Kamden K. Strunk, Leslie Ann Locke - Research Methods For Social Justice and Equity in Education-Springer International Publishing - Palgrave Macmillan (2019)
Kamden K. Strunk, Leslie Ann Locke - Research Methods For Social Justice and Equity in Education-Springer International Publishing - Palgrave Macmillan (2019)
Kamden K. Strunk, Leslie Ann Locke - Research Methods For Social Justice and Equity in Education-Springer International Publishing - Palgrave Macmillan (2019)
Methods for
Social Justice
and Equity
in Education
Edited by
Kamden K. Strunk · Leslie Ann Locke
Research Methods for Social Justice and Equity
in Education
Kamden K. Strunk • Leslie Ann Locke
Editors
This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
Contents
v
vi Contents
Terminology������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 295
Index������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 305
Notes on Contributors
ix
x Notes on Contributors
Aaron R. Tolbert, PhD, currently serves as the Dean of Liberal Arts at SUNY
Schenectady County Community College. He also serves as the college co-chair for
the Achieving the Dream Core Team. He holds a PhD in Higher Education from the
University of Maine, and an MA in English from the University of Vermont.
Tolbert’s research interests are highly varied, including discourse, policy analysis,
agency, access to higher education, and equity in higher education.
Fig. 14.1 “Discipline from the teachers can be difficult because sometimes
the guys (or girls) in the class don’t want to listen”������������������������ 170
Fig. 14.2 “Students seem more focused and on-task”������������������������������������ 172
Fig. 14.3 “In a unisex class, we always thought that we were bigger than
each other. Our egos were high”����������������������������������������������������� 172
Fig. 17.1 Within-group student shutoff along the Advanced Placement
curriculum pipeline. Source: Civil Rights Data Collection, pooled
school years of 2011–12 and 2013–14�������������������������������������������� 210
xv
List of Tables
xvii
Introduction
xix
xx Introduction
We hope this textbook helps to guide students and researchers through the most
typical sequence of questions they generate while exploring research for social jus-
tice and equity. In addition, the rationale for and structure of this book is guided in
part by focus group interviews with current and former students. We have both
taught these courses and debriefed with students the kinds of materials they would
have found most helpful in the course. Thus, our goal was to create a textbook struc-
ture that meets most of those needs.
There are also a number of instructional supplements included in the text. One
such supplement is that most authors have suggested further readings related to their
chapters. A book like this is, necessarily, more of a survey text, and will not fully
explore the depths of any theory or methodology. But we suggest that students who
find they resonate with a particular approach that is introduced in this text take the
next step of exploring the suggestions for further reading. These authors have
thoughtfully selected readings that would help someone learn more and go deeper
with their content. In addition to those suggestions for further reading, we have also
collaborated with the chapter authors to produce a terminology section, found at the
end of this text. That terminology section defines many terms and we hope provides
some clarity on commonly misunderstood terms. Finally, we provide an index at the
end of the text. We hope that is helpful in cross-referencing the ways that different
approaches take up the same kinds of issues and problems. We appreciate the time
and thought that the authors included in this textbook have taken to explain their
approaches to research for social justice and equity in education. Below we provide
a brief synopsis of each chapter.
Meagan Call-Cummings and Karen Ross explore how researchers might
engage in reflexivity. The authors engage in reconstructive horizon analysis (RHA),
which is an approach for examining taken-for-granted claims made by ourselves
and our research participants. They find that by engaging in RHA, we build moments
for dialogue and communication into the research process that allow assumptions,
structures, and roles to be made explicit.
Laura Parson outlines the ethical concerns and potential methodological obsta-
cles that can occur when conducting research with underrepresented, marginalized,
or minoritized groups. Prioritizing the implications of conducting this research as a
member of a dominant group and/or with privileged outsider status, she describes
key methodological strategies to use when conducting social-justice-oriented
research to address or mitigate ethical concerns and methodological obstacles.
Elena Aydarova notes that social justice research most often focuses on the
voices, experiences, and practices of underserved and marginalized groups. While
this focus produces important insights, it disregards the actions of those in power
who create and maintain systems of inequality and injustice in the first place. To
address this gap, she examines methodological approaches for studying up or
researching the powerful. It describes the challenges faced by researchers who
study those in power, such as problems of access, interview pitfalls, dangers in data
analysis and interpretation, ethical concerns, and dissemination of findings. She
also provides suggestions for how researchers can address those challenges.
Introduction xxi
Kenzo K. Sung and Natoya Coleman note that critical race theory (CRT) is
now a prominent framework for critical scholarship on race and racism in the field
of education. They trace CRT’s trajectory in educational research and analyzing the
significance of its legacy, and provide an alternative framework to analyze how rac-
ism is institutionalized through research-based or legalized “truths” that too often
continue to perpetuate the oppression of minoritized communities. Further, they
illuminate the significance of critical race analysis in educational research and the
implications to reframe current discussions regarding the relation of research and
the struggle for social justice.
Christian D. Chan, Sam Steen, Lionel C. Howard, and Arshad I. Ali explore
the complexities of queer theory and how it might integrate with and diverge from
intersectionality. They suggest ways in which to use both theoretical approaches in
educational research, as well as implications for studying genders and sexualities in
education.
Kamden K. Strunk and Jasmine S. Betties provide an introductory overview
of critical theory. They particularly work to differentiate this theoretical approach
from other similarly named approaches such as critical race theory. They explain
some of the basic concepts of critical theory and how those might be applied in
educational research.
Danielle T. Ligocki notes that understanding the power that research holds to
advance the need for social justice and equity is a crucial step in making real societal,
institutional, and educational change. In her chapter, she sought to explain Zygmunt
Bauman’s theory of liquid modernity and provide a new understanding regarding
how this theory works to frame and explain this current historical moment and how
all areas of society have been impacted, but specifically the work of the researcher.
Lucy E. Bailey offers reflections on emancipatory research methods and exam-
ples of maneuvers in feminist qualitative methodology that are oriented toward
social justice, crystallizing in the specific space, time, and moment of inquiry. She
casts a critical eye on “social justice methods,” and argues that all researchers are
subject to shifting forms of normalization and that we should work toward keeping
methods as contingent and dynamic, to serve educational projects with varied alle-
giances and aims.
Leslie Ann Locke has two chapters in this volume. In the first chapter, based on
her experiences teaching introductory qualitative methods courses, she highlights
some of the questions students who are new to qualitative methods struggle with in
her courses. Specifically, she identifies ideas around objectivity and multiple truths,
generalizability, positionality, and ambiguity as particular areas where students are
challenged. In the second chapter, she details human subjects review and its pur-
pose, some of the processes associated with applying for institutional review board
(IRB) approval for research studies involving human subjects, and the main ele-
ments required of an IRB application.
Shiv R. Desai discusses youth participatory action research (YPAR) to chal-
lenge traditional social science research as it teaches young people how to inquire
about complex power relations, histories of struggle, and the consequences of
oppression directly related to their lives. Additionally, Desai explains the central
xxii Introduction
critiques of YPAR and provides insights and challenges from a YPAR study with
system-involved youth.
Elizabeth J. Allan and Aaron R. Tolbert discuss policy discourse analysis
(PDA) which draws from critical and poststructural theories to provide researchers
with an approach to identifying dominant discourses shaping policy problems and
solutions. They define PDA, describe the conceptual principles of the approach, and
detail the research methods for implementation of a PDA study. Examples of studies
employing PDA are used to illustrate the utility of the approach.
Jeff Walls and Samantha E. Holquist highlight the promise of photo elicitation-
based data collection to authentically leverage student voice in research on policy and
school improvement in ways that promote equity and critical social justice. These
authors highlight methodological choices researchers must make in utilizing photo
elicitation, and how these choices bear on the equity implications of this method.
Susan Cridland-Hughes, McKenzie Brittain, and S. Megan Che explore a
critical version of photovoice to describe a study of single-sex middle school class-
rooms in a small school in the Southeast (a term used by the school district). They
share a critical analysis of the implementation of photovoice and their imperfect
research process. Their analysis is guided by recommendations by members of his-
torically marginalized communities for reframing research to be collaborative and
responsive to community needs.
James S. Wright argues that life history methodology can be used as a counter
to traditional research methodologies and provides space to collect and analyze data
in a way that counters past traditions. He notes that life history provides real oppor-
tunities for educational researchers to develop new knowledge by listening to and
validating the experiences of the most vulnerable populations. Life history chal-
lenges the idea of a universal truth—stemming from Eurocentric positionalities.
Kamden K. Strunk and Payton D. Hoover note that quantitative methods, both
in their historical and contemporary use, have been mobilized from hegemonic,
positivist perspectives with implicit assumptions of whiteness and cisheteropatriar-
chy. In their chapter, they highlight some of the historical, theoretical, and practical
challenges in using quantitative methods in equity-oriented scholarship and suggest
practical ways to humanize those methods.
Heather E. Price argues that large-scale datasets allow for the tracking of per-
sistent patterns of inequality and inequity in education. In her chapter, she demon-
strates how inequality in students’ learning opportunities compound in high schools
through the use of the Civil Rights Data Collection (CRDC) of Advanced Placement
(AP) and International Baccalaureate (IB) curricula to demonstrate how a four-part
chain of events in curriculum opportunities exacerbate inequality of education in the
US. She works to move forward the educational opportunity and tracking d iscussions
in the twenty-first century to understand the nested spaces of opportunity along cur-
ricular pipelines.
Carli Rosati, David J. Nguyen, and Rose M. Troyer demonstrate how campus
maps tend to illustrate places and spaces, and also hold stories and experiences that
may alienate students. They share how pairing campus maps with a semi-structured
interview protocol can yield new insights into campus life.
Introduction xxiii
ized to follow rules, not to draw attention to herself, and not cause trouble. She
further describes how she came to understand herself as a scholar who works inten-
tionally to create a more socially just version of higher education while also being
in tension with the idea that higher education is itself inherently unjust.
Erica R. Dávila reflects on her research trajectory, which is rooted in collabora-
tion, community, and collectives. She includes a discussion of her development as a
scholar-activist and her work with justice-centered research projects. Overall, she
highlights her work with and for our people, lived experiences grounded in struggle
and hope, and the power that schools and universities have to liberate as well as
oppress.
While there are scholars from a broad mix of educational fields, and who apply
a variety of methodological approaches in their work, included in this textbook, we
do not intend this to be a comprehensive treatment. Rather, we hope it is the begin-
ning of a conversation, and that students and faculty are able to go deeper with
methods and theories that resonate with them through the suggestions for further
reading. Further, we hope Research Methods for Social Justice and Equity in
Education is useful for faculty and graduate students alike, as they conduct their
work, and that it provides a meaningful exploration of social justice and equity-
related research across educational contexts.
Meagan Call-Cummings and Karen Ross
Over the past 20 years, much discussion and debate in methodological literature has
revolved around reflexivity: what it means, what it looks and feels like, and how it
is best “done.” Linda Finlay and Gough, in her (2008) edited volume, Reflexivity: A
Practical Guide for Researchers in Health and Social Sciences, defines reflexivity
as “thoughtful, self-aware analysis of the intersubjective dynamics between
researcher and the researched” (p. ix), acknowledging that “reflexivity both chal-
lenges treasured research traditions and is challenging to apply in practice” (p. ix).
M. Call-Cummings (*)
George Mason University, Fairfax, VA, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
K. Ross
University of Massachusetts Boston, Boston, MA, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
Guillemin and Gillam (2004) advocate for a kind of reflexivity that they connect
to the concept of “ethics in practice” (p. 262). They suggest that ethical engagement
in the research process requires a constant monitoring of the ethical implications of
one’s choices as a researcher. This practice of continuous scrutiny—of relationships
between researcher and participant, research context, and the purposes of research,
in addition to methods—is, in Guillemin and Gillam’s view, a form of reflexivity.
This idea expands the role of reflexivity beyond the examination of epistemo-
logical aspects of research, to its use as a conceptual tool for understanding how
researchers might exercise ethical practice in research. Guillemin and Gillam (2004)
say that researchers should develop ways to address and respond to ethical issues
that arise in the research process. By so doing, researchers can prepare for potential
problems and even prevent them. Framing reflexivity as a skill in this way—the
ability to recognize and effectively navigate ethically important moments—is excit-
ing, but still begs the question: how? How can researchers examine and account for
their positionalities in research that works toward equity and social justice? And
when? Is reflexivity only called for upon completion of a study? Or, like Milner
(2007) and Pillow (2003) seem to suggest, is there something about the role of
reflexivity that demands its use throughout the process of knowledge production?
Lastly, we ask, with whom? Finlay and Gough (2008) is explicit that reflexivity
allows intersubjective understandings and dynamics between and among the
researcher and the researched to emerge. Yet the literature on reflexivity as a whole
emphasizes internal introspection focused on oneself, thus leaving it unclear how
self-reflection might occur in a way that opens up possibilities for position-taking
and deeper intersubjective understanding of meaning.
According to Carspecken (1996), who bases his work in Habermas’ (1984, 1985)
Theory of Communicative Action, the implicit reasons behind an action or com-
municative claim fall into one of four categories of validity claims: objective (based
on the principle of multiple access), subjective (based on the principle of unique
access by the communicator), normative-evaluative (relating to norms by which we
operate in a given society or culture), or identity claims (references by the commu-
nicator to who that person is in the world); these reasons also differ based on “how
immediately they are referenced in the original act (foregrounded) or how remotely
they are referenced (backgrounded)” (p. 111). RHA is an approach for examining
taken-for-granted claims made by ourselves and our research participants that
allows us to locate the source of discomfort that is central to reflexivity.
We offer four examples from our fieldwork to highlight how this can be done.
Our use of RHA entails the creation of what Carspecken (1996) refers to as a valid-
ity horizon, which puts into explicit discourse the tacit validity and identity claims
articulated in a specific communicative act.
Example 1
By reconstructing the validity claims and identity claims in this example, we can
better understand the discomfort I experienced in this conversation and its source
(Table 1.1). In particular, the source of this discomfort can be addressed through a
validity horizon focusing in the statement,
But, anyway, for me, it was a long time ago, and the way I see things now is not the same
way that I saw things then. Today if I were in the same position I am sure that I would not
enlist. But it’s something that…it’s a process that takes time, for everyone.
1 Re-positioning Power and Re-imagining Reflexivity: Examining Positionality… 7
Using RHA to create a validity horizon allows for a much better understanding of
where my discomfort, as a researcher, came from, as well as my own normative
beliefs and the role they played in creating discomfort. Although this validity hori-
zon focused on a comment I had made, the tacit claims it put into explicit discourse
highlight how in the process of speaking these words, I was engaged in a process of
trying to reconcile my perspective with Bayan’s, based on my presumed under-
standing of her position. Specifically, the italicized subjective, normative-evaluative,
and identity claims illustrate a situation where my desire for authentic interaction
with Bayan stood in tension with my sense of self as an honest individual. Ultimately,
it is difficult to know whether my response facilitated or mitigated a sense of com-
fort on Bayan’s part to express herself honestly; however, the validity horizon makes
clear the different pulls on my sense of accountability to her as a research partici-
pant and to myself in the process of data collection.
Example 2
were not explicitly attended to. Overall, they felt like the project did not live up to
its full potential. Conducting these interviews became an opportunity to reflect on
what happened, understand each other’s perspectives on what maybe went wrong,
and plan for more ethical work in the future. During my interview, Marie, my
research assistant, asked me about the expectations I had coming into the project
(Table 1.2).
Marie: So you said your expectations were kind of undefined, when you went in. But what
did you hope to gain from it, or what was your objective in joining?
Meagan: This is probably really selfish, but as a new faculty member, honestly I was just
trying to get into a school or into a space. I was trying to start research and hit the ground
running. Coming here as a new assistant professor. Trying to get contacts in schools,
start working with you, you guys as students, doctoral students. Get some research
under my belt. That type of thing. I mean, of course I love photovoice, and of course I
wanted to work with students, but I think that was kind of secondary or different than
really just wanting to get into schools and start—start doing good research.
The act of constructing this RHA table allowed me to see the validity claims that I
had taken for granted when I was speaking. When I spoke these words, I was aware
that I was speaking about professional priorities. After examining the horizon of
these claims, however, I realized that I was also indicating my lack of intentionality,
thoughtfulness, and transparency as I took the project on. This realization makes me
extraordinarily uncomfortable, even now as I write. I see an implied act of power in
my original dismissal of my lack of thoughtfulness and intentionality as I put my
own needs ahead of the needs of my students. Engaging in RHA allowed me to see
my actions and understand the justification of those actions from others’ positions.
Through this exercise, I clarified my need to be accountable not only to my own
professional needs but also to those of my students.
The preceding examples are meant to illustrate that researcher engagement with
RHA can allow for a better understanding of one’s own positionality (through the
process of making backgrounded validity claims explicit), as well as for articulating
points of tension in the data collection (and larger research) process that can shape
the validity of findings. RHA is useful not only for making explicit issues of power
and other taken-for-granted claims that arise in research contexts but also for
position-taking and thus making the reflexive process more dialogically oriented.
Yet, we wonder about the challenge of using RHA in a fully democratized and
dialogic way that moves the researcher and the researched toward greater intersub-
jective understanding. In our experience, the use of RHA almost always happens as
a retrospective or reflective/reflexive analytical exercise (i.e., after “being in the
moment” of discomfort in a fieldwork situation). Engaging in this analysis allows us
to learn from what has happened in the past, and even potentially think about how
we can “do better” the next time around as a result of what has been learned. But, if
we think back to Guillemin and Gillam’s (2004) idea that, by building the skill of
reflexivity, researchers can prepare for and even prevent moments that are ethically
troubling, we wonder how RHA might offer a clear path for examining and account-
ing for our own positionalities “in the moment”? Is that even possible? And how can
engaging in RHA “in the moment” and with our participants build a stronger inter-
subjective understanding of each other’s positions and positionalities?
One possibility we suggest is to use RHA not only as a tool for better understand-
ing one’s positionality in an intersubjective way but also as a tool that can help us be
more accountable to our participants. Specifically, we suggest that RHA might
become a part of a multilayered member checking process, and thus a basis for
dialogue and a more explicit position-taking process with our participants. In the
following examples, we illustrate situations where we believe dialogic engagement
with RHA could potentially have been used as the basis for developing a deeper
understanding of our own and our research participants’ perspectives.
10 M. Call-Cummings and K. Ross
Example 3
In 2012, I (Meagan) conducted several interviews with people in Jamaica who were
involved in peace education, either as teachers, principals, school counselors, non-
profit staff members, or other members of civil society. Principal Nathan, the prin-
cipal of a high school renowned for students that “behaved badly,” agreed to be
interviewed but did not want to have her interview audio recorded. Therefore, I
wrote notes during the interview and then wrote up everything I remembered imme-
diately following the interview. Any verbatim speech I had captured in my notes
were set off in italics:
She is talking about talking to teachers, giving them advice on how to treat difficult stu-
dents. Treat the issue like a Doberman or (other dog, comments missed) comes to attack
you. Don’t show your fear. Treat it with authority. Spare the rod, spoil the child.
I beat. You can write that. (A few seconds pass as she talks more.) My warning: I’m not
going to back off from any student. (She puts more force into the word “any” with more
volume, and more depth, as if she’s punching someone with her voice.)
Pickney fi’ afraid of adult.
I emailed the notes to Principal Nathan for her comments. She responded to the sec-
tion above:
Thank you for sending this to me. It seems like you are doing good work; however, your
notes indicate that you possibly do not understand Jamaica or the children I am charged
with educating and controlling as well as you might think. The only words you wrote down
or remembered paint a picture of me as a person who only wants control or vengeance.
Although I knew she might have been upset seeing the transcription and notes, I was
still taken aback by her comments. I did not know what to do. Now, I envision work-
ing through an RHA on her comments emailed back to me to try and take Principal
Nathan’s perspective (position-take) to understand better points where there has
been a breakdown in meaning and thus in validity (Table 1.3).
After working through the process of parsing out the various validity claims
implicit in her statements, I attempted to try to take Principal Nathan’s position so
as to understand better her perspective instead of jumping to my conclusions and
feeling defensive. Doing so, and narrowing in on the backgrounded normative and
identity claims Principal Nathan may have implied through her email, I clarified for
myself the possible justifications she may have made for her words. Looking back,
I could have delved deeper into my assumptions through RHA and then met with
Principal Nathan to discuss the backgrounded claims and taken-for-granted assump-
tions I had uncovered. In this way I could have engaged more dialogically, reaching
toward intersubjective understanding. Discussing these assumptions with Principal
Nathan would have also enabled her to comment on my interpretation of her words
and mitigate the power imbalance that exists when researchers make monological
decisions about the meaning of their participants’ statements.
Example 4
At the end of one of my (Karen’s) interviews when living in Tel Aviv conducting my
dissertation research, Neta, the woman I had spent the evening conversing with,
offered me a ride part-way back to my apartment. As we sat in the car, we spoke
about my research, and I mentioned that some participants had told me they enjoyed
the opportunity to reflect on some aspects of their lives. Neta nodded her head and
then said to me, “The reason I agreed to do this interview was because I knew it
would help you out, and I’m the type of person who helps people out, always.”
Neta’s statement gave me pause. I found myself wondering, what did her state-
ment suggest about the authenticity of her words? About the power dynamic
between us? What should I take away from what she said? A validity horizon helped
clarify my understanding of Neta’s comment (Table 1.4).
It was only through going through the process of creating this validity horizon
and attempting to understand Neta’s position better that I had a sense of why her
statement gave me pause: the highlighted mid-grounded and backgrounded
normative-evaluative claims, and the backgrounded subjective claim, clarified for
me what I understood to be Neta’s perspective, and helped me realize that I had not
spent sufficient time considering my own perspective on what the benefits of
research participation should be and for whom. Engaging in the process of RHA,
therefore, helped me clarify my perspectives on this issue. However, had I shared
this validity horizon with Neta, I believe it would have been the basis for a rich
dialogue about shared assumptions and misunderstandings that would have both
allowed for a more accurate interpretation of her words and provided Neta with an
opportunity to participate in the process of meaning-making and interpretation. In
other words, using this validity horizon as the basis for a joint conversation could
have served as a powerful tool for democratizing the meaning-making process that
is an inherent part of interpretive research.
Conclusion
The examples above point to the utility of RHA as a tool for carrying out the
“engaged reflection and representation” that Milner (2007) suggests is necessary for
better understanding issues of power and self-interest. In particular, we believe
RHA is an important tool because it requires researchers to position-take with
respect to their research participants. This makes RHA unique as a tool for reflexiv-
ity, which generally occurs only as an introspective, self-focused exercise where
researchers better aim to understand their perspectives. Because RHA requires
making explicit the backgrounded claims that are central to one’s understanding of
both self and others, it moves us closer toward a communicatively based, intersub-
jectively structured understanding of meaning and process of sensemaking. Thus,
RHA not only deepens the process of reflection but it also enables a potentially
more accurate understanding of meaning and thus a more precise interpretation in
the (intersubjective) analytical process.
We suggest that beyond its utility for researchers, moreover, RHA can be used to
democratize the analytical process itself if used as part of member checking with
participants. While it is not necessarily possible for us to engage in RHA during
specific moments of fieldwork, it is possible for us to share and engage in dialogue
about validity horizons with our research participants. Doing so provides an oppor-
tunity for participants thus to be part of the conversation about the assumptions that
are made, and therefore to address the power imbalance that generally exists within
the interpretive process. By engaging in RHA, we build moments for dialogue and
communication into the research process that allow taken-for-granted assumptions,
structures, and roles to be made explicit (Call-Cummings, 2017). Thus, this process
carries with it the potential to enhance the validity of our interpretations as well as
of the larger meaning-making projects in which we are engaged.
1 Re-positioning Power and Re-imagining Reflexivity: Examining Positionality… 13
Berger, R. (2015). Now I see it, now I don’t: Researcher’s position and reflexivity in
qualitative research. Qualitative Research, 15(2), 219–234. https://doi.
org/10.1177/1468794112468475
This article is useful because it explicitly addresses how a researcher’s social posi-
tion, lived experiences, and beliefs interact with the process of reflexivity.
Chan, A. (2017). Reflection, reflexivity, reconceptualisation: Life story inquiry and
the complex positionings of a researcher. Reconceptualizing Educational
Research Methodology, 8(1), 27–39. https://doi.org/10.7577/rerm.2544
This is an example of reflection and reflexivity that can be useful, especially for
those just starting to engage in qualitative inquiry, as well as for those interested in
learning new approaches to become more reflexive.
Note
1. We use pseudonyms for all individuals referenced in this chapter, in order to protect
confidentiality.
References
Laura Parson
Abstract In this chapter, I outline the ethical concerns and potential methodologi-
cal obstacles that can occur when conducting research with underrepresented, mar-
ginalized, or minoritized groups. Prioritizing the implications of conducting this
research as a member of a dominant group and/or with privileged outsider status, I
describe key methodological strategies to use when conducting social justice-
oriented research to address or mitigate ethical concerns and methodological obsta-
cles. Finally, I describe strategies for the ethical use and reporting of research
findings by providing examples of existing and proposed social justice research
projects.
Conducting research through a social justice lens is key to identify and explore the
factors that marginalize and minoritize underrepresented groups and individuals.
Historically, however, research procedures and reporting have often served to rein-
force and exacerbate the marginalization of research participants and members of
marginalized groups even when research was conducted with the intent of “helping”
them (Goodkind & Deacon, 2004). Considering positionality allows one to identify
how the research process has the potential to marginalize research participants and
perpetuate structural and systemic discrimination of the researched population. By
interrogating one’s role, placement, and motivation, identifying one’s positionality
prompts researchers to explore the power and privilege inherent in one’s identity.
This consideration allows researchers to make decisions to mitigate the pitfalls of
conducting research with marginalized groups, which includes an evaluation of if
one is positioned such that they should not be conducting that research.
L. Parson (*)
Auburn University, Auburn, AL, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
Positionality
To understand the potential harms that come from doing research on marginalized
populations without considering power/privilege, it is important to understand posi-
tionality and how to identify one’s positionality in the research process. Suffla,
Seedat, and Bawa (2015) define positionality as “the researcher’s social location,
personal experience, and theoretical viewpoint, the relational and institutional con-
texts of the research, and the bearing of these elements on the research process
itself” (p. 16). Thinking about and identifying one’s position in the research process
is the first step toward understanding the impact of personal bias, because one’s
position limits them from seeing things from the perspective of someone in a differ-
ent position: “One’s position in the field is situated within a social hierarchy vis-à-
vis other groups and individuals with regard to class, gender, ethnicity, and race,
each of which potentially limits or broadens one’s understanding of others”
(Milgram, 2012, pp. 178–179). One’s position impacts how a researcher anticipates
participant needs in the research process, crafts research questions that truly seek to
understand the participant’s lived experiences and interprets participant’s words.
To begin the process of considering positionality, one starts by identifying the
salient and non-salient aspects of personal identity and the power and privilege
embedded in the intersection of one’s salient identities. The process of identifying
one’s position rejects the idea of a post-racial, post-feminist society. While one’s
identity, and therefore their positionality, is not limited to race, it is important that
one first acknowledges that race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, and other identities do
exist:
Colorblindness is a complex ideology in which White people are taught to ignore race, a
stance that ends by reinscribing existing power relations that privilege White people.
Colorblindness maintains that race does not exist as a meaningful category and posits that
the benefits accrued to White people are earned by (gifted) individuals rather than system-
atically conferred. (Gordon, 2005, p. 281)
Ignoring the power and privilege that come along with racial identity and per-
ceived racial identity virtually ensures that the research one conducts will, at the
very least, perpetuate the marginalization of minoritized groups: “By pretending
18 L. Parson
relations may have conditioned them to see the world in ways that reproduce the
goodness of their values, characteristics, and culture. That understanding of the
world will impact the research process and knowingly or unknowingly impose that
worldview on the data and those from whom the data originate.
To understand the identities of marginalized groups, it is important to understand
the history of how they have been exploited and marginalized. Returning to The
Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, the Lacks family has been exploited multiple
times by researchers or people claiming to want to help the family or tell their story.
Understanding how the Lacks family had been victimized in the past could have
helped Skloot to approach the family differently or, perhaps, led her to reconsider
the research project completely so that she did not contribute to their exploitation.
In addition to considering immediate factors, it would also have been important for
Skloot to consider the larger history of research and exploitation. Black Americans
have been made unwilling participants in medical research since before slavery,
such as the Tuskegee Syphilis study. Like many underrepresented groups, Henrietta
Lacks was exploited as a patient when her cells were taken and used in research
without her consent and acknowledgment. This medical invasion and ethical viola-
tion of her body is a history that was important to consider as Skloot decided how
to approach the family to ask them to participate in her research.
Positionality does not just include identity differences that are apparent in how
one presents themselves to the world but also research context and the researcher’s
role in the research process. Researchers, as a part of their identity, have power in
the research process in the decisions they make about the research project. In tradi-
tional research methods, researchers decide whom to talk to, the questions partici-
pants are asked, where the research occurs, how participants’ voices are used, and
where to publish research results. In each step of the research process, researcher
decisions take agency, and therefore power, away from participants. Researchers
control the process, and therefore, the ways participants are involved, represented,
and presented. This power is especially dangerous if one has not considered posi-
tionality and has not considered how one might not understand the experiences and
perspectives of participants. If researchers are not asking the right questions,
researcher recommendations and implications may not address the problematic, or,
worse, address problems that do not exist. Further, a lack of awareness of researcher
bias may lead one to frame participants, findings, and recommendations through a
lens of privilege that views participants as deficient because they are unlike the
researcher.
Making decisions in the research process, especially as it is designed within the
modern, western university, researchers may still make decisions that marginalize
participants, even if they share other characteristics with participants. Traditionally,
research has been a colonizing practice even when occurring in decolonizing spaces:
These spaces are officially decolonized but are usually characterized by a new imperialism
shaped by the economic, political, military, and cultural hegemony of the West within the
context of globalization. Therefore, the Western researcher represents not only a colonial
past but also a neocolonial present. (Vanner, 2015, p. 1)
20 L. Parson
Insider/Outsider Status
Researchers are often insiders as members of groups whose experiences they are
exploring and outsiders by their status as academics or researchers simultaneously
(Wiederhold, 2015). Suffla et al. (2015) describes the complicated navigation of con-
sidering positionality as insiders and outsiders: “In the space between, we were insid-
ers as Blacks, as Africans, and as community-based researchers whose work centers
on underrepresented and oppressed groups, and insiders through our established and
recognized partnerships with the local research teams” (p. 17). Similarly, in the case of
my work with women in Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math (STEM) educa-
tion in the United States, I am an insider inasmuch as I am a woman, but I am an out-
sider as a researcher, a professor, and because of my education level. This made me
simultaneously an insider and an outsider. However, without reflecting on positional-
ity, it was hard to identify when my status as an insider shifted to outsider and how that
impacted data collection and analysis: “At times as researchers we are so embedded
within our work, it is difficult to determine how our insider/outsider status changes and
how this impacts our research” (Kohl & McCutcheon, 2015, p. 753). Further, there
were conflicts that came into play because of my role as a researcher, and I was only
able to identify those conflicts because I considered the bias of my position as a
researcher and the power and privilege that resulted from my position (Hoskins, 2015).
If I had assumed that because I was a young(er) White woman I understood the experi-
ences of participants, I would have neglected to explore how my experience changing
2 Considering Positionality: The Ethics of Conducting Research with Marginalized… 21
majors from STEM to political science as an undergraduate student may have been
dramatically different from the experiences of participants who were majoring in
math, computer science, or physics. That could have meant that I took for granted
certain characteristics of my participants or did not probe for deeper meaning because
I assumed I understood what participants were experiencing, leading to flawed conclu-
sions and results. Additionally, I also ran the risk of assuming insider status and equal
footing with participants and the relationship norms that went along with that, when in
reality my relative power and privilege would have made that both an impossible and
unethical assumption.
Racism, sexism, ableism, cisgenderism, and ethnocentrism interlock to compli-
cate systems of oppression and exacerbate the marginalization of those who are
disadvantaged because of the different groups without whom they identify. Again,
intersectionality provides insight to understand how “various layers of inequality
that are present in the field” (Caretta & Jokinen, 2017, p. 277). Systems of oppres-
sion influence researcher and participant power and privilege, so understanding how
identity impacts the research process is complicated by one’s identification as an
insider and an outsider, “multiple identities can be simultaneous, inter-related and
sometimes contradictory” (Muhammad et al., 2015, p. 1047).
Limitations of Positionality
place-based investment in the future with their participants—as experiences by those schol-
ars who conduct their research in the places they call home. (Wiederhold, 2015, p. 602)
Research Questions
Every project begins as an inquiry, and researchers cannot hope to conduct research
that promotes social justice if they start from a place that has not identified social
justice as a key goal of that work. While this is discussed in detail throughout this
text, an inquiry should “start by considering whether such research is likely to meet
the needs of the underserved” (Goering et al., 2008, p. 46). Researchers will not
know if the research will meet the needs of the underserved as an outsider if they
have not first asked what the challenges and problems are from members of the
group whose experiences they hope to explore. A researcher is an outsider even if
2 Considering Positionality: The Ethics of Conducting Research with Marginalized… 23
they are a member in some way of the group they are exploring, because of the
power associated with leading a research project. Further, it is more likely that an
insider will be blind to some challenges experienced by participants because they
have neglected to consider experiences outside of their own context.
If seeking to identify how an individual or group of individuals is challenged,
research questions should guide the exploration of the experiences and challenges
of the groups whose experiences we would like to improve. Secondarily, or in sub-
sequent projects, findings from that research can help the researcher to craft ques-
tions that seek to flush out understanding of the experience or challenges identified
in response to the initial research question. One example is from an institutional
ethnography of STEM in higher education I conducted from the standpoint of
undergraduate women majoring in math and physics (Parson & Ozaki, 2017). The
theoretical underpinning of an institutional ethnography is feminist standpoint the-
ory. Standpoint theory views members of underrepresented or marginalized groups
as epistemically privileged because they are able to see more clearly the institu-
tional structures and systems that marginalize them (Smith, 2005). An institutional
ethnographic exploration begins by asking participants to describe their daily activi-
ties, where they go, what they do, why they do it, and how they know where, why,
how, and when to do those things in order to identify the institutional processes,
practices, procedures, and discourses that coordinate their descriptions of their daily
lives; a second research question then asks participants to describe the challenges
they face accomplishing their daily work. By building on participant description of
their daily work, the researcher seeks to identify exactly when, during the day, those
challenges arise as a junction, or problematic that guides subsequent data collection
to identify the institutional process or discourse that is coordinating their work. By
identifying where the institution coordinates the work of participants, the goal of an
institutional ethnography is to understand how the institution is creating challenges
for participants. Once participant challenges are identified, subsequent research
questions or projects can explore the nature of the institutional processes and proce-
dures to identify if and how they unfairly marginalize individuals and groups (the
third set of research questions). Only after identifying the institutional structures
that marginalize participants can a researcher make recommendations to remedy
those practices or identify structural areas that require changes (potentially, a fourth
research question).
However, had I begun with the third research question, to identify if a certain
institutional practice was gendered, sexist, or racist, I would have run the risk of
creating a research question that was not exploring the practice or area of partici-
pant’s lives that was marginalizing. Worse, if I had started with the fourth research
question and developed a program or made recommendations without gathering the
answers to questions one through three, I might have made an irrelevant or harmful
recommendation. While a researcher does not have to ask all four questions in one
research project, as I did in this institutional ethnography, a researcher does need to
know the answers to the prior questions from insider sources. Insider sources could
include the researcher, but the researcher should not be the sole source of informa-
tion guiding a research inquiry and developing research questions.
24 L. Parson
When one chooses who to invite to participate in a research project, they need to
consider both representation and misrepresentation: “representation involves the
exercise of researcher power in making decisions about which of the participants’
experiences and stories to include and on what basis these choices are made”
(Hoskins, 2015, p. 398). This does not require that one include individuals from the
group they are exploring as participants in their research. For example, a study on
bias in STEM might ask White, men scientists to describe what a scientist looks like
in order to explain how they view the ideal scientist. However, much of the research
that is socially oriented will seek to include, at the very least, members from the
group whose experiences the research is exploring.
Similarly, if one is exploring the experiences of multiple groups, it is especially
important that the research includes the voices of those who have not frequently
been included in the literature or have traditionally been misrepresented: “If claims
about misrecognition can be met without introducing serious new harms or compro-
mising the participation of other groups, meeting them is a requirement of justice”
(Goering et al., 2008, p. 47). If a group is underrepresented or misrepresented in the
literature, researchers have an obligation to invite participants from that group of
people. However, even if a researcher has identified an individual or group that they
believe will help them to respond to their research question(s), researchers need to
remember that participants are not obligated to participate despite the researcher’s
obligation to invite them to participate in the research. Participants need to be able
to decline participation (Goering et al., 2008, p. 45).
There is an important opportunity here, and some might say an integral one, to
include participants in the research process. Indeed, just like insiders can confirm
the validity of one’s research questions, they are also able to be participant-
researchers. Participatory research (McGarry, 2016; Salmon, Browne, & Pederson,
2010; Vanner, 2015) provides space for participants to influence the research pro-
cess (design, data collection, analysis, and writing stages). Participatory research
requires a flexible design and a fluent definition of what is means to be a researcher
and a participant, “within the context of ensuring a diverse academic research group,
allow teams to form organically,” and “establish a system for continual self-
reflexivity” (Muhammad et al., 2015, p. 1058). It also requires that researchers
empower participants by engaging them in research design, data analysis, and dis-
cussion of findings (Vanner, 2015) in order to co-produce and collaborate in the
research process (Oldfield & Patel, 2016). Participatory research, while non-
traditional, is a powerful opportunity to influence the research process positively.
Including participants in the research process also has a powerful opportunity to
improve reflexivity and validity of results. Further, insiders, if they are willing, can
help the research to identify who might be appropriate participants.
2 Considering Positionality: The Ethics of Conducting Research with Marginalized… 25
Ethics
While ethics is discussed in more detail throughout this text, there are certain con-
siderations when seeking to mitigate positionality. First, the minimum requirement
for every study with human subjects requires approval from the ethical board that
governs the researcher’s institution, typically an Institutional Review Board (IRB).
However, context matters, so a simple review from a western institution’s IRB board
might not suffice as ethical approval for the research because one must also consider
cultural and linguistic sensitivity. Always, but especially in cases of linguistic differ-
ences, researchers need to use multiple formats to receive consent, referred to as
interactive consent. Interactive consent should be sought from each participant in
every setting, “I typically adopt a multi-level form of consent, which includes writ-
ten and oral consent, with an understanding that it can be withdrawn at any time”
(Falcon, 2016, p. 183). Further, receiving informed consent means that a researcher
also helps participants to understand not just what they are consenting to by partici-
pating in the research project but also discusses the ramifications of participating in
the research study.
Finally, researchers also need to consider cultural and national norms when seek-
ing permission for access to research sites and when requesting permission to con-
tact participants. Some countries have national procedures and laws governing
research. Additionally, different institutions may require additional permissions and
forms of consent to conduct research than those required by a researcher’s home
institution. For example, one’s IRB may just require a letter from an institutional
representative giving permission to conduct research at another institution, but the
institution itself may require additional permissions before a researcher can access
and conduct research at that site. IRB approval is the minimum ethical requirement
for a study with human subjects. The researcher must “consider the repercussions of
her decisions, particularly for the most vulnerable participants or affected parties,
26 L. Parson
ask whose voice is being privileged and why, and always prioritize the safety and
requests of community members over the depth of data collection” (Vanner, 2015,
p. 6). Researchers also need to consider cultural and national norms and ensure that
permission is obtained from all involved people, sites, and institutions.
Reflexivity
Reflexivity goes beyond identifying social place and requires that one critically
identifies and explores their “assumptions, values, discourses, and practices that we
deploy to portray reality and create knowledge” (Suffla et al., 2015, p. 10). Through
reflexivity, researchers identify their biases and seek to understand how other con-
textual and power relations are influencing research. This is critical to create new
knowledge and situate it in the literature (Suffla et al., 2015).
Researchers need to continue to be reflexive throughout the research process to
ensure that they are mindful of their position (and ethics) and to continue to engage
with research participants and fellow researchers. One such reflective strategy is
kitchen table reflexivity where researchers explore and navigate their positionality
with co-researchers and participants (Kohl & McCutcheon, 2015). In kitchen table
reflexibility, researchers ensure that continual reflection on positionality occurs
throughout the research process through informal conversations that occur naturally
and fluidly (Kohl & McCutcheon, 2015). This ill-defined process is messy and may
not have a satisfactory resolution. Researchers have to accept the idea of a “good
2 Considering Positionality: The Ethics of Conducting Research with Marginalized… 27
enough” reflexive relationship and “accept rather than defend against healthy ten-
sions in fieldwork” and be attuned to these questions and how they inform and may
even possibly be data (Muhammad et al., 2015, p. 1050).
Selecting methods that consider the implications of ethics, positionality, and place
requires reflection, perhaps through memoing, in order to identify which research
methods are the best and most ethical way to explore your research question. To
guide method selection, a researcher should reflect on their reasons for conducting
the study, who should participate, and the knowledge the researcher has about their
own identity development. Specific methods for data collection are discussed at
length at other locations through the text, so my discussion of specific methods in
this chapter is framed through positionality, approach, and ethics. Some questions
to ask as one chooses their research methods might include the following questions
adapted from Pennington and Prater (2016).
Exploring the role of privilege in one’s research design requires that they ask who
has access to the site/who does not, what theory is informing the research questions,
and who will benefit from the study. Whether conducting interviews, observations,
or focus groups, it is important that researchers make the process safe and comfort-
able for participants. First, it is important that researchers conduct our research in
“safe spaces.” A safe space does not look the same for everyone, and it might not
look the same for one’s participants as it does for the researcher—in this case, I refer
to safety as comfortability and freedom from potential harms such as a loss of con-
fidentiality or physical harm (Salmon et al., 2010). Again, it behooves researchers to
ask participants or other insiders where it would be safe to conduct the research and
if there is a place where it is safe. While it may be most convenient to conduct the
research in one’s offices or even a coffee shop, that might not be where the partici-
pant is the most comfortable. Returning to The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks,
the first meeting between Lacks and Skloot takes place in a fancy restaurant. It was
clear that Lacks was unfamiliar with the setting and not comfortable, and her dis-
comfort set the tone for the meeting and, possibly, the entire future of their relation-
ship by reinforcing the class difference between Lacks and Skloot. When choosing
research settings, choose spaces that are safe and comfortable for participants, but
do not neglect one’s own safety in that process, such as by entering a site where the
researchers feel emotionally or physically unsafe.
28 L. Parson
Second, when possible, match researcher identity with that of the interviewee
(Muhammad et al., 2015, p. 1057). A researcher should seek to include academic
team members whose identities intersect with those of the community partners as
members of the research team. Awareness requires that researchers pay attention to
ethical and cultural sensitivity. Finally, researchers should not prioritize the needs of
the research field or the individual researcher (e.g., getting an interview) over the
needs of the community or the participant (Falcon, 2016).
Researchers need to “identify a methodological design that will minimize the nega-
tive effects of power on the research participants and maximize their empower-
ment” (Vanner, 2015, p. 2). This can be done by integrating participatory and
collaborative data collection and analysis which can be sustainable and cultivate
co-learning and alignment with community partners (Muhammad et al., 2015). By
involving participants in the research design, analysis, and reporting, researchers
can ask who is promoting dialogue about privilege and what are the opportunities
for honest privilege/power discussion.
Involving participants in the research design and analysis process can help
researchers to ensure that participants’ needs are being met in the research process,
help researchers to continually interrogate whether the research project is continu-
ing to consider positionality, power, and privilege, and help researchers to examine
analysis and conclusions critically. One methodological example is feminist partici-
patory action research (FPAR) (Salmon et al., 2010). FPAR blends participatory
action research and critical feminist theory. In FPAR women are involved in all
stages of the research process. Salmon et al. (2010) conducted an FPAR project
exploring effectiveness of nursing practices in marginalized communities and
involved affected women as researcher-participants. Through the involvement of
researcher-participants, Salmon et al. (2010) found that researcher-participants
allowed them to connect research to the community in order to address lived inequi-
ties: “congruence between the concerns of nursing with people who are marginal-
ized and the commitments of FPAR to continually redress power inequities,
hierarchies, and health and social inequities” (p. 336).
Even if the decision is made not to involve participants directly as researchers in
the research process, allowing participants to shape the direction of data collection
allows them continued access to the research process. For example, McGarry’s
(2016) exploration of the experiences of Muslim teens involved teen participants in
decisions about how they represented their knowledge. Multiple forms of situated
knowledge led to an understanding of the fluid and flexible power dynamics that
characterize youth experience, “allowing participants to shape power dynamics and
positionalities throughout the research process led to the generation of unexpected
forms of situated knowledge” (McGarry, 2016, p. 352).
2 Considering Positionality: The Ethics of Conducting Research with Marginalized… 29
Finally, one’s data collection methods can give control to participants to direct
the nature of data collected. One example is photovoice, a method that asks partici-
pants to take pictures of the things that are most salient in their lives: “[Photovoice]
espouses the idea that individuals’ realities, and therefore their narratives, are situ-
ated in social configurations of class, gender, race, geography, sexuality, kind, and
the like, and that their portrayal is negotiated through culturally available forms of
representation” (Suffla et al., 2015, p. 12). Participants choose to take pictures of
what is important to them and their lives, which directs the research process, con-
text, and data collected.
Similar to photovoice is mobile interviewing (Wiederhold, 2015). In mobile
interviewing participants talk to a researcher while physically guiding them to
places that demonstrate or indicate an example of what they are talking about, simi-
lar to a community tour. Mobile interviewing can also help a researcher to build
familiarity with local places and interpretations, and capitalize on participants’ local
knowledge. Through the processes of mobile interviewing and photovoice, research-
ers and participants mutually construct an understanding of the research setting
through and direct the type of data collected.
Conclusion
References
Arber, R. (2000). Defining positioning within politics of difference: Negotiating spaces ‘in between’.
Race, Ethnicity & Education, 3(1), 45–63. https://doi.org/10.1080/13613320050000583
Caretta, M. A., & Jokinen, J. C. (2017). Conflating privilege and vulnerability: A reflexive analysis
of emotions and positionality in postgraduate fieldwork. The Professional Geographer, 69(2),
275–283. https://doi.org/10.1080/00330124.2016.1252268
Crenshaw, K. (1991). Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence
against women of color. Stanford Law Review, 43(6), 1241–1299.
Falcon, S. M. (2016). Transnational feminism as a paradigm for decolonizing the practice of
research. Frontiers, 37(1), 174–194.
Goering, S., Holland, S., & Fryer-Edwards, K. (2008). Transforming genetic research practices
with marginalized communities: A case for responsive justice. Hastings Center Report, 38(2),
43–53.
Goodkind, J. R., & Deacon, Z. (2004). Methodological issues in conducting research with refu-
gee women: Principles for recognizing and re-centering the multiply marginalized. Journal of
Community Psychology, 32(6), 721–739. https://doi.org/10.1002/jcop.20029
Gordon, J. (2005). White on White: Researcher reflexivity and the logics of privilege in White
schools undertaking reform. Urban Review, 37(4), 279–302. https://doi.org/10.1007/
s11256-005-0015-1
Hoskins, K. (2015). Researching female professors: The difficulties of representation, positional-
ity, and power in feminist research. Gender and Education, 27(4), 393–411. https://doi.org/10
.1080/09540253.2015.1021301
Kaspar, H., & Landolt, S. (2014). Flirting in the field: Shifting positionalities and power relations
in innocuous sexualisations of research encounters. Gender, Place & Culture, 23(1), 107–119.
https://doi.org/10.1080/0966369X.2014.991704
Kohl, E., & McCutcheon, P. (2015). Kitchen table reflexivity: Negotiating positionality through
everyday talk. Gender, Place & Culture, 22(6), 747–763. https://doi.org/10.1080/09663
69X.2014.958063
Laker, J. A. (2016). What’s a nice, straight, White guy doing in an essay like this?!!! Privilege,
oppression and the binary politics of positionality. Social Alternatives, 35(3), 57–60.
32 L. Parson
McGarry, O. (2016). Repositioning the research encounter: Exploring power dynamics and posi-
tionality in youth research. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 19(3), 339–
354. https://doi.org/10.1080/13645579.2015.1011821
Milgram, B. L. (2012). Tangled fields: Rethinking positionality and ethics in research on women’s
work in a Hong Kong-Philippine trade. Critical Arts, 26(2), 175–191. https://doi.org/10.1080/
02560046.2012.684438
Muhammad, M., Wallerstien, N., Sussman, A. L., Avila, M., Belone, L., & Duran, B. (2015).
Reflections on researcher identity and power: The impact of positionality on community based
participatory research (CBPR) processes and outcomes. Critical Sociology, 41(7–8), 1045–
1063. https://doi.org/10.1177/0896920513516025
Oldfield, S., & Patel, Z. (2016). Engaging geographies: Negotiating positionality and building
relevance. South African Geographical Journal, 98(3), 505–514. https://doi.org/10.1080/037
36245.2016.1217255
Parson, L., & Ozaki, C. C. (2017). Gendered student ideals in STEM in higher education. NASPA
Journal about Women in Higher Education. https://doi.org/10.1080/19407882.2017.1392323
Pennington, J. L., & Prater, K. (2016). The veil of professionalism: An autoethnographic critique
of White positional identities in the figured worlds of White research performance. Race,
Ethnicity & Education, 19(5), 901–926. https://doi.org/10.1080/13613324.2014.885431
Salmon, A., Browne, A. J., & Pederson, A. (2010). ‘Now we call it research’: Participatory health
research involving marginalized women who use drugs. Nursing Inquiry, 17(4), 336–345.
https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1440-1800.2010.00507.x
Sawyer, R. D., & Liggett, T. (2012). Shifting positionalities: A critical discussion of a duoeth-
nographic inquiry of a personal curriculum of post/colonialism. International Journal of
Qualitative Methods, 11(5), 628–651.
Smith, D. E. (2005). Institutional ethnography: A sociology for people. Lanham, MD: Altamira
Press.
Suffla, S., Seedat, M., & Bawa, U. (2015). Reflexivity as enactment of critical community psy-
chologies: Dilemmas of voice and positionality in a multi-country photovoice study. Journal of
Community Psychology, 43(1), 9–12. https://doi.org/10.1002/jcop.21691
Vanner, C. (2015). Positionality at the center: Constructing an epistemological and meth-
odological approach for a western feminist doctoral candidate conducting research in
the postcolonial. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 14(4), 1–12. https://doi.
org/10.1177/1609406915618094
Wiederhold, A. (2015). Conducting fieldwork at and away from home: Shifting researcher posi-
tionality with mobile interviewing methods. Qualitative Research, 15(5), 600–615. https://doi.
org/10.1177/1468794114550440
Chapter 3
Flipping the Paradigm: Studying
Up and Research for Social Justice
Elena Aydarova
Abstract Social justice research most often focuses on the voices, experiences,
and practices of underserved and marginalized groups. While this focus produces
important insights, it disregards the actions of those in power who create and main-
tain systems of inequality and injustice in the first place. To address this gap, this
chapter examines methodological approaches for studying up or researching the
powerful. It describes the challenges faced by researchers who study those in power,
such as problems of access, interview pitfalls, dangers in data analysis and interpre-
tation, ethical concerns, and dissemination of findings. The chapter also provides
suggestions for how researchers can address those challenges. The significance of
this chapter lies in a systematic presentation of methodological tools necessary for
studying the powerful in research for social justice.
Equity and social justice research often focuses on oppressed or underserved groups
(Griffiths, 1998). Many of the classical and contemporary ethnographies in the field
of education attend to marginalized populations (see Ferguson, 2010; MacLeod,
2008; Valenzuela, 1999; Willis, 1977). Other works compare the experiences of the
privileged and underprivileged groups, juxtaposing how they engage with schooling
in ways that lead to different educational outcomes (see Anyon, 1981; Heath, 1983;
Lareau, 2000). The overall focus on marginalized groups leaves out of consideration
the actions of those in power who create and maintain systems of inequality and
injustice in the first place. This omission is unfortunate because dominant groups that
hold power in the society—be they White middle-class parents, policymakers, or
conservative think tanks—create, advocate, and promote practices and policies that
protect their privilege, reproduce inequality, and retrench social hierarchies. In other
words, by limiting research to the oppressed, we leave the oppressors unaccountable
E. Aydarova (*)
Auburn University, Auburn, AL, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
for their actions. Exceptions exist, but they are rare (see Demerath, 2009; Tompkins-
Stange, 2016). Overall, if scholarly investigations do not examine the oppressors’
voices, experiences, and practices more consistently, the pursuit of liberation and
alternative futures that could be more just for all will be greatly undermined.
