Defying the Thrones of Social Science

Link to Medium page: https://gabriel-92857.medium.com/

“What is the meaning of this?” “Does this even count as research?” “Is this sociology?” “You haven’t even defined your terms yet!” “You have a validity problem here.” Said the chair of the sociology department at Traditions University, adjusting his glasses while breathing in with a concerned look.

“Well, I was just trying to tell a story. And not just a story, a story that means a lot to me and that will hopefully serve as an inspiration for many people out there. You see, I don’t want this to be just another research paper Dr. Grading, I want this to be something we have never seen before in this department. With your permission, I can publish this without having to abide by such strict rules!”

“I can’t let you do that. Sorry. We are sociologists and we have standards, we are not emotional healers for God’s sake.”

I hope you had fun reading that. And I invite you to read it once again, with a different perspective in mind. Try thinking about your own experience as a student and see if you can relate to what the main character is trying to do. All done? Well, if you’re like me, then this little interaction is something that I wish I had done during my studies as a sociologist. Let me explain.

Upon reading Carolyn Ellis’ “Evocative Autoethnography: Writing Emotionally About Our Lives,” I was mesmerized by her unique approach to sociological research. In fact, her studies were the first to utilize evocative autoethnography as a basis for research, that is, utilizing self-reflection in order to challenge the traditional norms of academia. It is a fascinating read. In it, Ellis makes use of various “pause points” where she interrogates not only her own credibility as a researcher, but also the demands of social scientific professionals, which she labels as the “sociological chorus.”

Here is an example of this approach:

I wanted to blend in with other students, who came from many locations and had led different lives than I. Like them, I wore the outfit of the day — faded, tight, bell­ bottomed (the more belied the better) blue jeans, preferably bought from an Army/Navy store; accentuated by my long, straight, stringy hair with a paisley bandana around the forehead; the image completed with a drab tee-shirt or nondescript sweatshirt, army green cloth backpack, and, of course, work boots. We formed a subculture and, for the most part, shared values as well, values that were not always consistent — the importance of education and career, living a meaningful and authentic life, doing one’s thing and letting it all hang out, telling it like it was, and participating in the youth movement.

Upset by my changes, my mother viewed my unshaven armpits and hairy legs as signs of my final demise. After reprimanding me for my “unclean” ways, she told me, “You’re just like that Patty Hearst.” Her comment signifies the different worlds we inhabited then better than a description could ever depict.

Skeptic 1 (They can come out of nowhere. This one is a middle-aged male dressed in a nondescript gray sport coat and tie retrieved from his father’s closet): “What does this have to do with reframing the narrative voice in terms of an autoethnographic approach? This is just a story.” (He looks to Sociological Chorus for approval, which he gets.)

Author (taking on her undergraduate class lecturing voice and belaboring the obvious): “All phases of our lives prepare us for who we become. While growing up in a small town led to an appreciation of local stories, being in college in the seventies fed my desire to find relevance and meaning in what I did, and supported rebelling against the status quo. The changes I went through in college stimulated my interest in studying personal transition and in rewriting and reconstructing identity.”

Skeptic 1 (now unsure how he should respond): “Oh.”

By doing this, Ellis achieved something that very few sociologists have been able to do in the past–intertwine emotions and feelings with the research, tell stories instead of setting clear boundaries, and adapting her words while steering away from the dominant discourse that we are so used to seeing.

So, what is the point in all this? Why should we not adhere to the standards of research, because if we don’t, what kind of education would we have? Stop. Look. Let’s go back to the interaction that I brought up at the beginning. Imagine you as the student, trying to use a story and lead emotionally instead of academically while your teacher brings you down to the earthly realms and commands you to choose the latter. Being as sensitive as I am, I think I would cry. But then I would question, over and over again, why we have these strict academic boundaries in place. Really, why can’t our emotions, feelings, thoughts, stories get in the way of our research? Why can’t it be part of our work? And again, why do we have to define everything?

I was only truly able to see the scope of this discussion after reading Ellis’ article. Her courage and tenacity as a pioneer in evocative autoethnography has to be given tremendous merit. Finally, I’ll leave you with this thought: The future of education and academia lies not on the ability of a student to dictate information using a dominant discourse, but on the willingness of that same student to use stories and lived experiences in order to democratize knowledge to all.

Thank you for reading!