The ethics of writing about lives

Sikes, Pat (2010).  The ethics of writing life histories and narratives in educational research.  Exploring Learning, Identity and Power through Life History and Narrative Research. Bathmaker, Ann-Marie and Penelope Harnett (Eds).   New York, NY : Routledge.

“Narrativising, like all intentional behavior…is a site of moral responsibility” Laurel Richardson, 1990, p. 131.

Sikes ARGUES first and foremost that “the preliminary jottings we make when first beginning to develop ideas about what we’re going to look at, proposals, notes and references we take from literature, field notes, transcripts, research diary entries and so on, as much as any formal accounts….are, in my opinion, as much a part of the investigation as any data we may collect. I share with Richardson’s belief that writing is a method of inquiry and this view permeates everything I will write.” (p. 12).

   
She also states that “writing lives is always an auto/biographical process and acknowledging this is, in my view, the first task that ethical researchers must address.” (p. 12).  “It seems unethical to offer a version of someone’s life (or indeed of any social phenomenon) without making clear the nature of the gaze that is being brought to bear upon it.” (p. 13) YES.  We must ask “what is MY role in this, why was I interested in this topic and how do I fit into the puzzle”—in other words, what is my “voice” and “words,” and what can I fairly attribute to participants? 

Ironically, even before I discovered narrative inquiry as a method, I'd FOUGHT to include my own backstory as part of my research proposal and it's something I'm very upfront about with all of my participants when we meet.  I'm the eldest daughter of a third or fourth generation minister, a Christian myself who wants to fight for social justice and especially for immigrants and my ESL students.  I stumbled into a PhD program not because I wanted the degree but because the stories I was hearing was something I became passionate about and wanted to enter into a conversation about religious identity, emerging adulthood and national rhetoric surrounding these things. 

 Sikes also reminds us that acknowledging the relationship between participant and research is also key(p. 13).  My relationship with all but one of the participants came about solely because of this study--I hadn't known them in advance.  It creates an interesting dynamic in our exchanges that I'm not always happy about because it feels somewhat inauthentic...but at the same time, the most difficult interviews have been with the participant I already knew because, well, we've talked about these things off the record before and I think she doesn't see any point in adding to it just for the sake of the recorder (and I understand that...but I also don't want to put words in her mouth based on half-remembered conversations!) 

The most helpful thing I can take away from Sike's (2010) article is this:  

“My bottom-line, acid test for whether or not I consider my own or other people’s research to be ethical is: how would I feel if I, members of y family or my friends were to be involved and treated and written about in the way that the research in question involves or treats or depicts its participants?”  (p. 14)

Ah HA.  This is where Laibel’s (2000) article, "A loving epistemology" that deals with white women researching people of color and ethics in narrative inquiry collide. From my own comprehensive exam addressing what place/role a white woman might have in critical race theory:

As cited in Julie Laible’s A Loving Epistemology (2000), [the following quote from bell hooks] challenged me as much as it challenged her, when hooks takes on the voice of the white researcher, saying:

No need to hear your voice when I can talk about you better than you can speak about yourself. No need to hear your voice. Only tell me about your pain. I want to know your story. And then I will tell it back to you in a new way. Tell it back to you in such a new way that it has become mine, my own. Rewriting you, I write myself anew. I am still author, authority. I am still the colonizer, the speaking subject, and you are now at the center of my talk. Stop. (pp. 152).

Much like the conclusions Laible (2000) reaches, I believe that I cannot truly research on the other—EVER—and feel justified in doing so.  Although traditionally it is perceived that one person writes a dissertation, this cannot be the case in my work, if it is to be done well.  If I am to let other voices be heard, I must hear them throughout the process of interviewing, transcribing, data analysis and in drawing conclusions.  I must learn to study with those I interview, see myself through their eyes, seek their insight and feedback on whatever I write.  As a White woman, it may be true that I will never truly understand in the eyes of some (Williams, 2004), but I will certainly try and do my best to listen, actively resisting the forces of racism”

I don’t think I gave enough space to other voices even in this conception—or maybe it was because as I was writing this, it was still just a proposal in the works or an idea.  When people actually began the interview process, I began to feel even more…adamant, I guess I’d say, about including them in every stage.  Every thing I’ve written so far has been sent to the person it’s about—and then we sit down for another interview so that I have their feedback, their voice.  More than anything, I want each person to feel like this is an empowering experience.  Hopefully, in any situation where I’ve taken over too much without acknowledging that it’s my voice, I’ll get pushback.  I know that’s the case with Ashley as we’ve worked together for almost three years now and with Amira and Rose who are very outspoken and great activists.  I do worry a bit about Hannah, as she doesn’t know me all that well and am not sure she feels comfortable with me.  I hope she’s not afraid to tell me off. 