This chapter explores possibilities for addressing this gap through researching
the powerful, also known as studying up or researching elites. While there is a siz-
able body of scholarship on studying up, little of it focuses on equity and social
justice. Thus, this chapter considers methodological tools helpful for social justice
research.
One of the first challenges that a researcher has to consider is the problem of access,
as those who occupy positions of power and privilege may be hard to access. Busy
schedules, the sensitivity of the topic, or sheer unwillingness to meet with a
researcher can undermine one’s attempts to collect data (Welch, Marschan-Piekkari,
Penttinen, & Tahvanainen, 2002). To mitigate some of those challenges, researchers
can delay the study until the most severe struggles are over or focus on those who
held power in the past, such as retirees or those who moved on to other projects
(Lancaster, 2017; Phillips, 1998; Selwyn, 2013). Some scholars, however, argue
that challenges of access may be exaggerated and that many respondents are willing
to find time in their busy schedules for interviews with researchers (Walford, 2012).
In tackling the challenge of access, one has to consider whether the inquiry can
proceed if access is denied. In that regard, developing a study with maximum flex-
ibility and multiple data sources is highly advisable. Another point to consider is
whether interviews alone are sufficient for the study. In ethnographic studies often
judged by one’s prolonged immersion in participants’ cultures, interviews alone
may not be enough. To have access to observations, one has to consider what roles
one can play in the organizations with which most participants are associated. In
elite studies of international corporations or law firms, anthropologists took up posi-
tions of apprentices or full-time employees. Where possible, this could be a worth-
while option to consider for educational researchers.
36 E. Aydarova
Most studies with the powerful do rely on interviews as the primary source of
data. First, one has to consider how to identify and access key participants.
Farquharson (2005) proposed the method of reputational snowball, whereby
researchers ask powerful participants to identify and, if possible, introduce the
researcher to other actors in their networks. In elite studies, the recommendation is
to “start at the top” (Ostrander, 1995, p. 136), contacting the most powerful indi-
viduals or groups first. To gain access to those who hold power, some researchers
draw on their established networks and relationships. For example, previous work
for a government agency (Gewirtz & Ozga, 1994) or friendships with those who
know someone in elite circles (Ostrander, 1995) can provide a useful entrée for the
study. Other possibilities include requesting interviews by email, phone, or letter
(Duke, 2002; Ostrander, 1995), using networking opportunities during conferences,
summits, or research seminars (Stephens, 2007), or even establishing contact
through LinkedIn, Facebook, or Twitter (Straubhaar, 2015).
As one embarks on scheduling interviews, one needs to consider the logistics of
the process. First, there is the question of navigating busy schedules and research
project timing. Most interviews have to be scheduled weeks and months in advance.
It is also common for participants to cancel interviews or delay them for hours,
days, or even weeks. In the situations when the researcher has to travel domestically
or internationally for data collection, such delays can be detrimental for the study’s
timeline. To mitigate these challenges, some scholars suggest using phone or Skype
interviews as an alternative to face-to-face interviews (Stephens, 2007).
Another logistical consideration is interview locations. Many participants prefer to
meet in their offices but spaces where interviews are conducted shape the information
shared. More formal settings create conditions where answers to interview questions
are stilted and lifeless (Duke, 2002; Fitz et al., 1994). Public spaces with onlookers
around can heighten participants’ concerns about being watched or overheard.
Acknowledging the context of the interview and the role of others in it enhances the
quality of research and allows the reader to critically assess researchers’ claims.
experience that one person in the network has with a researcher can foreclose oppor-
tunities for future interviews and terminate the study prematurely.
Overall, it is recommended to deploy maximum flexibility during the data collec-
tion stage. One can pretend to know less about the topic of research or one can use
one’s lower social status to present oneself as less of a threat (Duke, 2002). The
main point here is to be responsive to the situation and adjust one’s presentation
accordingly. In situations where participants are likely to disclose more to a gradu-
ate student, and the researcher is one, that identity can be emphasized over others
(Stephens, 2007). In the community where one’s professional status and prestige
matters more, it would be beneficial for the researchers to highlight their credential,
academic position, or university affiliation (Hunter, 1995). If the researcher adopts
more fluid and flexible positions (Priyadharshini, 2003), the study is more likely to
move forward, potentially advancing the well-being of those who are marginalized
and underserved when it is complete.
Analysis and Interpretation
The area that has received less attention in the literature on researching the powerful
is analysis and interpretation. This omission is unfortunate, however, because, as
Briggs (2003) cautions, studies that do not attend to the contextualization and sub-
stantive interpretation of interviews run the risk of reproducing social inequalities
and power hierarchies. To avoid this risk, the researcher first has to consider care-
fully the truthfulness of the accounts collected. One step undertaken by scholars
working with elites is to share interview transcripts or summaries with the study
participants for a check. Some participants will appreciate the opportunity to check
the interview text while others might request to delete parts or the entirety of the
interview they gave (Lancaster, 2017). In considering whether transcripts will be
shared with participants, the researcher needs to be mindful of the fact that interac-
tion with the transcript, as Briggs (2003) notes, is useful as a new set of data but
unlikely to shed more light on the original exchange. Other scholars recommend
cross-checking stories that emerge from interviews and observations with other data
sources (Berry, 2002; Mikecz, 2012; Phillips, 1998). Particularly helpful in this case
can be meeting minutes, detailed records of decision-making, or internal reports if
those are available to the researcher.
As was mentioned earlier, many powerful participants share “official
responses” during interviews (Fitz et al., 1994; Walford, 2012). It is important for
the researcher to recognize that polished stories of benevolent intentions, exag-
gerated roles, and altruistic motives can be used to justify actions leading to per-
nicious outcomes for vulnerable populations. Powerful participants often co-opt
the language of social justice to justify policies that entrench inequities and fur-
ther marginalize underserved groups. The burden on the researcher then, as notes,
is to engage in the inquiry reflexively in order not to reproduce dominant narratives.
Ball argues that researchers working with the powerful should be mindful of
3 Flipping the Paradigm: Studying Up and Research for Social Justice 39
the agendas that the powerful bring to the interview and be attuned to what is being
said and how it is being said—not just the content of the interview, but also its form.
In this regard, Briggs (1986) provides two stages for interview data analysis that
can be useful in research with the powerful. The first stage attends to the interview
as a whole and considers the overall context of where the interview was conducted,
who was present, how the conversation was flowing, and whether there were any
break-ups in that flow. It also includes the process of chunking interview transcripts
into major components to create an overall outline of the conversation. This stage
contextualizes the content of the exchange within broader sociopolitical trends.
During the second stage of analysis, the researcher attends to the details of how the
message was conveyed, focusing on the mechanics of how individual utterances
were produced (intonation, prosody, syntax, and semantics, etc.). If a record of body
language or eye contact during the interview exists, it is useful to analyze those ele-
ments as well. In conducting this level of analysis, the researcher seeks to identify
how the interviewees intended the message to be read and responded to.
Qualitative inquiry guides often suggest that a researcher identify recurrent
themes and consider data collection completed when themes become saturated
because “any additional data collection will result only in more of the same find-
ings” (Marshall & Rossman, 2016, p. 229). This approach may be treacherous when
researching the powerful because elite participants can repeat the same official story
that is shared in their networks. The researcher’s task is not to take interview narra-
tives at face value but to look for cracks in the facades even if those cracks do not
appear with any regularity in the data. Critical discourse analysis (Fairclough, 2003,
2013) can be particularly useful for identifying those cracks as it helps the researcher
locate discrepancies in the elites’ narratives, ruptures in their timelines, or distor-
tions in their presentations. Additionally, Boucher (2017) provides tools from socio-
linguistics to analyze how power is constructed, negotiated, and perpetuated through
language in interview settings. In sum, whatever tools of analysis the researcher
deploys, in conducting research with the powerful, one has to be mindful of the
agendas elites pursue and use the analysis stage to preclude the possibility of becom-
ing complicit in recreating unequal structures or unjust causes (Baez, 2002; Berry,
2002; Briggs, 2003; Hunter, 1995; Lancaster, 2017).
Ethical Considerations
Even though there are some disagreements on the matter, research with the pow-
erful differs from researching marginalized groups. Because elite participants are
often well-known to the public, ensuring anonymity or confidentiality can be
difficult to accomplish (Lancaster, 2017; Walford, 2012). Some elite participants,
in fact, prefer to have their interviews fully attributed to them and scoff at
researchers’ offer to use pseudonyms. At the same time, some participants feel
that positions of power they occupy place heightened responsibilities on them and
discuss the pain involved in engaging in high-profile activities (Lancaster, 2017).
40 E. Aydarova
The vulnerability of participants from elite circles suggests that they are not
impervious to the attacks from the media, the public, or peers in their networks
(Lancaster, 2017). Research findings can damage people’s careers and undo the
projects into which they invested much time and energy. It is important for the
researcher to take precautions not to cause unnecessary harm.
At the same time, one has to consider what the study reveals about elites’ involve-
ment in creating and maintaining systems of oppression. One of the common themes
in reports on the powerful is comments “off the record,” “for background knowl-
edge,” and other information shared in confidence that represent insights into the
inner workings of power. While ethics recommendations require that scholars do
not divulge this information, there is danger in helping the powerful keep their
secrets. As Baez (2002) observes, “hidden power arrangements are maintained by
secrets—the secrets of those who might benefit from those arrangements…
Qualitative research contributes to this disenfranchisement if it prevents the expo-
sure of hidden power arrangements” (p. 52). In that regard, researchers have to con-
sider carefully to whom they are accountable for their research (Aydarova, in press).
If the study seeks to shed light on the processes in which the powerful perpetuate
injustice, inequality, and marginalization of subordinate groups, it is important to
reconsider obligations to the participants.
Sharing the Findings
The final point to consider is how research findings will be disseminated. Observing
how neoliberal transformations increase the suffering of marginalized groups
worldwide, Bourdieu (2000) called for social scientists to use their scholarship to
join social movements and activist groups in their struggle for social justice. In that
regard, research findings should be shared with the groups that can put them to use
in their work. Additionally, the field of qualitative inquiry is seeking to bring
research findings to the public sphere through blog posts for national newspapers,
articles in popular magazines, submissions to open source journals, podcasts for
series with wide reach, or community performances of (auto)ethnographic studies
(Denzin & Giardina, 2018). These are potential outlets to consider so that research
findings can reveal many of elites’ activities hidden from the public view. The path
to liberation in this regard is not through giving voice to those who lack power (if
the subaltern speaks, who is there to listen? (Spivak, 1988)), but through equipping
those who struggle for justice with the resources needed to take down systems of
oppression and injustice. A word of caution, however, is that researchers have to be
aware of the dangers that ensue from their work. As Lee-Treweek and Linkogle
(2000) show, powerful participants can use lawsuits, public shaming, and other
intimidation strategies to silence the researcher. The possibility of retribution calls
for a more thorough process of inquiry, careful collation and storage of data, peer
debriefing, and audit trails to ensure high quality of research (for more information
on these techniques, see Marshall & Rossman, 2016).
3 Flipping the Paradigm: Studying Up and Research for Social Justice 41
Conclusion
Recommended Readings
References
Aberbach, J. D., & Rockman, B. A. (2002). Conducting and coding elite interviews. PS: Political
Science & Politics, 35(4), 673–676. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1049096502001142
Anyon, J. (1981). Social class and school knowledge. Curriculum Inquiry, 11(1), 3–42. https://doi.
org/10.1080/03626784.1981.11075236
Aydarova, E. (in press). Jokers and fools in the public square: Ethnography in the age of spectacle.
Aydarova, E. (forthcoming). Teacher education reform as political theater: Russian policy dramas.
Albany, NY: SUNY Press.
Ayers, W., Quinn, T. M., & Stovall, D. (2009). Handbook of social justice in education. New York,
NY: Routledge.
Baez, B. (2002). Confidentiality in qualitative research: Reflections on secrets, power and agency.
Qualitative Research, 2(1), 35–58. https://doi.org/10.1177/1468794102002001638
Berry, J. M. (2002). Validity and reliability issues in elite interviewing. PS: Political Science &
Politics, 35(4), 679–682. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1049096502001166
Boucher, A. (2017). Power in elite interviewing: Lessons from feminist studies for political science.
Women’s Studies International Forum, 62, 99–106. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.wsif.2017.05.003
42 E. Aydarova
Kenzo K. Sung and Natoya Coleman
Abstract Critical Race Theory (CRT) is now a prominent framework for critical
scholarship on race and racism in the field of education. Our goal is to introduce
CRT as a formative theoretical and methodological framework for social justice and
equity-minded educational researchers. The chapter is divided into three sections:
(1) key terms and concepts, (2) broader history of CRT, and (3) critical race meth-
odologies in education. By tracing CRT’s trajectory in educational research and
analyzing the significance of its legacy, we provide an alternative framework to
analyze how racism is institutionalized through research-based or legalized “truths”
that too often continue to perpetuate the oppression of minoritized communities. In
doing so, we illuminate the significance of critical race analysis in educational
research and the implications to reframe current discussions regarding the relation
of research and the struggle for social justice.
In today’s “education can fix all” political climate, it is important for social justice
and equity-minded researchers to critically reflect on how society functions and the
role of schools within it. One theoretical framework that education scholars have
substantively drawn from to both analyze and challenge existing social conditions
regarding race and its intersections is critical race theory (CRT). Growing in influ-
ence over the past two decades, CRT is now a prominent framework for critical
scholarship in the field of education among those studying the role of race and rac-
ism in educational policy, practice, and the relation between schooling and society.
Our goal is to introduce CRT as a formative theoretical and methodological
framework for social justice and equity-minded educational researchers. This chap-
ter is divided into three sections: (1) key terms and concepts, (2) broader history of
CRT, and (3) critical race methodologies in education. By tracing CRT’s trajectory
Race as Normalized
Critique of Liberalism
Interest Convergence
CRT centers on race and racism as materially determined such that people of Color
historically have made significant gains only to the extent that their interests aligned
with White interests. For example, when studying the origins of the 1968 Bilingual
Education Act, a CRT scholar would likely focus on how 1960s federal policymakers’
48 K. K. Sung and N. Coleman
interests aligned with Latinx activists such that policymakers gained more from redi-
recting activists more radical demands into educational reforms, rather than view the
bill as a singular victory for Latinx activists or ability of liberal policymakers to sim-
ply recognize and do right (Sung, 2017).
CRT centers on the importance of legitimating the voices and experiential knowl-
edge of people of Color that are too often minimized in traditional research through
methods such as counter-storytelling. For example, when studying the history of
Latinx student protest movements in Los Angeles, a CRT scholar would likely focus
on developing analyses that center on how Latinx youth explain their own school
experiences rather than statistical demographic data that too often lead to patholo-
gizing Latinx students by defining them through a deficit discourse (Solórzano &
Delgado Bernal, 2001).
Intersectionality
CRT centers on illuminating how marginalization and oppression often occur at the
intersections among the social systems that fundamentally structure modern society
such as racism, capitalism, heteropatriarchy, as well as expanded to nationalism,
ethnocentrism, and ableism. For example, when studying disproportional inclusion
practices for African American students, a CRT scholar would likely focus on the
intersection of race, class, culture, and language with the assumptions made regard-
ing ability/disability, rather than assuming a student’s placement in special educa-
tion as the single unitary marker of importance separate from these other intersecting
axes within which schools are structured and students are categorized (Zion &
Blanchett, 2011).
4 Framing Critical Race Theory and Methodologies 49
CRT centers on race research based on a social justice-based praxis that simultane-
ously aims to illuminate and actively challenge racism and intersecting axes of
domination. For example, when studying the educational protests of Black and
Brown communities in Chicago against choice of school openings that benefit urban
gentrification, a CRT scholar would likely highlight their dual role as both a
researcher and participant who actively stands in resistance to oppression as part of
their scholarship, rather than seeing research as necessarily “objective” and decid-
ing to take a “neutral” position when studying manifestations of racism (Stovall,
2016).
Interdisciplinary Approaches
While the above list obviously does not cover the full range of key ideas and influ-
ences, it does offer the central tenets that are most commonly referenced across
critical race research in the field of education along with one characteristic example
of CRT-based scholarship that adhered to each tenet. Like any theoretical frame-
work, understanding the significance of CRT for social justice and equity-minded
scholars studying race today requires taking stock in the origins of CRT and its
expanding trajectory in the education field over the past two decades.
civil rights gains stalled in the 1970s after an unprecedented decade of legal suc-
cesses and broader social change. Among his seminal studies, Bell’s (1980) analysis
of the decision via the thesis of interest convergence has become one of the leading
frameworks within Brown historiography and, in doing so, helped create the new
interdisciplinary subfield of CRT.
According to Bell, Brown occurred due to an interest convergence between Black
communities struggling for racial justice and White elites concerned about Soviet
propaganda regarding Jim Crow that dissipated by the 1970s with declining Cold
War anxieties. By focusing on race as the central analytic, CRT grew as a response
during the 1980s to Critical Legal Studies that Bell and others critiqued as being too
centered on class-based analyses (Delgado & Stefancic, 2012). However, the origin
of CRT in legal studies belies the important social and scholarly movements that
heavily influenced CRT’s analyses. As Crenshaw (1988) notes, she and other early
critical race scholars borrowed from several traditions including cultural national-
ism, postmodernism, and Black feminist thought. These schools of thought also
drew from various 1960s–1970s social movements for inspiration including the
Civil Rights Movement, Black and allied (Brown, Yellow, Red) Power Movements,
Second and Third Wave Feminist Movements, and the Third World Liberation
Front’s movement for Ethnic Studies.
CRT has since grown into other social science and allied areas starting in the
1990s including ethnic studies, women’s studies, education, sociology, art history,
public health, and social work (Delgado & Stefancic, 2012). However, the primary
residence of critical race scholarship beyond legal studies is currently the field of
education, which seems to be a natural fit as education continues to be the principle
CRT topic in legal studies including racial desegregation (Bell, 1980; Singleton,
2007), school finance reform (Adamson, 2006), educating undocumented youth
(Lopez, 2005), affirmative action (Bell, 2003), or school choice (Dickerson, 2005).
The rise of CRT in the field of education in the 1990s can be traced to a similar
critique of Critical Pedagogy that was leveled in the 1970s toward Critical Legal
Studies, arguing that both marginalized the fundamental significance of race in their
analyses (Leonardo, 2013). As outlined in Ladson-Billings and Tate’s (1995) foun-
dational article, CRT provides an analytic tool to better focus critical scholarship on
racial justice and equity in education. Critical race studies is now the dominant
framework for scholarship among critical education scholars studying race and rac-
ism including research on teacher education and preparation (Juarez & Hayes,
2014; Leonardo & Boas, 2013; Milner, 2008), college athletes (Donnor, 2005),
desegregation (Leigh, 2003), inclusion (Zion & Blanchett, 2011), intercultural edu-
cation (Caraballo, 2009), affirmative action (Park & Liu, 2014), undocumented stu-
dents (Allen, 2015; Buenavista, 2018), educators of Color (Blaisdell, 2016; Davila
& Aviles, 2018), and media on education (Gillborn, 2010).
Over the past two decades, CRT in education studies has also developed into an
umbrella for a range of analytic branches that both draw from critical race scholar-
ship and highlight the often intersecting and contradictory racial geographies pres-
ent in schooling (Dixson & Rousseau, 2005; Ledesma & Calderón, 2015; Lynn &
Parker, 2006). These “sister crit” frameworks include LatCrit (Davila & Aviles de
4 Framing Critical Race Theory and Methodologies 51
Bradley, 2010; Solórzano & Delgado Bernal, 2001; Yosso, 2006), AsianCrit
(Buenavista, Jayakumar, & Misa-Escalante, 2009; Curammeng, Buenavista, &
Cariaga, 2017; Iftikar & Museus, in press; Museus & Iftikar, 2014), BlackCrit
(Dumas & Ross, 2016), TribalCrit (Brayboy, 2005; Haynes Writer, 2008), and criti-
cal whiteness studies (Leonardo, 2009; Hayes & Hartlep, 2013; Matias, 2016). In
addition, critical race scholarship has intersected with other scholarly traditions
including feminism and particularly critical race feminism (Childers-McKee &
Hytten, 2015; Evans-Winters & Esposito, 2010; Sampson, 2016), critical social
theory (Melamed, 2011; Leonardo, 2013), antiblackness (Dumas, 2016; Parker,
2017; Sung, 2018), settler colonialism (Snelgrove, Dhamoon, & Corntassel, 2014;
Tuck & Yang, 2012), and coloniality (de los Ríos & Seltzer, 2017; Hsu, 2015; Patel,
2014) and dis/ability (Annamma, Connor, & Ferri, 2013).
Methodologically, CRT has also grown from its legal roots as it develops in the field
of education. While CRT was originally used in legal studies as a framework to
analyze patterns in court cases and legal precedent, in the field of education focus
on methodology that highlights experiential knowledge and voice has been key. As
such, the primary narrative of critical race scholars in education has traditionally
focused on counter-storytelling or testimonios of students and communities racial-
ized as non-White (Bernal, 2002; Pérez Huber, 2008; Solórzano & Yosso, 2002;
Yosso, 2006). Solórzano and Yosso (2002) employ counter-stories to reframe the
study of race and racism by starting with the experiences of those who have been
minoritized through daily racial microaggressions (Alvarez, 2017; Pérez Huber &
Solórzano, 2015). Originating from LatCrit, testimonios is another method that
draws on experiential knowledge as a means to both critique traditional research
that privilege the scholar’s perspective and validate the personal and collective
knowledge among minoritized communities (Pérez Huber, 2008), as well as those
racialized as non-White who are in institutional positions of power (Alemán, 2009;
Sampson, 2018).
Critical race scholarship in education also employs the study of history and his-
torical cases as a critical method, similar to the revisionist historical study of the
Brown decision and other legal cases that Bell (1980) and others researched in the
field of law. As Ladson-Billings and Tate (1995) note, the power of historical story-
telling and historiographical revision is important to properly understanding and
challenging injustices past, present, and future. One example of this critical race
history method is the study of the historical context surrounding racially segregated
schools in Oxnard, California, and the stories of the lived experiences of Mexican
American youth during the early twentieth century (Garcia, Yosso, & Barajas,
2012). A second example is the study of the 1968 Bilingual Education Act and its
origin as a hegemonic interest convergence between the 1960s federal policymakers
52 K. K. Sung and N. Coleman
and Latinx activists, formatively shaping the contradictions that bilingual education
still struggles with today (Sung, 2017).
Another methodological tool employed by critical race educational scholars is
the interrogation and reframing of curriculum and pedagogies across different sub-
ject areas in teacher education. For example, Critical Race English Education
(CREE) focuses on challenging antiblackness and White supremacy in English and
Language Arts (ELA) classrooms through studying the value of Black literacies as
part of reimagining classrooms as sites for healing and racial justice (Baker-Bell,
Butler, & Johnson, 2017; Johnson, Jackson, Stovall, & Baszile, 2017). Other exam-
ples of CRT methods being employed in the study of subject matter areas include
everything from bilingual education (Flores & Rosa, 2015; Rosa & Flores, 2017)
and Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL) education
(Crump, 2014; Liggett, 2014) to math education (Larnell, Bullock, & Jett, 2016;
Terry, 2011).
In addition, critical race scholarship has recently expanded from more qualita-
tive, interpretive methods as central to critical race praxis (Stovall, 2016) toward
reimagining how to include quantitative methodology, which was typically cri-
tiqued as privileging a seemingly objective, essentialistic analysis. The recent evo-
lution of QuantCrit challenges the notion that the “numbers can speak for
themselves” and encourages researchers to question the assumptions that result
from the analysis of big data (Garcia, Lopez, & Velez, 2018; Gillborn, Warmington,
& Demack, 2018). QuantCrit builds on the work of other critical race scholarship
including TribalCrit’s work in Indigenous Statistics that challenges the absence of
indigenous populations in aggregate data (Brayboy, Fann, Castagno, & Solyom,
2012; Walter & Andersen, 2013) as well as Critical Race Spatial Analysis that uses
geographic information system (GIS) mapping tools to represent race and how
racialized oppression is manifested geographically (Solórzano & Velez, 2016;
Morrison, Annamma, & Jackson, 2017).
Conclusion
While not nearly long enough to comprehensively cover the explosive growth of
critical race scholarship in the field of education, this chapter provides an introduc-
tory survey of CRT’s central terms and tenets, history of CRT prior to and within
education studies, and the range of critical race methods currently employed in
educational research. The goal of this chapter is for social justice and equity-minded
educational researchers to find inspiration in critical race scholarship as a theoreti-
cally and methodologically valuable way of doing research. If so, we hope you will
explore CRT further through the selected referenced readings that follow, and con-
tribute to CRT’s continued development in the field of education as a means of both
illuminating and challenging dominant race narratives and racist structures.
4 Framing Critical Race Theory and Methodologies 53
Suggested Readings
Richard Delgado, R., & Stefancic, J. (2012). Critical race theory: An introduction.
New York, NY: New York University Press.
Popular Critical Race Theory primer is concisely written with lots of clear exam-
ples. Book is intended to be a first introduction in legal studies, but easily readable
and adaptable for the field of education.
Lynn, M., & Dixson, A. (2013). Handbook of critical race theory in education.
New York, NY: Routledge.
Edited collection of essays from foundational Critical Race Theory scholars in the
field of education. Book will provide reader a strong understanding of CRT’s influ-
ence in educational research on race and racism.
Crenshaw, K., Gotanda, N., Peller, G., & Thomas, K. (1996). Critical race theory:
The key writings that formed the movement. New York, NY: The New Press.
Edited collection of early Critical Race Theory foundational articles and essays
from the field of legal studies. Book will provide reader a strong understanding of
CRT’s historical trajectory.
References
Adamson, B. L. (2006). The H’aint in the (school) house: The interest convergence paradigm in
state legislatures and school finance reform. California Western Law Review, 43(1), 173–202.
Alemán Jr., E. (2009). LatCrit educational leadership and advocacy: Struggling over whiteness as
property in Texas school finance. Equity & Excellence in Education, 42(2), 183–201. https://
doi.org/10.1080/10665680902744246
Allen, A. (2015). Leveraging the cultural wealth in family and friend networks: An examina-
tion of undocumented Latino college students’ support systems and academic achievement.
In D. Mitchell, E. Daniele, K. Soria, & J. Gipson (Eds.), Student involvement and academic
outcomes: Implications for diverse college student populations (pp. 219–236). New York, NY:
Peter Lang.
Alvarez, A. (2017). “Seeing their eyes in the rearview mirror”: Identifying and responding to stu-
dents’ challenging experiences. Equity & Excellence in Education, 50(1), 53–67. https://doi.
org/10.1080/10665684.2016.1250686
Annamma, S. A., Connor, D., & Ferri, B. (2013). Dis/ability critical race studies (DisCrit):
Theorizing at the intersections of race and dis/ability. Race Ethnicity and Education, 16(1),
1–31. https://doi.org/10.1080/13613324.2012.730511
Baker-Bell, A., Butler, T., & Johnson, L. (2017). The pain and the wounds: A call for critical race
English education in the wake of racial violence. English Education, 49(2), 116–129.
Banks, J. A. (1995). The historical reconstruction of knowledge about race: Implications for trans-
formative teaching. Educational Researcher, 24(2), 15–25. https://doi.org/10.2307/1176421
Bell, D. A. (1980). Brown v. Board of Education and the interest-convergence dilemma. Harvard
Law Review, 93, 518–533. https://doi.org/10.2307/1340546
Bell, D. (1992). Race realism. Connecticut Law Review, 24(2), 363–379.
54 K. K. Sung and N. Coleman
Bell, D. A. (2003). Diversity’s distractions. Columbia Law Review, 103, 1622–1633. https://doi.
org/10.2307/3593396
Bernal, D. D. (2002). Critical race theory, Latino critical theory, and critical raced-gendered epis-
temologies: Recognizing students of color as holders and creators of knowledge. Qualitative
Inquiry, 8(1), 105–126. https://doi.org/10.1177/107780040200800107
Blaisdell, B. (2016). Exorcising the racism phantasm: Racial realism in educational research. The
Urban Review, 48(2), 285–310. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11256-016-0354-0
Brayboy, B. (2005). Toward a tribal critical race theory in education. The Urban Review, 37(5),
425–446. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11256-005-0018-y
Brayboy, B., Fann, A. J., Castagno, A. E., & Solyom, J. A. (2012). Postsecondary education
for American Indian and Alaska natives: Higher education for nation building and self-
determination: ASHE higher education report 37:5. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.
Buenavista, T. L. (2018). Model (undocumented) minorities and “illegal” immigrants: Centering
Asian Americans and U.S. carcerality in undocumented student discourse. Race Ethnicity and
Education, 21(1), 78–91. https://doi.org/10.1080/13613324.2016.1248823
Buenavista, T. L., Jayakumar, U. M., & Misa-Escalante, K. (2009). Contextualizing Asian
American education through Critical Race Theory: An example of U.S. Pilipino college stu-
dent experiences. In S. D. Museus (Ed.), Conducting research on Asian Americans in higher
education. New Directions for Institutional Research (Vol. 142, pp. 69–81). San Francisco,
CA: Jossey-Bass. https://doi.org/10.1002/ir.297
Caraballo, L. (2009). Interest convergence in intergroup education and beyond: Rethinking agen-
das in multicultural education. International Journal of Multicultural Education, 11(1), 1–15.
Childers-McKee, C. D., & Hytten, K. (2015). Critical race feminism and the complex challenges of
educational reform. Urban Review, 47(3), 393–412. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11256-015-0323-z
Crenshaw, K. W. (1988). Race, reform, and retrenchment: Transformation and legitimation in anti-
discrimination law. Harvard Law Review, 101(7), 1331–1387. https://doi.org/10.2307/1341398
Crump, A. (2014). Langcrit: Critical language and race theory. Critical Inquiry in Language
Studies, 11(3), 207–224. https://doi.org/10.1080/15427587.2014.936243
Curammeng, E. R., Buenavista, T. L., & Cariaga, S. (2017). Asian American critical race theory:
Origins, directions, and praxis. Center for Critical Race Studies at UCLA Research Briefs. Retrieved
from http://issuu.com/almaiflores/docs/ec_tlb_sc_asianam_crt?e=25160478/49582421.
Davila, E., & Aviles, A. (2018). Afro-Puerto Rican primas: Identity, pedagogy, and solidarity. In
S. A. Shelton, J. E. Flynn, & T. J. Grosland (Eds.), Feminism and intersectionality in aca-
demia: Women’s narratives and experiences in higher education (pp. 117–130). New York,
NY: Springer International Publishing.
Davila, E., & Aviles de Bradley, A. (2010). Examining education for Latinas/os in Chicago: A
CRT/LatCrit approach. Educational Foundations, 24(1–2), 39–58.
de los Ríos, C. V., & Seltzer, K. (2017). Translanguaging, coloniality, and English classrooms: An
exploration of two bicoastal urban classrooms. Research in the Teaching of English, 52(1), 55–76.
Delgado, R., & Stefancic, J. (2012). Critical race theory: An introduction. New York, NY:
New York University Press.
Dickerson, A. M. (2005). Caught in the trap: Pricing racial housing preferences. Michigan Law
Review, 103, 1273–1291.
Dixson, A. D., & Rousseau, C. K. (2005). And we are still not saved: Critical race the-
ory in education ten years later. Race Ethnicity and Education, 8(1), 7–27. https://doi.
org/10.1080/1361332052000340971
Donnor, J. K. (2005). Towards an interest-convergence in the education of African-American foot-
ball student athletes in major college sports. Race Ethnicity and Education, 8(1), 45–67. https://
doi.org/10.1080/1361332052000340999
Dumas, M. (2016). Against the dark: Antiblackness in education policy and discourse. Theory into
Practice, 55(1), 11–19. https://doi.org/10.1080/00405841.2016.1116852
Dumas, M. J., & Ross, K. M. (2016). “Be real black for me” imagining BlackCrit in education.
Urban Education, 51(4), 415–442. https://doi.org/10.1177/0042085916628611
4 Framing Critical Race Theory and Methodologies 55
Evans-Winters, V. E., & Esposito, J. (2010). Other people’s daughters: Critical race feminism and
Black girls’ education. Journal of Educational Foundations, 24(1–2), 11–24.
Fasching-Varner, K. J., Mitchell, R. W., Martin, L. L., & Bennett-Haron, K. P. (2014). Beyond
school-to-prison pipeline and toward an educational and penal realism. Equity & Excellence in
Education, 47(4), 410–429. https://doi.org/10.1080/10665684.2014.959285
Flores, N., & Rosa, J. (2015). Undoing appropriateness: Raciolinguistic ideologies and lan-
guage diversity in education. Harvard Educational Review, 85(2), 149–171. https://doi.
org/10.17763/0017-8055.85.2.149
Garcia, D. G., Yosso, T. J., & Barajas, F. P. (2012). “A few of the brightest, cleanest Mexican
children”: School segregation as a form of mundane racism in Oxnard, California, 1900–1940.
Harvard Educational Review, 82(1), 1–25.
Garcia, N. M., Lopez, N., & Velez, V. N. (2018). QuantCrit: Rectifying quantitative methods
through critical race theory. Race, Ethnicity and Education, 21(2), 149–157. https://doi.org/
10.1080/13613324.2017.1377675
Gillborn, D. (2010). The white working class, racism and respectability: Victims, degenerates
and interest-convergence. British Journal of Educational Studies, 58(1), 3–25. https://doi.
org/10.1080/00071000903516361
Gillborn, D., Warmington, P., & Demack, S. (2018). QuantCrit: Education, policy, ‘Big Data’ and
principles for a critical race theory of statistics. Race Ethnicity and Education, 21(2), 158–179.
https://doi.org/10.1080/13613324.2017.1377417
Harris, C. I. (1993). Whiteness as property. Harvard Law Review, 106(8), 1707.
Hayes, C., & Hartlep, N. D. (2013). Unhooking from whiteness: The key to dismantling racism in
the United States. In Rotterdam. Dordrecht: Sense Publishers.
Haynes Writer, J. (2008). Unmasking, exposing, and confronting: Critical race theory, tribal criti-
cal race theory and multicultural education. International Journal of Multicultural Education,
10(2), 1–15.
Hsu, F. (2015). The coloniality of neoliberal English: The enduring structures of American colo-
nial English instruction in the Philippines and Puerto Rico. L2 Journal, 7(3), 123–145.
Iftikar, J. S., & Museus, S. D. (in press). On the utility of Asian critical (AsianCrit) theory in the
field of education. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education. https://doi.org/1
0.1080/09518398.2018.1522008
Johnson, L. L., Jackson, J., Stovall, D. O., & Baszile, D. T. (2017). “Loving blackness to death”:
(Re) imagining ELA classrooms in a time of racial chaos. English Journal, 106(4), 60–66.
Juarez, B. G., & Hayes, C. (2014). On being named a Black supremacist and a race traitor: The
problem of white racial domination and domestic terrorism in U.S. teacher education. The
Urban Review, 47(2), 317–340. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11256-014-0294-5
Ladson-Billings, G. (1998). Just what is critical race theory and what’s it doing in a nice field like
education? International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 11(1), 7–24. https://doi.
org/10.1080/095183998236863
Ladson-Billings, G., & Tate, W. (1995). Toward a critical race theory of education. Teachers
College Record, 97(1), 47–68.
Larnell, G. V., Bullock, E. C., & Jett, C. C. (2016). Rethinking teaching and learning mathematics
for social justice from a critical race perspective. Journal of Education, 96(1), 19–29. https://
doi.org/10.1177/002205741619600104
Ledesma, M. C., & Calderón, D. (2015). Critical race theory in education: A review of
past literature and a look to the future. Qualitative Inquiry, 21(3), 206–222. https://doi.
org/10.1177/1077800414557825
Leigh, P. R. (2003). Interest convergence and desegregation in the Ohio Valley. The Journal of
Negro Education, 72(3), 269–296. https://doi.org/10.2307/3211248
Leonardo, Z. (2009). Race, whiteness, and education. New York, NY: Routledge.
Leonardo, Z. (2013). Race frameworks: A multidimensional theory of racism and education.
New York, NY: Teachers College Press.
56 K. K. Sung and N. Coleman
Leonardo, Z., & Boas, E. (2013). Other kids’ teachers: What children of color learn from white
women and what this says about race, whiteness, and gender. In M. Lynn & A. Dixson (Eds.),
The handbook of critical race theory in education (pp. 313–324). New York, NY: Routledge
Press.
Liggett, T. (2014). The mapping of a framework: Critical race theory and TESOL. Urban
Review: Issues and Ideas in Public Education, 46(1), 112–124. https://doi.org/10.1007/
s11256-013-0254-5
Lopez, M. P. (2005). Reflections on educating Latino and Latina undocumented children: Beyond
Plyler v. Doe. Seton Hall Law Review, 35, 1373–1405.
Lynn, M., & Parker, L. (2006). Critical race studies in education: Examining a decade of research
on US schools. The Urban Review, 38(4), 257–290. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11256-006-0035-5
Matias, C. E. (2016). Feeling white: Whiteness, emotionality, and education. Rotterdam: Sense
Publishers. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-6300-450-3
Matsuda, M. J., Lawrence, C. R., Delgado, R., & Crenshaw, K. W. (Eds.). (1993). Words that
wound: Critical race theory, assaultive speech, and the first amendment. Boulder, CO:
Westview Press.
Melamed, J. (2011). Represent and destroy: Rationalizing violence in the new racial capitalism.
Minneapolis, MN: Minnesota University Press.
Milner, H. R. (2008). Critical race theory and interest convergence as analytic tools in teacher
education policies and practices. Journal of Teacher Education, 59(4), 332–346. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0022487108321884
Morrison, D., Annamma, S. A., & Jackson, D. D. (2017). Critical race spatial analysis: Mapping
to understand and address educational inequity. Sterling, VA: Stylus Publishing.
Museus, S. D., & Iftikar, J. (2014). Asian critical theory (AsianCrit). In M. Y. Danico (Ed.), Asian
American society: An encyclopedia (pp. 95–98). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications and
Association for Asian American Studies. https://doi.org/10.4135/9781452281889
Omi, M., & Winant, H. (2015). Racial formation in the United States. New York, NY: Routledge.
Park, J. J., & Liu, A. (2014). Interest convergence or divergence?: A critical race analysis of Asian
Americans, meritocracy, and critical mass in the affirmative action debate. The Journal of
Higher Education, 85(1), 36–64. https://doi.org/10.1080/00221546.2014.11777318
Parker, L. (2017). Schools and the no-prison phenomenon: Antiblackness and secondary policing
in the Black Lives Matter era. Journal of Educational Controversy, 12(1), 1–24.
Patel, L. (2014). Countering coloniality in educational research: From ownership to answerability.
Educational Studies, 50(4), 357–377. https://doi.org/10.1080/00131946.2014.924942
Pérez Huber, L. (2008). Building critical race methodologies in educational research: A research
note on critical race testimonio. FIU Law Review, 4(1), 159–173.
Pérez Huber, L., & Solórzano, D. (2015). Racial microaggressions as a tool for critical race research.
Race, Ethnicity, and Education, 18(3), 297–320. https://doi.org/10.1080/13613324.2014.994173
Rosa, J., & Flores, N. (2017). Unsettling race and language: Toward a raciolinguistic perspective.
Language in Society, 46(5), 621–647.
Sampson, C. (2018). (Im)Possibilities of Latinx school board members’ educational leadership toward
equity. Educational Administration Quarterly. https://doi.org/10.1177/0013161X18799482
Sampson, C. R. (2016). So it “became white activists fighting for integration?” Community orga-
nizations, intersectional identities, and education reform. Urban Review, 49(1), 72–95. https://
doi.org/10.1007/s11256-016-0382-9
Singleton, D. (2007). Interest convergence and the education of African-American boys in
Cincinnati: Motivating suburban whites to embrace interdistrict education reform. Northern
Kentucky Law Review, 34, 663–697. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0047404517000562
Snelgrove, C., Dhamoon, R., & Corntassel, J. (2014). Unsettling settler colonialism: The discourse
and politics of settlers, and solidarity with Indigenous nations. Decolonization: Indigeneity,
Education & Society, 3(2), 1–32.
Solórzano, D. G. (1997). Images and words that wound: Critical race theory, racial stereotyping,
and teacher education. Teacher Education Quarterly, 24(3), 5–19.
4 Framing Critical Race Theory and Methodologies 57
Solórzano, D., Allen, W. R., & Carroll, G. (2002). Keeping race in place: Racial microaggres-
sions and campus racial climate at the University of California, Berkeley. Chicano/Latino Law
Review, 23, 15–112.
Solórzano, D. G., & Delgado Bernal, D. (2001). Examining transformational resistance through a
critical race and LatCrit theory framework: Chicana and Chicano students in an urban context.
Urban Education, 36(3), 308–342. https://doi.org/10.1177/0042085901363002
Solórzano, D. G., & Velez, V. N. (2016). Using critical race spatial analysis to examine the Du
Boisian color-line along the Alameda Corridor in Southern California. Whittier Law Review,
37, 423–438.
Solórzano, D. G., & Yosso, T. J. (2002). Critical race methodology: Counter-storytelling as an
analytical framework for education research. Qualitative Inquiry, 8(1), 23–44. https://doi.
org/10.1177/107780040200800103
Stovall, D. O. (2016). Born out of struggle: Critical race theory, school creation, and the politics
of interruption. Albany, NY: SUNY Press.
Sung, K. (2017). “Accentuate the positive; eliminate the negative”: Hegemonic interest conver-
gence, racialization of Latino poverty, and the 1968 Bilingual Education Act. Peabody Journal
of Education, 92(3), 302–321. https://doi.org/10.1080/0161956X.2017.1324657
Sung, K. (2018). Raciolinguistic ideology of antiblackness: Bilingual education, tracking, and
the multiracial imaginary in urban schools. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in
Education, 31(8), 667–683. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2018.1479047
Terry, C. L. (2011). Mathematical counterstory and African American male students: Urban
mathematics education from a critical race theory perspective. Journal of Urban Mathematics
Education, 4(1), 23–49.
Tuck, E., & Yang, K. W. (2012). Decolonization is not a metaphor. Decolonization: Indigeneity,
Education & Society, 1(1), 1–40.
Walter, M., & Andersen, C. (2013). Indigenous statistics: A quantitative research methodology.
New York, NY: Routledge.
Yosso, T. J. (2005). Whose culture has capital? A critical race theory discussion of community
cultural wealth. Race Ethnicity and Education, 8(1), 69–91.
Yosso, T. (2006). Critical race counterstories along the Chicana/Chicano educational pipeline.
New York, NY: Routledge.
Zion, S. D., & Blanchett, W. J. (2011). [Re]conceptualizing inclusion: Can critical race theory and
interest convergence be utilized to achieve inclusion and equity for African American students?
Teachers College Record, 113(10), 2186–2205.
Chapter 5
Disentangling the Complexities of Queer
Theory and Intersectionality Theory:
Research Paradigms and Insights
for Social Justice
C. D. Chan (*)
Idaho State University, Pocatello, ID, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
S. Steen
University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
L. C. Howard · A. I. Ali
The George Washington University, Washington, DC, USA
e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected]
and barriers (Lugg & Murphy, 2014). In contrast, intersectionality theory is a para-
digm of research focused on inequities occurring within interpersonal experiences
and systems (e.g., workplace, school, community), connections between social
identities (e.g., race, ethnicity, sexuality, gender identity), an understanding of
which identities and environments produce power, and an agenda toward social jus-
tice by identifying points to implement change (Collins & Bilge, 2016). Using a
paradigm of research (e.g., queer theory) involves a preliminary understanding of
the history, contributors, and philosophical underpinnings. A paradigm of research,
hence, relates to the researchers’ personal philosophy and values; fit between
research purpose and design; and connection across the entire process of the study
(e.g., initial research question formation, tools for data collection, the process of
data analysis, writing the report, determination of findings). The paradigm outlining
a research study is an approach emerging from theoretical underpinnings to guide
the research purpose, decisions for methodology, the lens for data analysis, and the
use of the findings.
Queer theory and intersectionality theory are important in their attention to
barriers and inequities affecting historically marginalized communities (e.g.,
LGBTQ+ communities, people of color) by recognizing their identities (Guba &
Lincoln, 1994; Kincheloe, McLaren, Steinberg, & Monzó, 2017). For this reason,
educational research continues to build upon the work of queer theorists and inter-
sectional theorists while making current contributions. Scholars implementing
queer theory or intersectionality theory as paradigms in their research studies can
carefully consider how research impacts the communities of interest and mobiliz-
ing participants and researchers to institute change in the face of their respective
communities. Although some research in education addresses these issues, the
majority of educational research still relies on using data accessible to researchers
as truth rather than questioning the possibilities giving rise to such data (Detamore,
2010; Patel, 2016; Tuck & Wang, 2018). With a majority of research using empiri-
cal evidence to inform their practices, researchers, scholars, and practitioners can
exclude historically marginalized communities and pose barriers to scholars
attempting to produce change, action, and experiences in the lens of queer theory
or intersectionality theory.
Paradigms specifically require an understanding of distinction. For example,
queer theory and intersectionality theory result in their own unique underlying prin-
ciples and tenets to align the purposes and offerings for a research study on social
justice (Bilge, 2013; Chan, Erby, & Ford, 2017; Collins, 2015; Cor & Chan, 2017;
Hancock, 2016). Nonetheless, scholars and researchers continue to grapple with the
conceptualization of the parallels between these theoretical frameworks while elu-
cidating its distinctions to increase accessibility for research methods closely
involved in social justice and equity efforts (Duong, 2012; Fotopoulou, 2012).
While unifying conceptual and empirical literature to more fluidly interpret queer
theory and intersectionality theory, this chapter delves into the following goals: (a)
explain key aspects of queer theory and intersectionality theory distinctly; (b) illus-
trate differences between each paradigm as its own distinct framework; and (c) gen-
erate recommendations for use in research.
5 Disentangling the Complexities of Queer Theory and Intersectionality Theory… 61
Queer theory and intersectionality theory have produced conceptual frameworks and
empirical analyses wrestling with the nature of identity categories, organizations of
power, historicization, and social location. Due to their critical roots, some areas
within their approaches may seem similar. Their approaches and purposes, however,
are vastly different as a result of their legacy and theoretical underpinnings.
Queer Theory
Jones, 2011; Love, 2017). Given its antiessentialist platform (Lugg, 2003; Lugg &
Murphy, 2014) as a defined approach to consider unique, individualized, and
authentic experiences divergent across communities (e.g., LGBTQ+ communities),
queer theory enacts an empowerment to reify and author narratives unique to the
variability by noting fluidity, complexity, and intersections with other social identi-
ties (e.g., race, ethnicity; Rumens, 2013, 2017; Lugg & Murphy, 2014). Hence,
queer theory takes on the antiessentialist value of realizing that not all experiences
will represent the same identity or identities, especially as intersections with other
dimensions of social identity accentuate divergence (Few-Demo et al., 2016). Thus,
rejecting categories and binaries is the crux of the poststructuralist approach by real-
izing many interpretations and experiences can coexist outside of claimed identities.
Tied together with fluidity, refuting binaries is a core component of queer theory
approaches through substantiating the connection between binary identity catego-
ries as a function for substantiating power (Rumens, 2013).
Intersectionality Theory
Intersectionality theory was born out of collective movements angled toward social
action, equity, equality, and human rights, particularly for communities experienc-
ing multiple forms of marginalization (Chan et al., 2017; Cor & Chan, 2017). With
implications for scholarly and educational practices, intersectionality emerged from
decades of dialogues centered on protections and rights for women of color while
resisting restrictions and disenfranchisement from feminist movements (Carbado,
Crenshaw, Mays, & Tomlinson, 2013; Cole, 2008, 2009; Grzanka, Santos, &
Moradi, 2017; Parent, DeBlaere, & Moradi, 2013). Intersectionality also rose to
prominence specifically through the work of Crenshaw (1988, 1989, 1991) as a
legal analytic framework to question the protections held by antidiscrimination law.
Distinctly, Crenshaw critiqued legal scholarship for examining through the lens of a
single axis (e.g., exclusively race; exclusively gender) the possibility that a Black
woman would still face inequities. Although intersectionality has been tied closely
to the work of Crenshaw (1988, 1989, 1991) and Collins (1986, 1990, 2004), femi-
nist and intersectional scholars trace the history and genealogy of intersectionality
to multiple women of color and queer women of color using personal narratives of
multiple marginalizations as the basis for collective action (Anzaldúa, 1987;
Combahee River Collective, 1977/1995; hooks, 1981, 1984, 1989; Lorde, 1984;
Moraga & Anzaldúa, 1983). Attuned to the gravity of their personal experiences
with marginalization, predecessors of intersectionality cited the problematic erasure
of women of color in feminist movements (Collins, 1986; Crenshaw, 1989, 1991)
while subversively interrupting the boundaries on choosing single categories of
identity to convey their existence (Anzaldúa, 1987; Lorde, 1984; Moraga &
Anzaldúa, 1983). Hence, the evolution of intersectionality carries prominent roots
in feminism and, more distinctly, Black feminism (Bilge, 2013; Carbado et al.,
2013; Cho, 2013; Cho, Crenshaw, & McCall, 2013).
5 Disentangling the Complexities of Queer Theory and Intersectionality Theory… 63
With the explication of both intersectionality and queer theory as their own distinct
paradigms, it is ostensibly important for researchers to understand the distinctions
between the two paradigms to ultimately guide their decisions for a research study
and research design. They are separate and distinct according to their own underlying
64 C. D. Chan et al.
Conclusion
Researchers can note the differences between queer theory and intersectionality
theory as their own unique, distinct paradigms. Queer theory and intersectionality
theory involve their own unique underlying principles ultimately forming decisions
66 C. D. Chan et al.
for a research study. Although the evolution of empirical and conceptual research
grounded in analytic frameworks of intersectionality theory and queer theory con-
tinues to grow exponentially, the provided list of recommended readings captures
major luminaries augmenting movements and implementation grounded in both
intersectionality theory and queer theory. Similarly, researchers attempting to com-
plicate these frameworks should also examine a variety of recent theoretical frame-
works generated by the substantiation of intersectionality and queer theory, such as
queer of color critique (see Brockenbrough, 2015; McCready, 2013).
Recommended Readings
References
Adams, T. E., & Holman Jones, S. (2011). Telling stories: Reflexivity, queer theory, and auto-
ethnography. Cultural Studies ↔ Critical Methodologies, 11(2), 108–116. https://doi.
org/10.1177/1532708611401329
Ahmed, S. (2006). Queer phenomenology: Orientations, objects, others. Durham, NC: Duke
University Press.
Anzaldúa, G. (1987). Borderlands/la Frontera. San Francisco, CA: Aunt Lute Books.
Bilge, S. (2013). Intersectionality undone: Saving intersectionality from feminist intersectionality
studies. Du Bois Review, 10(2), 405–424. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1742058X13000283
Bowleg, L. (2008). When black + lesbian + woman ≠ black lesbian woman: The methodologi-
cal challenges of qualitative and quantitative intersectionality research. Sex Roles, 59(5–6),
312–325. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11199-008-9400-z
Bowleg, L. (2012). The problem with the phrase women and minorities: Intersectionality—An
important theoretical framework for public health. American Journal of Public Health, 102(7),
1267–1273. https://doi.org/10.2105/AJPH.2012.300750
Bowleg, L. (2013). “Once you’ve blended the cake, you can’t take the parts back to the main
ingredients”: Black gay and bisexual men’s descriptions and experiences of intersectionality.
Sex Roles, 68(11–12), 754–767. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11199-012-0152-4
Bowleg, L. (2017). Towards a critical health equity research stance: Why epistemology and meth-
odology matter more than qualitative methods. Health Education & Behavior, 44(5), 677–684.
https://doi.org/10.1177/1090198117728760
Bowleg, L., & Bauer, G. (2016). Invited reflection: Quantifying intersectionality. Psychology of
Women Quarterly, 40(3), 337–341. https://doi.org/10.1177/0361684316654282
Brockenbrough, E. (2015). Queer of color agency in educational contexts: Analytic frameworks
from a queer of color critique. Educational Studies, 51(1), 28–44. https://doi.org/10.1080/001
31946.2014.979929
Butler, J. (1990). Gender trouble: Feminism and the subversion of identity. New York, NY:
Routledge.
