The purpose of this blog site is for me to write about my thoughts across all the work I do, without any censorship. The blogs that exist prior to this post were not heavily edited or censored, I just want the freedom to not think about the ‘purpose’ of content or how it might impact the publisher. The thoughts here are very much my own and have no set purpose other than giving me an outlet to organise my thoughts and perhaps starting some conversations with anyone my thoughts resonate with.
Bit of background; I used to do a lot of community arts work and a bit of research and consultancy on the side (see my LinkedIn if you’re interested in what I did/do). Over the years I got more and more frustrated with the situations I was seeing over and over again. I realised I can either keep going, tired as I was, or I can try to deal with these systemic issues that are plaguing so many of the people I’m trying to love. I decided to try and ‘fix the thing’ – whatever that meant. So I moved to London.
My deepest fear is that I’ve left behind community arts work, a worthy and enjoyable way of life, to join researchers in informing policy & practice and that by doing so, I’m perpetuating the thing I think I’m fixing.
Let’s start with language.
Words like ‘vulnerable’ and ‘hard-to-reach’ are just ridiculous. So-called ‘vulnerable’ groups are some of the most robust, resilient and straight-talking individuals and communities you would ever have the privilege of meeting. And, “hard-to-reach”? You think it’s hard to reach them, as researchers? You’re having a laugh if you think they can reach us in our ivory tower. We decide if, when and how we want to research them. Though, we are led by clients on a lot of that. But, y’know, most people don’t see the difference between us and the clients we serve. We’re all one level of wider, privileged, society that writes the narrative about who they are, what their experience is and what they need. I’m sincerely terrified of doing the marginalising, more so than I was of being marginalised – though, obviously, that wasn’t especially pleasant either.
Here’s an example. I’m a care leaver. I’m a researcher, a sound engineer and a musician. I’m 30. But in any work I’m doing that addresses the care system, I usually acknowledge that I’m a care leaver and a number of people treat me … weirdly. “Gosh you’ve done ever so well, considering…” In those rooms I’m like the young people they work with, not a professional who is frankly very good at her job. And then, I am like the young people they work with – not a professional. It’s fascinating to observe myself shrinking and it takes work after an interaction like that to pull myself back up to who I am now. Language links to perception links to identity.
Language gets in people’s heads and shapes their experiences, and it can cause serious damage. When will they have the opportunity to unpick it if they’re not in therapy or supported by smart and understanding friends? I got lucky.
Now, practice.
Everyone seems to be very focused on deficit. I understand that what we’re often looking at is a problem that needs solving, and I’m all for naming the thing and then trying to solve it. Trouble is, we’re labelling people through our processes. There are inaccurate assumptions and well-meaning egotism everywhere. You’ve got the smarts and the answers to solve the problems for the ‘lesser’ people. You’re even going to invite them to be part of YOUR process. Go you.
I won’t pretend for a second that I haven’t been guilty of indulging my ego.
When I was a community musician I was often swanning about caught up in the identity I was creating for myself, i.e. a person that does good stuff for others because I’m good.
It was about me. I like to think that years of meditation and self-reflective practice have made me at least somewhat more humble, self-aware and useful. We’ll see.
If we’re creating all of these labels with all these assumptions attached, we’re perpetuating a view of self as ‘less than’ rather than supporting and empowering someone to overcome whatever holds them back. “You are this and that means this” gets stuck in people’s heads. “You can’t do this” leads to “I can’t do this”.
Instead, I support an individual needs-based approach and asset-based thinking when engaging with these so-called vulnerable people, in fact, with any people. Let’s not say x group needs this, or x group are like this so we’ll do this. Let’s start with whatever thing we’re doing and just focus on the practicals of what’s needed.
Let’s not separate people when it’s not necessary. Bringing a group of people with shared experiences together can produce more relevant and useful outputs and a better participant experience where they feel safe, relatable and understood (not gawped at and pitied by the general public who are shocked by tales of systemic discrimination and cruelty) – I’m not condemning that, but I am saying let’s think on what when, and why.
Let’s think about what everyone can do together and start there. Like, why do a shared poster with one large-print version when you can just make the poster large-print? Inclusive thinking should be inherent, not an add-on. I mean, who is this ‘vulnerable’ person we need to accommodate separately to everyone else anyway.
Vulnerable compared to who? Who is this mystical being with perfect vision, hearing, mental and physical health and cognitive ability of the appropriate age, cultural background and economic standing? Who is this ‘able’ and ‘correct’ person that the world is built for that we’re measuring ourselves against?
I suppose, what’s really bothering me is that research is so extractive. It comes in with it’s pre-determined agenda and context, asking questions that come from pre-existing biases, assumptions and narratives. Then, it extracts information from participants with no real understanding of the impact it might have on that person.
If you label someone as poor, then do research on their lives to better understand what they need to be healthier and happier, it probably has some value – if it’s actionable and the experience makes them feel heard (rather than boxed in with rigid discussion guides). But, by labelling them and digging into the reality of their lives, while they know full well that you live a life of privilege, you’re probably going to leave them feeling vulnerable, depressed, more acutely aware of their circumstances than before and like they’ve just been prodded in a lab by an intrigued scientist.
I hated feeling like an observed ‘thing’ when I was a child, while everyone tried to figure out what was going on and how to ‘solve’ some elusive problem I was never informed of. No-one just sat down with me, putting their eye-line level with mine, and asked me what I wanted until I was 16. No-one working with me or living with me ever, at any point, told me what the problem they were investigating was – I figured that out in my twenties.
I want to acknowledge that. I want research to be a positive experience for people. I want research to empower people. I want to stop writing narratives on behalf of people and start writing narratives with people. I want to be worthy of trust.
I know I’m just ranting and there’s a balance to be struck. This is research, not advocacy or social work. Still, research could be a shared learning/doing experience that’s positive for everyone, not just a thing that academics and consultants ‘do’.
Doing some reading. Doing some thinking. Back soon.