My advisor had a brilliant idea about what we’d asked to do through IRB.  I’d originally thought a group interview might be a good idea, to draw out perhaps places where they all saw similarities or differences between their stories.  I realized how much that would change dynamics and findings though and how much, then, they might want to find similarities if phrased that way.  I’d told my advisor that I just wasn’t going to do it—having permission to do something via IRB doesn’t mean it HAS to happen.  She, however, encouraged me to do it towards the very end—and have them put me through a preliminary dissertation defense.  I would then present to them and any other family members who wanted to come along what I thought I’d found and walk through the regular process of a defense, but then have to answer their questions, concerns and anything else that might come up.  Intimidating?  Absolutely.  But in order to really, truly meet Sike’s (2010) acid test, what better way to do so than actually share this with my participants and their families before sharing it with anyone else? 

Stories and lives are intimate things and if we are going to share them in narrative form with others we’d better be awfully sure that we’re 1) being clear about our roles and biases as narrators and 2) not presenting an image of someone that they feel is inaccurate or do not wish to share.   

Language

One question that's really been at the forefront of my mind lately is "How does this all tie back into Education?"I received comments back on my AERA conference proposal and all were fairly positive, but all kept saying "We would like to see more clear ties to Education."

The connect--or at least one--came to me this morning as I was thinking about how all of my participants tie together.  3 of the 4 are second generation, and yet all three speak the language of land where their parents immigrated from.  In the twentieth century, this was practically unheard of.  America, the great "melting pot" was the place where you came, shed your former identity, and took on a new American identity and system of values.  It's really only been within the last 20 years or so that "pluribus" as Lessow-Hurley (2009) frames it has been accepted and encouraged.  This is what I noticed especially in Rose's narrative--talk about nurturing both an "American" and "Syrian" identity; an "American" and "Muslim" identity.  As Sapir-Whorf (1956?) theorized, language and culture are integrally linked, and all three second generation participants talked about the importance of learning the language in order to better understand the culture.

In the wake of World War I and II, schools lessened opportunities for foreign language learning as it was perceived as more of a threat than a boon.  Most foreign language programs and dual language programs were eliminated during this time as a result of growing isolationism and nationalism (Lessow-Hurley, 2009). Maintaining a home language was enough to make individuals seen as national threats. While English-Only movements still exist and receive some legislation, we have seen some attitudes again shift towards favoring multilingualism in the US. In an effort to strengthen national security, President George Bush launched the National Security Language Initiative (NSLI)  in 2006 to push for more foreign language study.  The initiative designated funding to support language instruction at every level of education, but it was never funded in the long run (Zehr, 2007).  As the department of Education in the state of Missouri recently stated (DESE, 2011), more students are now taking foreign language to help prepare them for a future in a more global society.

The success of the participants in my study and their comfort with multiple cultural identities should further encourage language studies.  Growing up in the 1980s when little foreign language support was available in schools, they learned through trips to their native countries (at least as often as every three years) and through six months to two year stints living in the country at some point during their young adult lives.  In each case, these times of living abroad were mentioned as transformative and valuable experiences, often leading to job opportunities in the US related to their foreign language abilities.

While I know that there is other information related to Education to be drawn out (including Rose's focus on storytellers as important educators in her life!) language and cultural knowledge gained through language learning seems a critical point in my mind.  If we want our children to learn and grow confident in who they are and how they understand the world, we must provide more opportunity and encouragement for language learning in our schools.

References:
DESE. (2011, Nov. 14).  Foreign language, world history classes are on the rise. 45 (103). Retrieved on November 29, 2011, from http://dese.mo.gov/news/2011/int-ed-week.htm

Lessow-Hurley, J. (2009).  The Foundations of Dual Language Instruction, 5th ed. New York: Pearson.