Butler, J. (2004). Undoing gender. New York, NY: Routledge.
Carastathis, A. (2016). Intersectionality: Origins, contestations, horizons. Lincoln, NE: University
of Nebraska Press.
Carbado, D. W., Crenshaw, K. W., Mays, V. M., & Tomlinson, B. (2013). Intersectionality. Du Bois
Review, 10(2), 303–312. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1742058X13000349
68 C. D. Chan et al.
Chan, C. D. (2017). A critical analysis of systemic influences on spiritual development for
LGBTQ+ youth. Journal of Child and Adolescent Counseling, 3(3), 146–163. https://doi.org/
10.1080/23727810.2017.1341795
Chan, C. D., Erby, A. N., & Ford, D. J. (2017). Intersectionality in practice: Moving a social justice
paradigm to action in higher education. In J. M. Johnson & G. C. Javier (Eds.), Queer people of
color in higher education (pp. 9–29). Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing.
Chan, C. D., Cor, D. N., & Band, M. P. (2018). Privilege and oppression in counselor education
and supervision: An intersectionality framework. The Journal of Multicultural Counseling and
Development, 46(1), 58–73. https://doi.org/10.1002/jmcd.12092
Cho, S. (2013). Post-intersectionality: The curious reception of intersectionality in legal scholar-
ship. Du Bois Review, 10(2), 385–404. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1742058X13000362
Cho, S., Crenshaw, K. W., & McCall, L. (2013). Toward a field of intersectionality studies: Theory,
applications, and praxis. Signs, 38(4), 785–810. https://doi.org/10.1086/669608
Cole, E. R. (2008). Coalitions as a model for intersectionality: From practice to theory. Sex Roles,
59(5–6), 443–453. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11199-008-9419-1
Cole, E. R. (2009). Intersectionality and research in psychology. American Psychologist, 64(3),
170–180. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0014564
Collins, P. H. (1986). Learning from the outsider within: The sociological significance of black
feminist thought. Social Problems, 33(6), S14–S32. https://doi.org/10.2307/800672
Collins, P. H. (1990). Black feminist thought: Knowledge, consciousness and the politics of
empowerment. New York, NY and London: Routledge.
Collins, P. H. (2004). Learning from the outsider within: The sociological significance of black
feminist thought. In S. Harding (Ed.), The feminist standpoint theory reader (pp. 103–126).
New York, NY: Routledge.
Collins, P. H. (2015). Intersectionality’s definitional dilemmas. Annual Review of Sociology, 41(1),
1–20. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-soc-073014-112142
Collins, P. H., & Bilge, S. (2016). Intersectionality. Malden, MA: Polity Press.
Combahee River Collective. (1995). Combahee River Collective statement. In B. Guy-Sheftall
(Ed.), Words of fire: An anthology of African American feminist thought (pp. 232–240).
New York, NY: New Press.
Cor, D. N., & Chan, C. D. (2017). Intersectionality feminism and LGBTIQQA+ psychology:
Understanding our present by exploring our past. In R. Ruth & E. Santacruz (Eds.), LGBT
psychology and mental health: Emerging research and advances (pp. 109–132). Santa Barbara,
CA: Praeger/ABC-CLIO.
Corlett, S., & Mavin, S. (2014). Intersectionality, identity and identity work. Gender in
Management, 29(5), 258–276. https://doi.org/10.1108/GM-12-2013-0138
Crenshaw, K. (1988). Race, reform, and retrenchment: Transformation and legitimation in antidis-
crimination law. Harvard Law Review, 101(7), 1331–1387. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.
org/stable/pdf/1341398.pdf
Crenshaw, K. (1989). Demarginalizing the intersection of race and sex: A Black feminist critique
of antidiscrimination doctrine, feminist theory and antiracist politics. University of Chicago
Legal Forum, 1989(1), 139–167.
Crenshaw, K. (1991). Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against
women of color. Stanford Law Review, 43(6), 1241–1299. https://doi.org/10.2307/1229039
Crotty, M. (1998). The foundations of social research: Meaning and perspective in the research
process. St. Leonards: Allan & Unwin.
Detamore, M. (2010). Queer(y)ing the ethics of research methods: Toward a politics of intimacy in
researcher/researched relations. In K. Browne & C. J. Nash (Eds.), Queer methods and meth-
odologies: Intersecting queer theories and social science research (pp. 167–182). Burlington,
VT: Ashgate.
Duong, K. (2012). What does queer theory teach us about intersectionality? Politics & Gender,
8(3), 370–386. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1743923X12000360
Few-Demo, A. L. (2014). Intersectionality as the “new” critical approach in feminist family stud-
ies: Evolving racial/ethnic feminisms and critical race theories. Journal of Family Theory &
Review, 6(2), 169–183. https://doi.org/10.1111/jftr.12039
5 Disentangling the Complexities of Queer Theory and Intersectionality Theory… 69
Few-Demo, A. L., Humble, Á. M., Curran, M. A., & Lloyd, S. A. (2016). Queer theory, intersec-
tionality, and LGBT-parent families: Transformative critical pedagogy in family theory: Queer
theory, intersectionality, and LGBT-parent families. Journal of Family Theory & Review, 8(1),
74–94. https://doi.org/10.1111/jftr.12127
Fine, M., Weis, L., Weseen, S., & Wong, L. (2003). For whom? Qualitative research, representa-
tions, and social responsibilities. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), The landscape of
qualitative research (2nd ed., pp. 167–207). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications.
Fish, J. N., & Russell, S. T. (2018). Queering methodologies to understand queer families. Family
Relations, 67(1), 12–25. https://doi.org/10.1111/fare.12297
Fotopoulou, A. (2012). Intersectionality queer studies and hybridity: Methodological frameworks
for social research. Journal of International Women’s Studies, 13(2), 19–32.
Foucault, M. (1980). History of sexuality: Volume one: An introduction. New York, NY: Vintage.
Gedro, J., & Mizzi, R. C. (2014). Feminist theory and queer theory: Implications for HRD
research and practice. Advances in Developing Human Resources, 16(4), 445–456. https://doi.
org/10.1177/1523422314543820
Goodrich, K. M., Luke, M., & Smith, A. J. (2016). Queer humanism: Toward an epistemology of
socially just, culturally responsive change. Journal of Humanistic Psychology, 56(6), 612–623.
https://doi.org/10.1177/0022167816652534
Gopaldas, A. (2013). Intersectionality 101. Journal of Public Policy & Marketing, 32, 90–94.
https://doi.org/10.1509/jppm.12.044
Grzanka, P. R., Santos, C. E., & Moradi, B. (2017). Intersectionality research in counseling psychol-
ogy. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 64(5), 453–457. https://doi.org/10.1037/cou0000237
Guba, E. G., & Lincoln, Y. S. (1994). Competing paradigms in qualitative research. In N. Denzin
& Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (pp. 105–117). Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage.
Hancock, A.-M. (2016). Intersectionality: An intellectual history. New York, NY: Oxford
University Press.
hooks, b. (1981). Ain’t I a woman: Black women and feminism. Boston, MA: South End Press.
hooks, b. (1984). Feminist theory: From margin to center. Cambridge, MA: South End Press.
hooks, b. (1989). Talking back: Thinking feminist, thinking black. Boston, MA: South End Press.
Jagose, A. (2009). Feminism’s queer theory. Feminism & Psychology, 19(2), 157–174. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0959353509102152
Kincheloe, J. L., McLaren, P., Steinberg, S. R., & Monzó, L. (2017). Critical pedagogy and quali-
tative research: Advancing the bricolage. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), The SAGE
handbook of qualitative research (5th ed., pp. 235–260). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Lorde, A. (1984). Sister outsider: Essays and speeches. Trumansburg, NY: Crossing Press.
Love, B. L. (2017). A ratchet lens: Black queer youth, agency, hip hop, and the Black ratchet imag-
ination. Educational Researcher, 46(9), 539–547. https://doi.org/10.3102/0013189X17736520
Lugg, C. (2003). Sissies, faggots, lezzies, and dykes: Gender, sexual orientation and new politics
of education? Educational Administration Quarterly, 39(1), 95–134.
Lugg, C. A., & Murphy, J. P. (2014). Thinking whimsically: Queering the study of educational
policy-making and politics. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 27(9),
1183–1204. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2014.916009
Mayo, C. (2017). Queer and trans youth, relational subjectivity, and uncertain possibilities:
Challenging research in complicated contexts. Educational Researcher, 46(9), 530–538.
https://doi.org/10.3102/0013189X17738737
McCall, L. (2005). The complexity of intersectionality. Signs, 30(3), 1771–1800. https://doi.
org/10.1086/426800
McCann, H. (2016). Epistemology of the subject: Queer theory’s challenge to feminist sociology.
Women’s Studies Quarterly, 44(3/4), 224–243. https://doi.org/10.1353/wsq.2016.0044
McCready, L. T. (2013). Conclusion to the special issue: Queer of color analysis: Interruptions
and pedagogic possibilities. Curriculum Inquiry, 43(4), 512–522. https://doi.org/10.1111/
curi.12024
70 C. D. Chan et al.
Misgav, C. (2016). Some spatial politics of queer-feminist research: Personal reflections from the
field. Journal of Homosexuality, 63(5), 719–721. https://doi.org/10.1080/00918369.2015.111
2191
Moradi, B., & Grzanka, P. R. (2017). Using intersectionality responsibly: Toward critical epis-
temology, structural analysis, and social justice activism. Journal of Counseling Psychology,
64(5), 500–513. https://doi.org/10.1037/cou0000203
Moraga, C., & Anzaldúa, G. (Eds.). (1983). This bridge called my back: Writings by radical women
of color (2nd ed.). New York, NY: Kitchen Table/Women of Color Press.
Parent, M. C., DeBlaere, C., & Moradi, B. (2013). Approaches to research on intersectionality:
Perspectives on gender, LGBT, and Racial/Ethnic identities. Sex Roles, 68(11–12), 639–645.
https://doi.org/10.1007/s11199-013-0283-2
Patel, L. (2016). Decolonizing educational research: From ownership to answerability. New York,
NY: Routledge.
Plummer, K. (2011). Critical humanism and queer theory: Living with the tensions. In N. K.
Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), The SAGE handbook of qualitative research (4th ed., pp. 195–
207). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE.
Rubin, G. S. (1984). Thinking sex: Notes for a radical theory of the politics of sexuality. In
C. S. Vance (Ed.), Pleasure and danger: Exploring female sexuality (pp. 267–293). London:
Routledge.
Rubin, G. S. (2011). Deviations: A Gayle Rubin reader. Durham and London: Duke University
Press.
Rumens, N. (2013). Queering men and masculinities in construction: Towards a research agenda.
Construction Management and Economics, 31(8), 802–815. https://doi.org/10.1080/01446193.
2013.765021
Rumens, N. (2016). Towards queering the business school: A research agenda for advancing les-
bian, gay, bisexual and trans perspectives and issues. Gender, Work and Organization, 23(1),
36–51. https://doi.org/10.1111/gwao.12077
Rumens, N. (2017). Queering lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender identities in human resource
development and management education contexts. Management Learning, 48(2), 227–242.
https://doi.org/10.1177/1350507616672737
Sedgwick, E. K. (1990). Epistemology of the closet. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.
Sedgwick, E. K. (1993). Tendencies. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
Shields, S. A. (2008). Gender: An intersectionality perspective. Sex Roles, 59(5–6), 301–311.
https://doi.org/10.1007/s11199-008-9501-8
Smooth, W. G. (2013). Intersectionality from theoretical framework to policy intervention. In A. R.
Wilson (Ed.), Situating intersectionality: Politics, policy, and power. New York, NY: Palgrave
Macmillan.
Tuck, E., & Wang, K. W. (2018). Introduction: Born under the rising sign of social justice. In
E. Tuck & K. W. Wang (Eds.), Toward what justice? Describing diverse dreams of justice in
education (pp. 1–18). New York, NY: Routledge.
Warner, L. R., & Shields, S. A. (2013). The intersections of sexuality, gender, and race:
Identity research at the crossroads. Sex Roles, 68(11–12), 803–810. https://doi.org/10.1007/
s11199-013-0281-4
Warner, L., Settles, I., & Shields, S. (2016). Invited reflection: Intersectionality as an epistemo-
logical challenge to psychology. Psychology of Women Quarterly, 40(2), 171–176. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0361684316641384
Chapter 6
Using Critical Theory in Educational
Research
Kamden K. Strunk and Jasmine S. Betties
Abstract Critical theory remains a central theoretical framework in research for equity
and social justice. In this chapter, we introduce some of the major concepts in critical
theory and the educational theory of critical pedagogy. We also attempt to differentiate
critical theory from other perspectives like critical race theory, with which it is often
conflated. We also suggest ways in which critical theory can be mobilized in educational
research. While a short chapter such as this cannot capture the complexity and long his-
tory of critical theory and critical pedagogy approaches, we aim to provide a useful
introduction and resources for those wishing to go further with this perspective.
K. K. Strunk (*)
Educational Psychology and Research Methodologies, Auburn University, Auburn, AL, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
J. S. Betties
Auburn University, Auburn, AL, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
primarily understood through economics, labor, and class struggle. That is not to say
that critical theory or critical theorists deny the reality of racism, white supremacy,
cisheteropatriarchy, ableism, or any other forms of oppression. To the contrary,
those systems are all potent in their subjugation of marginalized groups. However,
this approach does view those dynamics as being, at their core, economic systems.
Because of that, the central organizing feature of those oppressive systems is, in the
US context at least, capitalism (Postone & Galambos, 1995). That said, contempo-
rary uses of critical theory are often a bit removed from a true Marxist analysis but
are still informed by that perspective and shaped by that history.
One critique of critical theory and related approaches is a positivist impulse
(Gottesman, 2016). That is, because of its roots as a Marxist approach, critical the-
ory tends to envision an ideal society. The envisioning of an ideal carries with it an
implicit belief in an absolute truth (a perfect society) which individuals can strive to
approximate. Many contemporary critical theorists address that impulse directly
and pull from poststructuralist, postcolonial, and other perspectives. However, it
remains true that critical theory has some positivist flavor which those using the
theory ought to carefully reflect upon and work to reimagine. Another critique of
critical theory is that it, in the view of some, insufficiently centers things like race/
racism and gender/sexism. Critical theoretical approaches typically reject the mate-
rial reality of social identities like race, gender, and sexual identity (Leonardo,
2013), and like many other approaches, critical theorists often suggest that those
social identities are ideological constructions rather than material realities. That is,
race is not ‘real’ in the sense that there is no actual material state one can adequately
describe as ‘race’. However, race has been constructed as a category that means a
great deal in society. Moreover, race has been constructed in binary ways (white/
people of Color) that privilege White people and allow them to accumulate wealth
and power at the expense of (and as a product of the labor of) people of Color. In
fact, it takes a great deal of sustained effort to elevate the symbolism of skin color
variations to the ideological status of binary racial categories (Leonardo, 2013).
Similar arguments could be made about other social identities—the identity catego-
ries themselves are ideological constructs that have taken on the meanings of a
white supremacist cisheteropatriarchal society, and their construction is a way in
which those in power justify and extend oppression and dehumanization. In other
words, race is not a material reality, but race matters very much and racism is all too
real. Denying the material reality of those social identities need not decenter sys-
tems of oppression that operate on social identity. Rather, that rejection of static or
‘real’ social identities can shift the focus away from individual bodies and onto
systems that commodify, exploit, and oppress those bodies.
In this short chapter, we attempt to introduce some of the key concepts in critical
theory. We use the terms critical theory and critical pedagogy as somewhat inter-
changeable throughout. While that perhaps shows ideological or theoretical slippage
in our own conceptualizations, it is also true that they are often used as if they were
interchangeable in the research literature. We do not intend to imply there are no dif-
ferences—but for the purposes of a text on educational research, the distinctions are
muddier as critical pedagogy adopts and expands many of the tenets of critical theory
(Giroux, 1997) with specific applications to education, teaching, and schools.
6 Using Critical Theory in Educational Research 73
Commodification of Knowledge/Power
One of the key developments in modern educational reform, which has occurred
alongside the rise of neoliberalism, is the commodification of knowledge (which
critical pedagogy holds is an inseparable concept from power (McLaren, 2002)).
Increasingly, discourses around education center on its value in monetary and labor-
force terms. While prior eras included an understanding of education as a public good
(Bowles & Gintis, 2011) that bestowed benefits on society by producing informed
citizens capable of self-governance (Huang, Van den Brink, & Groot, 2009), the neo-
liberal turn brought with it an emphasis on education as a private good (Olssen &
Peters, 2005) that benefits individuals by improving their economic status (Bourdieu,
2011) or by providing a more skilled pool of laborers for corporate interests (Helliwell
& Putnam, 2007). Alongside this turn came objections to public funding of colleges
and universities (with logics such as, ‘why should I pay for someone else to get a
better job?’). There is much to say about this turn, as others have done elsewhere
(Strunk, Locke, & McGee, 2015). However, important to this discussion of critical
theory is the construction of knowledge (and thus, of schooling and education) as a
set of commodities whose value is primarily monetary and labor related.
By commodifying knowledge, in a critical theory analysis, one also commodifies
power. Power takes on a monetary value (and thus can be assigned a price), incentiv-
izing those with power to oppress others through educational systems in order to
preserve their societal advantage. This point is particularly important—systems of
power, domination, and oppression primarily serve to preserve the power and wealth
of those in dominant social positions and to ensure that fewer and fewer individuals
accumulate more and more power and wealth. In our context, those power and wealth
divides fall along racialized, gendered, sexualized, and other identity category lines,
such that white supremacist cisheteropatriarchy becomes fused with economic sys-
tems of exploitative capitalism. However, critical theory not only observes this com-
modification and the ways it motivates oppressive systems but also explains how
those systems come to be and how they operate to ensure oppressive outcomes.
Dialectical Theory
Ideological Domination
Hidden Curriculum
Dominant ideologies enter the ‘common sense’ through their presence in the hidden
curriculum. Schools have explicit curricula for teaching content areas, creating criti-
cal thinking skills, and other topics. However, beyond those formal lessons, schools
and teachers impose ideological lessons about what is valued, valuable, and worthy,
6 Using Critical Theory in Educational Research 75
as well as what knowledges and ways of knowing are valid (Giroux & Purpel,
1983). Those lessons are taught alongside the formal curriculum in ways that are
often unnoticed. In a commonly cited example, teachers and schools often insist on
standard English, implicitly signaling that other languages, ways of speaking, and
ways of representing knowledge are less valid. Because schools teach some ways of
knowing, establishing knowledges, or representing knowledges as ‘better’ than oth-
ers, they also teach that the ideology aligned with those ‘better’ ways is superior.
Students, then, come to understand whiteness and cisheterosexism as if they were
‘natural’ and more desirable. In this way, the hidden curriculum results in social
reproduction. As a result of their own education in white supremacist cisheteropa-
triarchy, students go on to impose those same values and ideologies on others. The
ideological and social systems currently in place, and which are oppressive, become
reproduced in each new class of students unless they are radically interrupted
(Kemmis & Fitzclarence, 1986; Giroux, 1981).
Hegemony
As a result of dominant ideologies and the hidden curriculum, social practices are
established which seem benign on their face, but they act to reify oppression and
domination. Because those social practices are consensual in nature, oppressed
groups routinely participate in them, unknowingly contributing to their own oppres-
sion (Giroux, 1981). This process of participation in consensual social practices that
reify domination is referred to as hegemony. This should not be understood as plac-
ing ‘blame’ for oppression on oppressed groups. Instead, hegemony highlights the
pervasiveness of dominant ideologies and their power to structure relations to rein-
force existing dominant ideologies. Sometimes referred to as a silent struggle, the
powerful seek to gain the consent of those they oppressed, ultimately leading
oppressed people to unwittingly participate in their own subordination (Ryan,
1976). The concept of hegemony also helps clarify why violence is not a necessary
feature in oppression and domination. Violently oppressive regimes often meet with
ferocious resistance. But, by instituting a set of normalized, naturalized social prac-
tices in which people voluntarily participate that reify oppressive power relations,
no force is necessary, nor is coercion.
Reflecting on the current state of US sociopolitical affairs, hegemony is clear.
Individuals likely to be more negatively affected by new policies and regressive laws
openly support them. They do so in part because of a socially constructed reality in
which participating in those efforts might lead to actual rewards. Hegemony creates
a situation where “both rulers and ruled derive psychological and material rewards
in the course of confirming and reconfirming their inequality” (Gitlin, 1980, p. 253).
This is carried out in part through the standardization of vocabularies and represen-
tational symbols (language), which naturally limit what constitutes valid ways of
being and knowing. Hegemonic systems are inherited through the systems of signs,
expectations, idiomatic expressions, and available tools and technologies (Strunk,
76 K. K. Strunk and J. S. Betties
Locke, & Martin, 2017). Researchers using critical theory often attempt to under-
stand how dominant ideologies become infused in hidden curricula, ultimately
allowing hegemony to occur.
Although the evolution of critical theory and critical pedagogy is complicated, and
scholars have questioned the centrality of Paulo Freire to initiating that move
(Gottesman, 2016), he remains a pivotal figure in critical pedagogy. In shifting the
attention to schools as sites of oppression and ideological reproduction, Freire
(1970) critiqued the usual ‘banking model’ of education in which, “education
becoming an act of depositing, in which the students are the depositories and the
teacher is the depositor. Instead of communicating, the teacher issues communiques
and makes deposits that the students patiently receive, memorize, and repeat”
(p. 72). For Freire, this model of education perpetuates the continuity of oppression
and is the ‘greatest tool’ in the hands of the oppressor. Instead, Freire (1970) urged
teachers to adopt a problem-posing approach to education, which is grounded on
freedom and emphasizes that teachers must see themselves in a partnership with
their students. This approach to education also encourages students to become
social agents—challenging ways of being that oppress them and their community
(Duncan-Andrade & Morrell, 2008).
Over the years, various critical pedagogues and theorists have explored different
approaches to doing the work of liberation in classrooms. These include hooks’
(2014) call for transgressive pedagogy, Giroux’s body of work on critical pedagogy,
Gore’s (2003) theoretical work, and recent applications to urban education includ-
ing that of Duncan-Andrade and Morrell (2008). Critical pedagogy is also a con-
tested terrain, with approaches and their implications hotly debated. However, these
various approaches all seek to work with education for liberatory ends. Critical
pedagogues are typically most focused on how to improve classroom practices, how
to help students develop critical consciousness and analyze their own experiences,
and how to make classrooms liberatory and resistive spaces.
Applying critical theory and critical pedagogy to research requires turning the analytic
focus away from individuals and onto systems. It is often all too easy to point to prob-
lematic individuals and their oppressive practices, seeking to place blame for inequity
on so-called ‘bad actors’. One of the contributions of critical theory is the assertion
that, even absent any bad actors, in a system where every individual acts from a place
of good intentions, their placement in an ideological system that has always centered
white supremacist cisheteropatriarchy will ensure they still reproduce inequitable
6 Using Critical Theory in Educational Research 77
While many have written about the limits of a critical theory approach grounded in
Marxist analysis, here we highlight a few of the concerns. Researchers have com-
mented that, while Marxist analysis is useful in describing and understanding sys-
tems, it is often less useful in suggesting approaches to transforming systems (short
of the Marxist suggestion of a full revolution). In the US context, this has been
particularly true of Marxist approaches to understanding race and racism. Pure
Marxist analysis tends to fall short of fully explaining or predicting race-based
oppression (Leonardo, 2013). Other analyses of race point to the shortcomings of
78 K. K. Strunk and J. S. Betties
Marxist approaches in this regard. By treating race and racism as purely ideological,
these approaches are insufficient to explain how race also constrains the actions and
ideologies of those constructed as White or to fully describe the ways in which race-
based oppression operates. Critical race theorists and critical whiteness theorists
have done much to further those explorations. Similarly queer theorists have done
much to deepen the exploration of genders and sexualities. That is not to suggest
that those theories expand on or grow out of critical theory—though some of those
perspectives might be understood as reactions to critical theory.
The most compelling educational research often mobilizes pieces of more than one
theory, pulling conceptual tools from more than one framework. In what Lather (2006)
describes as paradigm proliferation, researchers can engage with multiple frameworks
and ultimately arrive at entirely new theoretical constructs and analytic tools. Among
those tools can be elements of critical theory and Marxist analysis. However, we encour-
age researchers to move beyond dogmatic adherence to a particular frame and instead
to think broadly about how the range of theories have variously explored elements of
oppression and liberation and how they might inform future thinking and research.
Suggested Readings
Gottesman, I. (2016). The critical turn in education: From Marxist critique to post-
structuralist feminism, to critical theories of race. New York, NY: Routledge.
This text is extremely useful in understanding how critical approaches to educa-
tional research have evolved, responded to one another, and the history of their
usage. It is also a very readable text and could probably be completed over a week-
end due to its Gottesman’s approachable writing style. The text is also useful in
positioning various theoretical views and theorists in relationship with one another.
Giroux, H. A. (2011). On critical pedagogy. New York, NY: Bloomsbury.
While Giroux’s work has been the subject of some criticism, this text is extremely
helpful in understanding some of the key concepts in his work on critical pedagogy
and is among the more heavily cited critical pedagogy works. This text is also useful
in unpacking what it means to examine the ideological construction of education
rather than simply examining practices or outcomes.
References
Bonilla-Silva, E., & Zuberi, T. (2008). Toward a definition of white logic and white methods. In
E. Bonilla-Silva & T. Zuberi (Eds.), White logic, white methods: Racism and methodology
(pp. 3–29). Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield.
Bourdieu, P. (2011). The forms of capital. In I. Szeman & T. Kaposy (Eds.), Cultural theory: An
anthology (pp. 81–93). Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell.
6 Using Critical Theory in Educational Research 79
Bowles, S., & Gintis, H. (2011). Schooling in capitalist America: Educational reform and the
contradictions of economic life. Chicago, IL: Haymarket Books.
Carr, W., & Kemmis, S. (1983). Becoming critical: Knowing through action research. Victoria,
BC: Deakin University Press.
Duncan-Andrade, J. M. R., & Morrell, E. (2008). The art of critical pedagogy: Possibilities for
moving from theory to practice in urban schools. New York, NY: Peter Lang.
Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York, NY: Continuum Publishing.
Giroux, H. A. (1981). Ideology, culture, and the process of schooling. Philadelphia, PA: Temple
University Press.
Giroux, H. A. (1997). Channel surfing. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press.
Giroux, H. A. (2011). On critical pedagogy. New York, NY: Bloomsbury.
Giroux, H. A., & Purpel, D. (Eds.). (1983). The hidden curriculum and moral education: Deception
or discovery? Berkeley, CA: McCutchen Publishing.
Gitlin, T. (1980). The whole world is watching: Media in the making and unmaking of the new left.
Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.
Gore, J. (2003). What we can do for you! What can “we” do for “you”?: Struggling over empower-
ment in critical and feminist pedagogy. In A. Darder, M. Baltodano, & R. D. Torres (Eds.), The
critical pedagogy reader (pp. 331–348). New York, NY: Routledge and Falmer.
Gottesman, I. (2016). The critical turn in education: From Marxist critique to poststructuralist
feminism, to critical theories of race. New York, NY: Routledge.
Helliwell, J. F., & Putnam, R. D. (2007). Education and social capital. Eastern Economic Journal,
33(1), 1–19. https://doi.org/10.1057/eej.2007.1
hooks, b. (2014). Teaching to transgress. New York, NY: Routledge.
Horkheimer, M. (1982). Critical theory. New York, NY: Continuum.
Huang, J., Van den Brink, H. M., & Groot, W. (2009). A meta-analysis of the effect of education
on social capital. Economics of Education Review, 28(4), 454–464. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.
econedurev.2008.03.004
Kemmis, S., & Fitzclarence, L. (1986). Curriculum theorizing: Beyond reproduction theory.
Victoria, BC: Deakin University Press.
Lather, P. (2006). Paradigm proliferation as a good thing to think with: Teaching research in edu-
cation as a wild profusion. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 19(1),
35–57. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518390500450144
Leonardo, Z. (2013). Race frameworks: A multidimensional theory of racism and education.
New York, NY: Teachers College Press.
McLaren, P. (2002). Critical pedagogy: A look at the major concepts. In A. Darder, M. Baltodano,
& R. D. Torres (Eds.), The critical pedagogy reader (pp. 69–96). New York, NY: Routledge
and Falmer.
Olssen, M., & Peters, M. A. (2005). Neoliberalism, higher education and the knowledge economy:
From the free market to knowledge capitalism. Journal of Education Policy, 20(3), 313–345.
https://doi.org/10.1080/02680930500108718
Postone, M., & Galambos, L. (1995). Time, labor, and social domination: A reinterpretation of
Marx’s critical theory. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Ryan, W. (1976). Blaming the victim. New York, NY: Vintage Books.
Strunk, K. K., Locke, L. A., & Martin, G. L. (2017). Oppression and resistance in Southern higher
and adult education: Mississippi and the dynamics of equity and social justice. New York, NY:
Palgrave Macmillan.
Strunk, K. K., Locke, L. A., & McGee, M. K. (2015). Neoliberalism and contemporary reform
efforts in Mississippi’s public education system. In M. Abendroth & B. J. Porfilio (Eds.),
Understanding neoliberal rule in K-12 schools: Educational fronts for local and global justice
(pp. 45–59). Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing.
Chapter 7
Viewing Research for Social Justice
and Equity Through the Lens of Zygmunt
Bauman’s Theory of Liquid Modernity
Danielle T. Ligocki
Abstract Understanding the power that research holds to advance the need for
social justice and equity is a crucial step in making real societal, institutional, and
educational change. This chapter seeks to explain Zygmunt Bauman’s theory of
liquid modernity and engage the reader with a new understanding regarding how
this theory works to frame and explain this current historical moment and how all
areas of society have been impacted but specifically the work of the researcher.
When working to choose a framework and methodology for a research study, the
task can feel daunting and unfamiliar. What am I trying to learn? How do I want to
analyze my data? What lenses exist that are appropriate for viewing my data? What
are the experiences of my participants? I struggled with the same questions.
However, as I worked to frame my initial study and research question a few years
ago, I realized that the current state of our world is pushing down the population in
ways that are deeply impactful, specifically when studying social phenomena. With
this in mind, I settled on the theory of liquid modernity. This theory acts as a guide
in understanding how the conditions of our social world are acting upon us as social
actors, citizens, and human beings.
Zygmunt Bauman’s theory of liquid modernity can aid in conducting research
for social justice and equity in education. This theory posits that we are currently
living not in a post-modern society, but rather in a liquid modern society, which
means that the nature of our lives is fluid and always in flux. This changes the lens
through which people may view certain issues, as they are no longer looking for the
greater meta-narrative that was once sought out in post-modern times, but rather
they are working to understand the ways in which a complete denigration of the line
that once separated public lives from private lives now impacts the world.
D. T. Ligocki (*)
Oakland University, Auburn Hills, MI, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
Bauman views this historical moment as one of crisis, and his theory of liquid
modernity frames the reasoning for why the world is in this state. When looking at
the work of Bauman and specifically at his theory of liquid modernity, one can see
an understanding and situating of neoliberalism, as well as Henry Giroux’s notions
of disposability and Michel Foucault’s work on the panopticon running through it.
For Bauman, elements of society have shifted so greatly that the rampant individu-
alism of neoliberalism, along with the constant threat and implementation of sur-
veillance, has worked together to construct a new period of time. Layered on top of
surveillance and neoliberalism are notions regarding disposability, cultural insensi-
tivity, and the breaking down of social networks, all of which have left Bauman with
a theory of liquid modernity as a means of defining this time in history.
Zygmunt Bauman makes clear in his work that the theory of liquid modernity
addresses the characteristics of this current historical moment. Because, as Bauman
posits, the world now exists constantly in a liquid state, the fluidity of the world has
enabled a complete breakdown of social networks, which has resulted in oversharing
of our private lives as a means of public recognition and self-surveillance. Because
this type of information moves so quickly and because people move from one bit of
information to the next without ever coming to a finishing point, society now sees an
overwhelming posture of insensitivity, coupled with a thoughtless disposability of
both people and things. The liquid nature of our world then, for Bauman, explains
how neoliberalism has taken over society and schools and explains why it is exceed-
ingly difficult to focus work on the need for social justice and equity.
Liquid modernity is a theoretical perspective that explains how we are living in a
time that is lacking in solid bonds; a time of oversharing, over-surveillance, and a lack
of private lives; a pervasive feeling of disposability; insensitivity; and a world lacking
a sense of community. Put more succinctly, this theory explains how “time flows, but
no longer marches on. There is constant change, but no finishing point” (Bauman,
2007b, p. 121). This lack of a finishing point has a great impact on lives today, as
people are constantly working to have the newest, best, shiniest things, all while
quickly working to dispose of anything that does not serve immediate needs.
With this in mind—having no finishing point and always working on moving
forward—one can see how these ideals push back against educating for social jus-
tice and equity. How can educators and researchers work toward equity and social
justice in education for all students, but especially those who are traditionally mar-
ginalized, if there is a quickness to dispose of not only things but also people? How
is it possible to work toward a practice of transformative education when any feeling
of community or solid bonds ceases to exist? While disposability is only one piece
of Bauman’s theory, it works to undergird why conducting research or teaching for
social justice and equity has become strenuous. The theory of liquid modernity
explains that people and things are all disposable, so that makes it very difficult to
advocate for a population that is often pushed to the margins of society.
7 Viewing Research for Social Justice and Equity Through the Lens of Zygmunt… 83
Bauman (2012) explains that social networks have disintegrated and nothing has
taken their place. This, he says, is an unintended effect of the new ‘lightness and
fluidity’ of our world. However, this complete disintegration of social networks has
a very tangible effect on the lives of researchers, as well as the lives of those with
whom they may be working. This lack of solid bonds has created a void where
close-knit, deeply felt relationships with friends, peers, family members, and even
teachers were once felt and appreciated. Bauman asserts that the current historical
moment is one that is lacking in a feeling of community and connection. Because of
this lack of community and connection, everything is viewed now as an individual
problem or issue to be addressed. Viewing shortcomings as an individual issue is not
new and is at the core of neoliberalism, which has taken over all aspects of society
and education. This leads to an obscure situation where people are increasingly con-
nected to other people and places all over the world electronically, but they cannot
find that same connection to people and places in their own real lives. Members of
society are forever occupied by a screen of some sort but not by the people sitting
right next to them. These shifting dynamics and the different emotional climate are
having very real effects on relationships everywhere. Without social networks, the
idea that “it takes a village” becomes obsolete, and the wrap-around services that
are so desperately needed for some students and families are not possible.
While there may be a lack of solid, personal relationships, there appears to be no prob-
lem with very public connections and a complete lack of privacy. Once upon a time, we
occupied a space in which people held pieces of information so deeply, so closely to
their hearts, that a select few were privileged to these thoughts and feelings. In the time
of liquid modernity, this information is now shared freely with complete strangers. If it
is not shared on the Internet, it did not happen, right? People need an audience. While
Michel Foucault (1977) may have once talked about the panopticon as a means of disci-
pline and punishment, we now see a virtual panopticon, a self-imposed permanent vis-
ibility with no regard for privacy and no juxtaposition between private and public lives.
Foucault warned his readers years ago regarding the threat of constant surveillance from
organizations much bigger than the individual, but now Bauman speaks to the ills of
taking this surveillance on willingly and without reservation. People now conduct their
own surveillance, where the thought of keeping anything private or in personal lives
only is completely unheard of. Between Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram, and so many
other platforms, people over-surveil themselves to the point of saturation. Where there
once existed a clear line between public lives and personal lives, in Bauman’s liquid
modern theory, this line no longer exists. Instead of private lives, important secrets, and
trusted advisors, everything is televised for the world to see and keep a close eye on how
many ‘likes’ private information might garner.
84 D. T. Ligocki
Insensitivity
This lack of private lives and sharing of everything has not led to a greater appreciation
for others’ lived experiences; instead, liquid modernity explains that society is living in
a time that is lacking in sensitivity. Not only is society lacking a feeling of sensitivity, but
it also operates under the premise that both people and things are disposable. This dis-
posability is illustrated clearly by the rampant consumerism that envelopes most people,
but many are not as willing to see and acknowledge that this notion of disposability
extends to people as well. If someone is lacking in buying power, cannot contribute to
society in a way that seems viable, is struggling, or in need of extra assistance, they are
deemed as disposable and pushed to the fringes of society. Society needs to look no
further than the demolishing of social services or the school to prison pipeline to see that
this is true. Clearly, the liquid feeling of the world and the fluidity with which everything
moves means that there is no room for those who do not measure up in one way or
another and no longer is there the sensitivity to even think about this phenomenon.
Disposability
This practice of disposability and ensuing lack of sensitivity can be seen in the lack of
community that pervades the liquid modern world. There was a time, not that long
ago, where neighborhoods, schools, and even families felt like communities. In liquid
modernity, however, this no longer exists. Zygmunt Bauman makes clear that relation-
ships are fragile and fleeting in our current time because people are constantly work-
ing to keep on moving. Because of this, relationships simply do not take shape; they
are not grounded. The result of this constant movement and lack of relationships is a
lack of critical thought and meaning-making in our world. Not only are people lacking
in critical thought, but they also do not sit still long enough to realize the people, rela-
tionships, or feeling that might be missing from the world. Instead, people look for
distractions, in all forms. People choose to focus instead on the mess that is someone
else’s fluid world, as maybe their own mess will then not seem so bad. Bauman makes
clear to his reader, “With moral pain smothered before it becomes truly vexing and
worrying, the web of human bonds woven of moral yarn becomes increasingly frail
and fragile, falling apart at the seams” (Bauman & Donskis, 2013, p. 16). These bonds
are disintegrating and leaving all with a lack of community and solid relationships.
Zygmunt Bauman has used the theory of liquid modernity to describe life as a time
when there is no longer a beginning or an end, just an endless cycle of replacing and
renewing. This endless cycle applies to both people and things. Bauman also explains
that life in the liquid modern world is similar to walking in a minefield—we do not
7 Viewing Research for Social Justice and Equity Through the Lens of Zygmunt… 85
know when something is going to blow, but we know that it will eventually. When
educators and researchers think of the world in those terms, it becomes clear what a
startling time this is for all people but specifically those who advocate for social
justice and equity. How does one push basic human concepts like equity, social jus-
tice, and an ethic of care when people are viewed through the lens of disposability,
where everyone and everything is replaceable? This is where using liquid modernity
as a theoretical framework for research can be valuable when conducting research
for social justice and equity in education.
In solid modern times, “‘to be modern’ meant to chase ‘the final state of
perfection’—now it means an infinity of improvement, with no ‘final state’ in sight
and none desired” (Bauman, 2012, p. IX). During the times of modernity, the pur-
pose of life was to arrive at one great point, but this is not the case now. The world
and all people are always flowing and in motion. This fluidity makes research that
much more difficult, as people do not stay focused on one idea or issue long enough
to make real, lasting, impactful change. Those who have been in the field of educa-
tion long enough have seen plenty of initiatives come and go, never having enough
time to take root and see if real, meaningful, lasting change has been made. Again,
this is because of the lightness and fluidity of the time we are living in—if some-
thing does not work, push it aside and try the next best thing. This approach is
problematic in most areas of life but certainly in education.
As researchers viewing work through the lens of liquid modernity, the first step is
to ensure that people feel a deep attachment to the work that they are doing and that
they value and respect the people and places with which they are working. This is
especially important when working with human subjects; if researchers want their
research subjects to participate in discussions, focus groups, and observations, they
must trust that the researcher will not get swept up in the fluidity of their world and
instead put in the time that is necessary and appropriate to allow them to tell their
stories or share their experiences. When so much of today’s world is built on uncer-
tainty, educators need their research participants to feel like the work that they were
told was going to happen actually happens in that way. This is especially important
when researchers are working with groups who are traditionally marginalized. Eve
Tuck (2009) referred specifically to urban and native communities when she wrote
that they feel, “over researched yet, ironically, made invisible” (p. 411). If educators
and researchers are truly working for equity and social justice when research is being
conducted, researchers must be keenly aware of the bonds that need to be made and
the ways in which they truly need to both hear and see all research subjects.
“To put it bluntly, under conditions of ‘liquidity’ everything could happen yet noth-
ing can be done with confidence and certainty” (Bauman, 2012, p. XIV). This is
important to consider when one thinks about schooling and students. Professionals
like to tell their students and their research subjects and participants that the sky is the
limit, they can do anything, but the theory of liquid modernity says that, with few
social supports in place and even less empathy, young people in schools are constantly
living in a state of fear and uncertainty. This means that, when working to conduct
research for education, this must be at the front of the researcher’s brain. Researchers
should be asking, “How is my work going to impact the lives of the people that I am
86 D. T. Ligocki
working with?” If researchers are truly conducting educational research for social
justice and equity, it is imperative that they center the voice and agency of their partici-
pants, while acknowledging their own privileged place and positionality.
Voice and agency are imperative in the work of all researchers but especially
those who are working for social justice and equity. When people think of the man-
ner in which Bauman describes his theory of liquid modernity, it is clear that for
folks who are deemed disposable, there is no voice, no agency, and no autonomy. As
researchers, all must be acutely aware of the ways in which consequences of the
liquid modern world are bearing down on potential participants. Before working
with research participants or proposing outcomes from research studies, it is imper-
ative that the voices of those who are so often voiceless are included. In liquid
modern times, too many are left without voice and agency, often because they are
deemed disposable. Additionally, because of the lack of public and private lives,
researchers have to be certain that the stories of participants are told in their own
way and in their own words, rather than as a sound bite or headline. If researchers
are truly committed to conducting research for social justice and equity in educa-
tion, the voices of those who are too often ‘othered’ or pushed to their fringes must
be included.
Implications for Researchers
When working with research subjects, it is important to think about the conse-
quences of living in the time that is defined by Bauman’s theory of liquid modernity.
Researchers must remember that there is no longer a meta-narrative that is driving
the lives and experiences of the participants that they work with; rather than work-
ing toward one great ending, people instead continue to restart over and over again.
Because there is a constant turnover and rate of change in the world, participants’
views on ideas such as education, society, and personal relationships, for example,
may look different than they did even just ten years ago. Mark Davis (2013) tells his
readers that we are currently navigating “a lived experience characterized by a series
of seemingly disconnected intensities” (p. 9). These disconnected intensities may be
apparent in the research subjects or contexts that researchers work with, and they
must be careful not to conflate the characteristics of liquid modernity with the char-
acteristics of their subjects. This is especially important when conducting research
in a way that is meant to advocate for social justice and equity in education. If
researchers mistakenly conflate the characteristics of this time with the characteris-
tics of the subjects, they run the risk of perpetuating the status quo, which will only
derail any attempt at social justice work. While this may be easier said than done, it
is critical that researchers work hard to get to know the participants of their work so
that a deep understanding and relationship exists before embarking on any research.
Because the world is entrenched in such a disconnected time, Bauman (2011a,
2011b) asserts that not only is society devoid of meaningful human interactions but
that people avoid them at all costs, finding them inconvenient and tedious. This lack
7 Viewing Research for Social Justice and Equity Through the Lens of Zygmunt… 87
Conclusion
As researchers and educators for social justice, the theory of liquid modernity must
be considered before working with human subjects and trying to apply data and
expertise. This chapter has provided a vision for how researchers can view critical,
qualitative, social science research through the lens of liquid modernity and how to
88 D. T. Ligocki
approach subjects and data with this framework in mind. Specifically, researchers
need to consider the experiences of human subjects with the time of liquid moder-
nity in mind, in order to give greater context and recognize the ways in which our
current lived experience is markedly different from what it was during the modern
and post-modern times.
In liquid modernity, society is sorely lacking in deep, solid bonds and human
interactions. Bauman explains that there is no line between public and private lives,
a feeling of community is nearly nonexistent, both people and things are disposable,
and a good part of this disposability is due to the ever-increasing lack of sensitivity
in the human race. This lack of sensitivity and a pervasive sense of disposability
have contributed mightily to a disintegration of social networks, where too many
people continue to float through the fluid world without deep roots. All of these
issues must be considered when conducting research for social justice and equity in
education. Researchers must be mindful of the ways in which societal shifts are
weighing down on research participants and ensure that they do whatever they can
to combat these issues, both when working with participants and when coding data.
When mindful of these issues, researchers can strive to form bonds with their par-
ticipants that they work with in order help them present their authentic selves.
Researchers can also deeply commit to the work that they are doing, so that it does
not become just one more thing in which they flow back and forth. Additionally,
when working with both data and participants, researchers must be intentional about
centering participant voice and attempt to ensure agency. Finally, if researchers
understand that our current moment in history is one that is framed by the theory of
liquid modernity, then they will have a nuanced enough view to understand when
participants seem to contradict themselves or appear unclear during the time spent
together.
Research needs to act as a tool of empowerment, not as another way to oppress
those who are already marginalized and pushed to the fringes. If researchers and
educators can work to gain a deeper understanding of liquid modernity and the ways
in which this theory is pressing on everyone’s lives, people can work to ensure that
research in education works toward social justice and equity, rather than as another
tool of oppression or, worse yet, another tool that comes and goes.
Giroux spells out a compelling argument in this text regarding the current state of
young people and the ways in which they are viewed and treated in today’s society.
He speaks clearly about disposability and consumerism, grounding these concepts
strongly in theory.
Monahan, T. (2009). The surveillance curriculum. In A. Darder, M. Baltodano, &
R. Torres (Eds.), The critical pedagogy reader. New York, NY: Routledge.
This chapter takes an interesting look at surveillance in public schools and how
these heightened levels of surveillance are working to view young people as either
victims or criminals who need to be controlled.
Noddings, N. (2003). Caring: A feminine approach to ethics & moral education.
Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.
Noddings looks at care for others through the lens of a mother’s care for her child.
She questions whether organizations can truly be ethical when operating outside of
caring relationships and suggests a need to realign education.
References
Bauman, Z. (2007b). Liquid arts. Theory, Culture and Society, 24(1), 117–126. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0263276407071579
Bauman, Z. (2011a). Culture in a liquid modern world. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press.
Bauman, Z. (2011b). Privacy, secrecy, intimacy, human bonds, and other collateral casualties of liq-
uid modernity. The Hedgehog Review, 13(1), 20–29. https://doi.org/10.1057/9780230290679_2
Bauman, Z. (2012). Liquid modernity. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press.
Bauman, Z., & Donskis, L. (2013). Moral blindness: The loss of sensitivity in liquid modernity.
Cambridge, UK: Polity Press.
Couldry, N. (2009). Teaching us to fake it: The ritualized norms of television’s “reality” games.
In S. Murray & L. Ouellette (Eds.), Reality TV: Remaking television culture. New York, NY:
New York University Press.
Davis, M. (2013). Hurried lives: Dialectics of time and technology in liquid modernity. Thesis
Eleven, 118(1), 7–18. https://doi.org/10.1177/0725513613500268
Foucault, M. (1977). Discipline and punish. New York, NY: Pantheon Books.
Tuck, E. (2009). Suspending damage: A letter to communities. Harvard Educational Review,
79(3), 409–428. https://doi.org/10.17763/haer.79.3.n0016675661t3n15
Chapter 8
Thinking Critically About “Social Justice
Methods”: Methods as “Contingent
Foundations”
Lucy E. Bailey
This chapter offers some reflections on socially just research methods as well as
examples of maneuvers in qualitative methodology that are oriented toward social
justice but are project specific, crystallizing in the space, time, moment, and trajec-
tory of inquiry. As part of this larger collection of papers that recount journeys of
becoming justice-oriented researchers—a project that to me always seems in pro-
cess, never complete—and exploring what socially just methods might look like, I
describe elements of my thinking over the years grounded in my feminist commit-
ments to poststructuralist approaches in educational research (e.g., Lather, 1993;
Richardson, 1997; St. Pierre & Pillow, 2000) and over a decade of teaching diverse
qualitative methodology courses to graduate students. My purpose is to draw from
feminist theorizing to emphasize the importance of keeping methodologies “open,
alive [and] loose” (Lather, 2007, p. x; see Bailey & Fonow, 2015).
L. E. Bailey (*)
Oklahoma State University, Stillwater, OK, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
These shifts reflect some common characteristics associated with this “eighth
moment” of qualitative inquiry (Denzin & Lincoln, 2015) that are well known
among qualitative researchers oriented to inquiries that have emerged within con-
temporary “paradigm proliferation” (Lather, 2006). For the purposes of this essay, I
mention several here. First, contemporary methodology is a dynamic, rich field of
thought and practice constituted by diverse and contested allegiances and expres-
sions; second, researchers have many options for undertaking their inquiries emerg-
ing from their diverse ontological, epistemological, and axiological grounding and
aims; third, power relations shape the orchestrations of inquiries on any topic, with
any approach, which makes the researcher’s work in contemplating and interrogat-
ing the methods they choose constitutive of the knowledge they produce; and fourth,
researchers’ historical, contextual, and personal positionings are always implicated
in inquiry. Feminist emancipatory research aiming to disrupt gendered = racial-
ized = classed (and other) norms and relations of power thus takes many forms
depending on the researcher’s epistemological, ontological grounding and focus of
inquiry. For decades, scholars have worked to unsettle entrenched norms and
assumptions, to reflect and critique, to build community, to resist injustice, and to
enact change (Denzin, 2010; Denzin & Giardina, 2018; Lather, 1986a, b).
Central to the art and science of emancipatory research projects is the context in
which issues and methods arise and the awareness that, like the justice issues they
take on, research methods, paradigms, and choices are situated in power relations.
No inquiry space or tool transcends its context and time. Lincoln and Cannella
(2004) detailed the “dangerous” discourses that have recurred to champion a limited
set of evidence-based practices for conducting inquiry. As part of a broader collec-
tion of essays interrogating the power dynamics that legitimize some research
approaches over others (grounded at the time in the National Research Council
report issued in 2002, see Qualitative Inquiry, 2004, Vol. 10 (1–2)), Lincoln and
Cannella argued that championing a rigid set of “gold standard” methods reflects
dangerous epistemologies shaping academic discourse. These rigid norms—what
they called “methodological conservativism” at the time—have profound implica-
tions for research, including which methods are taught and supported, which
research imaginaries are cultivated, which projects are valued, which are funded,
and which understandings of the world are nourished. They note a key danger that
is worthwhile to consider in a methods collection because of its salience to research-
ers’ very identities. Lincoln and Cannella (2004) argue that researchers immersed in
such discourses of “good research” can become disciplined as good subjects in
ways that shape their/our embodied sense of researcher competence. We absorb
messages about the standards of “good research” and the behavior of “good
researchers,” and then discipline ourselves to those practices that can direct and
constrain the trajectories of our knowing and doing. In this sense, learning methods
is tied to cultivating a vision of a “possible self” (Marcus & Nurius, 1986) a future
version of ourselves we might imagine becoming, a good researcher in formation.
I regularly observe the power of such discourses in my work with graduate stu-
dents as they learn the terms, tools, concepts, and skills necessary to conduct research
“well,” to do it “right.” Developing a sense of competence as “good researchers” can
94 L. E. Bailey
Institutional pressures toward accountability and privatization shape the way aca-
demics can use our time and, accordingly, engage in research. To paraphrase Rhoades
(1998), academics in some ways have “become managed professionals under the
control of professional managers” (quoted in Denzin & Giardina, 2018, p. 3).
Codifying “gold standards” of research risks directing scholars away from a broad,
flexible base of theoretical and methodological approaches that serve emancipatory
ends in compliance to dominant forces. Others suggest working within the contem-
porary academy itself reproduces hegemonic power relations antithetical to justice
projects because even the act of producing scholarship in the amounts, genres, and
forms demanded to sustain our institutional roles in present circumstances often
have little purchase outside the academy, which few—including academics—have
time to read or access.1 Denzin and Giardina (2018) detail the creeping presence of
the “research marketplace” in which all scholarship can become products in a colo-
nizing, competitive, corporatized, and privatized system. In a post-truth, violent,
politically troubled time, they recommend that researchers take seriously how
to serve the public sphere, “beyond the boundaries of the research marketplace”
(Denzin & Giardina, 2018, p. 7). Brown’s (2014) “disruptive” theatrical work with
black girls celebrates that very goal. She writes, “wreckless theatrics means the new
ideas and meanings we perform about black girlhood circulate beyond traditional
academic sites of the classroom, beyond the printed word and go much further than
a small group of elites” (p. 48). Turning a critical eye to the paradigms governing
academic practices (as Dillard’s, 2006, 2012 demonstrates) to nourish black feminist
spiritual epistemologies aligns with that call.
