times when looking again at my research questions and my (evolving and shifting) aims and objectives serves not to remind me where I am heading but to question why I ventured forth . While I have never (seriously) contemplated giving up, I have had what might be termed a crisis of confidence.

Anyway, after some effort to recall how to access it, I am now re-committed to my blog.
Resuming this blog may be taken as a sign that I am now restored to something approaching equilibrium. I have been working again with transcripts of the stories I have heard which has served to anchor me again in the reasons I decided to research this topic. This for me adds meaning to the term 'grounded theory'. I see it not as a pointer to a set of rules and regulations to be followed in the analysis of data and production of knowledge, but as a way of feeling more grounded, more certain of my ground. I had at one time lost my footing and been spinning into the stratosphere.

One of the things I have been struggling with was finding time and space to concentrate on my work. Things just kept crowding in. I won't say too much more about this here coz I am emailing a colleague about this, also a 'mature' (as in cheese?) PhD student. And by mature we mean 50s not early thirties. We are hoping to edit our correspondence into a journal article because we feel our experience has not received sufficient critical attention. The experience of older women in general seems (curiously? understandably?) under-researched. I know the women who have shared their stories with me have done so because there was nothing out there yet that they could connect with. My supervisor, Professor Pat Sikes, has written that stories make us feel connected. It's not that we have lived what we might read, more that we could have lived it. When I read that I cried because it was the time when my mum was nearing the end of her life and I felt quite lonely. This in turn served to reinforce my belief that emotion and cognition are not different beasts.

I fear I am now rambling which is my sign to stop.

Old(ish) dog: new tricks

It's taken me months - probably over a year since I first considered blogging to get going. I need a lie down.

Why start blogging now? I have lived happily without it to date. Several reasons.

I'm doing doctoral research and am constantly jotting things down on scraps of paper - which get lost, are never where I want them etc. This will be a place I know I can access what I set down relatively quickly and easily. It also gives me a window on what I am willing to share/make public and what I want to keep private. Am I willing to ramble publicly? I say I want to trouble the academic habit of presenting a clever front - am I really? Last but not least - I want to prove to myself that I can do it.

That's enough for now - need to help put shopping away.