Zehr, M. S. (2007, August 1).  "Students get taste of 'national security languages.'" Education Week, p. 5, 12.

Letter to an Advisor that somewhat sums up the past two weeks....

Honestly?  Getting this (fellowship grant) would put me back on track at least mentally.  I'm not sure I'm behind on the timeline at all.  I got my second rejection on a job that I had been encouraged to apply for (and through a newsletter for the college, not even a 'thanks for your interest' letter), and now the Thailand trip may be postponed for a year.  I'm just having trouble transcribing my most recent interview (motivation-wise solely, as the technical pieces are working just fine) because I'm feeling discouraged to push for any sort of 'deadline' for the final product.  With no job possibilities on the horizon, it's hard to feel the urgency to finish. 


On a more positive note, I'm making progress with the newspaper articles and CDA portions.  I think I can finally "prove" some of those claims I tried to make last spring in the paper for our immigrants course.  My plan is to re-work that paper some before the end of the semester.  


Also, after re-reading some of the Narrative Inquiry materials, I think fewer subjects and more interviews/conversations is more authentic to the approach.  We can talk more about that later, but I do know that I now need to read Dewey's "Education and Experience"--who knew that he countered his earlier positions (in TCH ED 2211, we talk about Dewey's approach in "Democracy in Education" and the importance of preparing them to think and interact, focusing on respecting each other and looking at social problems, but that he didn't seem to focus on ways in which student's lives at home and experiences outside of the class matter in the class itself), saying that experience and understanding others' experiences IS the essence of education, and that the good educational research projects need to focus on experience. 


Therefore, their experiences and our interactions/experiences together need more attention and less categorization, I think.  While I definitely see a number of similarities that we can talk about in the discussion and even between the chapters, it's the individual stories that need some attention.  Each, at this point, are women from different countries and have different experiences--but ALL FOUR OF THEM have been involved in teaching at some point or another (and that's not how I met them or all of my sources met them), and that in itself seems very interesting when we get into the discussion and how this experience, identity, and education "puzzle" fits together :D

Anyway, that's where I'm at in a nutshell.  How are classes going for you this semester?  I'm looking forward to the December party/meeting and catching up with others again.

 --Emily

What Mona Simpson has to do with this

It's fairly safe to say that most people in the US were impacted by Steve Jobs.  Yes, I sit here typing on my ibook while my iphone charges and we have a few ipods lying around here too.  Technology is great and I'm thankful for the inventors of the world who bring these things to fruition.  However, as the eulogy for Jobs was released yesterday, it was his sister, Mona Simpson, who impacted me even more than the story of Jobs himself.  As she was talking about his last days, somewhere in the middle of her eulogy, she stated:
"We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories."(http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/30/opinion/mona-simpsons-eulogy-for-steve-jobs.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all)
You see, this journey began as a search for "the truth" and bringing injustices to light, and then shifted abruptly.  Words, even just a few of them, can do that.  I had gone to Dar al-Islam in New Mexico for a teacher's institute, not really knowing what I'd find other than some more knowledge about Islam and a few allies perhaps in my efforts to combat misinformation.  What I found was both friendship with my colleagues and a new and deeper appreciation for stories.  They stood out to me then and continue to stand out now as important markers along the journey.

“We have stories.  We all have Stories. Now I can give you stories.  Let me now ask your permission to travel with me on my mental highway about Islam in America.”—Dr. Suleyman Nyang,  Howard University Professor  and Dar Al-Islam  instructor"

It was here that I learned a bit about Tariq and Rehana who helped their father run the institute.  I learned about Tariq's adorable little boy at home who was about the same age as mine--and we'd talk to each other about them when feeling a little homesick.  I learned about Ali and his conversion experience, coming to the camp at 21 on a trip with his college class, and about his life in Morocco afterwards as he sought to learn more about his new faith and the language of the scriptures.  And then I heard Dr. Nyang talk about history as telling stories, and it was through his use of story that I was most struck; it was story that I remembered most when I left the institute and stories that still cling to my memory.  

I struggled for so long to make this a "legitimate" study with statistics and discourse methods and, yes, a lot of that is still present, but it's the STORIES for me that make this so important.  It's one of the oldest ways of transferring knowledge and providing education that we know of.  Scriptures tell the stories of faith and their impact--their "legitimacy" is in more than just who passed them down and how long they've been around--it's in their being there, weaving through other stories together that we begin to understand history, life, and ourselves.  