8 Thinking Critically About “Social Justice Methods”: Methods as “Contingent… 95
Cumulatively, that these external forces shape the horizons of inquiry serves as a
reminder for researchers engaged in emancipatory projects to consider power and
politics in the orchestrations and transformations of research terrain as central to the
practice of methods. This is a broader sense of methods than choosing a theory, who
and how to interview, and whether and how to conduct member checks. This sense
of methods includes cultivating the spaces and conditions in which emancipatory
projects might flourish and fostering dialogue about the broad shifts and ideals that
shape research thought and practice. It necessitates resisting instrumentalist dis-
course and efficiency mandates to support diverse questions, onto-epistemologies,
and methodologies. It involves nourishing an open stance to what emancipatory
inquiries might look like as forms of power shift and morph, including the entrench-
ment of new discourses in education that curtail research imaginaries and support
conventions that police the boundaries of what is possible. It also means cultivating
collective support for embodied researchers who take up this work. Researchers are
of course not simply efficient instruments of methodology but embodied actors in a
network of intra-acting relations, materialities, contexts, and responsibilities that
constitute methodological practice. For example, Dillard’s (2006, 2012) work inter-
rogates the politics of inclusion and exclusion of scholars of color in discussions of
research paradigms and methodologies. She offers a rich framing borne of her lived
experience and reflections that she terms “endarkened transnational feminist episte-
mologies,” emphasizing spirituality of global black feminist inquiries as acts
of “responsibility and reciprocity” rather than quests to fix research “problems”
(2012, p. 59).
Cannella (2014) reminds readers that emancipatory practices can have embodied
costs. In her foreword to the edited collection, Disrupting Qualitative Inquiry,
Cannella (2014) expresses that there are “intellectual, emotional, and bodily strug-
gles and pressures of being a critical researcher who wants to survive in, while
transforming, a society (and institution) that has, despite the work of the previous
generation of scholars remained patriarchal, oppressive, capitalist, and competitive”
(p. xvi). Considering the researcher’s embodied, emotional labor and their logistical
struggles are personal and methodological necessities for justice work (see Blee,
2018; Brown, 2014, p. 48). That means that emancipatory research is much more
than using the right methods, terms, or theoretical frameworks; from a feminist
perspective, the embodied labor of the researcher is always part of the “body” of
approaches for social justice and equity in education. Self-care and care with our
research communities are justice-oriented acts that resist patriarchal corporate aca-
demic cultures that demand more and more from embodied scholars. Feminist
scholars of color have long framed self-care as a necessary, radical act in their politi-
cal work. As African American feminist poet Audre Lorde wrote decades ago in
Burst of Light (1988), “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation,
and that is an act of political warfare” (p. 131). She wrote these words in the context
of caring for herself while living with cancer and continuing her activist writing
work in hostile conditions for women of color. Her powerful words have broad reso-
nance in post-truth times, suggestive for considering radical self-care and reflection
as fundamental—and just—aspects of the work of inquiry.
96 L. E. Bailey
All norms have power to fix thinking, to occlude and foreclose conceptual possibili-
ties, and to reproduce hegemonic power relations. In that spirit, what constitutes a
justice-oriented approach cannot be decontextualized, fixed, or prescribed, but it
must remain dynamic, supple, and project specific. No tools or methodologies can
bear stable meanings or inherently emancipatory uses. To mobilize any such tool or
concept as fixed in meaning or potential enacts a form of what I call “methodological
taxidermy,” stuffing once dynamic entities into fixed forms that hang glassy-eyed on
a researcher’s wall; frozen in meaning; decontextualized from their animated, embod-
ied, pulsing context of production; or potential creative use (Bailey, 2016, 2017).
Instead, questions, tools, approaches pulse with potential in relation and context. The
forms and systems of class, gender, and racial power, among others, that justice-ori-
ented scholarship addresses are supple, dynamic, and diffuse. For example, in
Alexander’s (2012) incisive text, The New Jim Crow, she underscores that racism is a
“highly adaptable” force (p. 21), taking different forms at different historical
moments. In contemporary feminist work, it is thus vital to keep questions and
approaches productive, “promiscuous” (Childers, Rhee, & Daza, 2013), “alive,” and
“loose” (Lather, 2007, p. X) for responding to supple and shifting forms of power.
As many have noted, “social justice,” “emancipatory,” and “decolonizing” con-
cepts appearing in literature for decades are at times so common and ambiguous that
their meaning and power is lost. What does one mean by social justice? For whom
and for what purpose? How does intent, design, twists and turns in the field, or rep-
resentation matter in enacting justice-oriented projects? Must a researcher identify
his/her project as a social justice inquiry to be so? How does one “measure” or
assess the effects of one’s research in terms of accomplishing justice aims? Does a
project need to effect critical consciousness with participants or produce change in
a targeted group or an audience? Must it thus enact “catalytic validity” (Lather,
1993) moving beyond traditional correspondence theories of truth in validity claims
to assess a project based on whether it enacts the change or affects the participants
in the ways the research intended? Must a project produce a product at all (see
MacLure, 2013)? Or is the dynamic created through the human, animal, material
research entanglements—even shifts in the researcher’s awareness, connections
with others, and belief systems—enough? Responses to these questions are ever-
shifting and project specific.
A set of processes have become common for researchers to use in emancipatory
projects. Such tools and stances include careful attention to power dynamics in
conducting, analyzing, and representing research, including researcher reflexivity,
peer dialogue, peer analysis, and member checks among many others. Yet, in the
case of member checks and collaborative analysis, for example, the very tools
scholars have posed to disrupt researcher authority and increase equity in the
research process can also burden participants with more tasks than they care to have.
Numerous students have shared over the years that their quests for member checks
from busy people—all undertaken for the laudable and ethical reason to ensure
8 Thinking Critically About “Social Justice Methods”: Methods as “Contingent… 97
participants have a “voice” in checking and expanding the data they shared—have
met with little interest, even dismissal, as a way they want to spend their time.
Scholars have noted how validity processes such as inter-rater reliability and peer
analysis reflect reductive and homogenizing impulses (Kvale, 1996): the analytic
hunt for common themes and researcher consensus of any kind can tyrannically
impose a kind of interpretive violence as it directs researchers’ attention to common
denominators and homogeneity rather than difference as signifiers of valid findings
and sound analysis. The point here is not that researchers should discard member
checks or peer analysis, or that transparency and participant choice are not ethical
orientations; rather, homogenized prescriptions associated with any method and
under-theorized extractions of techniques from one ontological or epistemological
field to another are not inherently “emancipatory.” Such approaches can fix and
reproduce rather than unsettle power relations in research.
Recent turns to arts-based approaches, auto/ethnography, and photovoice,
among others, reflect researchers’ excitement about the “new” as more promis-
ing approaches to undertaking their work. Yet, neither dominant experimental
design reflecting one side of the epistemological continuum nor photovoice and
auto/ethnography, on the other, can be frozen as either inherently problematic or
adequate emancipatory approaches. Methodological potential is context specific.
For instance, in an educational initiative undertaken in Afghanistan to expand
women’s visibility in an agricultural high school curriculum, a focus group with
stakeholders involved in the project, women and men alike, objected to even the
most modest changes to make curriculum more inclusive and representative of
family labor. They objected to including photographs of any women of child-
bearing age in the textbook pages and felt uncomfortable with the term “gender”
because of its Western connotations. Using photographs of working women for
the laudable purpose of representing women as agricultural workers and agents
in the curriculum was not possible because they rendered women too visible and
subject to the scrutiny of unknown others (Salm, Mukhlid, & Tokhi, 2018).
However emancipatory visual data and photography might become as a curricu-
lar choice, as a site of analysis (see Tavares, 2016), as a critical, decolonizing
method, or as a research outcome in a range of contexts, a project that includes
women’s visual representation as a vehicle for equity could actually be antitheti-
cal to emancipatory aims, even dehumanizing, because of the cultural and gen-
dered meaning photographs can accrue in a given space and time.
Pillow’s (2003, 2015) ongoing critique of the use of “reflexivity” in research
provides another example of resisting methodological taxidermy (Bailey, 2016,
2017) in research practice and keeping approaches open and dynamic. The concept
of “reflexivity” has varied expressions (e.g., reflexivity on audience, data, researcher
positionality, see Fonow & Cook, 1991; as discomfort, interpretation, and geneal-
ogy, see Pillow, 2003, 2015), but for decades has been recognized as one necessary
analytic practice to signal “good” (generally non-positivist) qualitative work. When
I teach any form of qualitative methodology, I provide varied examples of the pro-
ductivity of reflexivity as a stance in research. Indeed, in their early work, Fonow
and Cook (1991) described the practice of reflexivity as a key tenet of feminist
98 L. E. Bailey
inquiry. In the wake of this important feminist move and the diverse analytic layers
and trajectories it has inspired (Bailey & Fonow, 2015), researchers have fueled an
incitement to “reflexivity” that suggests the importance, even urgency, for research-
ers to work the research hyphen (Fine, 1994), to reflect on their subject position in
relation to the people, topic, and/or circumstances of inquiry, and to acknowledge
and explore researcher investments. Such reflexivity is oriented to rendering
researchers’ subject positions visible and transparent as gendered, racialized, and
otherwise historically situated producers of knowledge in contrast to the “omni-
scient” researcher position expected and championed with positivist epistemologies
of detachment and objectivity. The approach embraces a researcher’s responsibility
to critically reflect on all aspects of the inquiry (Bailey & Fonow, 2015; Fonow &
Cook, 1991).
Yet, despite the productivity of reflexivity as a stance, there is nothing inherently
justice-oriented about reflecting on one’s subject position in relation to a given
project. It depends on a variety of issues, including one’s view of oneself, one’s
view of the subject, one’s focus in research, one’s political allegiances, and the
work such reflexivity enables. Pillow (2003) details the sense of “catharsis” and
“cure” that “confessional” reflexivity practices can produce—the sense for the
researcher that she or he has accomplished or resolved something tangible through
reflecting on and “confessing” one’s investments. We are always positioned in net-
works of power in which our reflexive labor may be limited, perfunctory, or person-
ally cathartic rather than transformative for the project. Considered in relation to
Lincoln and Cannella’s discussion of “dangerous discourses,” of the subtle ways in
which research norms become inscribed, engaging in reflexivity can similarly fuel
the researcher’s sense that she/he is doing “good” justice work. Pillow (2015) theo-
rizes additional ways of putting reflexivity to work, working against its conceptual
stasis and taken-for-granted understandings.
All concepts and approaches such as reflexivity, voice (Jackson & Mazzei, 2008),
empowerment, or others widely accepted and even cherished in the practice of
emancipatory research are produced at a given historical moment in conversation
with other concepts and forces (Bailey & Fonow, 2015). Such practices can become
static and coopted, part of a perfunctory validity checklist, rather than transforma-
tive and nourishing analytically. Many of these techniques have invited productive
critique, underscoring the importance of continual revisiting and unsettling taken-
for-granted practices in methodology rather than codifying them as inherently
emancipatory. Concepts and approaches in any research endeavor, including those
commonly oriented toward social justice, might best be thought of as “contingent
foundations”; always temporary, shifting, and contestable “authorizing grounds”;
and conceptual springboards (Butler, 1992, p. 7). Butler used the phrase “contingent
foundations” in considering how to imagine a feminist politics in the wake of post-
modernism that doesn’t rely on the concept of “woman,” or other stable conceptual
platforms for action. Similarly, researchers can consider engaging in diverse proj-
ects for their justice potential, however defined, and consider methods as unstable
“authorizing grounds,” that are always subject to dismissal, dismantling, revision,
and new understandings in new contexts.
8 Thinking Critically About “Social Justice Methods”: Methods as “Contingent… 99
treatment, she chose not to re-present any images of Baartman to resist sustaining in
scholarship into the twenty-first century the racist and sexist objectification to which
the medical community subjected her in the nineteenth century. Each of these femi-
nist decisions is project specific, grounded in the unique topic, purpose, partici-
pants, and field of representation the project enters.
My comments in this essay are musings rather than manifestos, emerging from my
interest in working against the freezing of research practice that codifies norms, hier-
archies, and prescriptive inquiry practices. When one fixes a methodology as inher-
ently emancipatory, a kind of “method-fetishism” results, a potentially decontextualized
championing of a given method, tool, or approach. Bartolome’s (1994) use of the term
“method-fetishism” in the context of teaching is productive. She critiques the broad
quest in education for the “right” methods to “fix” and improve academic achieve-
ment for struggling students. She sees this fixation on the right methods as illusory
and “myopic” (p. 174). Similarly, we need a range of methods that emerge through
intersections among field, participants/researcher, purpose, and questions.
Here, I turn to varied examples in research practice focused on embodiment as
another way to keep methods “alive and loose.” I see these practices as “contingent
foundations” rather than prescriptions as I, like others, grapple with how to enact
work that remains committed to unsettling norms while pursuing questions arising
from my specific context and endeavors. Varied practices have emerged in contem-
porary methodology from the growing calls to focus research on neoliberal threats
to the academy and the “dangers” and struggles for critical researchers detailed
earlier (e.g., Cannella, 2014). As one example, I’ve been concerned about the era-
sure of the embodied aspects of faculty labor from contemporary discussions: that
thinking and writing and teaching and research are not simply intellectual acts but
always of and through the body. These concerns led me to consider how to better
foreground embodiment in research practice focused on higher education.
Collaborative Auto/Ethnography
condition (Kearney & Bailey, 2012). We worked in partnership to make visible the
felt effects of an intense, neoliberal, masculinist culture for her body and life, and
we did not label the work methodologically until close to its completion. Looking
back, I’m still not sure the category of “collaborative auto/ethnography” fully fits
the work, and I’m not sure it matters. The piece had several transformative effects,
all of which were modest and contextual: first, the process was emotionally cathar-
tic for her and for us, deepening our understanding of the events; second, the pro-
cess of thinking, writing, and revising together deepened our relationship as critical
colleagues and friends; third, even though the essay focused on “her” experience,
the piece relied on creatively narrating a collaborative “I” voice to blur boundaries
and to render visible shared gendered politics affecting women in our context more
broadly; and, finally, the essay became part of a body of work on academic mother-
ing salient for other women negotiating gendered vulnerabilities in higher
education.
its heart or soul and breath, and which parts of the data I should slough off lightly,
like skin, or sever entirely, for the health of the body as a whole. Listening with
participants to the co-authored (Kvale, 1996) “data” as a form of member checking
and collaborative meaning-making opens additional possibilities as well (Bailey,
2012).
This engagement expanded as I added context and movement to the analysis
process. As Ellingson (2017) has explored recently, researchers’ embodied experi-
ences and context can enrich meaning-making in data analysis. In my work, I organ-
ically moved in different places to listen to and read the data—playing tapes in my
car as I commuted between campuses, slumping over transcripts on bus rides home,
underlining, listening, reading and rereading—this approach entangles my embod-
ied labor and subjectivities in the encounters with the text or the sound, foreground-
ing place and space, where I sit, how I experience the “data.” I have listened to the
data as I have traveled through space; its contours different in a classroom than
riding on a bus in the dark late at night after teaching. In a study situated in
Oklahoma, I listened to participants’ voices as I drove on Oklahoma highways, long
stretches of pitted pavement between cattle ranches, amber plains, and skies dotted
with glistening white windmills. The process heightened my awareness of how
place shaped the original material I called “data,” expanding to include the place/
space where it was produced, experienced, and processed, helping me think differ-
ently about what mattered to me and to participants.
Negotiating Representation
Historical Research
represent legitimate sites of history—as well as the inevitable losses, erasure, and
deterioration that shape which archival materials survive over time. Archival materi-
als connote a fixity that differs from contemporary interview data and yet necessi-
tate similar onto-epistemological and ethical questions. What do feminist inquiries
look like with historical work? What is a humanizing method in a historical study?
What are the conceptions of history with which we are working? What is our pur-
pose? Conventional emancipatory tools are not a fit: no member checks are possible
in historical work; there is no embodied access to historical context in which the
data was produced.
Feminist scholars have used a variety of methods to engage in histories that
stretch or disrupt those written by victors. Jennifer Terry’s work on “deviant” histo-
riography has provided a crucial method for engaging in feminist archival research.
Because Terry’s subjects had left no known archival materials to make sense of their
lives, Terry turned her attention to dominant accounts to look for traces of marginal-
ized subjects through those accounts. Terry (1991) sought glimmers of resistance
female sexual minorities demonstrated historically through some of the only records
available—dominant medical accounts that sought to photograph, measure, and
scrutinize their bodies to locate the exact site of their presumed “deviance.” This
practice of looking to the body to find and fix the site of human character has
recurred historically in varied forms (see Terry & Urla, 1995). While the scientific
accounts Terry analyzed essentially objectified the embodied subjects under study,
she sought through those dominant accounts to mark and interpret resistance from
the women who were subjected to the scrutiny. Such work brings different theo-
ries to bear on archival materials to open interpretation in layers.
What constitutes feminist methods is produced in the dynamics, relationships,
and context of a given study, all shaped by broader methodological forces and con-
ditions. Social justice methods must remain “contingent foundations.” These prac-
tices might involve an array of new questions about existing paradigms governing
inquiry, new methodologies, new onto-epistemologies, new tools that open domi-
nant practices to fluidity and creativity oriented toward change. These practices
might involve conventional methods and academic products in forms that will be
recognizable and intelligible in dominant practices. They might involve moving
outside the academy to engage directly with local, collaborative endeavors (Denzin
& Giardina, 2018) that are never published in academic journals. They might
involve projects in which people engage in arts-based and visual methods focused
more on process and relationships than product. They might involve displacing the
human subject entirely as the central site of inquiry to consider intra-actions with
non-human beings, environments, and material entities (see Lather & St. Pierre,
2013; Taylor & Hughes, 2016). As this volume of essays shows, the practices are
diverse, contested, and always unfolding—and it serves feminist emancipatory ends
to keep them that way.
8 Thinking Critically About “Social Justice Methods”: Methods as “Contingent… 105
Suggested Readings
Dillard, C. (2012). Learning to (re) member the things we’ve learned to forget:
Endarkened feminisms, spirituality, & the sacred nature of research and teach-
ing. New York, NY: Peter Lang.
Lather, P. (1986). Research as Praxis. Harvard Educational Review, 56(3),
257–278.
This essay brings a critical perspective to social justice research methods by under-
scoring the importance of researchers’ awareness of broad political and academic
discourses shaping inquiry, of keeping methods varied and flexible, and offers
examples to demonstrate these points in action.
Note
1. For example, one article noting the proliferation of journals and scholarly outlets cites 1.8 mil-
lion articles produced yearly, an impossible mass to read, conceptualize or grapple with, while
academic demands continue to rise. See Eveleth, R. (2014). “Academics write papers arguing
over how many people read (and cite) their papers.” Smithsonian.com. https://www.smithson-
ianmag.com/smart-news/half-academic-studies-are-never-read-more-three-peo-
ple-180950222/. Retrieved July 31, 2018.
References
Ahmed, S. (2017). Living a feminist life. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
Alexander, M. (2012). The new Jim crow: Mass incarceration in the age of colorblindness.
New York, NY: The New Press.
Bailey, L. (2012, May). ‘Oklahoma processing.’ Data analysis processes that serve social justice
agendas. Paper at the International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry, Champaign-Urbana, IL.
Bailey, L. (2016, May). Thinking with taxidermy: Tracking and troubling readings of Patti Lather.
Paper at the International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry, Champaign-Urbana, IL.
Bailey, L. (2017, April). Methodological taxidermy: Working with/against the scholarship of Patti
Lather. Presentation at the American Educational Research Association Annual Meeting, San
Antonio, TX.
Bailey, L. E., & Fonow, M. M. (2015). Foundational commitments, intergenerational knowledge
production, and new trajectories: Feminist methodologies. In G. Cannella, M. S. Perez, &
P. Pasque (Eds.), Critical qualitative inquiry: Foundations and futures (pp. 51–76). Walnut
Creek, CA: Left Coast Press.
Bartolome, L. (1994). Beyond the methods fetish: Toward a humanizing pedagogy. Harvard
Educational Review, 64(2), 173–194.
Blee, K. (2002). Inside organized racism: Women in the hate movement. Oakland, CA: University
of California Press.
106 L. E. Bailey
Blee, K. (2018). Understanding racist activism: Theory, methods, and research. New York, NY:
Routledge.
Brown, R. N. (2014). “She came at me wreckless!”: Wreckless theatrics as disruptive method-
ology. In N. R. Brown, R. Carducci, & C. R. Kuby (Eds.), Disrupting qualitative inquiry:
Possibilities and tensions in educational research (pp. 35–52). New York, NY: Peter Lang.
Butler, J. (1992). Contingent foundations: Feminism and the question of “postmodernism”. In
J. Butler & J. Scott (Eds.), Feminists theorize the political (pp. 3–21). New York, NY: Routledge.
Cannella, G. (2014). Foreword. In N. R. Brown, R. Carducci, & C. R. Kuby (Eds.), Disrupting
Qualitative inquiry: Possibilities and tensions in educational research (pp. xv–xvi). New York,
NY: Peter Lang.
Childers, S., Rhee, J., & Daza, S. L. (2013). Promiscuous feminist methodologies in education.
New York, NY: Routledge.
Collins, P. H. (2000). Black feminist thought. New York, NY: Routledge.
Ellingson, L. (2017). Embodiment in qualitative research. New York: Routledge.
Davies, B. (2005). The (im)possibility of intellectual work in neoliberal regimes. Discourse:
Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 26(1), 1–14.
Denzin, N. (2010). A qualitative manifesto: A call to arms. Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press.
Denzin, N., & Lincoln, Y. (Eds.). (2015). The SAGE handbook of qualitative research. Thousand
Oaks, CA: SAGE.
Denzin, N. K., & Giardina, M. D. (Eds.). (2018). Qualitative inquiry in the public sphere.
New York, NY: Routledge.
Dillard, C. B. (2006). On spiritual strivings: Transforming an African-American woman’s aca-
demic life. Albany: State University New York Press.
Dillard, C. (2012). Learning to (re) member the things we’ve learned to forget: Endarkened femi-
nisms, spirituality, & the sacred nature of research and teaching. New York, NY: Peter Lang.
Fausto-Sterling, A. (1995). Gender, race, and nation: The comparative anatomy of ‘hottentot’
women in Europe, 1815–1817. In J. Terry & J. Urla (Eds.), Deviant bodies: Critical perspec-
tives in science and popular culture (pp. 19–48). Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.
Fine, M. (1994). Working the hyphens: Reinventing the self and other in qualitative research. In
N. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (pp. 70–82). Thousand
Oaks, CA: Sage.
Fonow, M. M., & Cook, J. (Eds.). (1991). Beyond methodology: Feminist scholarship as lived
research. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.
Jackson, A. Y., & Mazzei, L. A. (Eds.). (2008). Voice in qualitative inquiry: Challenging conven-
tional, interpretive, and critical approaches. London, UK: Routledge.
Joyce, D. D. (Ed.). (1998). ‘An Oklahoma I had never seen before’: Alternative views of Oklahoma
history. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press.
Joyce, D. D., & Harris, F. L. (Eds.). (2007). Alternative Oklahoma: Contrarian views of the sooner
state. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press.
Kearney, K. S., & Bailey, L. E. (2012). “We shoot our wounded”: Pregnancy, mothering and PPD
on the tenure track. In A. O’Reilly & L. O. Hallstein (Eds.), Academic motherhood in a post-
second wave context: Problems, strategies, and possibilities. Bradford, ON: Demeter Press.
Kvale, S. (1996). The 1,000 page question. Qualitative Inquiry, 2(3), 275–284. https://doi.
org/10.1177/107780049600200302
Lather, P. (1986a). Issues of validity in openly ideological research: Between a rock and a soft
place. Interchange, 17(4), 63–84. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF01807017
Lather, P. (1986b). Research as Praxis. Harvard Educational Review, 56(3), 257–278. https://doi.
org/10.17763/haer.56.3.bj2h231877069482
Lather, P. (1993). Fertile obsession: Validity after poststructuralism. The Sociological Quarterly,
34(4), 673–693. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1533-8525.1993.tb00112.x
Lather, P. (2006). Paradigm proliferation as a good thing to think with: Teaching research in edu-
cation as a wild profusion. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 19(1).
https://doi.org/10.1080/09518390500450144
8 Thinking Critically About “Social Justice Methods”: Methods as “Contingent… 107
Lather, P. (2007). Getting lost: Feminist efforts toward a double(d) science. Albany: SUNY Press.
Lather, P., & Smithies, C. (1997). Troubling the Angels: Living with HIV/AIDS. Boulder, CO:
Westview Press.
Lather, P., & St. Pierre, E. (2013). Introduction: Post qualitative research. International Journal
of Qualitative Studies in Education, 26(6), 629–633. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2013.
788752
Lewis, P. (2018). Indigenous qualitative research in the neoliberal public sphere. In N. Denzin &
M. D. Giardina (Eds.), Qualitative inquiry in the public sphere (pp. 66–77). New York, NY:
Routledge.
Lincoln, Y., & Cannella, G. (2004). Dangerous discourses: Methodological conservativ-
ism and governmental regimes of truth. Qualitative Inquiry, 10(1), 5–14. https://doi.
org/10.1177/1077800403259717
Lorde, A. (1988). A burst of light, essays. London, UK: Sheba Feminist Publishers.
MacLure, M. (2013). Researching without representation? Language and materiality in post-
qualitative methodology. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 26(6),
658–667. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2013.788755
Marcus, H., & Nurius, P. (1986). American Psychologist, 41(9), 954–969.
Mason, C. A. (2015). Oklahomo: Lessons in unqueering America. New York, NY: SUNY Press.
Patton, M. Q. (2002). Qualitative research and evaluation methods. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE.
Pillow, W. (2003). Confession, catharsis or cure? Rethinking the uses of reflexivity as methodolog-
ical power in qualitative research. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education,
16(2), 175–196. https://doi.org/10.1080/0951839032000060635
Pillow, W. S. (2015). Reflexivity as interpretation and genealogy in research. Cultural Studies ↔
Critical Methodologies, 15(6), 419–434. https://doi.org/10.1177/1532708615615605
Poindexter, C. (2002). Meaning from methods: Re-presenting narratives of an HIV-affected care-
giver. Qualitative Social Work, 1(1), 59–78. https://doi.org/10.1177/147332500200100105
Qualitative Inquiry. (2004). Vol. 10 (1–2).
Reinharz, S. (1992). Feminist methods in social research. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.
Rhoades, G. (1998). Managed professionals: Unionized faculty and restructuring academic labor.
New York: SUNY Press.
Richardson, L. (1997). Fields of play: Constructing an academic life. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers
University Press.
Salm, M., Mukhlid, K., & Tokhi, H. (2018). Inclusive education in a fragile context: Redesigning
the agricultural high school curriculum in Afghanistan with gender in mind. Gender and
Education, 30. https://doi.org/10.1080/09540253.2018.1496230
St. Pierre, E. A. (1997). Methodology in the fold and the irruption of transgressive data.
International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 10(2), 175–189.
St. Pierre, E. A., & Pillow, W. (2000). Working the ruins: Feminist poststructuralist theory and
methods in education. New York, NY: Routledge Press.
Tavares, H. M. (2016). Pedagogies of the image: Photo-archives, cultural histories, and postfoun-
dational inquiry. New York, NY: Springer Press.
Taylor, C., & Hughes, C. (Eds.). (2016). Posthuman research practices in education. London, UK:
Palgrave Macmillan.
Terry, J. (1991). Theorizing deviant historiography. Differences: A Journal of Feminist Cultural
Studies, 3(2), 55–74.
Terry, J., & Urla, J. (1995). Deviant bodies: Critical perspectives on difference in science and
popular culture. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.
Wilson, A. (2004). The intimate economies of Bangkok: Tomboys, tycoons, and Avon ladies in the
world city. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.
Chapter 9
Institutional Review Boards: Purposes
and Applications for Students
Leslie Ann Locke
The objective of this chapter is to introduce students who will be working with
human subjects for their dissertation work or otherwise to the processes involved
with applying for institutional review board (IRB) approval. First in this chapter I
discuss what human subjects review is and its purpose. I then move on to a discus-
sion of what an IRB might look like and the roles of the board. Later, I discuss some
of the processes associated with applying for IRB approval and some of the main
elements necessary for an IRB application.
L. A. Locke (*)
Educational Policy and Leadership Studies, University of Iowa,
Iowa City, IA, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
subjects or participants who will take part in the study. The board’s review is a means
of safeguarding ethical conduct of research and the protection of participants.
An IRB at a university may consist of faculty, staff, and community members.
However, all university IRBs are steered by federal guidelines and the Department
of Health and Human Services. In addition and depending on the study, research
may be further advised by the Office for Civil Rights, National Institutes of Health,
the Food and Drug Administration, and/or the National Science Foundation. You
can find the federal guidelines here: https://www.hhs.gov/ohrp/regulations-and-
policy/guidance/faq/45-cfr-46/index.html
It wasn’t always the case that universities required IRB approval for research with
human subjects. After World War II when a variety of events were discovered, com-
mitted by the Nazis, the Nuremberg Military Tribunal developed the Nuremberg
Code, which was used to judge the Nazis in court. Significantly, the Nuremberg
Code initiated the official consent process whereby participants of research studies
must be presented with information about the study such that they understand their
contribution and they must voluntarily consent to participate. Further, the researcher
is responsible for obtaining consent. You can read more about the Nuremberg Code
here: https://www.ushmm.org/information/exhibitions/online-exhibitions/special-
focus/doctors-trial/nuremberg-code
Since the establishment of the Nuremberg Code, similar principles for research
have been institutionalized such as the Declaration of Helsinki, which created the
means for the approval and monitoring of research by independent committees.
Additionally, the “Tuskegee Study” or the 40-year-long US Public Health Service
Syphilis Study at Tuskegee (you can learn more about the Tuskegee Study here:
https://www.cdc.gov/tuskegee/index.html) encouraged legislation to further protect
research participants and provide informed consent, including the risks and benefits
associated with a study. The Tuskegee Study also resulted in the creation of a
National Commission for the Protection of Human Subjects of Biomedical and
Behavioral Research. This Commission published the Belmont Report, which
called for three basic and ethical principles that researchers must employ when con-
ducting research with human participants. These principles include respect for per-
sons, beneficence, and justice. You can read the Belmont Report here: https://www.
hhs.gov/ohrp/regulations-and-policy/belmont-report/read-the-belmont-report/
index.html
What we now know as “IRB” was created in 1974 through the National Research
Act. The Act called for a system to regulate research involving human participants.
Later, in 1991, federal agencies adopted the primary regulations in a common
Federal Policy for the Protection of Human Subjects or the “Common Rule.”
The Federal Policy for the Protection of Human Subjects or the “Common Rule”
was codified in separate regulations by 15 federal departments and agencies. It
9 Institutional Review Boards: Purposes and Applications for Students 111
… outlines the basic provisions for IRBs, informed consent, and Assurances of Compliance.
Human subject research conducted or supported by each federal department/agency is gov-
erned by the regulations of that department/agency. The head of that department/agency
retains final judgment as to whether a particular activity it conducts or supports is covered
by the Common Rule. (U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, n.d., n.p.)
If a student is intending to work with human subjects directly in their study, then they
should count on some form of required IRB review. The IRB application and process
can vary across institutions, but there will be certain items necessary for the applica-
tion to ensure that it gets reviewed. However, IRB approval is required before any
research activities begin. Students typically need a faculty advisor on their projects.
As noted previously, IRB applications and processes vary across institutions;
therefore, it is difficult to expand on what exactly the process might look like. Some
institutions will ask the researcher to decide which type of review they want, exempt,
expedited, or full. Whichever type you choose or are assigned by an IRB, the type is
not related to time, that is, expedited does not equate to “quick.” Rather, the type of
review refers to how many folks will review the application. A full board review indi-
cates there is greater than minimal risk to participants and there may be seven to ten
individuals who review the application. Expedited refers to not more than minimal
112 L. A. Locke
risk to participants and the application may be reviewed by one person. And finally,
exempt does not mean that it is exempt from review. It means that according to the
federal regulations, the project describes one of six categories of research that is
exempt from some of the requirements of human subjects research, including contin-
ued review by IRB or all of the required elements of consent.
Your IRB may have a “determinations” process where they will take a prelimi-
nary review of your study and decide on the level of review required. At the
University of Iowa, for example, researchers can complete a Human Subjects
Determination Form, where before completing and submitting the IRB application,
researchers are asked a few key questions regarding the study and then the IRB
advises whether or not the study is or is not human subjects research.
IRB applications require multiple elements. First, each researcher involved in the
study will need to complete the required human subjects training though the
Collaborative Intuitional Training Initiative (CITI). Depending on the area of
research (biomedical, social-behavioral), there are separate online trainings avail-
able. Educational institutions have subscriptions to CITI, and the training is free for
those associated with the institution. You can learn more about CITI training here:
https://about.citiprogram.org/en/homepage/
If you are conducting a study in a school or school district, it is likely that you will
need permission from the superintendent(s) and/or the principal(s) of the districts and/
or schools. Likewise, if you are working with individuals at an institution of higher
education, you may need permission from particular offices at the relative institutions.
Note that these letters of permission may be required/requested from IRB.
If you are planning to conduct research outside of the USA, you should plan on
obtaining IRB approval from your home institution and from the local context. For
example, if you are working with an institution of higher education you should work
with their IRB office or equivalent. If an in-country IRB is not available, the
researcher should identify a local expert who is willing to evaluate the proposed
study in terms of local and contextual standards. Most universities have a form or a
template for the expert to complete regarding the study and the local context.
Gaining this local permission may take considerable time.
The IRB will also want to know that you have done some preliminary investiga-
tion into the scholarship as it relates to your study—such that your study will be an
original and necessary contribution to the field. Thus, there may be a space in the
application where you are to provide a short review of the literature and a list of
related references.
Moreover, you should be prepared to explain and justify to the IRB the number
of participants that will be included in the study and how you will protect their iden-
tities (if applicable). Further, you will need to supply the research questions guiding
the study and the main ambitions of the investigation.
9 Institutional Review Boards: Purposes and Applications for Students 113
Additionally, you should have your ideas for participant consent clearly articu-
lated. If you want to waive the consent process, that must be clearly articulated and
justified. If you ask participants to read and sign a consent form, you must provide
that form with your application. Most IRBs have exemplars and/or templates of
such forms.
Next, you should have your data collection instruments ready. This may include
interview protocol(s) (list of questions) that you will use in your interviews or the
survey(s) or questionnaire(s) you plan to distribute to the participants. The IRB will
also be interested in knowing about the research methodologies you plan to apply in
the study.
Finally, the IRB will want to know who else, outside of your research team, will be
interacting with the data. For example, if you will have your interviews transcribed by
a person or company outside of your research team, they will want to know who that
person is and may require some additional information from them. IRB will also want
to know how you will store and transport the data related to the study.
It is not uncommon for IRB to request more information on an initial application.
However, eventually most IRB applications are approved. IRB applications may
seem cumbersome; however, they are there to make sure all the necessary precau-
tions have been addressed in order to best protect the interests of the participants in
a study. Students should consult with their IRB office early about the application
process and requirements. Doing so will save time and energy.
Final Thoughts
It is possible to make changes to an IRB application after initial approval. For exam-
ple, if the number of participants increases or if you see that now you should, for
example, distribute a survey in addition to conducting interviews, you can make
those “modifications.” Incorporation of any measures or techniques that were not
addressed in the initial application should be handled through a modification pro-
cess through the same IRB office.
Lastly, once IRB approval has been obtained, it has an expiration date. Typically,
IRBs approve a research project for one year. If all aspects of the study are not com-
pleted within one year, the researcher(s) may ask for the approval to be extended.
References
U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. (n.d.). Federal policy for the protection of human
subjects (‘Common Rule’). Retrieved from https://www.hhs.gov/ohrp/regulations-and-policy/
regulations/common-rule/index.html
U.S. Government Publishing Office. (n.d.). 45 CFR § 46.102—Definitions. Retrieved from https://
www.gpo.gov/fdsys/search/searchresults.action?st=45+C.F.R.+%C2%A7+46.102%28i%29
Part II
Approaches to Data Collection
and Analysis
Chapter 10
Typical Areas of Confusion for Students
New to Qualitative Research
Leslie Ann Locke
Abstract Students who are new to qualitative research methods tend to struggle
with a handful of key concepts. This chapter consists of some of my reflections
regarding teaching introductory qualitative research methods courses for graduate
students from a variety of fields. I detail the major challenges I have seen students
struggle with in these classes, namely truth and objectivity, generalizability or lack
thereof, positionality, and ambiguity. I interweave my perspectives about these chal-
lenges and hopefully provide some useful wisdom for students to take away.
L. A. Locke (*)
Educational Policy and Leadership Studies, University of Iowa,
Iowa City, IA, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
future studies. Thus, knowing the literature thoroughly, understanding that multiple
(even exponential) truths exist, and realizing that their positionality and identities are
important to both the research process and the expression and representation of the
findings are all relevant. I feel a particular responsibility to my students, the participants
in their future studies, and the field, when I teach qualitative methods. That is, social
justice and equity are important aspects of how and why I teach qualitative methods.
And now, on to the challenges. The issues I have seen students struggle with
most in my qualitative classes are truth and objectivity, generalizability or lack
thereof, positionality, and finally, the ambiguity seeming inherent in qualitative
research. These areas seem to cause the students the most discomfort throughout the
course. I detail each below.
Additionally, although I use a variety of texts and readings in my qualitative
courses, I am relying heavily on the most recently adopted and main textbook from
my courses, Merriam and Tisdell (2015), to support my claims here. I find this text
to be very readable and students have found it to be an approachable source.
Every semester I have students who struggle with concepts related to epistemology,
ontology, and axiology—the nature of knowledge, reality, and beliefs and values.
And relatedly, when I ask them questions like “How do you know what you know?”
and “How do you know what you know is true?” and “Is what is true for you also
always true for me?” their responses go from relatively confident to not confident at
all. I use this exercise to then discuss “truth” and “objectivity” in research. Many
students, particularly those who have been exposed to more quantitative ideas about
“research,” have difficulty with this concept. “Objectivity,” as they have been taught,
is something—perhaps if not wholly attainable—is always a thing to strive for.
As a critical scholar and a qualitative researcher, my approach to “objectivity” is
often unlike approaches of other faculty many of my introductory qualitative students
have encountered or have studied under. Because we begin with a history (and within
a present) of marginalization, that is, a structure of inequality—where individuals and
groups have been and continue to be denied access to and the opportunity to contribute
to “official knowledge” as we think of it through “research”—attaining “objectivity” is
not possible. Even striving for such a goal seems not only improbable but unjust in a
variety of ways, in my opinion. This does not mean that we should not adhere to prin-
ciples of sound research—that is, we should do whatever we like without regard to
established practices for ethical research. It does mean though that participants’ reali-
ties are impacted by social, economic, political, and educational structures that have
historically and presently limit access and opportunity. That is, the powerful exist, as do
the disempowered. If we reflect on our history, the powerful have had access and
opportunity to conduct research and create “knowledge.” Thus, truth is relative, and a
single truth is not attainable. What is true for one participant or group may not be true
for another participant or group. Regardless of the approach to research—critical or
not—the realities of power, and relatedly, access and opportunity, remain.
10 Typical Areas of Confusion for Students New to Qualitative Research 119
Generalizability
puzzle and the picture it creates represent our understanding of a particular topic.
Any study, whatever the method, is just one piece of a larger body of knowledge—it
is not the knowledge.
Merriam and Tisdell (2015) note that the challenges that students new to qualita-
tive methods experience around generalizability are nothing new. They go on to
note that “part of the difficulty lies in thinking of generalizability in the same way
as do investigators using experimental or correlational designs” (p. 253). And, as I
noted above, even in these types of approaches to research, “generalizations are
made within specified levels of confidence” (Merriam & Tisdell, 2015, p. 253).
With a goal of “understanding” and not “generalizing,” there is much to be
learned from qualitative research. Whether or not the findings from a qualitative
study could also apply to another similar context is up to the reader to decide. Citing
Lincoln and Guba, Merriam and Tisdell (2015) state:
the notion of “transferability,” in which “the burden of proof lies less with the original
investigator than with the person seeking to make an application elsewhere. The original
inquirer cannot know the sites to which transferability might be sought, but the appliers can
and do.” The investigator needs to provide “sufficient descriptive data” to make transfer-
ability possible. (p. 254)
Positionality
Another area where students struggle is with “positionality,” or how one, as the
researcher, is positioned and how they are drawn to their research interests. For
many students, they have never been asked to think deeply about why they want to
study what they want to study. This can be an emotional process. Regardless, these
interests should be interrogated. It is not as though we pick up research interests
10 Typical Areas of Confusion for Students New to Qualitative Research 121
from the super market or that they drop from the sky. They come from somewhere,
and that somewhere is connected to our identities, histories, and experiences.
Positionality is not just a list of the identities that define us but a reflection of
those identities, the power dynamics that have helped to shape those identities, as
well as a consideration of why is this the right study for me? Why do I want to study
this? Why is now the right time to conduct this study? (e.g., Why this? Why me?
Why now?) (see Patel, 2015). Other critical questions students should attend to
when thinking about how they personally connect to their research interests are
What am I going to do with this research? Who benefits? How does who I am influ-
ence the claims I make on the data? How does who I am influence the research
process? What changes will come about from the research?
With all of this come questions about qualitative research processes, the researcher
as instrument, and about bias. Merriam and Tisdell (2015) offer a list of questions,
including the following, which I am asked some version of every semester: “If the
researcher is the primary instrument for data collection and analysis, how can we be
sure the researcher is a valid and reliable instrument? Isn’t the researcher biased and
just finding out what he or she expects to find? Don’t people often lie to field research-
ers? If somebody else did this study, would they get the same results?” (p. 241).
Qualitative researchers attend to bias in several ways; a solid first step is articu-
lating their positionality as this helps to get at the questions above about validity and
reliability and expectations. To the questions about the truthfulness of a partici-
pant’s responses, it is not our place as researchers to judge a participant’s responses.
After all, one person’s truth is different from the next person’s truth. And yes, two
researchers will have different results. This is the nature of qualitative work.
Ambiguity
Another area that I find where students struggle is with the ambiguity that is inher-
ent in qualitative research, that is, the lack of clear delineations between approaches
and the overlap in the types of analytic strategies used in different approaches.
Students’ struggles with this seems to stem from two primary areas. The first is that
of the researcher as the human instrument—and that as such, the researcher is in
charge of how they design and conduct the work. The second is the overlap between
the different approaches (or “traditions” as Cresswell refers to them). That is, stu-
dents find it challenging to decipher between a phenomenological study and an
interpretivist study—particularly as a researcher may use similar or identical data
collection methods and analytic procedures in either approach.
The researcher as instrument is an important component of qualitative research
and one that amplifies the importance of a researcher’s positionality. Because the
researcher is responsible for analyzing/coding the data, those data will undoubtedly
be analyzed through the researcher’s “lenses,” that is, the ways the researcher views
and understands the world, the ways they interpret experiences, as well as their
histories and identities. This causes students to ask questions about bias and how
122 L. A. Locke
this will surely impact the data. Yes. It will. However, there are many ways in quali-
tative research that the researcher can work to establish the “validity” of the data
(not objectivity) and ensure, as much as it is possible, that they take all necessary
steps to reflect the participants’ authentic experiences and perceptions. These steps
may include a variety of techniques including bracketing, memoing, and reflexive
journaling, as well as other strategies to establish trustworthiness such as member
checking and peer debriefing. Merriam and Tisdell (2015) provide a useful list of
ways to reinforce “validity” and “reliability” in qualitative research, see p. 259.
Students also get frustrated with the overlap of the methodological approaches in
the various “traditions” in qualitative research. Specifically, one may use similar
coding techniques in a case study and in an interpretivist study, as they might use in
a phenomenological study. In their efforts to do it “right,” students want to see dis-
tinct lines between the “traditions,” and they simply do not exist. Rather, it is up to
the researcher to clearly articulate why their study is phenomenological, a case
study, an interpretivist study, or something else. The coding strategies, the means of
establishing trustworthiness, and the means of increasing rigor and validity may be
very similar in any of those studies. Embrace the ambiguity, I say. And convince
your readers that the finding of your study are “worth paying attention to” (Lincoln
& Guba, 1985, p. 290) with the proper criteria for such an approach.
Final Thoughts
Qualitative research can be difficult for students who have been exposed only to
quantitative research to fully embrace, especially in the beginning. However, I do
believe that most of the students in my classes come away with a different and
broader understanding of research, and appreciate the value of qualitative work.
One of the things I say in my classes is “If you learn nothing else from me, learn
this. Your research questions will guide your methodology, not the other way
around.” So, if qualitative research methods speak to you and you think you might
want to apply them in your dissertation work, be sure to ask appropriate research
questions.
A final note about qualitative software. Students typically want to know about
coding software—and how it can lighten their load in terms of analysis. Qualitative
analyses are inductive and are based on the researcher’s knowledge of the field and
the context. Moreover, as analyses are individualistic (e.g., different researchers will
see different things in the data), it is impossible for a computer program to “code”
the data intuitively. These programs, such as NVivo, ATLAS.ti, Dedoose, and oth-
ers, are good storage facilities for your data—which may make it easier to keep
track of and organize. Further, if a researcher is after understanding how many times
a word or phrase is said, these programs can calculate that and create some related
graphics. However, the researcher is still responsible for “coding” the data.
10 Typical Areas of Confusion for Students New to Qualitative Research 123
References
Lincoln, Y. S., & Guba, E. G. (1985). Naturalistic inquiry. New York, NY: Sage.
Merriam, S. B., & Tisdell, E. J. (2015). Qualitative research: A guide to design and implementa-
tion. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons.
Patel, L. (2015). Decolonizing educational research: From ownership to answerability. New York,
NY: Routledge.
Chapter 11
Youth Participatory Action Research:
The Nuts and Bolts as well as the Roses
and Thorns
Shiv R. Desai
Introduction
Caraballo, Lozenski, Lyiscott, and Morrell (2017) explain how Youth Participatory
Action Research (YPAR) is “a critical research methodology that carries specific
epistemological commitments toward reframing who is ‘allowed’ to conduct and
disseminate education research with/about youth in actionable ways” (p. 313). Put
simply, YPAR challenges traditional social science research because it teaches
young people how to inquire about complex power relations, histories of struggle,
and the consequences of oppression directly related to their lives (Cammarota &
Fine, 2010; Rodríguez & Brown, 2009). Youth are involved in all aspects of the
S. R. Desai (*)
University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, NM, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
Decolonizing Methodology
McIntyre (2000) and Rodríguez and Brown (2009) have developed the following
three principles of YPAR: (1) the collective investigation of a problem that directly
addresses the needs of youth involved, (2) the reliance on marginalized youth
knowledge that validates and incorporates their lived experiences, and (3) the desire
to take collective action to improve the lives of oppressed youth. Caraballo et al.
(2017) add that YPAR has four distinct entry points: (1) academic learning and lit-
eracies, (2) cultural and critical epistemological research, (3) youth development
and leadership, and (4) youth organizing and civic engagement.
Academic learning and literacies focus on how YPAR has been utilized to foster
academic literacies, disciplines, and learning in a way that is transformative and
leads to academic enrichment (Bautista et al., 2003; Mirra, Filipiak, & Garcia,
2015; Morrell, 2004). Cultural and critical epistemological research demonstrates
how YPAR helps youth to connect with cultural knowledge, cultural identity, and
reclaiming lost knowledge (Alberto, Cerecer, Cahill, & Bradley, 2011; Cammarota
& Romero, 2009; Johnston-Goodstar, 2013; Torre, 2009). Youth development and
leadership articulate how YPAR supports youth to develop socially and emotionally
through their research as well as become leaders within their community or school
128 S. R. Desai
(Grace & Langhout, 2014; Kirshner & Ginwright, 2012). Lastly, youth organizing
and civic engagement illustrate how YPAR assists in community organizing, helps
influence policy, and fosters youth advocacy (Foster-Fishman, Law, Lichty, & Aoun,
2010; Ginwright & Cammarota, 2007; Kornbluh, Ozer, Allen, & Kirshner, 2015).
YPAR in the Field
One of the first studies to document YPAR was conducted in conjunction with pho-
tovoice to examine the violence youth experienced within their communities
(McIntyre, 2000). Furthermore, McIntyre contends that one of the chief benefits of
YPAR is the power of “engaging in a process that positions youth as agents of
inquiry and as ‘experts’ about their own lives” (p. 126). Henceforth, it is not surpris-
ing that several scholars have employed YPAR to assist youth, both in and out of
school, in order to address a variety of issues such as community violence, school
segregation, the prison-industrial complex, juvenile justice, and educational ineq-
uity (Akom, Cammarota, & Ginwright, 2008; Alberto et al., 2011; Cammarota &
Romero, 2009; Desai & Abeita, 2017; Fine, 2009; Ginwright, 2007; Grace &
Langhout, 2014; Yang, 2009). Cammarota and Romero (2009) present three student
cases that demonstrate how YPAR can be used as a bridge between the classroom
and students’ realities. Cerecer, Cahill, and Bradley (2013) had youth conduct inter-
views, create a video-docudrama, and utilize social media such as a blog to dissemi-
nate their findings on undocumented immigrants. Yang (2009) notes how his YPAR
study helped high school students gain mathematical knowledge and concepts by
deconstructing school accountability report cards. Other scholars have utilized
youth culture such as hip-hop and spoken word poetry to help youth articulate the
problems they see in their communities (Rodríguez & Brown, 2009). Furthermore,
YPAR has also been utilized to reclaim cultural knowledge and revitalize lost tradi-
tions (Conrad, 2015; Foster-Fishman et al., 2010; Irizarry, 2011). Lastly, in all of
these studies, youth present their findings to various public and academic communi-
ties in the hopes of affecting and creating more socially just policies.
Caraballo et al. (2017) have identified several tensions in YPAR, such as the follow-
ing: projects being co-opted by mandates, a lack of continuity, internal politics,
scheduling issues, and conflicting values among facilitators. The politics and com-
plexity of maintaining relationships with community members and organizations
are of particular concern due to turnover (Irizarry, 2009). Other YPAR researchers
have noted the tensions associated with facilitators and youth in regard to knowing
when to “step in” versus “step out” (Winn & Winn, 2016, p. 116). On the one
11 Youth Participatory Action Research: The Nuts and Bolts as well as the Roses… 129
hand, YPAR is youth driven, and youth voice should be privileged; on the other
hand, youth still need guidance and assistance in the completion of projects and
maintaining project goals. In addition, the tedious process of “grinding” (i.e., data
analysis and data interpretation) (Mirra et al., 2016) is not always fun and can be
taxing. Consequently, youth may not always be engaged in this process. Lastly,
scholars warn that YPAR’s liberatory framework, which has “the power to support
meaningful social and political change, often lose their radical capacity as they are
co-opted or absorbed into the mainstream” (Caraballo et al., 2017, p. 329). This idea
translates to how researchers must maintain fidelity to the principles of YPAR.
Now that I have provided the history of YPAR and how it has been utilized in the field,
I will now describe the YPAR project I have conducted. This example serves as a case
study of the successes and challenges of maintaining an ongoing YPAR project.
Over the last three years, I have worked with Leaders Organizing 2 Unite &
Decriminalize (LOUD) members—who comprise both formerly incarcerated and
youth on probation and allies—who have worked toward creating a more socially
just and humanizing criminal justice system through YPAR. Throughout this pro-
cess, youth have found their voice and have been able to speak out and raise aware-
ness on critical issues that needed reform within the juvenile justice system (JJS) by
speaking directly with key decision-makers and shaping public policy.
Located in a major urban city in the Southwest, LOUD is a partnership between
a local grassroots community organization and the local Juvenile Detention
Alternative Initiative (JDAI), which is housed within the local JJS. The former helps
youth mobilize regarding issues such as racial justice, health, economic, and educa-
tion equity. It also provides a platform to engage these issues through civic engage-
ment. The latter is a model site for JDAI, which is sponsored by the Annie E. Casey
Foundation. As a model site, other JJS sites from the nation and around the world
visit to learn how to reduce juvenile incarceration rates.
At the time of this study, I was working with six Latinas and three Latinos, one
African American male, and one Diné female. Additionally, half of the members
self-identified as queer. The ages of the LOUD members ranged from 15 to 20
years, and educationally, they ranged from a high school freshman to a first-year
college student. Overall, members joined LOUD because they were interested in
sharing their experiences of being incarcerated in order to advocate for change and
reform within the JJS.
It is important to note that for formerly incarcerated youth, their freedom hov-
ers on a tightrope. Over the course of three years, we had members placed in resi-
dential treatment programs for alleged drug violations, who were then isolated
from the outside world. We had some members who went on the “run” (abscond-
ing from their probation) because of home instability, not having shelter, or alleged
130 S. R. Desai
violations. Fortunately, no member has had to go to a youth prison, but a few did
have detention holds (placed in the detention center) on them (from two days to
two weeks). These were strong, painful reminders of how easily freedom can be
taken away, and how members may be removed from their families, their commu-
nities, their schools, and of course from this study at any time. New members were
welcome to join anytime during the course of the study.
Conceivably, the greatest success of LOUD has been the ability to help youth
become system free and find their voice, which ultimately enabled them to become
the best advocates for juvenile justice reform since they had firsthand knowledge.
Part of this advocacy came via the partnership with the local JDAI that wanted
system-involved youth to participate in their various steering committees such as
Reducing Racial and Ethnic Disparities (RRED). They also were invited to help
reshape the state Probation Agreement. As a result of LOUD youth participation,
the revised state Probation Agreement moved away from a punitive instrument to a
more individualized instrument that focuses on positive youth development. More
importantly, LOUD youth conducted approximately 120 surveys that were given to
system-involved youth, which examined their experiences at different points in the
JJS: court hearings, detention center, prison, residential treatment programs, and/or
probation. Lastly, LOUD youth conducted four focus group interviews inside the
detention center and three focus group interviews with Specialty Court programs.
This research is unparalleled because I am not aware of youth being allowed to
conduct research in incarceration facilities. While I assisted LOUD youth in each
step along with another facilitator, what is important to highlight is the fact that
LOUD youth were responsible for developing the survey and focus group questions,
analyzing the data, and providing recommendations.
These findings were shared with the local JDAI and their various steering com-
mittees. In addition, LOUD youth presented our research during various national
site visits to the local JDAI. LOUD youth even spoke at the state capital to lobby for
juvenile justice reform; two of them spoke directly with the Lieutenant Governor on
the issues youth face in the state. Additionally, they have presented our work at
national education conferences. Furthermore, LOUD youth have also demonstrated
academic success. Nearly 95 percent of LOUD youth graduated from high school or
obtained their General Education Development (GED). Thus, LOUD has under-
scored the findings in the field: (1) developing cultural identity, critical conscious-
ness, and (re)connecting to cultural knowledge; (2) developing youth advocacy,
activism, and civic engagement; (3) developing positive youth development and
leadership; and (4) developing academic and college-going skills.
11 Youth Participatory Action Research: The Nuts and Bolts as well as the Roses… 131
While LOUD has enjoyed tremendous success, there have also been some tough chal-
lenges. The first challenge was developing trust. Given the makeup of LOUD, youth
were apprehensive of the adult facilitators at first. For many system-involved youths,
they have witnessed adults abuse their power and violate their trust. Therefore, “bro-
kering relationships” (Mirra et al., 2015, p. 50) was especially important as LOUD
first got started. YPAR was secondary to youth getting to know adult facilitators and
solidifying the culture of the group, which was learning how to advocate, how to com-
municate during steering committee meetings, and teasing out the various issues of
the JJS. Similar to L. T. Winn and Winn (2016), in the first and second years, the adult
facilitators were constantly trying to find a balance of when to “step in” versus “step
out.” YPAR was a novel approach to the youth, and they were also trying to figure out
what it meant. The third challenge was the transiency of the participants. Since we
were working with system-involved youth, over the years, we had youth not able to
attend or continue with the program because they were placed on detention holds,
they were sent to residential treatment programs for drug treatment, and other youth
stopped participating because they were absconding. However, we were fortunate that
youth always came back, even if briefly. The next main challenge was getting youth to
engage in the “grind” (Mirra et al., 2016), which meant having youth analyze the data
and find key themes. They were always excited and ready to take the lead when time
came to perform the focus group interviews. However, they were less enthusiastic
when time came to analyze the data since coding data can be tedious.
Sustainability was one of the most significant challenges. After the second year
of LOUD, we found out that the community organization where LOUD was housed
was shutting down due to financial reasons. This issue caused a major rupture
because for a few months we struggled to find a new community organization that
would sponsor us. Once we found a new community partner, new roles had to be
adjusted. Moreover, it was difficult to obtain support for LOUD because the com-
munity organization had their own set of programs. Simultaneously, the community-
based co-facilitator was leaving to pursue a graduate degree. This news was
devastating to LOUD members who had bonded with her. She was an outstanding,
incredible advocate for them and worked tirelessly to ensure they had opportunities
to influence JJS policies. As all of this was occurring, we also found out that funding
for her position would be cut. This update was damaging because the community-
based facilitator served as a pseudosocial worker. She would help youth find
resources such as shelter, food assistance, attend probation meetings and/or court
hearings, and help youth navigate different life obstacles. I was able to perform
many of these duties, but after the second year, I was fortunate to have a new addi-
tion to my family—a baby girl who was born a micro-preemie. Since she was born
so early, she faced health challenges, and my priorities shifted. Life-changing events
are something that needs to be added to the literature as an important issue that
contributes to YPAR success or not.
132 S. R. Desai
Finally, the last key issue missing from the literature that must be considered is
how group dynamics might change. While LOUD members had co-constructed
community agreements, it did not always mean they were followed. Therefore, it is
important to continue to revisit community expectations and remind youth of the
culture that is being established and nurtured. Additionally, one issue that we did not
take into account was how social media can impact group dynamics. For instance,
sometimes what members posted affected the group and led to serious disagree-
ments. In other cases, an argument escalated on social media, which resulted in
youth saying hurtful words to each other. Ultimately, these arguments would infil-
trate the group, and adult facilitators would have to settle the disputes, which at
times, impacted the group and project goals. Therefore, it is vital for adult facilita-
tors to be aware of group dynamics and have in place protocols on how to handle
youth conflict.
Conclusion
Suggested Readings
Caraballo, L., Lozenski, B. D., Lyiscott, J. J., & Morrell, E. (2017). YPAR and criti-
cal epistemologies: Rethinking education research. Review of Research in
Education, 41(1), 311–336.
This article is the most recent literature of YPAR in the field of education. It dis-
cusses the key elements of YPAR and how it can be utilized to fundamentally change
research paradigms.
Cammarota, J., & Fine, M. (2010). Revolutionizing education: Youth participatory
action research in motion (J. Cammarota & M. Fine, Eds.). New York, NY:
Routledge; Taylor and Francis Group.
This edited book provides a unique overview of several YPAR projects found
throughout the country. It offers different frameworks utilized within YPAR and
bridges theory and practice by bringing together youth participants and scholars in
the field.
Mirra, N., Garcia, A., & Morrell, E. (2016). Doing participatory action research:
Transforming inquiry with researchers, educators and students. New York, NY:
Routledge; Taylor and Francis Group.
This book offers an unprecedented, in-depth exploration of the Council of Youth
Research, which is one of the longest running YPAR programs. The book also pro-
vides a step-by-step guidance on how to successfully create a YPAR project.
References
Akom, A. A., Cammarota, J., & Ginwright, S. A. (2008). Youthtopias: Towards a new paradigm of
critical youth studies. Youth Media Reporter, 2(1), 108–129.
Alberto, D., Cerecer, Q., Cahill, C., & Bradley, M. (2011). Resist this! Embodying the contradic-
tory positions and collective possibilities of transformative resistance. International Journal
of Qualitative Studies in Education, 24(5), 587–593. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2011
.600269
Bautista, M. A., Bertrand, M., Morrell, E., Scorza, D., & Matthews, C. (2003). Participatory action
research and city youth: Methodological insights from the Council of Youth Research. Teachers
College Record, 115(10), 1–23.
Cammarota, J., & Fine, M. (Eds.). (2010). Revolutionizing education: Youth participatory action
research in motion. New York, NY: Routledge.
Cammarota, J., & Romero, A. F. (2009). A social justice epistemology and pedagogy for Latina/o
students: Transforming public education with participatory action research. New Directions for
Youth Development, 2009(123), 53–65. https://doi.org/10.1002/yd.314
Caraballo, L., Lozenski, B. D., Lyiscott, J. J., & Morrell, E. (2017). YPAR and critical epistemolo-
gies: Rethinking education research. Review of Research in Education, 41(1), 311–336. https://
doi.org/10.3102/0091732X16686948
134 S. R. Desai
Cerecer, D. A., Cahill, C., & Bradley, M. (2013). Toward a critical youth policy praxis: Critical
youth studies and participatory action research. Theory Into Practice, 52(3), 216–223. https://
doi.org/10.1080/00405841.2013.804316
Conrad, D. (2015). Education and social innovation: The youth uncensored project—A case
study of youth participatory research and cultural democracy in action. Canadian Journal of
Education, 38(1), 1–25.
Denzin, N. K., & Lincoln, Y. S. (2008). Introduction: Critical methodologies and indigenous
inquiry. In L. T. Denzin, K. Norman, & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of critical and
indigenous methodologies (pp. 1–20). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0741713609350411
Denzin, N. K., & Lincoln, Y. S. (2011). The SAGE handbook of qualitative research (4th ed.).
Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications.
Desai, S. R., & Abeita, A. (2017). Breaking the cycle of incarceration: A young black male’s
journey from probation to self-advocacy. Journal of Urban Learning, Teaching & Research,
13, 45–52.
Dolan, T., Lin, C., & Christens, B. D. (2005). Combining youth organizing and youth participatory
action research to strengthen student voice in education reform. National Society for the Study
of Education, 114(1), 153–170.
Fals Borda, O., & Rahman, M. A. (1991). Action and knowledge: Breaking the monopoly with
participatory action research. New York, NY: Apex.
Fine, M. (2009). Postcards from metro America: Reflections on youth participatory action research
for urban justice. Urban Review, 41(1), 1–6. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11256-008-0099-5
Foster-Fishman, P. G., Law, K. M., Lichty, L. F., & Aoun, C. (2010). Youth ReACT for social
change: A method for youth participatory action research. American Journal of Community
Psychology, 46(1), 67–83. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10464-010-9316-y
Ginwright, S. A. (2007). Black youth activism and the role of critical social capital in Black
community organizations. American Behavioral Scientist, 51(3), 403–418. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0002764207306068
Ginwright, S. A., & Cammarota, J. (2007). Youth activism in the urban community: Learning criti-
cal civic praxis within community organizations. International Journal of Qualitative Studies
in Education, 20(6), 693–710. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518390701630833
Grace, S., & Langhout, R. D. (2014). Questioning our questions: Assessing question asking prac-
tices to evaluate a yPAR Program. Urban Review, 46(4), 703–724. https://doi.org/10.1007/
s11256-014-0279-4
Irizarry, J. G. (2009). Reinvigorating multicultural education through youth partici-
patory action research. Multicultural Perspectives, 11(4), 194–199. https://doi.
org/10.1080/15210960903445905
Irizarry, J. G. (2011). Buscando la libertad: Latino youths in search of freedom in school.
Democracy & Education, 19(1), 1–10.
Johnson, K. C., Drew, C., Lin, J., Dobbins, S., Ozer, E., & Auerswald, C. (2017). “I learned that
we matter”—Reflections on strategies to engage formerly homeless young adults in youth
participatory action research. Journal of Adolescent Health, 60(2), S29–S30. https://doi.
org/10.1016/j.jadohealth.2016.10.075
Johnston-Goodstar, K. (2013). Indigenous youth participatory action research: Re-visioning
social justice for social work with indigenous youths. Social Work, 58(4), 314–320. https://doi.
org/10.1093/sw/swt036
Kirshner, B., & Ginwright, S. A. (2012). Youth organizing as a developmental context for African
American and Latino adolescents. Child Development Perspectives, 6(3), 288–294. https://doi.
org/10.1111/j.1750-8606.2012.00243.x
Kornbluh, M., Ozer, E. J., Allen, C. D., & Kirshner, B. (2015). Youth participatory action research
as an approach to sociopolitical development and the new academic standards: Considerations
for educators. Urban Review, 47(5), 868–892. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11256-015-0337-6
11 Youth Participatory Action Research: The Nuts and Bolts as well as the Roses… 135
McIntyre, A. (2000). Constructing meaning about violence, school, and community: Participatory
action research with urban youth. The Urban Review, 32(2), 123–154. https://doi.org/10.102
3/A:1005181731698
Mirra, N., Filipiak, D., & Garcia, A. (2015). Revolutionizing inquiry in urban English classrooms:
Pursuing voice and justice through youth participatory action research. English Journal,
105(2), 49–57.
Mirra, N., Garcia, A., & Morrell, E. (2016). Doing participatory action research: Transforming
inquiry with researchers, educators and students. New York, NY: Routledge.
Morrell, E. (2004). Becoming critical researchers: Literacy and empowerment for urban youth.
New York, NY: Peter Lang Publishing.
Rodríguez, L. F., & Brown, T. M. (2009). From voice to agency: Guiding principles for participa-
tory action research with youth. New Directions for Youth Development, 2009(123), 19–34.
https://doi.org/10.1002/yd.312
Sandoval, C. (2000). Methodology of the oppressed. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minneapolis
Press.
Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and indigenous peoples. London, UK:
Zed Books.
Torre, M. E. (2009). Participatory action research and critical race theory: Fueling spaces
for nos-otras to research. The Urban Review, 41(1), 106–120. https://doi.org/10.1007/
s11256-008-0097-7
Winn, L. T., & Winn, M. T. (2016). “We want this to be owned by you”: The promise and perils of
youth participatory action research. In S. Greene, K. J. Burke, & M. K. McKenna (Eds.), Youth
voices, public spaces, and civic engagement (pp. 111–130). New York: Routledge.
Yang, K. W. (2009). Mathematics, critical literacy, and youth participatory action research. New
Directions for Youth Development, 2009(123), 99–118. https://doi.org/10.1002/yd.317
Chapter 12
Advancing Social Justice with Policy
Discourse Analysis
Elizabeth J. Allan and Aaron R. Tolbert
Abstract Policy discourse analysis (PDA) draws from critical and poststructural
theories to provide researchers with an approach to identifying dominant discourses
shaping policy problems and solutions. Such analyses reveal how discourse contrib-
utes to shaping subject positions, or roles, with implications for practice. This chap-
ter defines PDA, describes the conceptual principles of the approach, and details the
research methods for the implementation of a PDA study. Examples of studies
employing PDA are shared to illustrate the utility of the approach.
Policy analysis offers an avenue for understanding the intractability of some equity
and social justice challenges. However, conventional methods of policy analysis
may be limited by dominant discourses that shape policy problems and may even
reinforce the very problems they seek to alleviate. For example, it has been many
decades since the passage of key civil rights laws and gender equity policy (e.g.,
Title IX) with implications for educational institutions. While progress has been
made since these landmark decisions, the pace of change can seem slow considering
what is at stake. Attaining socially just and equitable practices and inclusive cli-
mates in schools, colleges, and universities is paramount to their missions, yet this
goal remains elusive, and efforts to roll back current gains continue to be a reality.
Drawing on understandings of discourse and power, alternate approaches to policy
analysis emerge providing insights that have the potential to impact practice. In this
chapter, we review a methodology and methods that provide tools for rethinking and
unthinking policy problems and policy solutions in the pursuit of social justice.
E. J. Allan (*)
University of Maine, Orono, ME, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
A. R. Tolbert
SUNY Schenectady County Community College, Schenectady, NY, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
Discourse
Discourse is a term often used but without a simple definition. Considered broadly,
discourse refers to both spoken and written language use, and the study of discourse
(discourse analysis) includes the examination of both talk and text and its relation-
ship to the social context in which it is produced. For our purposes, discourses are
socially constructed constellations of words and images that both reflect and con-
tribute to shaping particular realities.
Rather than understanding language and discourse as static entities that can stand
in isolation and be investigated as such (e.g., a stretch of text or collection of words
on paper), poststructuralist thinkers contend that language and discourses are
dynamic sites for the construction of meaning (Välimaa & Hoffman, 2008; van
Dijk, 2008). Discourses are contingent upon historical context and power dynamics
shaping the sociopolitical landscape. Yet, from a poststructural perspective, dis-
courses not only reflect culture, they also actively produce it. However, as individual
actors take up discourses to interpret the world around them, dominant discourses
are most likely to be drawn upon because they tend to eclipse counter-discourses
that can provide alternate views or perspectives. For instance, if a focus on reducing
sexual assault on campus is undergirded by a dominant discourse of femininity, the
problem of campus safety is often articulated as a “woman’s issue” where women
are framed as “vulnerable to assault” and in need of protection. In this framing, blue
light systems, self-defense training, and “cover your cup” stories may be the pre-
dominant policy responses by postsecondary institutions. By drawing on a domi-
nant discourse of femininity, even well-intentioned leaders may only focus on
policy solutions that may help women feel more safe but rarely address root causes
or conditions producing the violence. In contrast, if policy problems and solutions
are framed through a counter-discourse that highlights the social construction of
violent masculinity, the proposed solutions would more likely focus on strategies to
help students critically analyze gender norms, build skills for clear communication
about consent, and develop skills for bystander intervention in potential sexual
assault scenarios that involve acquaintances. A counter-discourse that focuses on
answering how good young men grow to become young adult assailants may never
surface when the problem of campus safety is framed within dominant discourses.
Thus, from a poststructural perspective, discourse produces the ideological and
epistemic framing of issues and therefore shapes the thinking and action of actors;
thus, this productive power, not a Marxian hegemonic power, is the focus. This
occurs as dominant discourses are taken up in the construction of new ideas, prac-
tices, and policies. Further, and especially important to thinking about policy issues,
poststructural theory contends that discourse is the place “where our sense of our-
selves, our subjectivity, is constructed” (Weedon, 1997, p. 21).
It is this productive property of discourse (i.e., discourse produces reality rather
than simply reflecting it) that shapes the development of particular kinds of research
questions. For example, researchers who employ policy discourse analysis (PDA)
ask, “What is being produced or constructed through a particular policy or practice?”
12 Advancing Social Justice with Policy Discourse Analysis 139
and “What are the discourses shaping particular perspectives, images, and cultural
practices?” Instead of focusing solely on the efficacy of intended policy outcomes,
this form of analysis can be used to identify issues in the framing of policy “prob-
lems” or “solutions.”
The concept of dominant discourses is also vital for understanding the utility of
discourse analysis for examining policy. Typically, dominant discourses embedded
in policy are normalized to such an extent that they are rarely called into question.
That is, dominant discourses often eclipse other potential ways of making sense of
the world and one’s experience in it. For example, framed from a neoliberal market-
place discourse, schooling can be understood as a cornerstone of a democratic soci-
ety, a necessity for job training, workforce development, and a thriving middle
class. Yet, a counter-discourse might contend that compulsory schooling was devel-
oped and remains, in many respects today, a mechanism for creating obedient citi-
zens who participate in reproducing the capitalist status quo.
Scholars have investigated dominant discourses of “excellence” in shaping col-
lege student experience and research university practice (Hotchkins & Dancy, 2015;
Iverson, 2012) and dominant discourses of gender and sexuality in shaping under-
standings of school safety and teen pregnancy and campus sexual assault policies
(Iverson, 2015; Pillow, 2004, 2006). Likewise, scholars have shown that access to
higher education is shaped by policy discourses affecting opportunity programs
(Hinsdale, 2012) and undocumented students (Gildersleeve & Hernandez, 2012).
We turn next to a brief overview of the larger field of policy analysis as a contextual
backdrop for a more detailed description of PDA theory and methods to follow.
process that involves policy analysis, implementation, and evaluation. Other models
of policy analysis move away from an expertise-based, formulaic, and objective
process and propose a more flexible analytic process where the complexities of
human values are taken into account, and a wide range of stakeholders are included
in the policy process. In general, these theorists are referred to as political rational-
ists because they apply a rational approach to dealing with values inherent in the
policy process.
For example, in response to the need to enhance racial and socioeconomic diver-
sity at baccalaureate degree-granting institutions, a rational scientific approach
might lead policy analysts to examine demographic trends in enrollment numbers
and pinpoint access to higher education as a key policy problem. Given this fram-
ing, enhancing affordability and increasing the number of qualified students apply-
ing to college would likely become proposed policy solutions. In taking a more
flexible approach that acknowledges the role of human values, a political rationalist
approach might be more apt to move beyond the issue of access to consider issues
of campus climate when analyzing policy solutions for increasing the racial and
socioeconomic diversity of students.
As a whole, however, many established approaches to policy analysis are criti-
cized for their failure to acknowledge assumptions undergirding the articulation of
policy. For example, the very “problem” that a policy may be designed to solve may
only be a problem for a particular group (Bertrand, Perez, & Roger, 2015; Suspitsyna,
2012). A simple noise ordinance in a neighborhood is a hypothetical example. For
some, neighbors’ music may be a nuisance, but for others, loud outdoor music may
indicate social engagement. Typically, these critiques assert that traditional policy
approaches are embedded in a modernist frame that implicitly advances particular
perspectives about efficiency, productivity, and personhood, and furthermore that
these approaches often assume a common understanding of the very meaning of the
term “policy.” Adding to this, other scholars have asserted that conventional
approaches to policymaking and policy analysis are constructed through a lens that
privileges rational/scientific logic, which often results in policy perspectives that are
narrow, linear, and managerial in focus.
As noted by Allan (2010), policy researchers and analysts are frequently called
upon for expertise in assessing the effectiveness of policy and making recommenda-
tions for improvement. Yet, despite the implementation and refinements of policy
based on the analysis of gathered data, some problems—such as those associated
with access, equity, and social justice—continue to challenge educational institu-
tions and systems. The seemingly glacial pace of change toward social justice,
despite committed efforts of practitioners and analysts alike, has prompted scholars
to explore the utility of discourse analysis for the study of policy.
12 Advancing Social Justice with Policy Discourse Analysis 141
Similar to other forms of inquiry, PDA begins with carefully crafted research ques-
tions to frame an investigation. These research questions, informed by the hybrid
methodology previously described, are guided by overarching questions linked to
identifying how a particular policy, a set of policies, and/or policy process draw on
discourses to construct policy problems, solutions, and images—and how the iden-
tified discourses shape and re/produce particular subject positions. For example, a
PDA investigation of the Every Student Succeeds Act (ESSA) could be anchored by
research questions that ask: what does ESSA describe as problems and solutions for
schools and students? What are the predominant images of students, teachers, and
staff that emerge from this policy? What discourses are employed to shape these
problems, solutions, and images? What subject positions are re/produced through
these discourses?
While policies alone cannot fully capture discourses that are fluid and contex-
tual, they can provide perspectives about the ways in which discourses are drawn
upon to construct policy, shape subject positions while also articulate policy problems
and recommended actions to resolve those problems. Guided by the research ques-
tions, careful data gathering and data analysis for PDA are vital to the credibility of
the study.
12 Advancing Social Justice with Policy Discourse Analysis 143
One criticism of many forms of discourse analysis (as compared to PDA) is poor
reporting of data sampling, incomplete descriptions of the tools and methods of
analysis, and a dearth of examples of how discrete data lead to particular results.
While not all scholars employing PDA are explicit about these foundational research
steps, we contend that clear and well-articulated methods of analysis are crucial to
building the legitimacy of PDA.
Gathering data. In choosing samples for data analysis, PDA scholars often iden-
tify a period from which to gather documents or artifacts because of the inherent
assumption that discourses are fluid and contextually based. For example, a five-
year range of documents might be considered depending on when the policy issue
gained traction in a given context. Decisions about the type of policy artifacts and
the sources of them are also important because the scope of analysis, and its limita-
tions, is linked to the sample. In 2012, Gildersleeve and Hernandez (2012) sampled
12 In-State Resident Tuition (ISRT) policies because the simple fact was that only
12 states in the USA had ISRT policies at the time. Similarly, Suspitsyna (2012)
chose a three-year range and analyzed 164 speeches from the US Department of
Education looking at the specific level of federal (as opposed to state) economic
discourses in educational policy. Allan (2010) employed PDA to examine 21 wom-
en’s commission policy reports produced at four research universities over a period
of three decades, and Iverson (2012) analyzed 21 diversity action plans and policy
reports produced at 20 land-grant universities over a five-year period.
Once a given focus is established, it is important for the researcher to describe
the extent to which the documents or artifacts are widely consumed by a given audi-
ence and how they reflect a given population or focus. PDA scholars often summa-
rize the search engines or other mechanisms used to identify source documents, the
number of documents retrieved, and the criteria for identifying primary or second-
ary documents. Primary documents undergo a multi-phase analysis process while
secondary documents act as reflexive points to calibrate and test the credibility of
the primary document analyses.
Analyzing and interpreting the data. Data analysis for PDA scholars can vary but
often takes the form of multiple, explicitly articulated stages or phases. Drawing
from our own work and others, we advocate a rigorous process that includes the
following five phases. In phase one, documents are sorted and the texts are deduc-
tively coded based on the research questions. In phase two, inductive and deductive
coding allows for in-depth analysis of data sorted in phase one. A key tenet is that
codes are not produced first and then applied to documents because in that model, a
researcher’s preconceived ideas and biases are more likely to be applied to the data
set. This would then be no different from a “close reading” of the front page of
major newspapers on a given day and then proclaiming insights from the reading. In
contrast, PDA is a grounded methodology where the codes are generated through
the systematic process, not in advance, of data analysis.
A third phase of data analysis is similar to theme building in basic interpretive
qualitative research or grounded theory methodology. In PDA, the codes generated
in phases one and two are then examined apart from their original sources and
grouped in category maps informed by the study’s theoretical frameworks and
144 E. J. Allan and A. R. Tolbert
can also be illuminated. Finally, as the goals of PDA are grounded in emancipatory
principles, articulating some initial implications for policy and policy studies is an
essential part of PDA. Yet, given the poststructural influences of PDA, it is also vital
for researchers to be cautious of contributing to a new regime of truth, asserting the
certainty of their findings by articulating a commitment to dismantling the very
findings they have produced.
An example of how a PDA study yields findings to inform social justice practice can
be seen in Tolbert’s (2017) study, where five dominant discourses were traced relative
to developmental education policy. A narrative chain pervaded the documents shaped
by dominant discourses of crisis, accountability, efficacy, standardization, and policy
fiat. Critically, these dominant discourses were seen as working through interdiscur-
sivity, with the effect of producing pejorative subject positions for both students and
faculty involved with developmental education. Developmental students were posi-
tioned either as encumbering society with the cost of their education for a second
time, implicitly wasting taxpayer dollars, or as maligned, as harmed by an ineffective
and broken developmental education system. Likewise, faculty were framed as “pro-
saic” through dominant policy discourses where their outdated teaching philosophies
and pedagogies were to blame for poor student outcomes with the implication that
faculty needed to be managed by college administrators or policymakers themselves.
These findings are supported by the work of Parker, Barrett, and Bustillos, 2014.
Tolbert’s (2017) study revealed that dominant discourses framed developmental
education as a broken system that was harming students and keeping them from
attaining their college degrees. The dominant discourses in the policy briefs can be
said to have, in part, produced problems with developmental education by simplify-
ing the issues. The dominant discourses tended to oversimplify and thus eclipse
highly contested and complex debates about the potential merits and drawbacks of
development education (Goudas & Boylan, 2012).
The idea that developmental students “encumber” society has moved throughout
discursive landscapes since the 1990s when blaming students for the cost of reme-
diation was prominent in policy debates (Soliday, 2002). Against the backdrop of
this discursive landscape, the CUNY system implemented a policy mandating that
developmental education would be limited to two-year institutions (Soliday, 2002),
thereby creating a tiered system as a greater proportion of racially minoritized stu-
dents were identified as needing developmental education (Parker & Richardson,
2005) and thus funneled to associate granting institutions. Analysis of policy
silences reveals another impact of this discursive history where cultural capital or
community cultural wealth (Yosso, 2005) of minoritized students is overlooked
when dominant discourses frame developmental students as deficient.
Numerous other applications of PDA exist in scholarly literature. For example,
Bertrand et al. (2015) used PDA to understand policy insiders’ discursive strategies
146 E. J. Allan and A. R. Tolbert
for engaging with racism and class when discussing education, finding that in rela-
tionship to deficit discourses, “naturalization” occurred “which Bonilla-Silva (2014)
described as the practice of explaining away systemic racism as a natural occur-
rence” (Bertrand et al., 2015, p. 21). In a study of diversity action plans, Iverson
(2012) described how dominant discourses of access shape these policy documents
and points to the need to “resist and contest dominant conceptions of diversity”
(p. 168) that tend to homogenize difference and reinforce the status quo. Allan’s
(2008) study of university women’s commission reports underscored how dominant
discourses of gender reinscribe images of women as vulnerable outsiders to the
institution and how policy solutions were shaped in response to these images.
In a study of transgender policy efforts at research universities, Dirks (2016)
employed PDA to explore dominant discourses framing recommendations for
inclusivity efforts. Finding that many such recommendations were predicated upon
a discourse of trans-vulnerability, Dirks asks readers to consider if well-intended
efforts might be reinscribing genderism in the guise of gender inclusivity. In another
study, Iverson (2015) revealed potential unintended consequences of sexual assault
policies by examining their discursive framing, and Hoffman (2010) explored ways
in which dominant discourses shaping Title IX can reinforce a gendered system of
power that promotes the commercial interests of men’s sports and relegates wom-
en’s sports to fulfill developmental goals.
In sum, PDA is a methodological approach that guides scholars in analyzing how
discourses shape and produce realities that frame policy problems, the modality of
solutions, and the interpretations of policy results. As described in this chapter, PDA
also features rigorous methods along with theoretical underpinnings that make it
well suited for advancing social justice through emancipatory inquiry.
Suggested Readings
Foucault, M. (2001). From “Truth and Power”. In V. B. Leitch (Ed.), The Norton
anthology of theory and criticism (pp. 1667–1670). New York, NY: W.W. Norton
and Company.
Though brief, this passage may provide the most critical definition of “power” for
poststructuralist thinking. Understanding how power is defined, especially in con-
trast to Marxian or positivist forms of power, is a conceptual key to poststructuralist
work.
Gildersleeve, R. E., & Hernandez, S. (2012). Producing (im)possible peoples:
Policy discourse analysis, in-state resident tuition and undocumented students in
American higher education. International Journal of Multicultural Education,
14(2), 1–19. https://doi.org/10.18251/ijme.v14i2.517
In this study, researchers detail a PDA study of state laws to powerfully illuminate
how tuition policy discourses shape understandings of identity relative to undocu-
mented students in US higher education.
Iverson, S. V. (2012). Constructing outsiders: The discursive framing of access in
university diversity policies. Review of Higher Education, 35(2), 149–177.
https://doi.org/10.1353/rhe.2012.0013
This article provides a compelling illustration of a PDA study examining diversity
action plans at US land-grant universities finding that well-intended policy efforts to
enhance diversity and inclusivity may unwittingly reinforce inequitable practices.
Mills, S. (2011). Discourse: The new critical idiom (2nd ed.). New York, NY:
Routledge.
This text provides a helpful introduction to the term “discourse” and how the term
is used in the many varied sub-fields within scholarly work. The text introduces the
history and language of debates and development of the idea of discourse for an
audience not familiar or acquainted with the birth of the study of semiotics and
structuralism under Saussure and Lacan. It also helps distinguish some of the fault
lines between critical and poststructural thinking on discourse.
van Dijk, T. A. (Ed.). (2011). Discourse studies: A multidisciplinary introduction
(2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications.
While vast in its scope, and more focused on critical discourse analysis rather than
policy discourse analysis, this text is a series of collected essays that provides mul-
tiple competing and interwoven definitions of power and discourse. It also includes
relevant examples of the applications of discourse theory in research.
148 E. J. Allan and A. R. Tolbert
References
Allan, E. J. (2008). Policy discourses, gender, and education: Constructing women’s status.
New York, NY: Routledge.
Allan, E. J. (2010). Feminist poststructuralism meets policy analysis: An overview. In E. J. Allan,
S. Iverson, & R. Ropers-Huilman (Eds.), Reconstructing policy in higher education: Feminist
poststructural perspectives (pp. 11–35). New York, NY: Routledge.
Allan, E. J., Gordon, S., & Iverson, S. (2006). Re/thinking practices of power: The discursive fram-
ing of leadership in postsecondary education. The Review of Higher Education, 30(1), 41–68.
https://doi.org/10.1353/rhe.2006.0045
Bacchi, C. L. (1999). Women, policy, and politics: The construction of policy problems. Thousand
Oaks, CA: Sage.
Bertrand, M., Perez, W., & Rogers, J. (2015). Unmasking policy insiders’ discourses and discur-
sive in upholding and challenging racism and classism in education. Education Policy Analysis
Archives, 23(93), 1–30. https://doi.org/10.14507/epaa.v23.2068
Dirks, D. A. (2016). Transgender people at four Big Ten campuses: A policy discourse analysis.
Review of Higher Education, 39(3), 371–393. https://doi.org/10.1353/rhe.2016.0020
Foucault, M. (1979). Discipline and punish: The birth of the prison. New York, NY: Vintage Books.
Fowler, F. C. (2012). Policy studies for educational leaders: An introduction. New York, NY:
Pearson.
Gildersleeve, R. E., & Hernandez, S. (2012). Producing (im)possible peoples: Policy discourse
analysis, in-state resident tuition and undocumented students in American higher education.
International Journal of Multicultural Education, 14(2), 1–19. https://doi.org/10.18251/ijme.
v14i2.517
Goudas, A. M., & Boylan, H. R. (2012). Addressing flawed research in developmental education.
Journal of Developmental Education, 36(1), 2–13.
Hinsdale, M. J. (2012). Opportunity reconsidered. Journal of Student Affairs Research and
Practice, 49(4), 415–428. https://doi.org/10.1515/jsarp-2012-6471
Hoffman, J. (2010). The dilemma of the senior woman administrator role in intercollegiate athlet-
ics. Journal of Issues in Intercollegiate Athletics, 3(5), 53–75.
Hotchkins, B., & Dancy, E. (2015). Rethinking success: Black male values in higher education.
Spectrum: A Journal on Black Men, 4(1), 73–98. https://doi.org/10.2979/spectrum.4.1.05
Iverson, S. V. (2012). Constructing outsiders: The discursive framing of access in university
diversity policies. Review of Higher Education, 35(2), 149–177. https://doi.org/10.1353/
rhe.2012.0013
Iverson, S. V. (2015). The risky subject: A policy discourse analysis of sexual assault policies in
higher education. In S. C. Wooten & R. W. Mitchell (Eds.), The crisis of campus sexual vio-
lence: Critical perspectives on prevention and response (pp. 15–32). New York, NY: Routledge.
Larson, T. E., & Lovell, C. D. (2010). The integration of higher education and public policy:
A complex and often misunderstood nexus. In C. D. Lovell, T. E. Larson, D. R. Dean, &
D. L. Longanecker (Eds.), Public policy and higher education (2nd ed., pp. 3–9). Boston, MA:
Pearson.
Marshall, C. (2000). Policy discourse analysis: Negotiating gender equity. Journal of Education
Policy, 15(2), 125–156. https://doi.org/10.1080/026809300285863
Mills, S. (1997). Discourse. London, UK: Routledge.
Parker, T. L., & Richardson Jr., R. C. (2005). Ending remediation at CUNY: Implications for
access and excellence. Journal of Educational Research & Policy Studies, 5(2), 1–22.
Parker, T. L., Barrett, M. S., & Bustillos, L. T. (2014). The state of developmental education:
Higher education and public policy priorities. New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan.
Pillow, W. S. (2004). Unfit subjects: Educational policy and the teen mother. New York, NY:
Routledge.
Pillow, W. S. (2006). Teen pregnancy and education politics of knowledge, research, and practice.
Educational Policy, 20(1), 59–84. https://doi.org/10.1177/0895904805285289
12 Advancing Social Justice with Policy Discourse Analysis 149
Soliday, M. (2002). The politics of remediation. Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press.
St. Pierre, E. (2000). Poststructural feminism in education: An overview. International Journal of
Qualitative Studies in Education, 13(5), 477–515. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518390050156422
Suspitsyna, T. (2012). Higher education for economic advancement and engaged citizenship: An
analysis of the U.S. Department of Education discourse. Journal of Higher Education, 83(1),
49–72. https://doi.org/10.1353/jhe.2012.0003
Tolbert, A. R. (2017). Discourses of developmental English education: Reframing policy debates.
Retrieved from: DigitalCommons@UMaine Electronic Theses and Dissertations. 2659.
https://digitalcommons.library.umaine.edu/etd/2659
van Dijk, T. A. (2008). Discourse and power. New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan.
Välimaa, J., & Hoffman, D. (2008). Knowledge society discourse and higher education. Higher
Education, 56(3), 265–285. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10734-008-9123-7
Weedon, C. (1997). Feminist practice and poststructuralist theory (3rd ed.). Cambridge, MA:
Blackwell.
Yosso, T. J. (2005). Whose culture has capital? A critical race theory discussion of com-
munity cultural wealth. Race Ethnicity and Education, 8(1), 69–91. https://doi.
org/10.1080/1361332052000341006
Chapter 13
Through Their Eyes, in Their Words:
Using Photo-Elicitation to Amplify Student
Voice in Policy and School Improvement
Research
Jeff Walls and Samantha E. Holquist
Abstract Although various measures of student success are often used as data
points in scholarly and policy debates about how to improve schools, the policy and
school-level changes that stem from these discussions are presumed to be taken on
behalf of students without very much effort to meaningfully include students’ per-
spectives on the proposed changes. The purpose of this chapter is to highlight the
promise of photo-elicitation-based data collection to authentically leverage student
voice in research on policy and school improvement in ways that promote equity
and critical social justice. Photo-elicitation, in its simplest form, involves inviting
research participants to take photographs of a space (e.g., a school) under a broad
prompt (e.g., places where you like to have fun) (Harper, Visual Studies, 17, 13–26,
2002; Torre & Murphy, Education Policy Analysis Archives, 23, 2015). This chapter
highlights methodological choices researchers must make in utilizing photo-
elicitation and how these choices bear on the equity implications of this method.
In this chapter, we hope to highlight the potential of a data collection method known
as photo-elicitation for better incorporating student voice into both education
research and school and policy change efforts. Photo-elicitation, in its simplest
form, involves either inviting research participants to take photographs of a space
(e.g., a school) under a broad prompt (e.g., places where you like to have fun) or
researchers selecting photographs and asking participants to respond (Harper, 2002;
Torre & Murphy, 2015). Researchers then ask additional questions to elucidate par-
ticipants’ experiences fully.
J. Walls (*)
University of Louisiana at Lafayette, Lafayette, LA, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
S. E. Holquist
University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, MN, USA
Although various measures of student success are often used as data points in
scholarly and policy debates about how to improve schools, the policy and school-
level changes that stem from these discussions are presumed to be taken on behalf
of students without very much effort to meaningfully include students’ perspectives
on the proposed changes. Recently, scholars have been more attentive to the poten-
tial of incorporating “student voice” into school change efforts in order to generate
more authentic and inclusive reform initiatives (Jones & Yonezawa, 2002; Mitra,
2014; Mitra & Gross, 2009; Rudduck & Fielding, 2006).
We argue that greater incorporation of student voice holds promise for producing
greater social justice in education because it helps researchers, educators, and poli-
cymakers “recognize that relations of unequal power are constantly being enacted”—
particularly between adults and students—and asks educational stakeholders to
“think critically about knowledge; what [they] know and how[they] know it”—par-
ticularly with respect to meeting the needs of all students (Sensoy & DiAngelo,
2017, pp. 20–21). However, several obstacles remain to fully incorporating student
voice into educational reform and research efforts. First, there has been little effort
to incorporate student voice into policy initiatives. Second, efforts to incorporate
student voice often leads to “surface compliance” rather than a deeper commitment
to understanding and using students’ input (Rudduck & Fielding, 2006, p. 219).
Third, some of the ways that researchers and practitioners elicit students’ input have
the effect of narrowing or prejudicing the scope of students’ responses. Surveys and
semi-structured interviews may pre-define the topics of responses in a way that does
not fully capture students’ experiences.
In the present study, we first offer a brief synopsis on how a researcher’s choice
of method may implicate issues of educational equity and social justice. Then, we
thoroughly explore photo-elicitation methodology and its variants. Next, we high-
light the ways photo-elicitation creates more room for meaningful student voice in
school improvement and policy research. We briefly sketch the use of photo-
elicitation in school improvement and policy research conducted by the authors and
conclude by appraising the benefits and shortcomings of photo-elicitation and
potential alterations to the method based on emerging video and social media
technologies.
rights and obligations. It signifies thinking about creating good societies and a better world
and being human, national and world citizens. It means exploring tensions between com-
plicity and consciousness, choice and constraint, indifference and compassion, inclusion
and exclusion, poverty and privilege, and barriers and opportunities. It also means taking a
critical stance toward actions, organizations, and social institutions. Social justice studies
require looking at both realities and ideals. Thus, contested meanings of “shoulds” and
“oughts” come into play. And, unlike positivists of the past, these researchers openly bring
their shoulds and oughts into the discourse of inquiry. (p. 207)
One broad heading of research that is closely tied to questions of social justice
and equity is participatory action research. Participatory action research is a
community-based research method that emphasizes action and broad participation
and seeks to co-create new knowledge between researchers and participants by
attempting to produce change in the community (Chevalier & Buckles, 2013). Many
participatory action research projects have made use of visual methods such as
reflexive photo-elicitation or a variant known as photovoice (see, e.g., Jurkowski,
2008; Wang & Burris, 1997).
One particular branch of participatory action research, known as Youth
Participatory Action Research (YPAR), focuses on teaching youth to confront and
resist the forces that reproduce inequities (Cammarota & Fine, 2008). YPAR pro-
vides youth with an opportunity to engage in their social context and acquire the
knowledge necessary to broaden their personal perspectives (Cammarota & Romero,
2010). It encourages youth to participate in research practices, such as reflexive
photo-elicitation (which we describe in greater detail later), aimed at understanding
current community injustices and creating safe, vibrant neighborhoods that lead to
healthy, positive youth identities. Ultimately, YPAR can help youth develop skills to
become active civic participants and confront social justice concerns (Rodriquez &
Brown, 2009).
We believe that reflexive photo-elicitation (as well as photovoice, a technique
explored in the next chapter in this volume) is an important research method for
facilitating students’ participation in both school improvement and the policy arena,
and thus an important approach to foreground issues of social justice and equity and
ensure that students can have a meaningful voice in these settings. In the next sec-
tion, we explain photo-elicitation in greater detail.
Epstein, Stevens, McKeever, and Baruchel (2006) highlight several important con-
siderations about photo-elicitation research methods: who will take the photographs,
what will appear in the photographs, and how will the photographs be used in the
interview setting. In the sections later, we address each of these questions in turn
and conclude by examining ties between photo-elicitation research and student
voice.
Who takes the photographs? In traditional photo-elicitation interviews, photo-
graphs are either taken by a researcher or selected by the researcher from pre-
existing photographs (e.g., from historical archives or photo albums) (Lapenta,
2012). This approach has practical benefits, such as allowing the researcher to focus
interviewees’ attention on particular spaces or places within their setting and allow-
ing researchers to gather multiple viewpoints about a particular image. Furthermore,
to the extent that photo-elicitation is intended largely as a rapport-building tech-
nique, having a common set of photographs for interviewees to react to is likely to
help the researcher build relationships.
Harper (1998) points out that differences in how researchers use photo-elicitation
techniques often stem from the different ways that researchers think about knowl-
edge and what we can know about the world (also known as epistemology).
13 Through Their Eyes, in Their Words: Using Photo-Elicitation to Amplify Student… 155
Researchers who believe that there are objective truths about the world and that the
purpose of research is to uncover these truths (also known as post-positivist research-
ers) are more likely to use a form of photo-elicitation where the researcher selects
the photographs. Post-positivist researchers are likely to be relatively comfortable
establishing categories of analysis (Crotty, 1998). Other researchers, who believe
that reality is socially constructed and depends on lived experience (interpretivist
researchers), or researchers who believe that unequal power relations is the social
force that most animates how people experience the world (critical researchers) are
more likely to use photo-elicitation techniques where participants generate photo-
graphs. Interpretivist and critical researchers are likely to believe that categories of
analysis generated by participants, or in a partnership between researchers and par-
ticipants, are a better way to understand the social world than categories of analysis
generated only by the researcher. We believe that forms of photo-elicitation where
participants take the photos that guide the interview are more useful to researchers
committed to producing greater equity and social justice in education, for reasons
that we detail later.
There are two main variants of photo-elicitation that involve photographs taken
by participants: reflexive photo-elicitation and photovoice. Reflexive photo-
elicitation is similar to the traditional form of photo-elicitation described earlier,
except that the photographs are taken by participants rather than researchers.
Lapenta (2012) identifies two advantages of reflexive photo-elicitation. First, it
allows participants “to have increased voice and authority in interpreting their
own… social contexts” and reduces “researcher bias in the selection of specific
images” (Lapenta, 2012, p. 205). Second, reflexive photo-elicitation can contextual-
ize other sources of data (i.e., surveys, etc.) by allowing participants to give a rich
local rendering of their experiences (Lapenta, 2012, p. 205).
Photovoice extends reflexive photo-elicitation techniques into the realm of par-
ticipatory action research (Wang, 1999). According to the originators of the tech-
nique, photovoice has three goals: “(1) to enable people to record and reflect their
community’s strengths and concerns, (2) to promote critical dialogue and knowl-
edge about important community issues through large and small group discussion
of photographs, and (3) to reach policymakers” (Wang & Burris, 1997, p. 370).
Because photovoice is a participatory research method, it involves initial training on
the power dynamics and ethics involved in capturing images, followed by extensive
large and small group discussions on which participant-generated images best cap-
ture the story (or stories) of the community (Lapenta, 2012, p. 6). Finally, partici-
pants describe “issues, themes, or theories” exemplified by the photos they have
selected, which helps researchers to “hear and understand how people make mean-
ing themselves, or construct what matters to them” (Wang & Burris, 1997,
pp. 381–382).
Traditional photo-elicitation, reflexive photo-elicitation, and photovoice can be
conceived of along a spectrum based on whether they are researcher driven or partici-
pant driven. Traditional photo-elicitation is more or less fully driven by the researcher,
while photovoice is driven primarily by participants. Reflexive photo-elicitation
involves a negotiation about meaning between the researcher and the participant.
156 J. Walls and S. E. Holquist
Another way in which photovoice differs from both traditional photo-elicitation and
reflexive photo-elicitation is that it highlights the assets and issues of a community,
rather than foregrounding a researcher-defined problem or question: the community
itself is the object of analysis. Once researchers have decided on who will take the
pictures, they must decide what the photographs will contain.
What appears in the photographs? The question of who will take the pictures
bears on what ultimately appears in the photographs. If researchers select the
images, they have complete discretion about what the photographs contain. In this
case, researchers may choose photographs to help them understand the context of
physical or social spaces or may select photographs of a local phenomenon that
researchers hope participants can help them better understand. Harper (2002) sug-
gests that photographs should appear from an “unusual angle” in order to help par-
ticipants think about their everyday experiences in a novel way.
In the case of reflexive photo-elicitation, or photovoice, researchers have consid-
erably less discretion about the content of images. Researchers may choose to
prompt participants based on topic (e.g., “a place where you feel you don’t belong”)
or spatial or temporal issues (e.g., “the places where you spend the most time”).
Researchers may also choose to limit the number of pictures they ask participants to
take or ask them to take pictures in ways that are ethically bound (e.g., limiting the
amount of time disrupting daily school activities) (Torre & Murphy, 2015). In pho-
tovoice, because prompts are more likely to be participant driven, training on the
ethics of camera use and image capture is especially important (Wang & Burris,
1997).
How are photographs used in the interview and analysis? Torre and Murphy
(2015) note that photo-elicitation interviews may “proceed much like a typical qual-
itative interview, except that researchers are able to prompt participants to give
deeper explanations by referring to particular pictures” (p. 10). Researchers may
make a number of choices about how to use the pictures in the interview, including
who will decide what order to talk about the pictures in, what criteria to use to
decide which pictures to talk about (e.g., the most important), and whether partici-
pants will be asked to manipulate or sort pictures (e.g., to put them in chronological
order). If the photographs are selected by the researcher, the researcher may choose
to present pictures to participants in the same order each time or to change the order
across interviews.
One reason why photo-elicitation interviews are useful for exposing and chal-
lenging extant power structures is that talking about photographs breaks the natural
question-answer turn-taking system of a research interview (Lapenta, 2012).
Because participants are encouraged to grapple with the images on their own terms,
their descriptions of the images are not directed as answers to particular research
questions. Thus, researchers should take care during interviews to leave space for
photos to remain uncategorized.
Researchers operating from a variety of qualitative analysis methods use photo-
elicitation techniques, including action research, grounded theory, and ethnography.
One important decision for researchers to make about data analysis of photo-
elicitation interviews is whether the photos themselves will be analyzed (Torre &
13 Through Their Eyes, in Their Words: Using Photo-Elicitation to Amplify Student… 157
Murphy, 2015). Some researchers elect to simply analyze the transcripts of the
interviews, while other researchers make the photos an integral part of their analy-
sis; for example, some researchers analyze the differences in photographs between
those who occupy different social positions (Clark-Ibanez, 2004). Researchers thus
have a variety of research design decisions to make about how photographs will
shape the reader’s understanding of what happened in the research.
Relationship between photo-elicitation and student voice. Photo-elicitation is an
important method to bring authentic student voice into the research process. Broadly,
student voice is defined as the ways in which all students have opportunities to par-
ticipate in and influence the decisions that will shape their lives and the lives of their
peers (Mitra & Gross, 2009). Student voice is often seen as a more equitable and
social justice-oriented approach to impacting reforms in school communities as stu-
dents’ experiences, particularly those of underrepresented youth, are brought to the
forefront (Rudduck & Fielding, 2006). Both participatory action research and
photo-elicitation, through reflexive photo-elicitation and photovoice, offer opportu-
nities for students to deeply engage in the research process and take ownership over
the experiences shared (Cammarota & Romero, 2010; Torre & Murphy, 2015).
Surveys and traditional interviews may have the effect of delimiting the topics to
which participants respond, resulting in responses that do not fully capture students’
experiences. The inclusion of research methods that promote student voice is likely
to result in more equitable and socially just research outcomes as researchers gain a
fuller and more authentic understanding of students’ lived experiences.
The school improvement study explored how adults collaborate to produce socially
supportive school environments and how students experience those efforts. The
researchers decided to utilize photo-elicitation in order to explore tensions in how
school adults use their positional and relational power in their efforts to care for
students. The study took place at two middle schools and involved participant obser-
vation and semi-structured interviews of school personnel, as well as photo-
elicitation interviews of students where students took photos and discussed them
with the interviewer.
In this study, photo-elicitation was especially useful at highlighting students’
experience of school as continuous and highly social, rather than discrete and based
on academic content (e.g., students don’t take pictures of individual classes; they
are much more likely to highlight social spaces or to think about classes in terms of
relationships). Students’ photos often highlight the “gray zones” of life in schools,
places where rules and relationships are unsettled (e.g., hallways, times before and
after school). Student photos frequently challenge adults’ notions of acting on
behalf of students’ interests and highlight environments that are comfortable for
students but not adults (e.g., conflicts over lunchroom seating arrangements and
lunchroom volume). Student photos often highlight power structures in terms of
what activities and behaviors are recognized and what is less valued (e.g., the well-
maintained athletics display cases vs. the defaced student art projects). Without the
use of photo-elicitation with students, the author may not have been able to capture
how students experience their school environment or dig deeper into the inequitable
power structures present within the school.
The education policy study explored how students, through intentional efforts to
advance student voice, collectively participate in and influence the policymaking
process for state-level K-12 educational decision-making. The study examined how
members of two state-wide student voice efforts impacted policy and involved par-
ticipant observation and semi-structured interviews of high school student members
and adults. During interviews, students discussed how they utilized social media
and photos to influence policymakers. Students selected and examined photos
posted on social media (taken and posted by student members) that they believed
were important to how they experienced and influenced the policy process.