To Mona Simpson I must say that her words ring so true in my ears today--we all die in the midst of stories, in the midst of many stories.  The stories carry on and carry weight and carry importance.  Just a day after all saints day, I continue to sit and think about stories that have ended, but that yet continue because they threaded their way through my own story, and I couldn't help but pick up that story and weave it into my own life and approach to other people.  There are things each of us leave unfinished when we die (how can we not?  We never know when that might happen), but the story continues on.  

I like to think of scripture as not just a chronicle of time, but a love story between God and humans (yes, we're the inconsistent partner, but sometimes we really do try!) and it's a story of life, of learning and most of all a story of forgiveness and love.  I see the same threads running through the Torah, the Bible and the Qu'ran.  It's all a story of God and his love and our lives and faith--and it's a story in medias res, still being written, though many have lived and died in its midst.  It's a powerful story, often best shared by examining lives today, seeing how the scripture "threads" have crept into their lives, their living, and the ways in which they share their identities.  Thank you, Mona Simpson, for reminding me and others that we die in the midst of stories and the stories we all share matter. greatly. 

Rose

A week ago today, I had the opportunity to interview yet another core participant to my study.  She immediately began by asking me questions and we got to the subject of age.  I admitted that I'd be turning 30 in February and she said "Oh! You're only a month older than me then!"  As she's the first participant who's exactly my age or younger (all others have been a year or two older), it was a fun interview when it came to talking about significant events.  Her favorite TV shows as a kid were Muppet Babies and "that one on PBS where the mannequin comes to life?" "Today's Special!" I announced happily.  It was so interesting and nice to hear someone start by saying "I had a really happy childhood, where my parents let us eat junkfood and watch Saturday morning cartoons."

Other events that coincided for us both weren't as happy.  As she'd spent the first 12 or so years of her life "On the other side of the river" as we say here in MO, there was a significant event for BOTH of us.  She'd lived for two years in Saudi Arabia in late elementary school before returning to the same house, whereas I moved to IL for the first time.  I told her about how we'd taken an African-American friend to a movie theater and seen the ugly face of racism for the first time I could remember in my life.  She nodded, saying that that was right after the "First Iraq war" and that people started acting fearful of her and cases of racism really rose.

She married young--younger than I did, actually, in a sort of arranged marriage and then ended up going to Berkley for part of her undergrad degree (which, of course, made me a bit jealous).  She was actually there when 9/11 happened, and said laughing that people she met were kind and, if anything "would stop and ask me 'are YOU okay?'" because they knew about the hate crimes happening against Arabs and Muslims. She was already somewhat active in the community, but became more so, trying to dispell myths about Islam and Arabic speakers, reaching out into the community and joining many of the political protests at Berkley.

As she took a semester abroad in Syria and with previous experiences, she spoke Arabic fluently and after graduating with a BS, she ended up working for the "Mosaics" news from the middle east television program.  She translated stories from different countries (especially those within the "Middle East") and the program tried to represent multiple points of view on one or two events  every broadcast. Unfortunately, it was at this point that her marriage completely fell apart.  Her husband had asked for a separation before this, and she was hoping that it would help, along with some counseling.

When her parents found out, they insisted that she move back home, and her mom even came out to California to forcibly move her back.  She doesn't and didn't begrudge this at all, as she knew that the happiness at this point was only a facade. She moved home, and started trying to figure out  what to do with her life.  She volunteered with the local chapter of CAIR (Counsel on American-Islamic Relations) and with the Muslim Student Association.  She had an undergraduate degree in pre-med and her parents kept encouraging her to go to Med school. She fell in love with architecture and tried going to school for awhile for a masters in architecture, but found that she loved the design and beauty more than the laws, restrictions and long isolated hours that went along with it.  She ended up going back to school awhile later in public health, combining her love of being with people, translation skills, and medical background.  During her internship with the city public health office, she was the only Muslim woman working there and the only one who had worked there (or who wore hijab and was open about her beliefs).  She said one of her co-workers commented on how she was nervous around her at first, but all she had to do was watch her and see from Rose's demeanor and example that she had nothing to fear.  In fact, she was recently invited to speak at her supervisor's church during the education hour.

The part that struck me most about Rose is her natural speaking ability, poise, and ability to put others at ease.  Meeting under other circumstances, I think we could become fast friends.  Who knows?  Maybe we will.  I talked with her quite a bit about how this project is, in a way, a journey of faith for me as well and a search for a way to re-inliven a generation of Christians that's become completely quiet, fallen away because of hurt caused by the church, or joined the loudest voices that do not represent Christ's call to love their neighbors and care for the poor, widow and orphan.  I am embarrassed to say that I'd just thrown on some nicer looking clothes before leaving (sweats have become my 'uniform' as a mama lately), and the top ended up looking lower cut than I thought.  I hated that here we were talking about modesty and I looked a bit racy-er than is my norm ( I hope I didn't make her uncomfortable!)

Her item to help tell her story?  Her computer, saying that most of her pictures, her writings, journals, papers and her "life" was on that computer.  I know exactly how that feels as I sit here typing away, thinking about this project, and hoping that we get a chance to continue our conversation soon.

Coded talk and noticing

I'd never met her before, but we hit it off right away...I think.  I find it harder to tell with others who interview for a living like I do, as it's so hard not to be somewhat guarded and careful.  I arrived ten minutes early, ordered my spiced chai tea, set out my things and waited.  A blonde with medium length hair  in a ponytail came in and looked like she was waiting for someone, and sort of fit the description she'd given via email, but there was another tall blonde at the counter, wearing a black scarf (like she'd said in the email she might be if her kids didn't get it dirty before she came) and ordering tea.  The baristas asked the girl with the ponytail if she'd like something, and she said she was waiting for someone.  "K?"  I asked "That's me," said the woman with the chai tea and black scarf.  "Guess I'm waiting for someone else," said the girl with the ponytail as she smiled.   "I'm Emily.  It's nice to meet you," I told K and then pointed to her cup, "great minds think alike," I said.  She asked me a few questions and then apologized, "I'm sorry if I'm asking too many questions.  I'm just so used to it," she said.  "It's okay.  That's your job," I replied.

We ended up going outside where the coffee grinder wasn't so loud.  Like most of my interviewees, she was comfortable enough answering the questions and telling me about her experiences, but some of her thoughts and words stood out as those that hadn't been said before, but things that I'd thought.  When I asked her about the area, she said "some of the best things about St. Louis are also some of the worst things.  Most of the people I've talked to here have lived here their whole lives.  That tells me that it's a good community to raise a family and make a life...but it also makes it really hard for people who aren't from here."  She also talked about how "fragmented" and divided the area is, in terms of people groups settling into one area, not really moving much and perpetuating stereotypes about different areas.  She talked about how you'll hear people say things like "oh you live in North County?  Isn't that a dangerous area?  Why do you live there?"  And how, though it takes time, you start to realize that there's this "code," and St. Louisans are really good at speaking it, and often what they mean by how "dangerous" or "poor" North county is  relates to the racial makeup (most people seem to think that North County is almost all Black).  As both outsiders (she grew up in the state, but not this city), we joked about how nice it is to say that we DIDN'T go to high school here, as that removes us from some of the judgements and expectations about our socioeconomic status or prejudices.  

Coded talk is everywhere, and she said that media isn't really doing its job in unpacking terms and stereotypes (not just here, but on a national level) and that, in some ways, is why she says "Being Muslim is like the new black.  Replace that term with any other racial group--or even a sexual orientation--and people would be like, 'nuh huh.  You can't say that.  That's just wrong.'" 

I've been saying that for awhile, I think.  It's like 9/11 made everyone feel like it was acceptable to single out "Arabs" (ironically sometimes targeting folks who were Indian, Pakistani or even Latino because of assumptions about the way they looked)  and Muslims.  I've even heard that justified in some of these interviews because "we now have a reason to fear them." No matter how you code it, or how you justify it, IT'S NOT RIGHT.  Some say that they just have to "wait it out until the next group that poses a threat comes into focus."  What I really don't understand is why we have to 'code' anything or single out any group.  