Students’ photos of the policy process highlight whom they believe to be the
education decision-makers (e.g., legislators), where decisions are made in the pro-
cess (e.g., the state capitol), and how they see themselves in the process (e.g., testi-
fying or writing policy briefs before meetings). In discussing the photos, students
13 Through Their Eyes, in Their Words: Using Photo-Elicitation to Amplify Student… 159
explain how some photos felt empowering (e.g., a picture in the capitol after an
important meeting with a legislator), while others felt tokenizing (e.g., when legisla-
tors wanted to take photos with them instead of discussing policy priorities).
Students assert that the empowering photos pushed them to keep working on the
policy changes they were seeking, particularly after receiving positive feedback
through comments on social media, while the tokenizing photos helped them estab-
lish relationships with key legislators and enabled them to get first meetings.
Students demonstrated a sophisticated understanding of the hierarchical power rela-
tionship between their peers and legislators and used photos to leverage this rela-
tionship for future policy reforms. Via the use of photo-elicitation, the author was
able to deeply explore how students experienced the policymaking process, and
particularly how they perceived and responded to power structures between students
and decision-makers.
Future Directions
Suggested Readings
References
Bateson, G., & Mead, M. (1942). Balinese character: A photographic analysis. New York, NY:
Academy of Sciences. https://doi.org/10.1525/aa.1943.45.4.02a00120
Cammarota, J., & Fine, M. (2008). Youth participatory action research: A pedagogy for trans-
formational resistance. In Revolutionizing education: Youth participatory action research in
motion (pp. 1–11). London, UK: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group. https://doi.org/10.1080/
09518398.2016.1201609
Cammarota, J., & Romero, A. (2010). Participatory action research for high school students:
Transforming policy, practice, and the personal with social justice education. Education Policy,
25(3), 488–506. https://doi.org/10.1177/0895904810361722
Charmaz, K. (2008). Grounded theory in the 21st century: Applications for advancing social jus-
tice studies. In N. K. Denzin & Y. E. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (3rd ed.,
pp. 507–535). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications.
Chevalier, J. M., & Buckles, D. J. (2013). Handbook for participatory action research, planning,
and evaluation. Ottawa, ON: SES2 Dialogue.
Clark-Ibanez, M. (2004). Framing the social world with photo-elicitation interviews. American
Behavioral Scientist, 47(12), 1507–1527. https://doi.org/10.1177/0002764204266236
Collier, J. (1957). Photography in anthropology: A report on two experiments. American
Anthropologist, 59, 843–859. https://doi.org/10.1525/aa.1957.59.5.02a00100
Crotty, M. (1998). The foundations of social research. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications.
13 Through Their Eyes, in Their Words: Using Photo-Elicitation to Amplify Student… 161
Epstein, I., Stevens, B., McKeever, P., & Baruchel, S. (2006). Photo-elicitation interview (PEI):
Using photos to elicit children’s perspectives. International Journal of Qualitative Methods,
5(3), 1–11. https://doi.org/10.1177/160940690600500301
Harper, D. (1998). An argument for visual sociology. In J. Prosser (Ed.), Image-based research: A
sourcebook for qualitative researchers (pp. 24–41). London, UK: Psychology Press.
Harper, D. (2002). Talking about pictures: A case for photo-elicitation. Visual Studies, 17(1),
13–26. https://doi.org/10.1080/14725860220137345
Jones, M., & Yonezawa, S. (2002). Student voice, cultural change: Using inquiry in school reform.
Equity & Excellence in Education, 35(3), 245–254. https://doi.org/10.1080/10665680290175257
Jurkowski, J. M. (2008). Photovoice as participatory action research tool for engaging people with
intellectual disabilities in research and program development. Intellectual and Developmental
Disabilities, 46(1), 1–11. https://doi.org/10.1352/0047-6765(2008)46[1:PAPART]2.0.CO;2
Lapenta, F. (2012). Some theoretical and methodological views on photo-elicitation. In E. Margolis
& L. Pauwels (Eds.), The SAGE handbook of visual research methods (pp. 201–213). London,
UK: Sage Publications. https://doi.org/10.4135/9781446268278
Mitra, D. L. (2014). Student voice in school reform: Building youth-adult partnerships that
strengthen schools and empower youth. Albany, NY: SUNY Press.
Mitra, D. L., & Gross, S. J. (2009). Increasing student voice in high school reform: Building part-
nerships, improving outcomes. Educational Management Administration & Leadership, 37(4),
522–543. https://doi.org/10.1177/1741143209334577
Rodriquez, L. F., & Brown, T. M. (2009). From voice to agency: Guiding principles for participa-
tory action research with youth. New Directions for Youth Development, 123, 19–34. https://
doi.org/10.1002/yd.312
Rudduck, J., & Fielding, M. (2006). Student voice and the perils of popularity. Educational Review,
58(2), 219–231. https://doi.org/10.1080/00131910600584207
Sensoy, Ö., & DiAngelo, R. (2017). Is everyone really equal?: An introduction to key concepts in
social justice education. New York, NY: Teachers College Press.
Torre, D., & Murphy, J. (2015). A different lens: Using photo-elicitation interviews in edu-
cation research. Education Policy Analysis Archives, 23, Article 111. https://doi.
org/10.1080/14725860220137345
Wang, C. C. (1999). Photovoice: A participatory action research strategy applied to women’s
health. Journal of Women’s Health, 8(2), 185–192. https://doi.org/10.1089/jwh.1999.8.185
Wang, C. C., & Burris, M. A. (1997). Photovoice: Concept, methodology, and use for par-
ticipatory needs assessment. Health Education & Behavior, 24(3), 369–387. https://doi.
org/10.1177/109019819702400309
Chapter 14
Using Photovoice to Resist Colonial
Research Paradigms
Why do researchers engage in research? Ary, Jacobs, and Razavieh (2002) argue
that research reflects the desire to “discover general principles or interpretations of
behavior that people can use to explain, predict, and control events in educational
situations” (p. 17). This goal is important—we can answer important and socially
relevant questions such as the patterns and trends of social patterns and access and
denial to resources by looking at large-scale, quantitative data. However, this is by
no means the only reason that we as researchers engage in research. Bogdan and
Biklen (2003) establish the goal of qualitative research as “better understand[ing]
human behavior and experiences…because it is with concrete incidents of human
behavior that investigators can think more clearly and deeply about the human con-
dition” (p. 38). This desire to explore both specific instances and broad analyses
highlights multiple ways of knowing and being in the world, and the range of meth-
ods within the research tradition helps us probe not only ways of knowing but also
ways of engaging in research.
Qualitative research specifically emerged from a desire to understand the lived
experiences of individuals and communities, exploring the nuances that undergird
the more commonly reported statistics and analysis of the behavior of people across
large groups (Erickson, 2011). Qualitative studies ask questions and record answers
that offer the potential for community members to take a central role in interpreting
the norms and expectations that affect decision-making both as an individual and as
a member of a group.
This description of qualitative research is a simplified version of a more complex
discussion: calling something qualitative research does not immediately absolve the
research of positivist notions of expertise and authority. Critiques of quantitative
research reflect how study participants become discrete data points, rather than
complex individuals within communities with perspectives and interpretations of
what has value (Denzin & Lincoln, 2005). Smith (1999) reminds us that “ways in
which scientific research is implicated in the worst excesses of colonialism remains
a powerful remembered history for many of the world’s colonized peoples” (p. 5).
The goal of this chapter is to explore the necessary conditions for facilitating social
justice research with individual communities through qualitative research and spe-
cifically through the use of photovoice as a research method. Our hope is that exam-
ples of where these attempts have succeeded and failed will help researchers
consider how they enter a space guided by the participants, where the researcher-
participant relationship adjusts to achieve balance, “flattening” power dynamics in
the co-negotiation of meaning.
For qualitative research specifically, researchers draw boundaries around a place and
space in order to understand how a group or community “make[s] sense of their
world and the experiences they have in the world” (Merriam, 1998, p. 6). Researchers
draw boundaries when we determine research questions, when we decide we will
examine women in mathematics rather than men, and when we choose a theoretical
lens through which to explore our research questions. In the most respectful exam-
ples of qualitative research, the work helps us understand people across a broad array
of experiences and spaces. For example, as ethnographers, it may help us understand
why a particular group chooses to do things in a particular way. While in some per-
spectives even this is colonizing, it simultaneously recognizes that there is no one
location of knowledge but rather many locations and many types of knowledge.
While qualitative research often highlights issues of power, it does not inherently
resist the colonizing impulse. In many cases, the drawing of research boundaries
14 Using Photovoice to Resist Colonial Research Paradigms 165
often originates far away from the community and the members who interact in that
community. As we make choices about inclusion and exclusion, we colonize the
space of research that “serves as a metaphor for colonial knowledge, for power, for
truth” (Denzin & Lincoln, 2005, p. 1). By the time research is presented to the par-
ticipants, we have mapped the space of analysis such that the community itself is no
longer allowed to negotiate boundaries and meaning. In this chapter, already we
have bounded the analysis such that the reader is limited to the scholars and goals
that we have included, even though the reader has knowledge of his or her own
goals that may add to or challenge the goals presented here.
Paris and Winn (2014) criticize:
a history of qualitative inquiry seeking to, at worst, pathologize, exoticize, objectify, and
name as deficient communities of color and other marginalized populations in the U.S. and
beyond, and at best, to take and gain through research but not to give back. (p. xvi)
The five questions provided by Bishop offer a useful frame for assessing the balance
of power in research, a balance particularly important when engaging in qualitative
research. In our study, we attempted to flatten the research relationship by using
166 S. Cridland-Hughes et al.
Our photovoice study asked the following questions: how is being in a single-sex
classroom different from being in a coeducational public academic classroom and
does this differ across content areas? We recruited youth from a rural middle school
in the Southeastern United States that assigned students to single-sex academic
classes for grades 6–8. We had 12 participants in all, across grades 6–8, 6 male and
6 female, enrolled in a combination of single-sex and coeducational academic
classes. Each student participated in five interviews over the academic year includ-
ing these topics: what it is like for the students to be in single-sex and coeducational
settings, what are their perspectives of single-sex and coeducational settings, do
they have preferences for one class type over the other (and why), why did they
decide to participate in single-sex settings, and what connections, if any, do the
students see between class type and their learning.
In addition to semi-structured individual interviews, students were asked to doc-
ument their experiences in single-sex and coeducational settings with photographs
that capture the essence of what it means, from their perspective, to be in a single-
sex or coeducational classroom. Students were asked to provide 10 photographic
images that convey an aspect or aspects of their experiences in single-sex and coed-
ucational classrooms at the rate of approximately 1–2 images per month and to
construct a brief caption for the images they provide to the research team. We have
included some data from those images and captions to demonstrate how youth par-
ticipants (referenced in the text by pseudonyms) used the photo as a lens into their
worlds.
168 S. Cridland-Hughes et al.
Initiation of research. This research reflected questions and study design established
by the external researchers. Additionally, our participants were still within a very
traditionally hierarchical middle school environment. Initial access to the school
came primarily through administration, then teachers, then parents, and then through
the students themselves. While this is understandable given the strict scrutiny pro-
vided to research done with students, this also changed our access to the community
as a whole. Although one researcher had a long-standing relationship with school
administrators who were interested in how the single-sex education structure was
functioning in their school, our focus on the students as a community could have
been perceived by the youth as imposed from outside. However, using photovoice
allowed youth the opportunity to guide both the focus of the study and the follow-up
questions.
Who benefited? Students involved in the study benefited financially from partici-
pation because they received incentives. In some cases, they also seemed to benefit
from the opportunity to reflect on their experiences. The data youth participants
submit will benefit the research team as it is incorporated into presentations and
publications. Adult members at the school receive very little in the way of benefits.
Representation. If we are moving through gatekeepers to recruit participants,
then how can we know when we have reached a representative group of participants
and collection of images? At one point, the teacher helping us reach out to students
for participation expressed concerns about whether one student was a “good” stu-
dent for the study. Her internal assumptions about what would make a good student
affected the recruitment she did for participation.
Legitimacy. We asked youth participants to submit photos and captions so that
our interpretation of the caption was connected with their own understanding of
what the individual student was capturing. As we analyzed the data, we refined the
semi-structured interviewing protocol to reflect data from the specific images from
the individual student—Brooke’s questions would be tied to the previous images
and captions that Brooke submitted. The generic nature of the questioning, then,
gave way to dialogue about individual ideas and perspectives.
Accountability. Our study revealed that we had limited accountability within the
larger community. We privileged the voices of students to the exclusion of the story
that the leaders wanted to tell. The lines we drew about whom to include and whom
to exclude in the image collection process meant that we protected space for stu-
dents but were more vocal in our resistance to adult members of the school. Much
as in Cushman’s study, we had to choose a side.
14 Using Photovoice to Resist Colonial Research Paradigms 169
One of the first tensions we encountered as we began the study was how best to sup-
port students as they started to explore the images they wanted to capture. The
research team continuously discussed how to navigate freedom and to value partici-
pant perspectives while also giving guidance to students who did not necessarily
know what to look for when taking photos. We questioned how to balance structure
with agency, particularly in photovoice where the primary goal of the research study
is allowing participants to guide the interpretation through their own lenses.
We also questioned how and whether to isolate the goals of the students from the
goals of the adults in the space. It may be that when photovoice is done in communi-
ties that do not have bureaucratic barriers to participation, the interaction and nego-
tiation with individual members of the community reflect a flattened hierarchy. In a
schooled setting, researchers were constantly negotiating access from adults while
students were operating within pre-established norms.
One of the other tensions that emerged was around the use of incentives for stu-
dent participation. Our study was funded through an internal grant; students were
using their own devices to capture images, so we provided Amazon gift cards rather
than providing individual cameras. We did not notify students that they would
receive Amazon gift cards for their participation until after they agreed to partici-
pate in the study; however, once they began the study, they knew that the submission
of images and captions would result in a form of compensation for their time. One
student started late, but none of our youth participants dropped out of the study, and
all of them submitted the target number of images and captions. Additionally, they
all participated in the follow-up interviews. In one way, this appears to be a success
of the study: we had a complete data set for students allowing us to follow the trajec-
tory of their perspectives when asked about their experiences in single-sex educa-
tion. However, the depth of the captioning and the images recorded varied greatly
across participants. This led to many conversations among the research team mem-
bers about the motivation for students to continue to participate in the study. For
example, at one point, a student submitted the following photo and caption
(Fig. 14.1).
This image does not appear to have any immediately discernible connection to
the student’s experiences in the single-sex educational environment; however, the
caption does offer some thought regarding the student’s understanding of the envi-
ronment. Our research team chose to code and analyze all data that were submitted
without attempting to judge the motivation of the student.
170 S. Cridland-Hughes et al.
While the previous section focuses on the power dynamics of the study, there were
other tensions connected with how filters contributed to dehumanizing research
practices. One of the filters we did not anticipate was the sorting process that occurs
at a single-sex school when students are placed into classes and classified as male
and female. The research team used the linguistic boundaries drawn by the school
to choose students for the study, recruiting “a total of 12 students (six female, six
male) who are concurrently enrolled in at least one single-sex academic class and
one coeducational academic class” (Recruiting Script, Single-Sex Education Study,
2015). We recruited 11 students, and our study attempted to privilege student per-
spectives and specifically looked for student perspectives from boys and girls.
However, there is an implicit assumption that students selected for this study agreed
with the school-level determination based on sex, and there was no space for stu-
dents to determine whether their gender matched the assigned placement. We
accepted existing boundaries based on the comfort level of the school community
around terminology; while we could have responded by removing sex- and gender-
connected pronouns as we asked students to record their experiences, we continued
to operate within colonizing language and structures. In our debriefing conversa-
tions, we reflected on the challenge of access being predicated on administrative
comfort and how the students operating in these colonizing structures were also not
served if we were unable to ask critical questions about those structures.
14 Using Photovoice to Resist Colonial Research Paradigms 171
There was also a filtering process in place when students were recruited for the
study. That filtering process was both technological (did students have access to a
device) and attitudinal (did students possess habits of interaction valued by the school
such that they were recommended for the study). This filtering process may have
resulted in students who were recognized as “doing school well” and thus good rep-
resentatives for the school as a whole. While students who worked with us did iden-
tify problems, those most likely to identify the problems with single-sex education
might be those students who were least likely to be identified as good students.
After reading about the challenges and limitations we experienced, you may be
wondering whether the process of transferring power to community members and
equalizing power is worth it. Our use of photovoice, however, revealed that even
with the challenges of filtering and motivation, there were successes for data collec-
tion and data analysis.
With regard to data collection, we were able to hold space for students to guide
the questions connected with their daily lived experiences. Photo submissions from
the students did not go through the administration of the school but were submitted
directly to a member of the research team. In a research team memo dated November
6, 2016, the following clarifications were made:
1. (School contact) will be present to ensure that cell phones are used in a respon-
sible manner by students solely to transmit study data to the research phone
number.
2. Students are solely responsible for the content of the caption and the selection of
images.
This flattened research centered youth voices about their experiences in data collec-
tion. The administration of the school did not have a role in determining the value
of the images and captions submitted, and the research team did not overlay on their
observations of the experience their own assumptions about value and merit. Instead,
we limited our analysis to the images and asking questions about the text that stu-
dents provided.
In some cases, the process of taking photos and creating captions helped youth
participants critically explore the structures that surrounded them. Over the course
of the data collection year, some students created captions questioning the value of
using sex assignments to delineate classes. For example, Brooke started with the
following image that seemed to accept that single-sex classes were positive for stu-
dents (Fig. 14.2).
Her final image and caption, however, reflected an analysis that was critical of
the single-sex environment, emphasizing the competition between peers (Fig. 14.3).
172 S. Cridland-Hughes et al.
Additionally, students in the older grades were able to reflect on their previous
experiences in single-sex classes and the transition back to integrated classrooms.
The photovoice methodology allowed them to direct the research to both current
experiences and how those experiences compared with their previous experiences.
14 Using Photovoice to Resist Colonial Research Paradigms 173
Suggested Readings
Edwards, M., Perry, B., Janzen, K., & Menzies, C. (2012). Using the artistic peda-
gogical technology of photovoice to promote interaction in the online post-
secondary classroom: The students’ perspective. Electronic Journal of
e-Learning, 10(1), 32–43.
Edwards, Perry, Janzen, and Menzies used photovoice to promote interactions in
online post-secondary classrooms, focusing on students’ perspectives regarding the
effect of photovoice on interactions in the courses.
Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and indigenous peo-
ples. New York, NY: ZED Books, Ltd.
This text is particularly important for understanding the historical and contempo-
rary implications of research with historically marginalized communities and to
understand the responses by indigenous communities to outsider representations of
their communities and culture.
Note
References
Ary, D., Jacobs, L., & Razavieh, A. (2002). Introduction to research in education (6th ed.).
Belmont, CA: Wadsworth/Thomson Learning.
Bishop, R. (2005). Freeing ourselves from neocolonial domination in research: A Kaupapa Maori
approach to creating knowledge. In N. Denzen & Y. Lincoln (Eds.), The SAGE handbook of
qualitative research (3rd ed., pp. 109–138). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE.
Bogdan, R., & Biklen, S. (2003). Qualitative research for education: An introduction to theories
and methods (4th ed.). Boston, MA: Allyn and Bacon.
Cook, K., & Quigley, C. (2013). Connecting to our community: Utilizing photovoice as a peda-
gogical tool to connect college students to science. International Journal of Environmental and
Science Education., 8(2), 339–357.
Denzin, N., & Lincoln, Y. (2005). The discipline and practice of qualitative research. In N. Denzen
& Y. Lincoln (Eds.), The SAGE handbook of qualitative Research (3rd ed., pp. 1–32). Thousand
Oaks, CA: SAGE.
Erickson, F. (2011). A history of qualitative inquiry in social and educational research. In N. Denzen
& Y. Lincoln (Eds.), The SAGE handbook of qualitative research (4th ed., pp. 18–43). Thousand
Oaks, CA: SAGE.
Graziano, K. J. (2011). Working with English language learners: Preservice teachers and photo-
voice. International Journal of Multicultural Education, 13(1), 1–19. https://doi.org/10.18251/
ijme.v13i1.354
Gutiérrez, K., & Jurow, A. (2016). Social design experiments: Toward equity by design. Journal of
the Learning Sciences, 25(4), 565–598. https://doi.org/10.1080/10508406.2016.1204548
Merriam, S. (1998). Qualitative research and case study applications in education. San Francisco,
CA: Jossey-Bass.
14 Using Photovoice to Resist Colonial Research Paradigms 175
Mirra, N., Garcia, A., & Morrell, E. (2016). Doing youth participatory action research:
Transforming inquiry with researchers, educators, and students. New York, NY: Routledge.
Paris, D., & Winn, M. T. (Eds.). (2014). Humanizing research: Decolonizing qualitative inquiry
with youth and communities. Los Angeles, CA: SAGE.
Shah, P. (2015). Spaces to speak: Photovoice and the reimagination of girls’ education in India.
Comparative Education Review, 59(1), 50–74. https://doi.org/10.1086/678699
Simmonds, S., Roux, C., & Avest, I. (2015). Blurring the boundaries between photovoice and nar-
rative inquiry: A narrative-photovoice methodology for gender-based research. International
Journal of Qualitative Methods, 14(3), 33–49. https://doi.org/10.1177/160940691501400303
Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and indigenous peoples. New York,
NY: ZED Books, Ltd.
Walls, A., & Holmquist, S. (2019). Through their eyes, in their words: Using photo-elicitation
to amplify study voice in policy and school improvement research. In K. Strunk & L. Locke
(Eds.), Research methods for social justice and equity in education. Palgrave Macmillan.
Wang, C., & Burris, M. (1997). Photovoice: Concept, methodology, and use for partici-
patory needs assessment. Health Education & Behavior, 24(3), 369–387. https://doi.
org/10.1177/109019819702400309
Whitfield, D., & Meyer, H. (2005). Learning from our students: Photovoice and classroom action
research. The Science Education Review, 4(4), 97–103.
Chapter 15
Re-introducing Life History Methodology:
An Equitable Social Justice Approach
to Research in Education
James S. Wright
Abstract Educational researchers who are mindful of social justice are suggested
to consider contemporary research methodologies’ historical alignment with colo-
nization: Expansion and the ensuing epistemicide. This chapter argues that life his-
tory methodology can be used as a counter to traditional research methodologies
and provides space to collect and analyze data in a way that counters past traditions.
Contemporary educational research methodologies and methods are replete with
historical baggage so pronounced that social justice advocates can, unwittingly,
engage in research methods that reify the harms that they seek to counter. Life his-
tory provides real opportunities for educational researchers to develop new knowl-
edge by listening to and validating the experiences of the most vulnerable
populations. Life history challenges the idea of a universal truth—stemming from
Eurocentric positionalities.
J. S. Wright (*)
San Diego State University, San Diego, CA, USA
contemporary effects. I argue that life history methodology has the potential to off-
set the entanglements of violence, marginalization, and imposition embedded in
research methodologies. Life history research as a methodology consists of a collec-
tive of life stories that comprise the main data source. Life history methodology
consists of a theoretical analysis of the method—life stories and the socio-cultural,
socio-economic, and political aspects and assumptions related to these methods. My
application of life history seeks to counter the problematic elements found in the
culture of educational research.
Speaking in and through stories then becomes a way to engage self-transformation a kind
of rite of passage…I am aware of the value of story and its ability to transform my research,
and resist the Eurocentric frameworks that privileged other peoples’ stories and analyses…
(Battiste, 2013, p. 17)
Gramling and Carr (2004) outlined the various dimensions and methodological con-
siderations of life history, including coping. They pointed out that life history was
“a holistic, qualitative account of life that emphasizes the experiences of the indi-
vidual and how the person copes. It links experiences to subsequent actions and
theoretical perspectives with personal experiences” (Gramling & Carr, 2004,
p. 208). There is a growing body of interdisciplinary literature—psychology, phi-
losophy, and the natural sciences—acknowledging the value of narratives (Dhunpath,
2000; McAdams, 2008).
Coping and time encapsulated. In the historiographical research literature,
research methods such as biographies, oral histories, and life stories are distin-
guished from life history methodology. Oral history is a method in which memory
and experience can be captured for future generations, which can be a component of
life history methodology. Life history methodology is broader in scope and consists
of a theoretical analysis of life stories. Also, life history is more holistic; it seeks to
capture how individuals cope. It links these actions (coping) and personal experi-
ences with theoretical perspectives. Life history is also distinguished by a frame-
work of time (Gramling & Carr, 2004). For example, my life history encapsulates
the timeframe from 2010 to 2016.
The life stories in my work (Wright, 2017) illustrated how we—my family and
others from the urban community that I was raised in—coped—under the socio-
cultural/socio-economic climate, which included deindustrialization, well-
documented political malfeasance, mass incarceration, failed schools and schooling
practices, and ambivalent educators (Wright, 2017). These life stories, which under-
scored and evidenced these ills, were removed from life experiences, interpreted,
and made into text. A life story is a rendition of a lived experience, an interpretive
layer, but the move to life history needs additional stories and context and further
interpretations, such as interviews, documents, and theory, which add richness.
Life stories and life history as creating identity. Goodson and Sikes (2001)
asserted “life history research provides [opportunity] to tell your life story, to craft
a narrative that links together events, experiences, and perceptions, [it] is the explicit
opportunity to create an identity” (p. 41). This happens in all social situations, not
just in the context of research. People tell their stories in a certain way for a certain
purpose, guided by their environments, which helps construct the identity that they
wish to re-present (Goodson & Sikes, 2001).
Identifying urban life in Connecticut. The construction of life history is a joint
creation between the life historian and the storytellers. Life history methodology is
appropriate for equitable social justice educational research and praxis. I conducted
a study in Connecticut, a state often thought of for its affluence and wealth. Rarely
do people associate Connecticut, its cities, and neighborhoods with impoverished
Black and Brown families and failing schools. These life stories of people living in
the shadows of Connecticut’s affluence are brought to the center and amplified
(Wright, 2017).
15 Re-introducing Life History Methodology: An Equitable Social Justice Approach… 181
According to Goodson and Sikes (2001), life historians are creating and crafting
stories when they design and write their research. But it is not only life historians
who are implicated in creating/crafting stories in their research. No matter their
approach or method, all researchers—quantitative, qualitative, or historical—are
engaged in storytelling. Scholars, Clough (1992) and Goodson and Sikes (2001),
have posited that all representations of reality, even statistical representations, are
narrative constructs and as a result creative constructs. Similar to scholars engaged
in other methodological approaches, life historians re-present life stories as told to
them within the context of their own frames of reference.
Life stories and life history as pedagogy. Some scholars advocate for life history
as a pedagogical tool, asserting that it can be a cathartic and liberating research tool
(Dhunpath, 2000; Witherell & Noddings, 1991). Life histories provide stories of
people (idioms, authenticated definitions, and interpretations), struggling through
real problems and other situations. They offer liberation from indifferent and disen-
gaged researchers and research generated by samples, and faceless subjects without
histories and social context.
Humans in general, and researchers and educators in particular, are fallible
humans with vulnerabilities that constantly resurface. Curriculum historian Ivor
Goodson (1992) argued that because teaching is personal, it is critical to know the
type of person the teacher is. I argue that it is equally critical to know educators and
researchers—who they are, their politics, and their inclinations. Educators and
researchers are humans shaped by histories, politics, values, morals, and a world-
view (Dhunpath, 2000; Goodson, 1992).
Interpretive Framework
The interpretive lens offered by life history informs us that knowledge and under-
standing are bound by context. Jones (1983) contends that context is the result of a
socially constructed world of patterns and frames. Interpretive inquiry seeks to
address questions asked, along with the historical and social context that they are
asked from “within” social phenomena. This context emerging from within social
phenomena brings “to the surface the essential dimensions of a social process or
social context” (Jones, 1983, p. 150). This means that context should always be
according to the lived perspectives of the research participants and less an interpre-
tation of those lived experiences by an outsider, who may exhibit little care that the
interpretations are representative and authentic.
A normative inquiry, or studying phenomena from without, gives the researcher
“ontological control.” Jones (1983) argued that a study done from without “is
inclined to impose a definition on the subject of inquiry and to postulate relation-
ships of a hypothetical kind” (p. 150). This outsider control exercised by the
researcher is a common research protocol. This ontological control often leads to
misinterpretation, misunderstanding, and, to varying degrees, replicating the vio-
lence of research that was central to colonization.
While some methodologies rely more heavily on one approach over the other,
“many researchers live in the tension between these two extremes” (President &
Fellows Harvard University, 2008, p. 1). A completely etic approach to research
risks overlooking potentially new and/or groundbreaking concepts and perspec-
tives. And at the same time, all researchers come into a research project with previ-
ous concepts, perspectives, and lenses through which they see the world (President
& Fellows Harvard University, 2008). Emic and etic research methods are academic
concepts introduced in the mid-twentieth century by anthropologists and linguists to
study humans and as such are engulfed in ethnocentric (Eurocentric) and political
controversy (President & Fellows Harvard University, 2008; Sharp, 2008; Smith,
1999). Nonetheless, insider and outsider, emic and etic, perspectives are used in my
engagement with life history.
One of the challenges of doing life history research is the transformation of the life
stories of individuals into a life history. This transformation requires the inclusion
of historical context and an acknowledgment of subjectivity (Goodson & Sikes,
15 Re-introducing Life History Methodology: An Equitable Social Justice Approach… 183
2001). Goodson and Sikes (2001) warned that this was “a dangerous move, for it
offers the researcher considerable ‘colonizing’ power to ‘locate’ the life story with
all its inevitable selections, shifts and silences” (p. 17). The colonizing danger of
moving from life stories to life history is a real concern that the life historian must
contend with.
I use my own life story as part of my life history research. Stories from my life
indicate familiarity with urban Black and Brown discourses in the city, idioms, and
taken-for-granted knowledge. In many ways, I am an insider in the study. My con-
nection makes me accessible to the circumstances of my study as a person both
within and outside of the phenomena. I have personal connections with many of the
people whose stories I included in my life history study. I am honest about these
connections, and I attempt to be reflective about my own place in the life history
(Wright, 2017). However, as an academic, I am a part of a larger institution and
academic community with different discourses, idioms, and taken-for-granted
knowledge, which also makes me an outsider. Juggling these two worlds as both an
insider and an outsider is a primary task for the life historian. My insider connec-
tions do not guarantee that I will not misrepresent these communities. An insider is
still capable of imposing and inflicting violence upon the community under study
with an intentionally or otherwise skewed collection and analysis processes.
According to Rubby Dhunpath (2000), there are three possible responses to cri-
tiques of life history research. The first possibility is not to respond at all. But avoid-
ance is inappropriate, and “would smack of the same kind of intellectual arrogance
often exhibited by empiricists” (Dhunpath, 2000, p. 543). However, in answering
the question, the life historian should be mindful of her/his engagement in the para-
digm wars: The socially constructed dichotomy between empirical research designs
and other research designs—the quantitative versus qualitative/humanities versus
social science debates (Gage, 1989; Howe, 2009; Tadajewski, 2009). The second
possibility according to Dhunpath is to aggressively defend the virtues of the life
history research approach at the risk of becoming an apologist for its legitimacy,
thereby reaffirming the dominance espoused by empiricists. A third possibility is to
stake a claim of life history as a counterculture to traditional research methodolo-
gies (Dhunpath, 2000). To position life history as a counterculture provides leverage
toward an intervention into Westernization (Mignolo, 2011, 2012), its method—
White supremacy (Khalifa, 2015)—and it’s racist discourses, rhetoric, and practices
located in the culture of educational praxis as indicated in Stein’s (2004) culture of
education policy thesis and others. The culture of education policy frames policy
beneficiaries as culturally deficient and blames their historical, socio-cultural, and
socio-economic predicament on a lack of, and a need for, standard American values
(Stein, 2004).
184 J. S. Wright
Interdisciplinary Confusion
When it is done well, life story methods and the life history research methodology
crosses disciplinary boundaries. This allows the convergence of multiple disciplines
while maintaining the integrity of each. However, some scholars raise concerns and
cite confusion associated with this approach. Scholars have argued that the plurality
of voices could cause harsh discord and fragmented perspectives, which could lead
to a culture of misunderstanding and miscommunication (Dhunpath, 2000;
Hargreaves, 2011).
Identifying importance and representation. The relationship between the
researcher and the researched and the act of deeming someone or a situation as
important is further complicated by the researcher’s veneration or disdain for the
participants in the study. Such a situation is potentially dysfunctional. Furthermore,
how is life history positioned outside of the oppressive conditions, specifically in
regard to research traditions, that have silenced individuals? Close attention must be
paid to matters of representation and retelling of stories (Dhunpath, 2000; Goodson,
1992).
The nuance of representation. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (1988) wrote, what
many consider, a classic essay on the problem of speaking for cultural others—Can
the subaltern speak? According to Sharp (2008), Spivak’s complex article has been
interpreted in various ways. The premise of the article, according to Sharp (2008),
was to discuss the problem of speaking for those whose cultural background is pro-
foundly different from one’s own. Spivak (1988) is critical of the self-assured, sci-
entific method used by Western scholars’ way of knowing the other (read
non-Western). Scholars refer to the Westerner speaking for non-Westerners as epis-
temic violence or epistemicide, the damage done to the ways of knowing and under-
standing indigenous and non-Western cultures with regard to religion, science,
philosophy, architecture, and governance (de Sousa Santos, 2014; Spivak, 1988).
As a result, Westerners—with profoundly different cultural backgrounds—have
been purveyors of epistemicide, resulting in the marginalization and death of the
subaltern voice and culture. As it pertains to educational research and praxis, I
argue, epistemological imposition—epistemicide—is found across the educational
landscape. Attempts to recover the subaltern voice by cultural outsiders and cultural
insiders are not equivalent. Furthermore, cultural insiders should be mindful of the
inevitability and dangers of essentialism. Such dangers highlight the difficulty of
recovering “a voice for the subaltern without negating its heterogeneity” (Sharp,
2008, p. 114).
The challenges of representation. Representation has its limits. These limits
include, and are not limited to, determining what information is relevant to include
as a person’s story. de Sousa Santos (2014) contends that once relevancy is estab-
lished the phenomenon must be identified, detected, and recognized. Detection is
the process by which traits or features in a phenomenon are defined. Recognition is
the delineation of the parameters that guide the specific system of explanation or
interpretation that the detected phenomena will be classified through (de Sousa
15 Re-introducing Life History Methodology: An Equitable Social Justice Approach… 185
Santos, 2014). These strategies and processes are predisposed and inclined with the
potential for abuse. In other words, researchers and historians chose to center spe-
cific aspects of their research, perhaps leaving out more valuable aspects, at least
more valuable to its research participants. This inevitability occurs for various rea-
sons, oftentimes partisan reasons such as adherence to political ideologies and dis-
courses as well as racial, ethnic, and other alignments/misalignments.
The value of representation. Robert J. C. Young (2004) argued that “it was never
the case that the subaltern could not speak: rather that the dominant would not lis-
ten” (p. 5). In spite of the complexities, nuances, and potential challenges of repre-
sentation, Spivak (1988) acknowledges the value in speaking for the other by
cultural insiders. This can be done with mutual boundary setting between cultural
insiders and those they represent. In this way validity becomes built in. Temporary
alliances and “strategic essentialism” with a clear image of identity as politics of
opposition to fight for the rights of minoritized groups are appropriate (Sharp,
2008). In my experience, representation is common and welcomed in African
American cultures and communities (we rep1 where we are from, and we support
those who rep us as well). This occurs in other minoritized communities experienc-
ing and enduring Westernized Patriarchal paradigms. Linda Tuhiwai Smith (1999)
argued, similarly, that many artists, musicians, and filmmakers try to capture
moments of their people and employ representation as both a political concept and
a form of expression. Also, Smith suggests that representation was a form of resis-
tance to what has been imposed upon marginalized communities by those engaged
in their epistemicide.
Tommy J. Curry (2017) provokes and challenges existing academic frameworks,
theories, and research protocols that frame Black men and boys as historically and
contemporarily equivalent to and striving toward Westernized models of Patriarchy.
These academic frameworks persist in spite of a historical record of succumbing to
and resisting Westernized Patriarchal violence and domination imposed upon Black
men and boys. Furthermore, Curry argues that Black males’ and boys’ vulnerability,
and struggles to navigate the paradigm of Westernized Patriarchal violence and
White supremacy, is misaligned with the ways in which Black men and boys are
framed in academic discourse and theory. Curry argues that Black men and boys,
the pariahs of American society, rank at the bottom of every socio-economic, socio-
political, and statistical category, including criminal justice, health care, and educa-
tion. Curry’s analysis opposes academic framings and research methods related to
Black males and boys and decries these as justification for Black male studies.
Gloria Anzaldúa (1990) urges developing new theories—theorizing methodolo-
gies—to understand those on the margins of society better. Anzaldúa (1990) argued
for “theories that overlap many ‘worlds’” theorizing methods whose categories of
analysis include race, class, gender, and ethnicity. These are theories “that will point
186 J. S. Wright
out ways to maneuver between our particular experiences and the necessity of form-
ing our own categories and theoretical models for patterns we uncover” (pp. xxv–
xxvi). Similar to concerns raised by Curry (2017) and Anzaldúa (1990), I position
life history methodology toward countering marginalization and deficit
frameworks.
What about validity? Many qualitative theorists have abandoned the concept of
validity altogether due to its problematic assumption of a real world that can be
judged by standards of objectivity (Dhunpath, 2000; Maxwell, 2013). Some, how-
ever, use the term “validity” without its implications of “objective truth” (Maxwell,
2013). Maxwell (2013) thought of validity in a “fairly straightforward, common-
sense way, to refer to the correctness or credibility of a description, conclusion,
explanation, interpretation or other sort of account” (p. 122). Life history “chal-
lenges the notion of there being no ‘truth,’ but instead asserts that there exists a
series of subjective views” (Dhunpath, 2000, p. 547).
In life history, the researcher’s own experience is a valid part of her/his own
knowledge as long as it is subject to public and critical appraisal (Dhunpath, 2000).
Linda Tuhiwai Smith (1999) argues that researchers who are also members of that
community have to live and interact with those they study “on a day-to-day basis”
(p. 137). Due to the level of collaboration between the researcher and participants,
“seeking meaning and explanations together, respondent validation may well be
built into the research design” (Goodson & Sikes, 2001, p. 36). “Validity is estab-
lished by demonstrating that sociological explanation is congruent with the mean-
ings through which members construct their realities and accomplish their everyday
practical activities” (Jones, 1983, p. 152). As a member of the community under
study, I am open to public criticism.
Conclusion
For social justice advocates, life history methodology mandates that the insights,
perspectives, and experiences of those experiencing injustice are the main sources
of data. Life history provides real opportunities for educational researchers to
develop new knowledge by listening to and validating the experiences of the most
vulnerable populations. Life history challenges the idea of a universal truth—stem-
ming from Eurocentric positionalities. Life history’s position as a counterculture
leverages interventions into Westernization and White supremacy’s methodologies,
theories, and discourses located throughout the educational landscape.
Suggested Readings
Howe, K. R. (2008). Isolating science from the humanities: The third dogma of educa-
tional research. Qualitative Inquiry. https://doi.org/10.1177/1077800408318302
This article criticizes the quantitative/qualitative dogmas of educational research
and the incompatibility, fact-value dichotomy premise. The author contends that no
epistemological divide can be determined between the empirical sciences and the
humanities. Furthermore, empirical research in education and the humanities’ focus
on values should not be disconnected.
Note
1. Rep is shorthand for represent. A common discourse in Black, African American, and other
minoritized communities.
References
Anzaldúa, G. (Ed.). (1990). Making face, making soul/haciendo caras: Creative and critical per-
spectives by feminists of color (1st ed.). San Francisco, CA: Aunt Lute Books.
Battiste, M. (2013). Decolonizing education: Nourishing the learning spirit. Saskatoon, Canada:
Purich Publishing.
Clough, P. T. (1992). The end(s) of ethnography: From realism to social criticism. Newbury Park,
CA: SAGE Publications.
Curry, T. J. (2017). The man-not: Race, class, genre, and the dilemmas of black manhood.
Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press.
Denzin, N. K. (1983). Beyond method: Strategies for social research: 1st (first) edition (G. Morgan,
Ed.). SAGE Publications.
Dhunpath, R. (2000). Life history methodology: “Narradigm” regained. International Journal of
Qualitative Studies in Education, 13(5), 543–551. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518390050156459
Gage, N. (1989). The Paradigm wars and their aftermath: A “historical” sketch of research on
teaching since 1989. Educational Researcher, 18(7), 4–10. https://doi.org/10.3102/00131
89X018007004
Goodson, I. (1992). Studying teachers’ lives (Reprint ed.). New York, NY: Routledge.
Goodson, I., & Sikes, P. (2001). Life history research in educational settings: Learning from lives
(1st ed.). Philadelphia, PA: Open University Press.
Gramling, L., & Carr, R. (2004). Lifelines: A life history methodology. Nursing Research, 53(3),
207–210.
Hargreaves, D. H. (2011). Reconstructing teacher education (J. Elliott, Ed.). Routledge.
Howe, K. R. (2009). Isolating science from the humanities: The third dogma of educational
research. Qualitative Inquiry, 15(4), 766–784. https://doi.org/10.1177/1077800408318302
Jones, G. R. (1983). Beyond method: Strategies for social research (1st ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA:
SAGE Publications.
Khalifa, M. (2015). Can Blacks be racists? Black-on-Black principal abuse in an urban school set-
ting. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 28(2), 259–282. https://doi.org
/10.1080/09518398.2014.916002
Maxwell, J. A. (2013). Qualitative research design: An interactive approach (3rd ed.). Thousand
Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications.
15 Re-introducing Life History Methodology: An Equitable Social Justice Approach… 189
McAdams, D. (2008). The life story interview: Foley Center: Northwestern University [The Foley
Center: School of Education and Social Policy Northwestern University]. Retrieved April 25,
2016, from http://www.sesp.northwestern.edu/foley/instruments/interview/
Mignolo, W. (2011). The darker side of western modernity: Global futures, decolonial options.
Durham, NC: Duke University Press Books.
Mignolo, W. (2012). Local histories/global designs: Coloniality, subaltern knowledges, and bor-
der thinking. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
President & Fellows Harvard University. (2008). Emic & etic § Q: Foundations of qualitative
research in education [Harvard Education]. Retrieved April 28, 2016, from http://isites.harvard.
edu/icb/icb.do?keyword=qualitative&pageid=icb.page340911
Sharp, J. (2008). Geographies of postcolonialism. Los Angeles, CA: SAGE Publications.
Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and indigenous peoples. New York,
NY: Zed Books.
de Sousa Santos, B. (2014). Epistemologies of the South: Justice against epistemicide. New York,
NY: Routledge.
Spivak, G. C. (1988). Spivak CanTheSubalternSpeak.pdf. Retrieved from http://jan.ucc.nau.
edu/~sj6/Spivak%20CanTheSubalternSpeak.pdf
Stein, S. J. (2004). The culture of education policy. New York, NY: Teachers College Press.
Tadajewski, M. (2009). The debate that won’t die? Values incommensurability, antagonism and
theory choice. Organization, 16(4), 467–485. https://doi.org/10.1177/1350508409104504
Willinsky, J. (2000). Learning to divide the world: Education at empire’s end (1st ed.). Minneapolis,
MN: University of Minnesota Press.
Witherell, C., & Noddings, N. (1991). Stories lives tell: Narrative and dialogue in education.
New York, NY: Teachers College Press.
Wright, J. (2017). School leadership in dirty water: Black and Minoritized perspectives on mayoral
control and turnaround in Waterbury, CT 2011–2016. PhD thesis, Michigan State University,
East Lansing, MI. Retrieved from ProQuest LLC.
Young, R. (2004). White mythologies: Writing history and the west (2nd ed.). London, UK:
Routledge.
Chapter 16
Quantitative Methods for Social Justice
and Equity: Theoretical and Practical
Considerations
Kamden K. Strunk and Payton D. Hoover
Abstract Quantitative methods, in both their historical and contemporary use, have
been mobilized from hegemonic, positivist perspectives with implicit assumptions of
whiteness and cisheteropatriarchy. Often, quantitative approaches are dehumanizing,
totalizing, and homogenizing. However, there is growing interest in and efforts toward
using quantitative methods for more equitable aims. In this chapter, we highlight some
of the historical, theoretical, and practical challenges in using quantitative methods in
equity-oriented scholarship and suggest practical ways to humanize those methods.
Even a superficial review of the research cited in policy briefs, produced by and for
US federal agencies, and referred to in public discourse would reveal that the vast
majority of that research is quantitative. In fact, some federal agencies have gone so
far as to specify that quantitative methods, and especially experimental methods, are
the gold standard in social and educational research (Institute for Education Sciences,
2003). In other words—those with power in policy, funding, and large-scale educa-
tion initiatives have made explicit their belief that quantitative methods are better,
more objective, more trustworthy, and more meritorious than other methodologies.
Visible in the national and public discourses around educational research is the
naturalization of quantitative methods, with other methods rendered as exotic or
unusual. In this system, quantitative methods take on the tone of objectivity, as if the
statistical tests and theories are some sort of natural law or absolute truth. This is in
spite of the fact that quantitative methods have at least as much subjectivity and rocky
history as other methodologies. But because they are treated as if they were objective
K. K. Strunk (*)
Educational Psychology and Research Methodologies, Auburn University, Auburn, AL, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
P. D. Hoover
Auburn University, Auburn, AL, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
comparisons have been used to ‘track’ children into various educational pathways
(e.g., college prep, vocational education, homemaking) in ways that are gendered,
racialized, and classed (Leonardo & Grubb, 2018). At one point, quantitative meth-
ods were used to justify the ‘super-predator’ rhetoric that vastly accelerated the
mass incarceration epidemic in the USA (Nolan, 2014). Randomized controlled
trials (the Institute of Education Sciences’ ‘gold standard’ method) have contributed
to the continued de-professionalization of teachers and a disregard for context and
societal factors in education (IES, 2003). It would be nearly impossible to engage in
any review of the ways quantitative methods have been used in the US context that
would not lead to the conclusion that they have exacerbated, enabled, and acceler-
ated white supremacist cisheteropatriarchy as the dominant ideology.
Beyond these specific examples is the larger ideological nature of quantitative
methods. These methods come embedded with hidden assumptions about episte-
mology, knowledges, and action. As we describe later, though, quantitative methods
are often cleansed of ideological contestation in ways that render those assumptions
and beliefs invisible, with researchers regarding their quantitative work as objective
truth (Davidson, 2018). Yet even in areas often treated as generic or universal, like
motivation theory, quantitative work often embeds assumptions of whiteness in the
theoretical and empirical models (Usher, 2018). Quantitative methods, then, are
caught up in ideological hegemony in ways that are both hidden and powerful.
statistical model—the General Linear Model (GLM). GLM tests have assumptions
that must be met for the test to be properly applied, and those assumptions belie the
positivist and postpositivist nature of the model. Assuming random assignment not
only assumes experimental methods but elevates those methods as ‘ideal’ or ‘better’
than other methods. Assuming predictors are measured without error implies that
any such thing as error-free observations exists and centers the concern over error
and measurement (a central feature of postpositivist thinking). The assumption of
independent observation directly stems from a positivist approach and suggests that
more interpretivist or constructivist approaches lack adequate rigor. Also, all of
these models position explanation, prediction, and control as the goals of research,
goals that critical scholars often critique. While much more can be said about decon-
structing the GLM assumptions (Strunk, in press) and the assumptions of other
approaches, it is clear that those models are invested in the culture of positivism.
That investment represents a substantial challenge for the use of quantitative meth-
ods in critical research for social justice and equity.
Relatedly, much of the work on topics of equity and justice, like research on race,
sexuality, gender identity, income, indigeneity, ability, and other factors, proceeds in
quantitative work from a deficit perspective. By comparing marginalized group out-
comes (as is often done) to privileged group outcomes, the analysis often serves to
frame marginalized groups as deficient in one way or another. While such compari-
sons can be useful in documenting inequitable outcomes, the results also highlight
disparities that are already well documented and that can serve oppressive purposes.
In fact, the ethical standards for tests and measurement include mention of the fact
that tests that put marginalized groups in an unfavorable light should be reconsid-
ered (American Educational Research Association et al., 2014).
Another trend in quantitative work that studies inequity and inequality is to focus
on resiliency or strengths (Ungar & Liebenberg, 2011). The motive in those
approaches is admirable. Such researchers seek to shift the focus from deficits to
assets, highlighting the ways in which marginalized communities create opportuni-
ties and generate thriving (Reed & Miller, 2016). However, those approaches have
pitfalls, too. The danger is that, by suggesting ways in which marginalized groups
can build resiliency or capitalize on their strengths, researchers are again re-
centering the ‘problem’ as residing with marginalized groups. To put it another
way—one might ask who is required to have resiliency, and who can succeed with-
out it. Members of marginalized groups and individuals in oppressive systems
require much more resiliency than individuals those systems were created to bene-
fit. Because of that, the push for resiliency and assets research actually has the
potential to further oppress by placing the burden of ‘success’ on people for whom
our society was designed to create failure. Instead, researchers can focus their
16 Quantitative Methods for Social Justice and Equity: Theoretical and Practical… 195
attention on the systems, discourses, and practices that create marginality and how
those systems can be re-created.
Researchers, though, can reimagine the purposes and possibilities of quantitative
methods research. Quantitative methods can serve equitable aims and can move
toward social justice. Doing so is difficult work: the very process of turning human
beings into numbers is inherently dehumanizing. However, approaching quantita-
tive methods from critical theoretical perspectives (such as those included in this
book), and being thoughtful, reflexive, and critical about how the methods are used,
the methodological literature, and the positionality of the researchers themselves,
can generate more humanizing possibilities.
How, then, can quantitative researchers better position their work to achieve social
justice and equity aims? We here highlight several practical considerations for
researchers to consider in their use of quantitative methods. We do not suggest ideal
or ‘right’ answers but hope that reflecting carefully on some of these questions can
lead to more equitable quantitative work. These considerations have to do with the
meaning of GLM statistics, issues of measurement, issues of research design, and
questions about inferences and conclusions.
Measurement issues are one area that present challenges for equitable quantitative
work. The mere act of quantification can be dehumanizing. Reducing human lives
and the richness of experiences to numbers, quantities, and scales distances research-
ers from participants and the inferences from their experiences. Moreover, research-
ers must make difficult decisions about the creation of categorical variables. While
many students and established scholars alike default to federally defined categories
(like the five federally defined racial categories—white, non-Hispanic; Black,
non-Hispanic; Hispanic; Asian; and Native American), those categories are rarely
sufficient or appropriate. Researchers, such as Teranishi (2007), have pointed out
the problems created by these overly simplistic categories and the practice of ‘col-
lapsing’ small categories together. When categories are not expansive enough, or
when they are combined into more generic categories for data analysis, much of the
variation is lost. Moreover, asking participants to select identity categories with
which they do not identify can, in and of itself, be oppressive. Thinking carefully
about the identities of research participants and how to present survey options is an
important step in humanizing quantitative research.
Many times, researchers simply throw demographic items on the end of a survey
without much consideration for how those items might be perceived or even how they
196 K. K. Strunk and P. D. Hoover
might use the data. We suggest that researchers only ask for demographic data when
those data are central to their analysis. In other words, if the research questions and
planned analyses do not make use of demographic items, researchers should consider
leaving them out completely. If those items are necessary, researchers should care-
fully consider the wording of those items. One promising practice is to simply leave
response options open, allowing participants to type in the identity category of their
choice. For example, rather than providing stock options for gender, researchers can
simply ask participants their gender and allow them to type in a freeform response.
One issue with that approach is that it requires more labor from researchers to code
those responses into categories. However, that labor is worthwhile in an effort to
present more humanizing work. Researchers might also find that categories they did
not consider are important to participants, enriching the analysis.
In some cases, it is impractical to hand code responses. This is particularly true
in large-scale data collection where there might be thousands of participants. It
might also be difficult when the study is required to align with institutional, sponsor,
or governmental data. For example, it is common for commissioned studies to be
asked to determine ‘representativeness’ by comparing sample demographics to
institutional or regional statistics. In such cases, a strategy that might be useful is to
allow the open-response demographic item, followed by a forced choice item with
the narrower options. In our work, we have used the phrasing, ‘If you had to choose
one of the following options, which one most closely matches your [identity]?’