The other aspect that stood out was when she was talking about her son.  Her husband is from South America, and so "my son is brown," she tells me, "and he notices. He asked me the other day if he was Indian, and I told him, 'well, you're father is half Indian, and you get half of you from me and half of you from your dad, so you're a quarter Indian.  I think he was really confused, but he wants answers."  I remarked that I thought the other kids probably talked about it (he has a very diverse preschool class that she'd been telling me about), and she said, "no, you know, I think he just notices."  He's FOUR and he notices that he's brown?  That he doesn't look like some of the other kids?  Again, my white privilege at work here, but I know I didn't 'notice' that I was different from other kids until later--probably middle of elementary school, and that's because we were talking about religion and someone mentioned talked about how Hinduism was a lot more prevalent in India where he was from.  I may be way off base here, but I can't help but think that noticing comes about when our attention is drawn to it by outside factors, whether they are "overt" or "covert."  K said the same thing--about overt and covert factors existing--in terms of racism experienced by Arabs post-9/11 and religious discrimination of Muslims post-9/11.  

Covert and coded best describes so much of what I've seen and still can't really put my finger on, though I'm getting closer (thanks to those who experience the discrimination and have spoken the truth about power and have spoken power to the truth!)  Will I be able to tell you in the end of this project something you didn't know before that changes how you see the world?  I don't know.  I do know, however, that I hope the stories will touch you--or that at least one will.  I hope to break down some of this coding and help others to notice ways in which they have avoided noticing or have made other individuals feel othered. 

Nerves, nerves--and odd realizations

I've been using the Panera Bread up the street from my son's preschool as an "office" for the past month or so.  Every time I'm here, one particular group of retirees seems to be here, and today I got up the nerve to ask them to participate in my study. They said yes--and then only one said he'd do it today while the others listened.  Yes, it was pretty nerve-wrecking.  I read it wrong--every time I thought he was done with an answer and would pause, I'd start the next question only to find he'd had something else he'd start to say and then stop. The interview only lasted five minutes and I'd heard him talk a LOT in the past.

At the end, he seemed REALLY nervous and asked if I was going to report him or something.  He'd said very little, if anything at all, that was even close to someone perceiving as 'offensive' (I'm hard to offend).  I said, "no, of course not."  He said that he believed that when it came down to it, everyone was "out for their race."  When I looked puzzled, he clarified "I mean, when it comes down to it, everyone will choose someone of their own race, their own religion, over others.  That's just the way of human nature."  He then said "I'd choose jewish people over Muslims, because at least Jews believe the same God."  I spoke up "Muslims believe in the same God."  "What about Mohammed?"  "He was a prophet. They believe he was the last prophet."  "Allah?"  "Yeah, God--Allah is just the Arabic word for God."  He was taken aback.  "You mean they believe in Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?"  Not wanting to really split hairs, I nodded (yes, I know Ishmael and not Isaac is considered the heir) "'cause that's the same God I believe in," he said.  "Are you Muslim?"  he asks.  I shake my head no.  "Are you Arab?" he asks and laughs.  I say "actually, you'd be surprised. some of the Palestinian women are much lighter skinned than me."  Of course, I accidentally opened a whole new can of worms with that. Unfortunately, I think I offended.  I wonder how he'd react if he knew I was a Christian.  I did try to interject that a bit when we talked earlier--about my son's preschool and my ESL work.

And for all of this?  The recorder was already turned off.  The formal interview was over anyway--and I can also tell that I don't think he or his friends might ever talk to me again.  Except one.  When I explained that this study started with my ESL students whose neighbors were afraid of them, one of his friends piped up.  "funny you mention neighbors.  Now that I think about it, there's a Nigerian couple that lives across the street that's Muslim.  We just say our hellos sometimes, but they mainly keep to themselves."  "How do you know they're Muslim?" I pressed a bit.  "My wife invited them over for dinner once, and they mentioned that they don't eat pork and a couple of other little signs."

It was nice to meet someone over 60 who seemed to connect with what I was saying.

Overall, though, the experience reminds me why in the past I've begin with saying that I'm a Christian woman just trying to talk about commonalities and not convert anyone.  It's funny to me, now, that it seems more important to start with this disclaimer when interviewing other Christians, and not when talking with Muslims.  How is it that my work seems more distrusted by people like me, than by those who have the most to fear about my intentions and writings?   This feels so odd.