Doing so allows for meeting the requirements of the study, while also allowing
more expansive options for use in subsequent analyses.
As one example, we provide below a sample of decisions researchers might
make around collecting data on gender and sexual identities. Similar thinking could
inform data collection on a number of demographic factors, as we illustrate in the
Appendix found at the end of this chapter.
One of the primary issues, as we have noted earlier, with using quantitative methods
for critical purposes is that those methods were not designed for such work. They
were imagined within a postpositivist framework and often fall a bit flat outside of
that epistemological perspective. Part of that, as we discussed earlier, is related to
the assumptions of statistical models like the GLM, which make a number of post-
positivist assumptions about the nature of research and the data. A practical struggle
for researchers using those methods, then, is to work against those postpositivist
impulses. One way that researchers can do this is by openly writing about their
assumptions, their epistemology, their theoretical framework, and how they
approach the tests. That type of writing is atypical in quantitative methods but
useful.
One important step in using quantitative methods for social justice and equity is
to reject the notion that these tests are somehow objective. All research is informed
16 Quantitative Methods for Social Justice and Equity: Theoretical and Practical… 197
Various researchers have already imagined new uses for quantitative methods that
accomplish social justice and equity aims. Researchers have used large-scale quan-
titative data to document the impact of policies and policy changes on expanding or
closing gaps. Such evidence is often particularly useful in convincing stakeholders
(such as policymakers or legislators) that the injustices marginalized communities
198 K. K. Strunk and P. D. Hoover
voice are ‘real’ and demand their attention. While it is a sad commentary that the
voices of marginalized communities are not sufficient to move policymakers to
action, the naturalized sense of quantitative methods as ‘objective’ or ‘neutral’ can
be useful in shifting those policy conversations.
Others have attempted to integrate various critical theoretical frameworks with
quantitative methods. One such approach is QuantCrit, which attempts to merge
critical race theory (CRT) and quantitative methods. Much has been written else-
where about this approach, but it has been used in research on higher education to
challenge whiteness in college environments (Teranishi, 2007). Similarly, experi-
mental methods have been used to document the presence of things like implicit
bias, the collective toll of microaggressions, and the attempt to map the psychologi-
cal processes of bias and discrimination (Koonce, 2018; Strunk & Bailey, 2015).
Other possibilities are documented in the following chapters of this text. They
include the use of campus-mapping techniques to understand campus climate for
equity and justice. Also highlighted is the use of advanced quantitative methods like
propensity score matching for documenting racial disparities. Another author
describes the use of large-scale data sets for measuring educational inequity. Finally,
this text also includes a description of how mixed methods research can further
some of these promising features of quantitative methods by marrying them with
qualitative approaches.
First, to decide what demographic information you might collect, answer these
questions:
1. Is participant sex/gender central to the research questions and planned analyses?
Will you analyze or report based on gender? Is there a gender reporting require-
ment for your study or the outlets you plan to publish in?
• Are you writing about gender or sex?
–– S
ex is a biological factor, having to do with genital and genetic markers. In
most cases, collecting data on gender is the more appropriate and sufficient
option. If you need to collect this information, consider:
An open-response box in which participants can type their sex as assigned
at birth.
Sex as assigned at birth:
Male
Female
Intersex
Prefer not to respond
16 Quantitative Methods for Social Justice and Equity: Theoretical and Practical… 199
–– G
ender is a social construct, having to do with identity, gender presenta-
tion, physical and emotional characteristics, and the internal sense of self
participants hold. If you need to collect this information, consider:
An open-response box in which participants can type their gender identity.
An example might look like:
What is your gender identity? (e.g., man, woman, genderqueer)
Gender identity (for adults):
Agender
Man
Woman
Nonbinary/Genderqueer/Genderfluid
Two spirit
Another identity not listed here
Gender identity (for children):
Boy
Girl
Nonbinary/Genderqueer
Two spirit
Gender expansive
Another identity not listed here
• Do you need to collect information about whether participants are
transgender?
–– T
he term ‘transgender’ typically refers to individuals for whom their gen-
der identity and sex as assigned at birth are not aligned. If you need to
collect this information, consider:
Which do you most closely identify as?
Cisgender (your gender identity and sex as assigned at birth are the same)
Transgender (your gender identity and sex as assigned at birth are
different)
2. Is participant sexual identity (sometimes called sexual orientation) central to the
research questions and planned analyses? Will you analyze based on sexual iden-
tity, or is there a reporting requirement for sexual identity in your intended pub-
lication outlet?
• If so, consider:
–– A
n open-response box in which participants can type their sexual orienta-
tion. An example might look like:
What is your sexual identity? (e.g., straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, pan-
sexual, asexual)
200 K. K. Strunk and P. D. Hoover
–– Sexual identity:
Straight/heterosexual
Gay or lesbian
Bisexual
Pansexual
Queer
Asexual
Another identity not listed here
Suggested Readings
Garcia, N. M., Lopez, N., & Velez, V. N. (2017). QuantCrit: Rectifying quantitative
methods through critical race theory [Special issue]. Race and Ethnicity in
Education, 21(2).
This special issue contains multiple pieces exploring the use of QuantCrit, which
integrates critical race theory and quantitative methods.
Teranishi, R. T. (2007). Race, ethnicity, and higher education policy: The use of
critical quantitative research. New Directions for Institutional Research,
2007(133), 37–49. https://doi.org/10.1002/ir.203
This piece is an extremely useful exploration of the problems inherent in quantify-
ing things like race and ethnicity, and it offers specific examples of how those issues
play out and how they might be addressed.
Zuberi, T., & Bonilla-Silva, E. (2008). White logic, white methods: Racism and
methodology. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.
This book is written from the perspective of sociology but is an extended explora-
tion of the ways in which quantitative methods have been implicated in racism and
eugenics. It also offers explorations of ways forward in research methodology to
conduct antiracist work.
References
DeCuir, J. T., & Dixson, A. D. (2004). “So when it comes out, they aren’t surprised that it is there”:
Using critical race theory as a tool of analysis of race and racism in education. Educational
Researcher, 33(5), 26–31.
Giroux, H. A. (2011). On critical pedagogy. New York, NY: Bloomsbury.
Herrnstein, R. J., & Murray, C. (1994). The bell curve: Intelligence and class structure in American
life. New York, NY: Free Press.
Institute for Education Sciences. (2003, December). Identifying and implementing educational
practices supported by rigorous evidence: A user friendly guide. National Center for Education
Evaluation and Regional Assistance. Retrieved from https://ies.ed.gov/ncee/pubs/evidence_
based/randomized.asp
Kincheloe, J. L., Steinberg, S. R., & Gresson, A. D. (1997). Measured lies: The bell curve exam-
ined. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press.
Koonce, J. B. (2018). Critical race theory and caring as channels for transcending borders between
an African American Professor and her Latina/o students. International Journal of Multicultural
Education, 20(2), 101–116.
Leonardo, Z., & Grubb, W. N. (2018). Education and racism: A primer on issues and dilemmas.
New York, NY: Routledge.
Nolan, K. (2014). Neoliberal common sense and race-neutral discourses: A critique of “evidence-
based” policy-making in school policing. Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of
Education, 36(6), 894–907. https://doi.org/10.1080/01596306.2014.905457
Reed, S. J., & Miller, R. L. (2016). Thriving and adapting: Resilience, sense of community, and
syndemics among young Black gay and bisexual men. American Journal of Community
Psychology, 57(1–2), 129–143. https://doi-org.spot.lib.auburn.edu/10.1002/ajcp.12028
Richardson, T. Q. (1995). The window dressing behind The Bell Curve. School Psychology Review,
24(1), 42–44.
Steele, C. M., & Aronson, J. (1995). Stereotype threat and the intellectual test performance of
African Americans. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 69(5), 797–811.
Strunk, K. K. (in press). A critical theory approach to LGBTQ studies in quantitative methods
courses. In N. M. Rodriguez (Ed.), Teaching LGBTQ+ studies: Theoretical perspectives.
New York, NY: Palgrave.
Strunk, K. K., & Bailey, L. E. (2015). The difference one word makes: Imagining sexual orien-
tation in graduate school application essays. Psychology of Sexual Orientation and Gender
Diversity, 2(4), 456–462. https://doi.org/10.1037/sgd0000136
Teranishi, R. T. (2007). Race, ethnicity, and higher education policy: The use of critical quan-
titative research. New Directions for Institutional Research, 2007(133), 37–49. https://doi.
org/10.1002/ir.203
Ungar, M., & Liebenberg, L. (2011). Assessing resilience across cultures using mixed methods:
Construction of the Child and Youth Resilience Measure. Journal of Mixed Methods Research,
5(2), 126–149.
Usher, E. L. (2018). Acknowledging the whiteness of motivation research: Seeking cultural rel-
evance. Educational Psychologist, 53(2), 131–144. https://doi.org/10.1080/00461520.2018.1
442220
Valencia, R. R., & Suzuki, L. A. (2001). Intelligence testing and minority students: Foundations,
performance factors, and assessment issues. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.
Chapter 17
Large-Scale Datasets and Social Justice:
Measuring Inequality in Opportunities
to Learn
Heather E. Price
History repeatedly shows that people are not very good at noticing their biases,
and a conglomerate of biases creates social norms with dire consequences for
people who are not in power positions. Fortunately, social science and its system-
atic scientific thinking and analysis provide a venue to question social norms and
the impacts on people. But social science is not a silver bullet. Social scientists are
also people steeped in the same social norms which can unknowingly frame
research—whether qualitative or quantitative. This chapter discusses how large-
scale datasets can be used to investigate patterns of social injustice in education
and demonstrates these procedures using a case of high school curricula
opportunities.
H. E. Price (*)
Marian University, Fond du Lac, WI, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
It was only in 1994 that a book was widely distributed under the auspice of social
science which misinterpreted results to conclude that American students of Anglo-
Saxon ancestry were biologically predisposed to be more intelligent than students
of African ancestry (Herrnstein & Murray, 1994). The authors based these conclu-
sions on large-scale data on achievement patterns among US students. What the
authors failed to recognize were their own biases steeped in a history of white
supremacy, failing to recognize the generations of US laws making it illegal for
entire groups of Americans to read or go to school (Fisher et al., 1996; Jencks &
Phillips, 1998). The failure to incorporate these contextual factors created a “false-
positive” error when they only looked at differences by racial identity at the indi-
vidual level on achievement outcomes. Racial and ethnic identities are not to be
assessed at the individual level since it is not an individual psychological factor or
static attribute, but rather a measure used to reflect dynamic social norms (Bonilla-
Silva, 2001). Fortunately, an esteemed group of social scientists gathered their col-
lective talents to point out the major statistical errors in the book and retested the
same data with context included to clearly show that racial differences in achieve-
ment were artifacts of context and nothing about biology (Fisher et al., 1996).
One of the advantages of large-scale quantitative work is that it can be rerun and
replicated. With replication, researchers, like those in University of California at
Berkeley (i.e., Fisher et al., 1996), can check others’ results and test how omitted
variable bias may sway results and explain how the omitted variables provide a lens
in which to interpret the results. It is in the interpretation that education policies are
developed, so it is the responsibility of researchers to test these biases.
Large-scale datasets can also reveal patterns that are not easily seen with a naked
eye. In the earlier example, while complexion can be thought to be observed
(although this is steeped in its own set of context and misperceptions), historical rac-
ism is not observable. To test the impact of such conceptual ideas, researchers think
deeply about which observable variables can be used to represent hard-to-observe
social facts. In the earlier case, it was the inclusion of a constellation of measures of
unemployment, parents’ education level, neighborhood locale, and the like that pro-
vided the context in which to test the cumulative impact of generations of historical
racism on students’ achievement (Fisher et al., 1996; Jencks & Phillips, 1998).
Large-scale studies provide generalizable results and are large enough to disaggre-
gate into subgroup populations. With subgroup clusters, such social justice ideas of
equality, equity, and differential treatments and applications can be measured and tested
over time and between contexts. These aspects increase the external validity of the anal-
yses and reduce cynics’ criticisms that the observed differences are subjective. Instead,
the abundance of data points used in large-scale quantitative analyses can provide an
avenue for researchers to shelf their preconceived notions of how things appear to oper-
ate and instead focus squarely on the patterns in the historical, structural, institutional,
and organizational data. With these aspects, the interpretation can be less ridiculed for
being prone to interpretation in the eyes of the beholder and instead can be revered as
providing the 20/20 lens to clearly see the patterns that undertow our social systems.
17 Large-Scale Datasets and Social Justice: Measuring Inequality in Opportunities… 205
(N − n js )
2
D J
HHI = ∑∑
js
, (17.1)
d =1 j =1 N js
where N is the proportion in the population, n is the proportion in the pipeline space,
j is the subgroup designation, and s is the school.
Equal representation of the groups in the market produces an HHI = 0. The higher
the value, the greater a group monopolizes the asset in the market. Unlike many tra-
ditional segregation indices of Gini, Theil, and others that restrict to bi-group analy-
ses (white-to-non-white, white-to-Hispanic), the HHI allows for multiple groups to
be assessed together. With the HHI, the seven different racial and ethnic group identi-
ties1 cited in the data can be compared as a whole rather than a series of pairs which
otherwise would be a set of 21 combination pairs for analyses.
of all students in the database (that is, if there was a more than a binary gender iden-
tifier option on the census questionnaire).
All students represent their own voice in census data, whereas sample data allow
a selection of students to represent the variation among the unsampled voices. Given
the Central Limit Theorem of statistics, the sampled variation is often plenty close
to what is needed to test most research questions (Knoke et al., 2002). However, the
Central Limit Theorem does not suffice when there are only a few voices to speak
within a subgroup.
Hallinan, 1991; Kelly, 2004; Kelly & Price, 2011; Rosenbaum, 1976). Most of the
research on differences in quality of delivery and course credentialing comes from
qualitative comparative work (Cisneros et al., 2014; Gagnon & Mattingly, 2016;
Klugman, 2012; Lareau, 2000; Oakes, 2005; Palmer, 2016). Most quantitative
research uses the attainment of students (equity)—high school graduation, college
admission—as distal signals of schools’ overall curricular rigor. For particular
courses, the use of grades and course descriptions from administrative transcript
records from nationally representative sample-based datasets of the National
Education Longitudinal Study (NELS) and the Education Longitudinal Study (ELS)
have been the best proxies to compare across the state-based education system in
the US (Gamoran, 1987; Gamoran & Mare, 1989; Lucas & Berends, 2002).
However, these quantitative operationalizations of quality or credentialing do not
directly link to the course curriculum and instead assume that students’ grades or
attainment are absolute to some external criteria when they are in fact relative to the
school standards.
100%
90%
80%
70%
60%
50%
40%
30%
20%
10%
0%
HS total attends school w AP enrolled in AP took AP exam passing score
Fig. 17.1 Within-group student shutoff along the Advanced Placement curriculum pipeline.
Source: Civil Rights Data Collection, pooled school years of 2011–12 and 2013–14
Access. Although four-in-five high school students attend schools that offer some
AP curriculum, three times fewer American Indian students attend these schools.
Every other group of students appears to have wide access to AP curriculum in their
schools.4
Treatment. Figure 17.1 also shows that enrollment in AP courses is selective—
only about 1 in 20 students are enrolled in at least one AP course. Between access
and treatment, the lines representing white, non-Hispanic, and Asian American stu-
dents drop less than the others which indicates that these student subgroups are
experiencing higher college prep course enrollments compared to their peers.
Quality. Unequal chances to take an AP exam are more extreme for Asian
American students than others.
Credential. In the final stage of the pipeline, Hispanic, African American, and
Asian American students experience a greater proportion of failing scores on their
AP exams compared to their peers who made it through the pipeline with them.
Asian American students, on the whole, leave the pipeline with more credentials.
By the end of this four-part compounding opportunities to learn, Asian American
students earn the college prep credential of a passing score at a rate more than two
times greater than their white, non-Hispanic, and multi-racial peers; three times
greater than their Hispanic, Hawaiian, and Pacific Islander peers; and nearly five
times greater than their African American and American Indian peers who reach the
end of the AP pipeline.
Although Asian American students persist at the highest rate in the pipeline
among their own identity groups, it is simultaneously the fact that Asian American
students only consist of 5 percent of the school-age population (Musu-Gillette et al.,
17 Large-Scale Datasets and Social Justice: Measuring Inequality in Opportunities… 211
Table 17.1 HHI scores along the Advanced Placement curriculum pipeline
Average Percent of Percent of Percent of Percent of
school schools with schools with schools with schools with
HHI HHI = 0 0 < HHI < 0.25 0.25 ≤ HHI < 1 HHI ≥ 1
Access HHI 0.009 36.9 62.3 0.7 0.1
Treatment 0.395 0.6 61.6 26.6 11.2
HHI
Some AP 0.245 33.4 52.8 3.9 9.9
exam HHI
Passing score 1.268 43.7 27.6 9.6 19.1
HHI
No AP 0.240 40.4 38.2 14.2 7.2
exam HHI
Failing score 0.163 60.6 21.0 11.7 6.7
HHI
Source: Civil Rights Data Collection, pooled school years of 2011–12 and 2013–14
2016). In the same line of thought, it would be helpful to be able to dig more deeply
into the between-group differences. This points to the need for a discussion on mar-
ket share: where is the inequality in the market along the AP pipeline? What can
market share indices like the HHI demonstrate regarding whether certain groups
monopolize the AP resources in high schools?
Table 17.1 shows the HHI scores for the schools along the different spaces in the
pipeline. Of initial note is the result that more than one in three high schools in the
US do not have disparities in three of the four spaces along the pipeline (HHI = 0).
Enrollment is the one place in the pipeline where disparities accumulate.
In particular, inequality in access exists, but it is the least monopolized of all the
spaces since more than 99 percent of schools have HHI scores less than 1. Enrollment
in AP courses has a moderately high rate of monopoly within schools, alluding to
the idea that some groups of students “own the AP market” in their schools. Unequal
AP exam test-taking is moderate for most schools, but 10 percent of schools show
extremely high monopolies over the market (HHI > 1) of who takes AP exams.
Inequality scores in regard to obtaining the passing score of 3, 4, or 5 shows that
43.7 percent of schools have no inequality by racial or ethnic identity subgroups, but
the flip side is that 19.1 percent of schools show extremely high disparities in market
concentrations on passing exam scores.
As a check on the data and the assumptions of who is excluded from the moving
denominator, calculations were also made regarding disparities in who does not take
the exam or who fails the exam, as is shown below the horizontal line in Table 17.1.
With these measures of inequality on full exclusion from opportunity, the results
show that there is less chance of subgroup monopolies over these “lack of opportu-
nity” markets (HHI = 0 for 40 percent and 60 percent of students who do not have
the opportunity to take an AP exam or earn a passing score, respectively).
212 H. E. Price
Interpreting Evidence
The HHI information, together with Fig. 17.1 information, provides a more com-
plete picture of the inequality issues in high school AP curriculum. The AP treat-
ment HHI points to the continuation of decades of within-school tracking issues
where a group of students “own the AP market” in their schools. Whether this hap-
pens as a result of school policies on closed-track systems or de facto tracking can-
not be determined with these data, but these results do point to questions for further
study. The notable proportions of schools with no inequality along the pipeline
point to schools that seem to be achieving some equal opportunities in curricula
resources for their students, regardless of racial or ethnic identity.5
This example shows how to use large-scale data to understand how historically
marginalized students are shut out of the pipeline at rates higher than advantaged
students. There are distinct racial and ethnic patterns regarding the timing of when
students get shut out of the pipeline. These findings complement studies on within-
school tracking inequality by moving the discussion forward to understand the nested
spaces of opportunity along the curricular pipeline. This study can adjust the policy
light on the new twenty-first-century racial inequality emerging in education.
Conclusions
Large-scale datasets allow for persistent patterns of inequality and inequity to be dem-
onstrated. Whether over time or between subgroups, disparities in educational oppor-
tunities are hard to disregard when the evidence is clear and consistent. To achieve this
level of rigor, education research must clearly define terms related to learning oppor-
tunities and injustice. Although the use of equality and equity terms is often conflated,
the ideas are importantly distinct. Equality—as in the Equality of Educational
Opportunity (Coleman et al., 1966)—involves the notion of the absence (compared to
the presence) of resources between student groups. That is, if people are in a place
where they can get at the same pieces of curricula, and still have unequal outcomes,
that’s a way of thinking of inequity that goes beyond equality of access.
Large-scale datasets, especially census data collections, allow for small numbers
of voices to be heard among the many. It is with these voices that researchers can
begin to listen to the social injustices that undertow our society and begin to enact
change in educational policy.
Suggested Readings
This article reviews the literature on the “meaning, goals, and assumptions of the
concepts ‘equity’ and ‘equality’, and their implications for social and public policy”
(p. 343). It then develops an equality-equity model and provides some ideas about
“how ‘equity’ (i.e. ‘equity for equal needs’, ‘equity for equal potential’ and ‘equity
for equal achievement’) and ‘equality’ (i.e. ‘equality of opportunity’, ‘equality for
all’ and ‘equality on average across social groups’) could be treated and measured
in future research in relation to different features of the educational process (avail-
ability of resources, access, survival, output and outcome)” (p. 343).
Orfield, G., & Eaton, S. E. (1996). Dismantling desegregation. The quiet reversal of
Brown v. Board of Education. New York, NY: The New Press.
This book speaks to the steady resegregation of American schools. The issue of
equality and equity are discussed through the lens of legal rulings on school segre-
gation and integration. It discusses the impact of community on equal access due to
residential segregation, white flight, and gentrification. Lastly, the impact of school
choice and education politics on the framing of equality and equity in the public
sphere is considered.
Secada, W. G. (Ed.). (1989). Equity and education. New York, NY: Falmer.
This book takes a critical stance on the formulation of the terms of equality and
equity. It reviews how the terms have been redefined not by educators, but by politi-
cians. It provides alternative ways to think of the terms and imagines the impact that
the different conceptual definitions might have on students, schooling, and educa-
tional outcomes.
Reardon, S. F., & Firebaugh, G. (2002). Measures of multigroup segregation.
Sociological Methodology, 32(1), 33–67.
Using the example of segregation, this article shows the formulaic differences in
measures of inequality. It demonstrates how the metrics produced from different
measures can alter the findings of inequality and thus change the implications from
the research. It emphasizes the importance of clear concepts in research when
choosing a measure to represent inequality. Although technical, the article can be
used as a reference guide for choosing measures of inequality.
Notes
1. There are inherent social justice issues related to the forced categorization of persons into a
handful of racial or ethnic categories. This discussion holds much merit but is beyond the scope
of this chapter. For a good discussion, see Zuberi and Bonilla-Silva (2008).
2. The Civil Rights Data Collection (CRDC) reports at the school-level regarding each school’s
student body population. Students who identify with more than one racial or ethnic heritage are
recorded at the school-level as “multi-racial/ethnic” students. Thus, any counts reported for a
racial or ethnic group other than “multi-racial/ethnic” are restricted to students who self-declare
heritage to a single racial or ethnic identity.
214 H. E. Price
3. This chapter uses the term “American Indian” whenever the reference is a National Center for
Education Statistics (NCES) database since that is the descriptor used in those databases.
4. Since these are census data, there is no need for statistical tests of significance because there is
no sampling error or confidence interval to estimate (Knoke et al., 2002).
5. It is not the case that these schools are simply homogenous schools with only one racial or
ethnic student body population (for an in-depth analysis, see Price, forthcoming).
References
Blad, E. (2017, March 8). How many transgender children are there? Education Week. Retrieved
from https://www.edweek.org/ew/articles/2017/03/08/how-many-transgender-children-are-
there.html
Bonilla-Silva, E. (2001). White supremacy and racism in the post-civil rights era. Boulder, CO:
Lynne Rienner Publishers.
Cisneros, J., Gomez, L. M., Corley, K. M., & Powers, J. M. (2014). The Advanced Placement
opportunity gap in Arizona: Access, participation, and success. AASA Journal of Scholarship
and Practice, 11(2), 20–28.
Coleman, J. S. (1990). Equality and achievement in education. Boulder, CO: Westview Press.
Coleman, J. S., Campbell, E. Q., Hobson, C. J., McPartland, J., Mood, A. M., Weinfeld, F. D., et al.
(1966). Equality of educational opportunity. Washington, DC: National Center for Educational
Statistics.
Espinoza, O. (2007). Solving the equity–equality conceptual dilemma: A new model for
analysis of the educational process. Educational Research, 49(4), 343–363. https://doi.
org/10.1080/00131880701717198
Fisher, C. S., Hout, M., Sanchez Jankowski, M., Lucas, S. R., Swidler, A., & Voss, K. (1996).
Inequality by design: Cracking the bell curve myth. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Gagnon, D. J., & Mattingly, M. J. (2016). Advanced placement and rural schools. Journal of
Advanced Academics, 27(4), 266–284. https://doi.org/10.1177/1932202x16656390
Gamoran, A. (1987). The stratification of high school learning opportunities. Sociology of
Education, 60(3), 135–155. https://doi.org/10.2307/2112271
Gamoran, A., & Mare, R. D. (1989). Secondary school tracking and educational inequality:
Compensation, reinforcement, or neutrality? The American Journal of Sociology, 94(5), 1146.
https://doi.org/10.1086/229114
Gummer, E., Hamilton, L. S., Miller, S. R., Penuel, W. R., & Shepard, L. A. (2018, April). Data-
driven decision making: Does it lack a theory of learning to inform research and practice?
Fireside Chat panel discussion presented at the annual meeting of the American Educational
Research Association, New York, NY.
Hallinan, M. T. (1991). School differences in tracking structures and track assignments. Journal of
Research on Adolescence, 1(3), 251–275. https://doi.org/10.1207/s15327795jra0103_4
Herrnstein, R. J., & Murray, C. (1994). The bell curve: Intelligence and class structure in American
life. New York, NY: Free Press.
Honig, M. I., & Coburn, C. (2008). Evidence-based decision making in school district central
offices: Toward a policy and research agenda. Educational Policy, 22(4), 578–608. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0895904807307067
Jencks, C., & Phillips, M. (Eds.). (1998). The Black-White test score gap. Washington, DC:
Brookings Institute Press.
Kelly, S. (2004). Do increased levels of parental involvement account for social class differ-
ences in track placement? Social Science Research, 33(4), 626–659. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.
ssresearch.2003.11.002
17 Large-Scale Datasets and Social Justice: Measuring Inequality in Opportunities… 215
Kelly, S., & Price, H. (2011). The correlates of tracking policy: Opportunity hoarding, status
competition, or a technical-functional explanation? American Educational Research Journal,
48(3), 560–585. https://doi.org/10.3102/0002831210395927
Klugman, J. (2012). How resource inequalities among high schools reproduce class advantages in
college destinations. Research in Higher Education, 53(8), 803–830. https://doi.org/10.1007/
s11162-012-9261-8
Knoke, D., Bohrnstedt, G. W., & Potter Mee, A. (2002). Statistics for social data analysis (Vol. 4).
Itasca, IL: Wadsworth/Thomson Learning.
Lareau, A. (2000). Home advantage: Social class and parental intervention in elementary educa-
tion. New York: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers.
Lucas, S. R., & Berends, M. (2002). Sociodemographic diversity, correlated achievement, and de
facto tracking. Sociology of Education, 75, 328–348.
Musu-Gillette, L., Robinson, J., McFarland, J., KewalRamani, A., Zhang, A., & Wilkinson-Flicker,
S. (2016). Status and trends in the education of racial and ethnic groups 2016 (NCES 2016-
007). Washington, DC: National Center for Education Statistics.
Oakes, J. (2005). Keeping track. New Haven: Yale University Press.
Orfield, G., & Eaton, S. E. (1996). Dismantling desegregation. The quiet reversal of Brown v.
Board of Education. New York, NY: The New Press.
Orfield, G., & Lee, C. (2006). Racial transformation and the changing nature of segregation. Civil
Rights Project at Harvard University. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Palmer, J. (2016). Parts of state high-level math, science ‘deserts’. Oklahoma Watch. Retrieved
from http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsnbk&AN=161928E0FA05B
2E0&site=eds-live
Reardon, S. F., & Firebaugh, G. (2002). Measures of multigroup segregation. Sociological
Methodology, 32(1), 33–67. https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-9531.00110
Rosenbaum, J. E. (1976). Making inequality: The hidden curriculum of high school tracking.
New York, NY: Wiley & Sons.
Secada, W. G. (1989). Educational equity versus equality of education: An alternative conception.
In W. G. Secada (Ed.), Equity and education (pp. 68–88). New York, NY: Falmer.
Taagepera, R., & Lee Ray, J. (1977). A generalized index of concentration. Sociological Methods
& Research, 5(3), 367–384. https://doi.org/10.1177/004912417700500306
Zuberi, T., & Bonilla-Silva, E. (Eds.). (2008). White logic, white methods: Racism and methodol-
ogy. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers.
Chapter 18
X Marks the Spot: Engaging Campus
Maps to Explore Sense of Belonging
Experiences of Student Activists
Abstract Campus maps are common features on college campuses. While these
maps tend to illustrate places and spaces, they also hold stories and experiences that
may alienate students. In this chapter, the authors share how pairing campus maps
with a semi-structured interview protocol can yield new insights into campus life.
The chapter begins with a discussion on campus maps and how they’ve been used
to foster exclusion in history. We then provide the readership with insight into our
planning process and how we approach the mapping exercise. We conclude with
lessons learned and considerations for conducting this type of research.
Maps are parts of our daily lives. People use applications, such as Google Maps, for
directions to move from one place to another. Fictional stories about pirates and
explorers have often depicted the “X” on a map as the location where treasure can be
found. These tales often regard the map as a key for unlocking the secret location.
What these stories usually fail to depict is how maps have also been used as exclusion-
ary tools. Countries often fight over how maps depict boundaries across contested
spaces. In recent years, US citizens and policymakers have used maps to demonstrate
redlining and gerrymandering behaviors that tend to privilege wealthier individuals.
In short, maps are consequential tools that also symbolize meaning to others.
C. Rosati
Rice University, Houston, TX, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
D. J. Nguyen (*)
Ohio University, Athens, OH, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
R. M. Troyer
Denison University, Granville, OH, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
In this chapter, we discuss a research application using campus maps for deter-
mining places and spaces where student activists perceive belongingness on cam-
pus. Researchers using spatial analytical techniques have found inequitable
outcomes for individuals depending on where they are located in relation to post-
secondary educational institutions (Dache-Gerbino, 2018; Dache-Gerbino &
White, 2016; Canché, 2018; Hillman, 2016, 2017). The role of place and space
provides an interesting challenge, given that these places are often steeped in a
historical lineage that supports the white supremacist tendencies of early founders
of colleges and universities. Previous studies have documented that many spaces on
campus are not particularly affirming for students holding marginalized and minori-
tized identities (Strayhorn, 2012; Vaccaro & Newman, 2016). In short, the geogra-
phy of a campus can shape the educational outcomes and belongingness for many
students (Hillman, 2017).
While methods of visual researchers have been increasing in popularity across a
range of academic disciplines, higher education researchers have not frequently
adopted these methods. Visual methods can “offer a different glimpse into human
sense-making than written or spoken texts do because they can express that which is
not easily put into words: the ineffable, the elusive, the not-yet-thought-through, the
subconscious” (Weber & Mitchell, 1995, p. 34). Visual research methods can “chal-
lenge spoken or written texts by offering uniquely rich vantage points” or nuance
existing understandings of a particular phenomenon (Nguyen, 2018, p. 44). For exam-
ple, Nguyen (2018) utilized participant-generated photos to understand better how
college students conceptualized the term “success.” Participant renderings departed
significantly from the institutionally normative ways (e.g., graduation, retention) in
which higher education administrators and policymakers have conceptualized this
term (Kuh, Kinzie, Schuh, & Whitt, 2010; Lumina Foundation, 2012). Indeed, visual
methods paired with traditional qualitative methods can yield new insights.
In this chapter, we discuss how pairing a visual tool—campus maps—with tradi-
tional qualitative (e.g., interview) methods can offer a more robust understanding of
how student activists experience belongingness and support on campus. This chap-
ter combines multiple modes of data together to enhance practitioners’ and schol-
ars’ understandings of the collegiate landscape through studying location. We
discuss the methodological approach and considerations for using this particular
tool. The chapter concludes with a discussion of lessons learned and future direc-
tions for researchers.
Maps are tools that have been used for centuries. These tools are designed to rep-
resent or depict a particular space. Some maps show land contours and features,
while others provide information about national and international boundaries.
People use maps as a form of navigation over short or long distances, and maps can
often be interpreted without knowing a specific language. They visually represent
18 X Marks the Spot: Engaging Campus Maps to Explore Sense of Belonging… 219
space for people. For example, population density maps illustrate how many peo-
ple live in a particular area by the font size of the location.
Campus maps are common features on many college campuses. Students use these
maps to navigate their way to classroom buildings or to locate the closest dining hall.
These maps may be internalized and become an integral part of a student’s daily life.
In addition to the administratively created map, there is a “hidden curriculum” map
that represents an unofficial understanding of campus life. The hidden curriculum
map relies on students’ perceptions to draw and renegotiate its boundaries. The
student-perceived maps are riddled with lore and anecdote about campus life. For
example, Beverly Tatum’s (1992) Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the
Cafeteria explains why some Black students perceived the cafeteria as a space for
comfort and belongingness. Studies with sexually minoritized students found stu-
dents tended to gravitate toward LGBTQ+ centers for a sense of community that they
did not receive in academic spaces or residence halls (Fine, 2012). These types of
studies begin to illustrate that while institutions frequently spend significant dollars in
creating spaces on campus for students, they are not always the most welcoming.
Sense of belonging plays a prominent role in places where a person perceives
belongingness. Belongingness fulfills a basic “human need” (Maslow, 1962) that is
a foundational building block needed for advanced consideration and development.
Within higher education research, sense of belonging emerged as a critique of
Tinto’s (1993) scholarship on academic and social integration. Initially, Tinto
argued that being immersed socially (with peers and campus) and academically
(with faculty) led to better student outcomes (e.g., persistence, retention).
Several scholars have offered different perspectives on sense of belonging
(Hurtado & Carter, 1997; Samura, 2016; Strayhorn, 2012). Within this particular
study, we draw from Strayhorn’s (2012) conceptualization of sense of belonging,
which describes sense of belonging for students as
perceived social support on campus, a feeling or sensation of connectedness, the experience
of mattering or feeling cared about, accepted, respected, valued by, and important to the
group (e.g., campus community) or others on campus (e.g., faculty, peers). (p. 3)
Sense of belonging has been studied with different majoritized and minoritized
groups (Means & Pyne, 2017; Samura, 2016; Strayhorn, 2012; Vaccaro & Newman,
2016). These studies have shown that having a sense of belonging positively con-
tributed to academic performance in the classroom. The studies have also high-
lighted the role of having space and place on campus as a way of promoting sense
of belonging for minoritized groups.
In reviewing the literature, we identified one study similarly exploring percep-
tions of a facet of campus life using campus maps. Hites et al. (2013) used a heat-
mapping exercise to explore perceptions of campus safety. Heat maps show the
density of responses. Instead of focusing on a particular point, or place, heat maps
capture the frequency through which people indicate a certain location on a map.
The density is often visually represented using a choropleth approach, which shades
a location more and more deeply as the frequency (or density of responses) tends to
increase. The more times a location is selected, the richer the color will become. For
researchers, these density spots become important sites of understanding as they
220 C. Rosati et al.
Example
Context
The specific technique we used with our campus maps was called heat-mapping
where we considered the density of responses. Earlier, we have established how
other researchers have used heat-mapping and how this visual method can be espe-
cially useful in critically considering belonging, equity, and inclusion on college
campuses. The following contains more detailed steps to create a heat-mapping
technique of your own that is tailored to what you want to learn about your campus
and specific student populations. These steps are suggested and are malleable in
18 X Marks the Spot: Engaging Campus Maps to Explore Sense of Belonging… 221
nature to best fit your research questions and the student population you are study-
ing. Examples of the study described earlier are integrated into the following steps
to help situate the data collection procedures.
Study conceptualization. The first step in this process required the researchers to
establish the study’s aims. This process required that we consider what previous
researchers have done to study the experiences of student activists and their rela-
tionships with this specific campus. In our example, we cataloged our annotated
bibliography of the study in a spreadsheet that allowed us to look more closely at the
topic and the research approach others have taken. What we noticed during our
systematic investigation was that researchers had relied primarily on interviews to
interpret the experiences of student activists. As a research team, we also talked
about experiences common to students at this institution. This discussion led us to
consider how place and space matter to students. Our team agreed that we should
explore how activists perceive spaces across campus, which led us to pair campus
maps in our qualitative interview protocol.
Develop an interview protocol. The interview protocol was developed, discussed,
and agreed upon by the researchers. To generate the initial draft of the interview
protocol, we returned to scholarly literatures on student activists, belongingness,
and space. The most time was dedicated to developing interview questions that
mapped to the study’s framing. These questions were developed based on a review
of the extant literature about student activism and sense of belonging. After con-
structing the interview questions, we considered different ways to understand better
how space influenced the sense of belonging for student activists. Much of our dis-
cussion focused on how we could visually depict and understand how place affects
belongingness. We thought about common ways people think about college cam-
puses, so we decided to use campus maps as a way of exploring student activists’
experiences. As we considered the flow of the interview protocol, we had to con-
sider where might we integrate the campus mapping exercise as a way of adding
value and not detracting from the information collected.
Develop the map. Cartography was incorporated into the interview process as a
multimethod tool that can be used to triangulate data on students’ feelings of belong-
ingness. Early in the interview protocol, the researchers asked activists about places
where they organized on campus and why those spaces were selected. This part of
the protocol was intended to establish what made some spaces comfortable and fit-
ting in.
Near the end of the interview protocol, our procedures about heat-mapping
occurred. To do this, we researched the maps different offices provided on campus
and selected the map with the most detail and up-to-date buildings. It is a point of
consideration as to whether you will include off-campus spaces that tend to be fre-
quented by students at the university. Once we had the current map of the campus,
we utilized Qualtrics, an online survey software, to import the campus map image.
Within Qualtrics, the map was able to be sectioned by buildings and different
regions on campus. We separated the map into 80 different sections so that we could
take a sharper focus on specific areas of campus. After importing the map, we cross-
referenced our survey content with the map that was presented on the campus web-
222 C. Rosati et al.
site to ensure validity and reliability. This online tool is optional and was chosen for
its ability to quickly interpret data. Alternatively, physical printed versions of cam-
pus maps can be used with colored markers for each designated question. This ver-
sion of the map may make it easier for participants to understand the map and could
be more interactive. Our suggested approach is a combination of these two ideas,
which is described in the research design considerations later.
Since our process involved an interview protocol to complement the map, we
asked participants to describe up to five locations on the map where they felt sup-
ported and did not feel supported. As participants described locations on the campus
maps, interviewers followed up with in-depth questioning and examples as to why
they observed such a perception.
Test the tool. An important consideration for using an online tool, such as
Qualtrics, is ensuring the data are captured properly. For example, every researcher
tested each section of the map to verify that each of the 80 sections were coded cor-
rectly and operated as effectively as designed. The goal of this step was to conduct
an internal launch that would effectively function as a stress test. This stress test was
utilized to identify any future limitations or bugs that might be able to be caught
early in the map importation process.
Following the first round of testing, there were some locations that needed to be
recoded. Once the locations on the map were recoded there was a test done with a
group of student activists that met the study’s criteria, but were excluded so that we
could ensure the accuracy of the tools. Each member of the organization tried using
the heat map while responding to the interview prompts. These test participants
offered us a chance to conduct cognitive interviews with people similar to our par-
ticipant pool. We used this opportunity as a way to understand the nuances student
activists felt when it came to discussing supportiveness and belongingness on cam-
pus. When we initially developed the interview protocol, the questions using the
map were too general and did not elicit detail. What the cognitive interviews allowed
us to do was to develop a set of follow-up questions in the event that participants
responded to the interview questions without providing subsequent details. We used
this experience as an opportunity to revise our interview protocol.
An early segment of the interview protocol focused on interactions with campus
administrators. Representative questions included “How do you feel administrators
at [INSTITUTION] view activism? What are some challenges and successes you
(or your student organization) face in regards to activism on campus?”
Nearing the end of the interview, we asked activists the following set of ques-
tions: “I’m going to give you a map of campus (via Qualtrics). (1) Could you please
mark spaces in orange (if any) that you feel safe, welcome, and supported? (2)
Could you please mark spaces in blue (if any) that you feel unsafe, unwelcome, or
perhaps unsupported? (3) Can you tell us a little about why you feel this way about
this particular spaces?” As participants marked the locations, an interviewer was on
hand to answer any specific questions that the participant had or if they would like
one of us to repeat a question. While interviewers were physically present during
this exercise, we did not intervene in any way. We wanted participants to respond
openly and honestly.
18 X Marks the Spot: Engaging Campus Maps to Explore Sense of Belonging… 223
c enter. The student center at this university includes offices for diversity and inclu-
sion, administrative student affairs personnel, a student-run coffeehouse, central-
ized advising, campus involvement, and rooms available for reservation. All students
in our study discussed the student center as a place that they consider both support-
ive and unsupportive. For this reason, it was absolutely imperative that this map
distribution was paired with open-ended questions about their choices. This allowed
students the space to explain why they felt this seemingly contradictory way about
this building on campus. Without the verbal explanation of feeling supported in the
diversity centers, but unsupported in the administrative offices, the map data would
have appeared inconsistent and ambiguous. We recommend this open-ended
approach to future researchers. We would also consider looking at singular build-
ings on a campus—such as a student center—to better understand students’ com-
plex interactions with their campus environment.
Another modification to the barrier of multipart roles of campus buildings could
include walking through the physical spaces with students. Not only would this help
the student and researcher better understand the spaces where students have signifi-
cant emotional responses, but it could also lead to deeper conversation surrounding
the physical spaces. We believe that this approach would allow the interview loca-
tion to be in a space where students felt supported. In turn, this could prompt more
raw, personal stories of their history with the space. It may allow researchers, who
may not be familiar with every building on campus, to see the organization of a
space and ask questions about the functionality of it. If there are comfortable chairs,
researchers could inquire if students often go there between classes. If it is a small
space without room to sit, the researcher might consider asking if it is the people in
the office who cultivate feelings of mattering and belongingness. While heat-
mapping allows for the simplification of data to understand complex physical spaces
across a number of participants, we know that encouraging the power of personal
narrative in these open-ended interviews can lead to deeper understandings, find-
ings, and implications for working with students.
Finally, it may be helpful to consider theories of geography and identity when
interpreting datasets. An example from our data collection included maps explain-
ing feelings of marginalization in walkways on campus, which are paired with sto-
ries regarding poorly lit spaces near the residence halls, fear of sexual assault, and
cat-calling. While these walkways are seemingly gender-neutral, used to move
passerby from location to location, and impossible to avoid unless you avoid public
spaces altogether, the walkways take on gendered components. Women who share
stories of restricting their behavior, such as walking only in the daytime with a
group of friends, are alluding to normalized practices of public spaces being inher-
ently coded as masculine. In this case, it may be helpful to researchers to unpack
theories of geography of gender in relation to college campuses.
18 X Marks the Spot: Engaging Campus Maps to Explore Sense of Belonging… 225
Conclusion
In this chapter, we have argued for researchers to consider using visual tools, such
as campus maps, to better understand the interconnectedness between sense of
belonging and place. Traditional qualitative methods and visual methods elucidate
important insights; however, these methods alone are insufficient for providing a
robust portrait of campus life. Together, multimodal approaches can begin to address
and shift conversations about inequities on campus.
References
Canché, M. S. G. (2018). Geographical network analysis and spatial econometrics as tools to
enhance our understanding of student migration patterns and benefits in the US higher educa-
tion network. The Review of Higher Education, 41(2), 169–216.
Dache-Gerbino, A. (2018). College desert and oasis: A critical geographic analysis of local col-
lege access. Journal of Diversity in Higher Education, 11(2), 97–116. https://doi.org/10.1037/
dhe000005
Dache-Gerbino, A., & White, J. A. (2016). College students or criminals? A postcolonial geo-
graphic analysis of the social field of whiteness at an urban community college branch
campus and suburban main campus. Community College Review, 44(1), 49–69. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0091552115616677
Fine, L. E. (2012). The context of creating space: Assessing the likelihood of college LGBT center
presence. Journal of College Student Development, 53(2), 285–299.
Hillman, N. (2016). Geography of college opportunity: The case of education deserts. American
Educational Research Journal, 53(4), 987–1021. https://doi.org/10.3102/0002831216653204
Hillman, N. (2017). Geospatial analysis in higher education research. In M. B. Paulsen (Ed.),
Higher education: Handbook of theory and research (pp. 529–576). New York, NY: Springer.
Hites, L. S., Fifolt, M., Beck, H., Su, W., Kerbawy, S., Wakelee, J., et al. (2013). A geospatial
mixed methods approach to assessing campus safety. Evaluation Review, 37(5), 347–369.
Hurtado, S., & Carter, D. F. (1997). Effects of college transition and perceptions of the campus
racial climate on Latino college students’ sense of belonging. Sociology of Education, 70(4),
324–345.
Kuh, G. D., Kinzie, J., Schuh, J. H., & Whitt, E. J. (2010). Student success in college: Creating
conditions that matter. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.
Lumina Foundation. (2012). Special report: A stronger nation through higher education.
Indianapolis, IN: Author. Retrieved from http://www.luminafoundation.org/publications/A_
Stronger_Nation-2012.pdf
Maslow, A. H. (1962). Towards a psychology of being. Princeton, NJ: D. Van Nostrand Company.
Means, D. R., & Pyne, K. B. (2017). Finding my way: Perceptions of institutional support and
belonging in low-income, first-generation, first-year college students. Journal of College
Student Development, 58(6), 907–924.
Nguyen, D. J. (2018). Using visual research methods to unlock new understandings of student suc-
cess. In B. Kelly & C. Kortegast (Eds.), Engaging images for research, pedagogy, and practice:
Utilizing visual methods to understand and promote college student development. Sterling, VA:
Stylus Publishing.
Samura, M. (2016). Remaking selves, repositioning selves, or remaking space: An examination
of Asian American college students’ processes of “belonging”. Journal of College Student
Development, 57(2), 135–150.
Strayhorn, T. L. (2012). College students’ sense of belonging: A key to educational success for all
students. New York, NY: Routledge.
Tatum, B. D. (1992/2017). Why are all the Black kids sitting together in the cafeteria?: And other
conversations about race. New York, NY: Basic Books.
Tinto, V. (1993). Leaving college: Rethinking the causes and curses of student learning. Chicago,
IL: University of Chicago Press.
Vaccaro, A., & Newman, B. M. (2016). Development of a sense of belonging for privileged and
minoritized students: An emergent model. Journal of College Student Development, 57(8),
925–942. https://doi.org/10.1353/csd.2016.0091
Weber, S., & Mitchell, C. (1995). “That’s funny, you don’t look like a teacher!” Interrogating
images and identity in popular culture. New York, NY: Routledge.
Chapter 19
Propensity Score Methodology in the Study
of Student Classification: The Case
of Racial/Ethnic Disproportionality in Mild
Disability Identification and Labeling
Argun Saatcioglu and Thomas M. Skrtic
Schools are a paradoxical institution in the United States. On the one hand, they are
viewed as the “great equalizer,” promoting equity, making them an instrument of
welfare policy. On the other hand, schools often distribute opportunity unequally, as
advantaged groups benefit from a greater share of educational funds, high-quality
teachers and instructional settings, and desirable curricular and extracurricular
options (Hochschild & Skovronick, 2003). Schools’ contradictory institutional ten-
dencies are a source of enduring debate on virtues and outcomes of educational
policy and practice. A central issue is the categorization of students.
Schools categorize students by ability, behavior, and interest. This is partly
driven by educators’ quest to respond to different student needs and motivations, but
it is also influenced by power and privilege. Advantaged groups not only demand
differentiated services but also strive to dominate more prestigious and lucrative
Di = α + β Ri + ε i , (19.1a)
Di = λ + γ Ri + ΦCi + υi , (19.1b)
where D is a disability indicator for student i, R is an indicator for racial/ethnic
background, and C is a vector of class measures and related covariates (e.g., socio-
economic status [SES], household characteristics, school and district features, aca-
demic achievement, family structure). The test of racial/ethnic bias involves a
comparison of associated coefficients in Eqs. (19.1a) and (19.1b), namely β and γ.
Broadly, if γ is considerably smaller than β (and non-significant), this is interpreted
as evidence that class effects (Φ) are primary drivers of mild disability categoriza-
tion, which is consistent with the view that schools respond to class-related devel-
opmental disadvantages of students of color by identifying and labeling them for
mild disability services. Conversely, if γ does not lose considerable size relative to
β and maintains significance, it is seen as evidence that race/ethnicity affects catego-
rization above and beyond class, which is interpreted as an indication that mild
disability categorization is racially/ethnically biased. Findings based on this
approach have been persistently mixed. Some studies report race effects smaller
than class effects (e.g., Hosp & Reschly, 2004; Yeargin-Allssopp, Drews, Decouflé,
& Murphy, 1995), while others show the opposite (e.g., Skiba, Poloni-Staudinger,
Gallini, Simmons, & Feggins-Azziz, 2006; Sullivan & Artiles, 2011). Findings are
more uncertain when disproportionality in specific categories are considered, as the
230 A. Saatcioglu and T. M. Skrtic
effects of race/ethnicity and class on the risk of ID, LD, and ED vary considerably
(e.g., Shifrer, Muller, & Callahan, 2010; Oswald, Coutinho, Best, & Nguyen, 2001).
Mixed findings are partly associated with the use of different datasets, but a more
basic problem is the functional form of conventional regression itself.
In casting race/ethnicity and social class as empirically competing predictors,
conventional regression models can fail to effectively account for the conflation of
these two factors. Race/ethnicity and social class are conflated in the United States
because, as a racialized society, its economic, political, and social hierarchies are
structured in part by assigning actors to racial categories (Bonilla-Silva, 1997). The
evolving racial structure of society functions as a system for allocating social privi-
lege, socioeconomic advantage, and political power (Marable, 2015). Given this
conflation, it is possible for a student of color to grow up in low-income conditions
and thus be subject to higher risk of developmental problems, and, at the same time,
also attend a school where the mild disability identification and labeling process are
racially biased. In other words, a larger social class effect than the race/ethnicity
effect on the risk of mild disability does not necessarily indicate the schools are
unbiased. In fact, class disadvantage combined with educational discrimination is a
highly plausible condition for students of color, as these groups can face adversity
in multiple institutional spheres.
One way to account for conflation is to introduce interaction terms between
race/ethnicity and social class measures. For instance, being Black may have a dif-
ferent effect at high and low levels of SES. However, specifying interaction terms
presumes a priori assumptions about how many interactions to introduce and the
particular form of the interactions (e.g., two-, three-, or four-way interactions). The
question of non-linear interactions is also contingent on a priori assumptions (e.g.,
the interactive effect of SES and race may be different at different levels of SES).
Optimal model specification can be elusive, given the range of assumptions involved
and potentially limited theoretical bases to justify each interaction. Omission biases
further complicate problems in accounting for conflation. These issues are impor-
tant reasons why existing research on racial/ethnic disproportionality in mild dis-
ability categories offers mixed evidence.
The PS method is widely used for estimating the average treatment effect under
conditions of non-random assignment to a treatment condition. Non-random assign-
ment violates experimental principles in evaluating outcomes. Such violations are
ideally resolved by means of randomized controlled trials, which can be costly and
impracticable. For instance, it is often implausible to randomly assign students,
educators, or schools to a treatment condition. The PS method approximates an
experimental design using observational data. It involves multiple steps. First,
assignment to a treatment is predicted as a function of observable covariates (e.g.,
personal and institutional traits). Predicted values (PSs) from this selection function
19 Propensity Score Methodology in the Study of Student Classification: The Case… 231
are then typically used to match individuals in the treatment condition to those in the
control condition with similar propensity to be in the treatment condition; unmatched
cases are omitted. This is the propensity score matching (PSM) procedure (for
details, see Luellen, Shadish, & Clark, 2005; Caliendo & Kopeinig, 2008; Lane, To,
Henson, & Shelley, 2012; Guo & Fraser, 2014). When predictors in the selection
function in step 1 (where PSs are estimated) are thoroughly specified, PSM creates
treatment and control groups with similar means on predictors in the selection func-
tion, groups that can be compared for the treatment effect. An alternative to PSM is
to use PSs as the basis to weight all observations in a way that homogenizes the
weighted means of treatment and control groups on predictors in the selection func-
tion. This is referred to as propensity score reweighting (PSR) (DiNardo, 2002). In
step 2, the outcome of interest is regressed on group membership. In the PSM con-
text, only the matched observations are used. In the PSR alternative, all observations
are used, but estimates are based on weights that homogenize group means for pre-
dictors in the selection function. PSR can be useful for overcoming small sample
size and cell size problems since, unlike in PSM, no observations are omitted.
The PS method is superior to conventional regression in examining dispropor-
tionality because it effectively deconflates the effect of class in examining the role
of race/ethnicity in mild disability categorization. This is accomplished by substitut-
ing (empirically) race/ethnicity (e.g., student of color status) as a treatment condi-
tion (the dependent measure) in step 1, where a rich array of class measures and
other related covariates are used as predictors. Such a model produces PSs to be a
student of color, which can be used to specify treatment (student of color) and
control (White) groups with equal means for social class measures and related
covariates (PSM); or, to specify weights that homogenize these means across the
two groups (PSR). This is more effective than conventional regression models
because it reduces the need for specifying class and race/ethnicity as empirically
competing factors in the same model predicting disability categorization, a model
that can require complex interaction terms and non-linear predictors which may
need to be theoretically justified. Thus, the PS method removes the need for a
restricted functional form in controlling for class effects. It is particularly effective
when the analysis incorporates a rich array of class measures and related covariates
in producing PSs.
Moreover, PS method offers a more robust basis to make inferences about bias.
Such inferences ideally require an experimental design where educators are asked
to make identification and labeling decisions on White students and students of
color who are equal in terms of all traits except for racial/ethnic identity. If such
students are subject to different decisions, this would suggest bias. Yet such a design
is not only complex but must also overcome the issue of social desirability in deci-
sions when racial/ethnic identity of students are not hidden from educators. The PS
method approximates such an ideal design far better than conventional regression
models do. Its ability to do so (in the case of analyzing mild disability identification)
is importantly related to array of class measures and related covariates used to esti-
mate PSs. If only a few social class measures and related covariates are used in the
selection function, this would be a poor approximation of random assignment
232 A. Saatcioglu and T. M. Skrtic
(which adjusts for all possible traits). But if the selection function involves a rich set
of social class measures and related covariates, the PS method can yield results that
support better inferences about bias than those made based on conventional regres-
sion designs (for more on the importance of all specified selection functions to
estimate PSs, see DiNardo, Fortin, & Lemieux, 1996; DiNardo, 2002).
We illustrate the utility of the PS method by analyzing the federal Early Childhood
Longitudinal Study—Kindergarten Class of 1998–1999 (ECLS-K). The base year
(kindergarten) cohort includes 21,250 students. We focus on White, Black, and
Latinx students (total base year n = 18,713), since much of the literature on racial/
ethnic disproportionality in mild disability identification and labeling addresses
bias against Black and Latinx students relative to White students.1 For illustrative
purposes, we address dynamics only in kindergarten and first grade (students were
followed through eighth grade). ECLS-K is important for two reasons. First, it is
the only student-level, large, longitudinal, national dataset that consists of detailed
disability information as well as a wide array of social class measures and related
covariates. Second, it recently has been analyzed by Morgan et al. (2015) who used
a conventional regression design and found that students of color were underrepre-
sented in mild disability categories. Our analysis of the same data using the PS
method offers a critical contrast.
Information on six mild disabilities are available in ECLS-K: (1) speech and
language impairment (SLI), (2) autism (AU), (3) ID, (4) ED, (5) LD, and (6) other
health impairments (OHI, comprised largely of students diagnosed with attention
deficit hyperactivity disorder [ADHD]). We operationalize class based on
(1) ECLS-K’s SES quintile measure involving household income and parental edu-
cation level and occupation, (2) low birth weight (less than 5 lbs., which can be
common among poor children), (3) family structure (one/two-parent household),
(4) parental social capital (whether the parent talks to the child’s classmates’ parents
regularly, and whether the parent attends parent-teacher conferences), (5) a parent-
reported ordinal neighborhood safety measure (1 = not at all safe, 3 = very safe),
and (6) percentage of college-educated adults in the student’s residential census
tract (for details, see Tourangeau, Nord, Le, Sorongon, & Najarian, 2009). We also
include two class-related covariates, student behavior (externalization and self-
regulation) and achievement (standardized mathematics test score) (for more on
these, see Morgan et al., 2015). Both factors play a role in labeling. Finally, we
control for gender and state fixed effects. The latter is important as identification
and labeling practices vary by state (Scull & Winkler, 2011).
19 Propensity Score Methodology in the Study of Student Classification: The Case… 233
In step 1, we estimate odds of being a student of color (Ri) with the following
logistic regression model (the selection function, using PROC LOGISTIC in
SAS 9.4):
( ) ( )
log P Ri ( s ) / 1 − P Ri ( s ) = α + β Ci ( s ) + γ Ai ( s ) + δ Bi ( s ) + ε i ( s ) ,
(19.2)
where, for student i with grade-specific sample weight s, C represents social class
variables, A represents academic achievement, and B represents behavioral mea-
sures. This model produces predicted values or PSs (pi) for being a student of color.
We fit the model separately for kindergarten and first grade. For first grade, we
include lagged values of predictors (except for low birth weight) as these may play
a role in categorization later (i.e., the developmental effects and related outcomes of
low birth weight may take time to manifest themselves more acutely over time).
PSR offers key advantages over PSM in examining mild disabilities, which
are observed for a limited number of students (e.g., between 2000 and 2010,
students labeled as ID or ED represented no more than 0.8 to 1.3 percent of all
students [for details on trends, see Scull & Winkler, 2011]). Since unmatched
cases are omitted in PSM, small cell sizes for certain disability labels can result
in loss of statistical power. Thus, PSs are used to weight all observations to
homogenize group means for A, B, and C in Eq. (19.2). Individuals in the treat-
ment group (African Americans and Hispanics) are assigned 1/pi for analytic
weights, and those in the control group (White students) are assigned 1/(1 − pi)
(Nichols, 2008). The following scheme for PSR analytic weights (wi) also
accounts for original sampling weights:
( ) ( )
log P Di ( w ) / 1 − P Di ( w ) = α + β Wi ( w ) + γ Gi ( w ) + δ Si ( w ) + ε i ( w ) , (19.4)
where, for student i with analytic weight w, D is a nominal disability indicator with
the baseline group specified as “nondisabled” students. W is a dummy indicator for
being White, G is an indicator for gender (1 = male), and S is a vector of dummy
indicators for state of residence.
234 A. Saatcioglu and T. M. Skrtic
Findings
Table 19.1 shows the odds ratios (ORs) from the model in Eq. (19.4) across kinder-
garten and first grade. The ORs for White students (over students of color) are in the
first panel followed by the ORs for males (over females). Due to space limitations,
we do not report ORs for state fixed effects. Our discussion of the table addresses
ORs for race/ethnicity. With few exceptions, these ratios are well below 1.000,
Table 19.1 PSR-adjusted multinomial estimates for odds of mild disability labels
Kindergarten First grade
Model 2 Model 3
Students labeled Students labeled
Model 1 previously removed previously retained
Coefficient OR Coefficient OR Coefficient OR
White (v. OHI 0.262*** 1.300 −0.245*** 0.783 −0.280*** 0.756
nonwhite) (0.004) (0.005) (0.004)
LD −0.241*** 0.786 −0.061*** 0.941 −0.574*** 0.563
(0.005) (0.005) (0.004)
ED −0.433*** 0.649 −1.504*** 0.222 −0.883*** 0.414
(0.009) (0.022) (0.011)
ID 0.002 1.002 −0.083*** 0.920 −0.111*** 0.895
(0.013) (0.015) (0.011)
AU −0.046*** 0.955 −0.052 0.949 0.294*** 1.342
(0.002) (0.072) (0.017)
SLI −0.361*** 0.697 −0.355*** 0.701 −0.278*** 0.757
(0.003) (0.004) (0.003)
Male (v. OHI −0.038*** 0.963 0.032*** 1.033 0.141*** 1.151
female) (0.004) (0.005) (0.004)
LD 0.171*** 1.186 0.128*** 1.137 0.445*** 1.560
(0.005) (0.004) (0.003)
ED 0.694*** 2.002 0.714 2.042 1.869*** 6.482
(0.011) (0.548) (0.027)
ID 0.541*** 1.718 −0.506*** 0.603 0.050*** 1.051
(0.014) (0.016) (0.010)
AU 0.046** 1.047 0.624 1.867 0.719*** 2.052
(0.018) (0.801) (0.020)
SLI 0.509*** 1.664 0.453*** 1.573 0.465*** 1.592
(0.002) (0.004) (0.003)
State … … … … … …
LR 220,330*** 266,181*** 339,841***
N 16,201 13,094 13,684
Note: Odd ratios (ORs) are shown for each coefficient. Standard errors are in parentheses.
Estimates of state fixed effects are not shown. Sample sizes (N) and likelihood ratios (LR) are
shown below each model
***
p ≤ 0.010, **p ≤ 0.050
19 Propensity Score Methodology in the Study of Student Classification: The Case… 235
White parents’ efficacy than they are to student of color parents’ efficacy regardless
of any true efficacy difference between White and student of color parents. Another
key finding about kindergarten is the racialization of ID. Compared to students of
color, White students are about 8 percent less likely in Model 2 (OR = 0.920,
p ≤ 0.010) and 10 percent less likely in Model 3 (OR = 0.895, p ≤ 0.010) to be
labeled ID. This suggests that as age-related barriers (professional and political)
against the use of ID label weaken, this label may be more vulnerable to overrepre-
sentation of students of color. Finally, our first-grade analyses reveal a striking find-
ing about AU. The OR in Model 2 (discrete analysis) is similar to that in Model 1,
but it is non-significant, suggesting no racial/ethnic overrepresentation (OR = 0.949,
p ≥ 0.100). But the ratio in Model 3 (cumulative analysis) is significant and indi-
cates that White students are 34 percent more likely than students of color to be
labeled AU (OR = 1.342, p ≤ 0.010). This suggests three possibilities: (1) White
first graders labeled AU in kindergarten and White first graders labeled AU in first
grade together are enough to make White students overrepresented in the AU label
in first grade, (2) at least some White kindergartners with disability labels other than
AU may switch to AU in first grade, and (3) a combination of both possibilities
underlie the observed pattern. Our findings are consistent with research showing
that, from 1998 to 2006, AU increasingly became a disproportionately White label
(Travers, Tincani, & Krezmien, 2011).
Discussion
regression models report that students of color are underrepresented in mild disabil-
ity categories, our findings suggest the opposite. We find not only that most labels
are racialized, but also that in some cases, the racialization is pro-White. Ultimately,
it appears that racially/ethnically neutral labels are a rarity at best in kindergarten
and first grade.
Suggested Readings
Guo, S., & Fraser, M. W. (2014). Propensity score analysis: Statistical methods and
applications. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
This is a rigorous book on the PS method, particularly PSM, covering foundational
and advanced topics. It reviews PSM’s origins, history, and statistical foundations,
illustrating how it can be used for solving evaluation and causal-inference problems.
This book thoroughly addresses the pros and cons and practical applications of vari-
ous user choices regarding specific matching alternatives and related diagnostics. It
is a highly accessible source for scholars and applied researchers.
Busso, M., DiNardo, J., & McCrary, J. (2014). New evidence on the finite sample
properties of propensity score reweighting and matching estimators. Review of
Economics and Statistics, 96, 885–897. https://doi.org/10.1162/REST_a_00431
This study compares PSR and PSM, showing that the two methods perform simi-
larly. Expanding on previous work on the finite sample properties of reweighting
and matching estimators of average treatment effects, the authors show that
reweighting is competitive with the most effective matching estimators, especially
when PS estimation model is not misspecified.
DiNardo, J. (2002). Propensity score reweighting and changes in wage distribu-
tions. Working paper. University of Michigan. http://www-personal.umich.
edu/~jdinardo/bztalk5.pdf
This study applies PSR to estimate changes in wage distributions. The author’s pro-
pensity examines the effect of changes in covariates on the distribution of wages,
and relates this to the literature on estimating “average treatment effects” and
Blinder/Oaxaca decompositions. The paper also discusses some key limitations and
uses of reweighting.
Nichols, A. (2008). Erratum and discussion of propensity-score reweighting. The
Stata Journal, 8, 532–539.
This article reviews alternative weighting schemes for PSR. To our knowledge, this
is the most accessible source that explains the properties and the rationale for each
of the various weighting schemes using PSs. For each scheme, the author illustrates
applications in STATA with particular command notation.
238 A. Saatcioglu and T. M. Skrtic
Note
1. African American students are the most overrepresented group in virtually all states (Parrish,
2002). They have been and continue to be overrepresented nationally in categories of intellec-
tual disability (ID), emotional disturbance (ED), and learning disability (LD) (Skiba et al.,
2008). Hispanic students have been overrepresented historically in LD and speech and lan-
guage impairment (SLI) in some states (Waitoller et al., 2010), but recent reports indicate they
are overrepresented in those categories nationally (e.g., U.S. Department of Education, 2015).
References
Artiles, A. J., Kozleski, E. B., Trent, S. C., Osher, D., & Ortiz, A. (2010). Justifying and explain-
ing disproportionality, 1968–2008: A critique of underlying views of culture. Exceptional
Children, 76, 279–299. https://doi.org/10.1177/001440291007600303
Bonilla-Silva, E. (1997). Rethinking racism: Toward a structural interpretation. American
Sociological Review, 62, 465–480. https://doi.org/10.2307/2657316
Busso, M., DiNardo, J., & McCrary, J. (2014). New evidence on the finite sample properties of
propensity score reweighting and matching estimators. Review of Economics and Statistics, 96,
885–897. https://doi.org/10.1162/REST_a_00431
Caliendo, M., & Kopeinig, S. (2008). Some practical guidance for the implementation of pro-
pensity score matching. Journal of Economic Surveys, 22, 31–72. https://doi.org/10.1111/
j.1467-6419.2007.00527.x
Clotfelter, C. (2002). Interracial contact in high school extracurricular activities. The Urban
Review, 34, 25–46.
Danaher, J. (2011). Eligibility policies and practices for young children under Part B of IDEA
(NECTAC Notes No. 27). Chapel Hill, NC: The University of North Carolina, FPG Child
Development Institute, National Early Childhood Technical Assistance Center.
DiNardo, J. (2002). Propensity score reweighting and changes in wage distributions. Working
Paper, University of Michigan. Retrieved from http://www-personal.umich.edu/~jdinardo/
bztalk5.pdf
DiNardo, J., Fortin, N. M., & Lemieux, T. (1996). Labor market institutions and the distribution of
wage, 1973–1992. A semiparametric approach. Econometrica, 64, 1001–1044.
Forness, S., & Kavale, K. (2002). Impact of ADHD on school systems. In P. Jensen & J. Cooper
(Eds.), Attention deficit hyper activity disorder: State of the science, best practices (pp. 24-1–
24-20). Kingston, NJ: Civic Research Institute.
Guo, S., & Fraser, M. W. (2014). Propensity score analysis: Statistical methods and applications.
Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Heilburn, A., Cornell, D., & Lovegrove, P. (2015). Principal attitudes regarding zero tolerance and
racial disparities in school suspensions. Psychology in the Schools, 52, 489–499. https://doi.
org/10.1002/pits.21838
Hochschild, J., & Skovronick, N. (2003). The American dream and the public schools. New York,
NY: Oxford University Press.
Hosp, J. L., & Reschly, D. J. (2004). Disproportionate representation of minority students in spe-
cial education: Academic, demographic, and economic predictors. Exceptional Children, 70,
185–199. https://doi.org/10.1177/001440290407000204
Klingner, J. K., & Harry, B. (2006). The special education referral and the decision-making pro-
cess for English language learners: Child study team meetings and placement conferences.
Teachers College Record, 108, 2247–2281.
Lane, F. C., To, Y. M., Henson, R. K., & Shelley, K. (2012). An illustrative example of propen-
sity score matching within education research. Career and Technical Education Research, 37,
187–212. https://doi.org/10.5328/cter37.3.187
19 Propensity Score Methodology in the Study of Student Classification: The Case… 239
Loveless, T. (2017). Racial disparities in school discipline. Washington, DC: Brookings Institution.
Retrieved from https://www.brookings.edu/blog/brown-center-chalkboard/2017/03/24/racial-
disparities-in-school-suspensions/
Luellen, J. K., Shadish, W. R., & Clark, M. H. (2005). Propensity scores an introduction and exper-
imental test. Evaluation Review, 29, 530–558. https://doi.org/10.1177/0193841X05275596
MacMillan, D. L., & Reschly, D. J. (1998). Overrepresentation of minority students: The case
for greater specificity or reconsideration of the variables examined. The Journal of Special
Education, 32, 15–24. https://doi.org/10.1177/002246699803200103
Marable, M. (2015). How capitalism underdeveloped Black America: Problems in race, political
economy, and society. Chicago, IL: Haymarket Books.
Morgan, P. L., Farkas, G., Hillemeier, M. M., Mattison, R., Maczuga, S., Li, H., et al. (2015).
Minorities are disproportionately underrepresented in special education: Longitudinal evi-
dence across five disability conditions. Educational Researcher, 44, 278–292. https://doi.org
/10.3102/0013189X15591157
Murray, C. (2009). Real education: Four simple truths for bringing America’s schools back to real-
ity. New York, NY: Three Rivers Press.
Nichols, A. (2008). Erratum and discussion of propensity-score reweighting. The Stata Journal,
8, 532–539.
Oakes, J. (2005). Keeping track: How schools structure inequality (2nd ed.). New Haven, CT: Yale
University Press.
Ong-Dean, C. (2009). Distinguishing disability: Parents, privilege, and special education.
Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.
Ong-Dean, C., Daly, A. J., & Park, V. (2011). Privileged advocates: Disability and education policy
in the USA. Policy Futures in Education, 9, 392–405.
Oswald, D. P., Coutinho, M. J., Best, A. B., & Nguyen, N. (2001). The impact of sociodemo-
graphic characteristics on the identification rates of minority students as mentally retarded.
Mental Retardation, 39, 351–367. https://doi.org/10.1352/0047-6765(2001)039%3C0351:IO
SCOT%3E2.0.CO;2
Parrish, T. (2002). Racial disparities in the identification, funding, and provision of special edu-
cation. In D. J. Losen & G. Orfield (Eds.), Racial inequity in special education (pp. 15–37).
Cambridge, MA: Harvard Education Press.
Quinton, S. (2014).The race gap in high school honors classes. TheAtlantic. Retrieved from https://www.
theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2014/12/the-race-gap-in-high-school-honors-classes/431751/
Reid, D. K., & Knight, M. G. (2006). Disability justifies exclusion of minority students: A critical
history grounded in disability studies. Educational Researcher, 35(6), 18–23.
Schnoes, C., Reid, R., Wagner, M., & Marder, C. (2006). ADHD among students receiving special
education services: A national survey. Exceptional Children, 72(4), 483–496.
Scull, J., & Winkler, A. M. (2011). Shifting trends in special education. Washington, DC: Thomas
B. Fordham Institute.
Shifrer, D., Muller, C., & Callahan, R. (2010). Disproportionality: A sociological perspective of the
identification by schools of students with learning disabilities. In S. Barnartt (Ed.), Disability
as a fluid state (pp. 279–308). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group Publishing.
Skiba, R. J., Michael, R. S., Nardo, A. C., & Peterson, R. L. (2002). The color of discipline:
Sources of racial and gender disproportionality in school punishment. The Urban Review, 34,
317–342. https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1021320817372
Skiba, R. J., Poloni-Staudinger, L., Gallini, S., Simmons, A. B., & Feggins-Azziz, R. (2006).
Disparate access: The disproportionality of African American students with disabili-
ties across educational environments. Exceptional Children, 72, 411–424. https://doi.
org/10.1177/001440290607200402
Skiba, R. J., Simmons, A. B., Ritter, S., Gibb, A. C., Rausch, M. K., Cuadrado, J., et al. (2008).
Achieving equity in special education: History, status, and current challenges. Exceptional
Children, 74, 264–288. https://doi.org/10.1177/001440290807400301
Strauss, V. (2005, February 1). Decoding why few girls choose science, math. The Washington
Post, p. A07.
240 A. Saatcioglu and T. M. Skrtic
Sullivan, A. L., & Artiles, A. J. (2011). Theorizing racial inequity in special education: Applying
structural inequity theory to disproportionality. Urban Education, 46, 1526–1552. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0042085911416014
Tourangeau, K., Nord, C., Le, T., Sorongon, A. G., & Najarian, M. (2009). Early Childhood
Longitudinal Study, Kindergarten Class of 1998–99 (ECLS-K), Combined user’s manual for
the ECLS-K eighth-grade and K–8 full sample data files and electronic codebooks. Washington,
DC: National Center for Education Statistics.
Travers, J. C., Tincani, M., & Krezmien, M. P. (2011). A multiyear national profile of racial dispar-
ity in autism identification. The Journal of Special Education, 47(1), 41–49.
U.S. Department of Education. (2015). 37th Annual report to Congress on the implementation of
the individuals with Disabilities Education Act. Office of Special Education and Rehabilitative
Service, Washington, DC.
Wagner, M. (1995). The contributions of poverty and ethnic background to the participation of
secondary school students in special education. Menlo Park, CA: SRI International.
Waitoller, F. R., Artiles, A. J., & Cheney, D. A. (2010). The miner’s canary: A review of overrepre-
sentation research and explanations. The Journal of Special Education, 44(1), 29–49.
Wong, A. (2015). The activity gap. The Atlantic. Retrieved from https://www.theatlantic.com/
education/archive/2015/01/the-activity-gap/384961/
Yeargin-Allssopp, M., Drews, C. D., Decouflé, P., & Murphy, C. C. (1995). Mild mental retar-
dation in Black and White children in metropolitan Atlanta: A case-control study. American
Journal of Public Health, 85, 324–328. https://doi.org/10.2105/AJPH.85.3.324
Chapter 20
Transformative Mixed Methods:
A Missed Opportunity
Abstract In this chapter, we argue that our current sociopolitical context, rife with
partisan ideology and ‘post-truth’ discourse, is fertile ground for transformative
mixed methods in education research. We draw on a specific example of an applica-
tion for grant funds to study school discipline policy and practice in Alabama; we
unpack reviewers’ responses to the application to highlight the ways that a transfor-
mative mode of inquiry not only reconciles tension in method, and the paradigmatic
foundations thereof, but positions researchers to engage in work that is situated in
sociopolitical commitments toward justice and equity. Moreover, we underscore the
ways in which a rejection of findings supported by both narrative and numeric data
must prompt critics to acknowledge that their opposition is rooted in ideology rather
than onto-epistemology and methodology.
Methodological Tensions
the ways that research for social justice, and in particular studies of race/racism in
education, are seen as partisan on ideological as well as paradigmatic grounds. That
is, critics of justice-oriented research in education may use methodological argu-
ments to reject the work, or they may reject the underlying assumption of the work—
that institutionalized oppression and discrimination are the sources of systematic
disparities. Critics often explain disparate outcomes with deficit perspectives (moral,
cultural, and/or intellectual) of students, families, and other stakeholders in educa-
tion. In this chapter, we build on the work of Mertens (2007, 2010) to explore the
ways that transformative mixed methods approaches may be powerful avenues for
educational change, particularly regarding research about and with marginalized
groups, in that they position researchers to be responsive to both onto-epistemological
and methodological critiques.
Historically, critical education researchers have rejected the use of quantitative
methods to generate knowledge about social outcomes, as these methodologies are
rooted in positivist/postpositivist (i.e., colonizing) traditions; the objective stance of
discovering some absolute ‘truth’ about social causes and effects has been regarded
as fallacious by those who position themselves as critical scholars. Reducing indi-
viduals and social outcomes to numbers may serve to create seemingly causal rela-
tionships between and among demographic backgrounds and outcomes where none
are present, thus reinforcing deficit perspectives of certain groups (e.g., how educa-
tion research has promulgated discourse about the ‘achievement gap’ between White
students and students of Color). Moreover, numeric data and inferential statistical
analyses may often conceal dominant discourses and ‘encode’ information about
societal processes, particularly with regard to structural and institutional racism in
education (Gillborn, 2010, p. 253) and oppression of historically marginalized
groups. Critical race theorists, for example, are skeptical of using numbers to create
a narrative (Parker & Lynn, 2002), given the emphasis in critical race theory (CRT)
on the experiences of individuals and ‘counterstorytelling,’ which provide alternative
perspectives to dominant discourses (Solórzano & Yosso, 2002). Similarly, critical
feminist researchers often rely on narrative data to privilege and lift up the everyday
lived experiences of women navigating oppressive contexts (St. Pierre & Pillow,
2000). Since all knowledge is value-laden, value-mediated, and shaped by hegemony
(Kincheloe & McLaren, 1994), it follows that interpretivist methods are more com-
monly used by critical (and feminist, queer, decolonizing, etc.) scholars to highlight
discourses that are marginalized in positivist/postpositivist approaches to education
research.
Narratives, however, are vulnerable to critique. For example, while CRT empha-
sizes (counter)stories as valid ways of constructing knowledge about race and rac-
ism (Bernal, 2002; Delgado, 1995), “legal criticisms have dismissed the use of
narrative and storytelling in CRT, positing that stories about racism are unreliable,
unverifiable” (Parker, 1998, p. 49). Further, education policymakers rely predomi-
nantly on ‘hard numbers’ to make decisions that ultimately affect public schools
and teachers’ and students’ experiences in the classroom. In the wake of No Child
Left Behind and Race to the Top initiatives, this emphasis on quantitative methods
and ‘evidence-based strategies’ (wherein the evidence is derived from large-scale,
20 Transformative Mixed Methods: A Missed Opportunity 243
As with any mode of inquiry, there are differing views on what constitutes mixed
methods research (see Johnson, Onwuegbuzie, & Turner, 2007, for an overview of
conceptualizations). In this section, we position our understanding of mixed methods
inquiry as it relates to Greene’s (2006) four domains for social inquiry, which must
be addressed regardless of method: (1) philosophical assumptions and stances (i.e.,
paradigmatic matters); (2) inquiry logics (i.e., what is traditionally thought of as
methodology); (3) guidelines for practice (i.e., methods and procedures); and (4)
sociopolitical commitments (i.e., arguments for the location and purpose of inquiry
in society). Mixed methods research, particularly transformative mixed methods
research as defined by Mertens (2007, 2010, 2012), positions researchers to address
these domains in ways that are compelling and persuasive to a variety of audiences.
Creamer (2018) synthesized four philosophical foundations and arguments for the
use of mixed methods that appear in the extant literature. The first, complementarity,
suggests that the different paradigms or philosophical commitments that undergird
qualitative and quantitative inquiry complement, rather than contradict, one another.
The idea of complementarity has a long history in the social sciences. For example,
Maslow (1954) asserted that understanding human behavior required both measuring
and observing it (i.e., numeric data) alongside gaining first-person perspectives about
the behavior (i.e., narrative data). Similarly, both Cooley (1930) and Weber (1949)
argued for the use of both statistical, or rational, and empathic knowledge. This argu-
ment for mixed methods speaks directly to Greene’s (2006) call for methodologies of
social inquiry to address paradigmatic matters and situates mixed methods work as
attending to the paradigmatic positions of multiple audiences.
244 C. E. Andrzejewski et al.
The second argument for mixed methods is compatibility (Creamer, 2018). The
distinction between qualitative and quantitative methods is indeed a false dichot-
omy: both involve constructing and interpreting meanings (Morrow & Brown,
1994). This addresses Greene’s (2006) second domain—logics of inquiry. The third
and fourth arguments for mixed methods are combination and triangulation to
enhance validity (Creamer, 2018), which directly address Greene’s (2006) third
domain: guidelines for practice. Both of these arguments are about data and inter-
pretation. Combination means collecting both numeric and narrative data, which
results in a more robust data corpus. Triangulation/convergence focuses our atten-
tion on the ways in which numeric and narrative data can point to the same conclu-
sions, rendering the case for their validity stronger. Of course, Mertens (2010)
reminds us that one of the powers of transformative mixed methods is the discovery
of divergence, which may be particularly meaningful in research contexts focused
on oppressed or marginalized individuals and groups. Mixed methods, be they
focused on convergence or divergence, position researchers to address multiples
audiences’ preferences for how research should be done.
These four arguments for mixed methods, as presented by Creamer (2018), do
not, however, directly address Greene’s (2006) fourth domain—sociopolitical com-
mitments (i.e., ideology), which has become a site for contestation in research. We
suggest that mixed methods research has the potential to be more persuasive, even
in the face of ideological opposition, because mixed methods positions researchers
to satisfy multiple audiences with regard to the other three domains. That is, as our
example below demonstrates, critics may reject work on what they claim to be
methodological or paradigmatic grounds, but that argument may really be a mask
for an ideological qualm. Inasmuch as engaging explicitly in transformative mixed
methods positions researchers to address methodological and paradigmatic cri-
tiques, detractors are then pushed to acknowledge that their rejection is ideological
or political (e.g., rooted in White supremacist cisheteropatriarchy). Furthermore,
the use of transformative mixed methods positions researchers to respond to
Giddens’ (1979) calls to: (1) provide alternative perspectives to dominant narratives
and opportunities for participant empowerment, and (2) attempt to make findings
accessible and credible to those who do not share a critical worldview, or who may
see the findings as a threat to their protected or privileged status.
Our Example
To restate, transformative mixed methods reconciles tension in method, and the para-
digmatic foundations thereof, and positions researchers to engage in work that is situ-
ated in sociopolitical commitments toward justice and equity (Mertens 2007, 2010,
2012). Mertens (2010) posits that “the transformative ontological assumption recog-
nizes that there are many versions of what is considered to be real…it holds that there
is one reality about which there are multiple opinions” (p. 470). This ontological
grounding has implications for the questions that transformative researchers ask,
20 Transformative Mixed Methods: A Missed Opportunity 245
including: (1) “Whose reality is privileged in this context?”; (2) “What is the mecha-
nism for challenging perceived realities that sustain an oppressive system?”; (3)
“What are the consequences in terms of who is hurt if we accept multiple versions of
reality or if we accept the ‘wrong/privileged’ version?” (pp. 470–471). In our study of
school discipline policy and practice in Alabama public schools, we sought to high-
light how current discipline policies and practices affect students of Color in dehu-
manizing ways, and how school-based practitioners have the power to disrupt those
practices. Our project positioned us to develop a counternarrative to the accepted
ostensibly colorblind/colormute ‘reality’ in education spheres that some students are
inherently bad and behave in ways that deserve punishment and exclusion from their
peers; sometimes that behavior is so bad that a student warrants contact with a law
enforcement official who may be stationed in their school (i.e., a school resource offi-
cer). In accepting that privileged ‘reality’ or dominant narrative in public school dis-
course, however, we neglect to account for the ways that school officials in Alabama
routinely and unjustly suspend and exclude students of Color via in- and out-of-school
suspension, referrals to alternative schools, and referrals to law enforcement officials.
School officials also often mete out corporal punishment to students of Color, a prac-
tice which is still legal in Alabama as in many other states.
A few semesters ago, we submitted an internal grant proposal for funding of a
multiphase, mixed methods analysis of discipline policy and practice in Alabama.
We had much of the data we planned to work with in the study: numeric data about
school discipline practices in public schools retrieved from the Alabama State
Department of Education, interview and observational data collected from alterna-
tive school students about their experiences with school discipline, and interview
data from school administrators and school resource officers about their discipline
philosophies and practices. As we crafted our proposal, we anticipated that the eval-
uators would be from colleges and departments on our campus where quantitative
methods and positivistic perspectives were privileged. That is the norm on our cam-
pus, as it is at many institutions. Thus, we focused on including pilot study findings
and extant literature that were grounded in numeric data and analyses; we did so at
the expense of the inclusion of the narrative data and findings we had generated
from our work with school-based practitioners and students. Ultimately, the pro-
posal was rejected, and the feedback we received contested the methods by which
we proposed to collect additional data and conduct further analyses. This rejection
of method was also accompanied by a stronger, more explicit rejection of the ways
in which we conceptualized school discipline: that is, we took a critical lens to data
generation and analyses, centered on the foundational assumption that school disci-
pline policy and practice are inherently racialized and function as part, and prod-
ucts, of institutionalized racism and the school-prison nexus (Meiners, 2007).
In retrospect, we realize in crafting the grant proposal to privilege numeric data,
we first missed an opportunity to illustrate the power of mixed methods research by
including both numeric and narrative data that pointed to similar conclusions (i.e.,
triangulation). We also missed an opportunity to humanize the students adversely
affected by school discipline practices, thus undermining our goals for research to
advance equity and justice. Mixed methods appeal to audiences because the mix
246 C. E. Andrzejewski et al.
illuminates numbers with stories, and each strand (numeric and narrative) is stron-
ger in concert than solo (i.e., complementarity). This epistemic synergy is especially
true in education research, where teacher and student voices are often lost in con-
ventional statistical modeling. As evidenced by the feedback on our proposal, which
we explore later, the sociopolitical context in which we live and research now may
increasingly be a space wherein it is easier for both laypeople and scholars to dis-
miss approaches to and findings of research, depending on whether they align not
only with one’s paradigmatic commitments but also with one’s partisan ideology.
Thus, our current sociopolitical context, rife with partisan ideology and ‘post-truth’
discourse, is fertile ground for transformative mixed methods in education research.
That is, it is more difficult to reject findings supported by both narrative and numeric
data, regardless of paradigmatic or partisan commitments. To do so requires critics
to disclose that their opposition is to the lived experiences of the research partici-
pants, experiences which are represented in the aggregate from numeric data and
humanized via narrative data.
When we developed our proposal, we thought we were navigating territory still
shaped by the paradigm war. Assuming (post)positivists would review our internal
grant proposal, our strategy was to front-load and emphasize numeric data. What we
did not anticipate was that our interpretation of those data would be rejected, not
only on paradigmatic or methodological grounds but seemingly on ideological
grounds. First, our reviewers did not see justice-oriented scholarship as research.
Second, they took issue with our assumption that discipline disparities are the result
of systemic inequity and institutionalized racism. Had we situated our work in a
transformative mixed methods approach, with more balance between numeric data
and individual stories that emphasized triangulation across data sources to warrant
our interpretations, it may have been more difficult, or at least uncomfortable, for
the reviewers to dismiss our work on these grounds.
We reflected on reviewer comments extensively to determine where the feedback
might be useful for future grant proposals and manuscripts. We learned from one
review that observation/description might not be viewed as research, despite the fact
that much research rooted in the humanities and social sciences is descriptive. The
reviewer began, “They know already what they plan to gain further evidence for in
order, hopefully, to evoke change. Again, worthy goals. But not research goals.”
These statements positioned an issue of social justice (exemplified through examin-
ing and disrupting the effects school discipline has on students of Color) as a “wor-
thy goal” but not a “research goal.” The crux of the reviewer’s criticism rests on the
absence of an identifiable ‘hypothesis’ or ‘thesis to be tested.’ The work we articu-
lated was ‘descriptive,’ even as description was seen as incompatible with research.
There is much to unpack within these epistemic assertions. We wondered: can social
sciences, specifically social justice research, begin with hypotheses? Perhaps, but
hypotheses imply eventual experimentation to render the hypothesis true or null;
what does it mean to position research as capable of ‘nullifying’ the narratives
of participants? In other words, a rejection of description and a refocusing on
experimentation do not serve the interests of justice- and equity-oriented work if
20 Transformative Mixed Methods: A Missed Opportunity 247
it renders (in our case, students’) lived experiences (with often violent school disci-
pline policy and practice) as possibly ‘null.’
Field work, which forms the basis of the qualitative component(s) in mixed
methods studies, does not start with a hypothesis. Researchers in the field start by
observing and talking to people. From observations and conversations (which
include method conventions like interviewing, thick description, reflection and
audit journaling, member checking, and data assemblage), researchers in the field
begin to piece together a vision of the context of their research. As this vision devel-
ops, a researcher may hypothesize about correlations (patterns) within the context.
Inferential statistics, then, become useful to determine the extent to which those
speculated correlations may be present or even causal. Here we can see the funda-
mental flaw in the strategy we enlisted in our proposal: by foregrounding an infer-
ential analytical plan, we put the cart before the horse. Hypotheses follow holistic,
immersive field work and using that work to construct holistic, immersive narra-
tives. We should have first given voice to the population before presenting a pro-
posal meant to illuminate correlations between those voices and the institutional
violence that often stifles and disciplines them. The reviewer targeted a core compo-
nent of our proposal for comment. They quoted us:
In some of the poorest school systems in the western part of Alabama, no students were
referred to law enforcement. Further, there were few referrals (25 of 671 total referrals;
~4%) in the counties that comprise what is known as the ‘Black Belt,’ where African
American students often attend highly segregated, drastically underfunded schools. These
preliminary findings suggest that African American students who attend schools with more
White students may suffer harsher consequences for disciplinary infractions than their
White peers across Alabama, than their African American peers who attend predominantly
African American schools.
We must point out that we articulate a hypothesis in this statement, which the
reviewer did not recognize. The term ‘suggest’ is the identifier; we observed that
there were more referrals to law enforcement as a disciplinary consequence in
schools with high White populations, and we knew, based on the analyses of other
researchers in other locations as well as media coverage, that students of Color are
considerably more likely to be arrested at school than their White peers. We then
hypothesized that these outcomes were due to the ways in which students of Color
are likely to be perceived as misbehaving (e.g., Gilliam, Maupin, Reyes, Accavitti,
& Shic, 2016) rather than an inherent inclination to misbehave; indeed, there are
decades of research on the racialized nature of school discipline to support this
hypothesis. The reviewer’s reaction to this quote was: “I would think that it shows
that ‘they do suffer harsher penalties,’ but it tells us nothing about why that is.”
Had we been given an opportunity to respond, we would have argued: we already
know why that is: White supremacy and institutionalized racism are the culprits.
The purposes of our proposed study were to explore just how egregious these prob-
lems are (there has been little to-date exploration of school discipline in Alabama)
and to work toward disrupting those patterns by confronting school-based
practitioners with both numeric and narrative data. We also realized that our absence
of vivid, emotionally laden narrative in the proposal obfuscated some of the ‘why.’
248 C. E. Andrzejewski et al.
When one examines the history of corporal punishment in the United States, for
example, it is easy to see how the absence of contextual narrative alters the interpre-
tation of the numeric data. In the landmark Supreme Court case on corporal punish-
ment, Ingraham v. Wright (1977), the plaintiff alleged that ‘20 licks’ with a paddle
violated the ‘conscience-shocking’ standard by which state agents are liable for
cruel and unusual punishment. Without contextual and personal detail, 20 licks may
not necessarily sound traumatizing. In Archey v. Hyche (1991), a student received
‘five licks’ for a disciplinary infraction, far fewer than the 20 received in the
Ingraham case. It would be easy to conclude, based on numeric data, that Gary
Shane Archey, Jr.’s case was less severe than James Ingraham’s. What would their
narratives have revealed? Archey received ‘five licks’ for humming in the bathroom.
The ‘licks’ caused a hematoma on the buttocks. Ingraham was accused of tardiness
and, because he refused to turn his back to the principal to be paddled, he was held
down and paddled 20 times. He too suffered a hematoma and was treated at a hos-
pital. In Peterson v. Baker (2007), a teacher administered ‘one lick’ to Jonathan
Peterson, who has a hearing impairment. This ‘lick’ involved choking him as a
consequence for not responding to the teacher’s instructions. None of these events
was found by the courts to ‘shock the conscience.’ These examples demonstrate
why narratives are essential when communicating the complex psychosocial rami-
fications of school discipline policies on children. When numbers are stripped from
context, they may seem less frightening than reading a more holistic account that
includes imagery such as hematomas or deaf students being choked or, in Neal v.
Fulton County Board of Education (2000), an eye dislodging from its socket when
a White coach struck an African American student on the head with a metal lock.
Without the narrative to accompany the number, Durante Neal’s experience is
summed: ‘one lick.’
At this point, one might read our methodological reflection as an earnest (and
maybe even bitter) attempt to improve our mixed methods modeling and reporting.
However, the reviewer’s final comment left us bewildered and pessimistic about the
possibility of our social-justice-oriented work ever being seen as legitimate by this
and other similarly minded colleagues, reviewers, or readers. The reviewer wrote:
You would expect at least that we would see some attempt to correlate those geographical
areas where punishment in high schools seem disproportionately imposed on blacks and
areas where judicial punishment seems disproportionately imposed on blacks. But even this
won’t be enough, not nearly enough, to justify the causal claim in the first paragraph.
(Emphasis ours)
less causation. If they are reluctant to trust numeric data, which already point to a
correlation, would fuller mixed methods approaches suffice? And, if not, what meth-
odological options remain? When the methodological options are exhausted, and
readers still refuse to view research claims as legitimate, it can be assumed the rejec-
tion stems from ideological rather than onto-epistemological and methodological
qualms.
Conclusion
In this chapter, we have highlighted the ways that transformative mixed methods are
useful in research for justice and equity, especially in addressing and situating
research as reflective of sociopolitical commitments. As Greene (2006) argued:
One vitally important role for mixed methods social inquiry is to trouble taken-for-granted
understandings of assumed common meanings of constructs by incorporating a diversity of
perspectives, voices, values and stances. In this role, mixed methods inquiry honors com-
plexity alongside diversity and difference, and thereby resists simplification of inherently
contextual and complex human phenomena. (p. 97)
In our research about school discipline policy and practice in Alabama, we sought
to trouble the common assumption that students of Color who are more frequently
and severely punished in K-12 schools somehow deserve those punishments, includ-
ing exclusion and corporal punishment. We aimed to capture and describe students’
experiences with racialized school discipline practices in a way that humanized the
numeric trends and added depth and nuance to understandings about (perceptions
about) student (mis)behavior. By unpacking the ways that reviewers responded to a
grant proposal, we reflected on our ‘missed opportunity’ in putting forth numeric
data about school discipline trends at the expense of narrative data that captured the
lived experiences with school discipline practices of students of Color in Alabama
public schools. We suggest that, in the unification of both numeric and narrative
data, it becomes more difficult for critics to reject research on the basis of onto-
epistemology and methodology; instead, mixed methods may push critics to reckon
with the ideological and partisan worldviews that they bring to their evaluation of
research. When data are humanized, as when numeric and narrative data are com-
bined in transformative mixed methods research, rejecting the claims made with
them is a dehumanizing act that reflects more on the critic than the research.
Suggested Readings
Mertens, D. M. (2007). Transformative paradigm: Mixed methods and social jus-
tice. Journal of Mixed Methods Research, 1(3), 212–225.
Mertens, D. M. (2010). Transformative mixed methods research. Qualitative
Inquiry, 16(6), 469–474.
Next, we join Mertens in suggesting these three exemplar articles that feature trans-
formative mixed methods:
Hodgkin, S. (2008). Telling it all: A story of women’s social capital using a mixed
methods approach. Journal of Mixed Methods Research, 2, 296–316.
Huato, J., & Zeno, K. W. (2009). Class, race, and the spousal income gap: The
effects of family income, educational attainment, and race-ethnicity on the
husband-wife income ratio in the United States, 1980, 1990, 2000. American
Behavioral Scientist, 53, 261–275.
Silka, L. (2009). Partnership ethics. In D. M. Mertens & P. E. Ginsberg (Eds.),
Handbook of social research ethics (pp. 337–352). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE.
Finally, for further readings about mixed methods, more broadly, we suggest:
The Journal of Mixed Methods Research, SAGE.
Tashakkori, A., & Teddlie, C. (Eds.). (2010). SAGE handbook of mixed methods in
social and behavioral research (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE.
References
http://www.addressingracialmicroaggressions.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/Preschool-
Implicit-Bias-Policy-Brief_final_9_26_276766_5379.pdf
Greene, J. C. (2006). Toward a methodology of mixed methods social inquiry. Research in the
Schools, 13(1), 93–98.
Guba, E. G., & Lincoln, Y. S. (1994). Competing paradigms in qualitative research. Handbook of
Qualitative Research, 2(163–194), 105.
Ingraham v. Wright, 430 U.S. 651 (1977).
Johnson, R. B., Onwuegbuzie, A. J., & Turner, L. A. (2007). Toward a definition of mixed
methods research. Journal of Mixed Methods Research, 1(2), 112–133. https://doi.
org/10.1177/1558689806298224
Kincheloe, J. L., & McLaren, P. L. (1994). Rethinking critical theory and qualitative research.
In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (pp. 138–157).
Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Maslow, A. (1954). Motivation and personality. New York, NY: Harper.
Meiners, E. R. (2007). Right to be hostile: Schools, prisons, and the making of public enemies.
New York, NY: Routledge.
Mertens, D. M. (2007). Transformative paradigm: Mixed methods and social justice. Journal of
Mixed Methods Research, 1(3), 212–225. https://doi.org/10.1177/1558689807302811
Mertens, D. M. (2010). Transformative mixed methods research. Qualitative Inquiry, 16(6), 469–
474. https://doi.org/10.1177/1077800410364612
Mertens, D. M. (2012). Transformative mixed methods: Addressing inequities. American
Behavioral Scientist, 56(6), 802–813. https://doi.org/10.1177/0002764211433797
Morrow, R. A., & Brown, D. D. (1994). Critical theory and methodology. Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage.
Neal ex rel. Neal v. Fulton County Board of Education, 229 F. 3d 1069 (2000).
Parker, L. (1998). ‘Race is race ain’t’: An exploration of the utility of critical race theory in quali-
tative research in education. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 11(1),
43–55. https://doi.org/10.1080/095183998236881
Parker, L., & Lynn, M. (2002). What’s race got to do with it? Critical Race Theory’s conflicts with
and connections to qualitative research methodology and epistemology. Qualitative Inquiry,
8(1), 7–22. https://doi.org/10.1177/107780040200800102
Peterson v. Baker, 504 F. 3d 1331 (2007).
Ravitch, D. (2016). The death and life of the great American school system: How testing and
choice are undermining education. New York, NY: Basic Books.
Solórzano, D. G., & Yosso, T. J. (2002). Critical race methodology: Counter-story-telling as an
analytical framework for educational research. Qualitative Inquiry, 8(1), 23–44. https://doi.
org/10.1177/107780040200800103
St. Pierre, E. A., & Pillow, W. S. (Eds.). (2000). Working the ruins: Feminist poststructural theory
and methods in education. New York, NY: Routledge.
Weber, M. (1949). The methodology of the social sciences. Glencoe, IL: The Free Press.
Part III
Developing a Research Agenda
Chapter 21
Writing, Race, and Creative Democracy
Timothy J. Lensmire
Abstract My chapter traces how my critical teaching and scholarship has sought to
contribute to what John Dewey called creative democracy—first, in my explorations
of how the teaching of writing might serve radical democratic ends and, second, in
my examination of the complexities and conflicts of Whiteness and White racial
identities. Along with sustained intellectual engagements with the writings of Mikhail
Bakhtin and W.E.B. Du Bois (among many others), my hatred of school and my love
of basketball are noted as significant influences on my living and learning.
T. J. Lensmire (*)
University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, MN, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
In other words, my current work on race and education expresses the same long-
term commitments as my earlier work—to better understand what helps and hinders
democratic education and living.
***
I was born and raised in a small, rural, working-class community in Wisconsin, and
I am sure that many different aspects of what I lived and learned there contributed
to what became my radical commitments. For now, I will highlight two. First, I grew
up among people who talked things over, together, as they responded to problems
and challenges confronting them. Though I could not have described it this way at
the time, I listened to and eventually joined my parents, aunts, and uncles in mean-
ingful versions of what Dewey called deliberation. For Dewey, deliberation was a
playing out, a rehearsal, of what would happen if we pursued this or that path.
However, this deliberation was not some mechanical projection of profit or pleasure
or pain. Instead, as Dewey (1922) wrote:
To every shade of imagined circumstance there is a vibrating response; and to every com-
plex situation a sensitiveness as to its integrity, a feeling of whether it does justice to all
facts, or overrides some to the advantage of others. Decision is reasonable when delibera-
tion is so conducted. (p. 194)
A second (and perhaps even more powerful) influence on me, growing up, was
school—or more precisely, my trouble with school. For me, from the beginning,
school meant adults attempting to control my body, making me sit still, face for-
ward; school meant adults demanding that I talk quietly and not laugh, loudly (like
my father did). I put it this way in an autoethnographic piece I wrote about Whiteness
and social class:
I was already engaged in the struggle that has defined my life in school, all the way from
elementary through graduate school, and on into my life as a professor. I was struggling
with the offer, made by school, to join the middle class. I was struggling with its demand
that I remake (or at least hide) my working-class insides. (Lensmire, 2008, p. 310)
It is not so surprising, then, that in my early teaching (with 7th graders) I gravi-
tated toward approaches that rejected the tight control of student bodies and voices,
which rebelled against machine and factory qualities of schooling. My first guides
in experimenting with alternative pedagogies were advocates of writing workshop
or process approaches to the teaching of writing—approaches that emphasized
experience and non-conformism, and with strong affinities to Ralph Waldo Emerson,
Henry David Thoreau, and American Romanticism. Later, as I began teaching in
college classrooms, my progressive teaching practices would be built upon and radi-
calized in engagements with critical pedagogy and feminist teaching and theory.
If my teaching was grounded, in part, in a rejection of traditional schooling, my
eventual research was as well—and not just in terms of the what I was studying. I
started my doctoral program at Michigan State University in 1986. And even though
there was a well-established, year-long sequence in educational ethnography that I
took in the college of education my first year, quantitative approaches to the study
of education—especially what were called “process-product” studies—certainly
felt dominant. They also felt like traditional schooling to me, felt hostile to life.
21 Writing, Race, and Creative Democracy 257
Thus, it is surely not the case that I chose ethnography after a careful weighing
of the merits of various methodologies or that I chose ethnography because it was
an appropriate methodology for the questions I wished to answer. Instead, I chose it
quickly, instinctively, and for the same reasons, I think, that I had tried to teach in
progressive ways.
I did a critical ethnography for my dissertation, which became my first book,
When children write: Critical re-visions of the writing workshop (Lensmire, 1994).
I wrote myself into enough problems in that first book that I needed to write a sec-
ond book, Powerful writing/Responsible teaching (Lensmire, 2000), in order to
work myself out of at least some of those problems. In this second book, I explored
and criticized the learning environments created within writing workshops by imag-
ining them as carnivals, as theorized by Russian philosopher and literary theorist
Mikhail Bakhtin (1984b). This analysis enabled me to both affirm and question the
guiding vision of these approaches to teaching and learning literacy—children writ-
ing themselves and their worlds on the page, within a classroom setting that liber-
ated student intention and association.
I also examined teaching and the teacher’s role in such spaces. Bakhtin’s work
was again important—this time, his celebratory reading of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s
fiction. For Bakhtin (1984a), Dostoevsky’s novels featured strong characters who,
in dialogue with each other and the author, articulated a plurality (a polyphony) of
worldviews and truths—and this in sharp contrast to the monologic novels of most
other writers, novels with a single worldview (that of the novelist) mouthed by ser-
vile characters. I looked to Bakhtin’s appraisal of Dostoevsky in order to criticize
how progressive and critical approaches to literacy have envisioned teaching and the
teacher. I imagined the teacher as a novelist—a Dostoevskian novelist—who cre-
ated a polyphonic classroom-novel and took up dialogic relations with student-
characters. With this metaphor, I began to revise the roles and responsibilities of
workshop teachers.
***
Over time, I realized that in this work on writing and its instruction, I had been will-
ing to take up issues of social class and gender, but had shied away from race and
racism. After finishing my second book, and at about the time that I was leaving
Washington University in St. Louis to come to the University of Minnesota, I dedi-
cated myself to learning about race in the United States and its relations to school-
ing and teacher education.
I did not want to take up race in a cheap or facile way, so it took me a number of
years to read myself into and begin to position myself in relation to various and
extensive literatures (and, of course, this labor continues). Eventually, I centered my
learning about race in critical Whiteness and cultural studies—especially work
coming out of labor history that was inspired by W.E.B. Du Bois’s (1935/1992)
idea, in Black Reconstruction in America, 1860–1880, that White workers were paid
“a sort of public and psychological wage” (p. 700) by White elites that did little to
alter their material condition, but that enabled White workers to think of themselves
as different from and superior to Black people. In addition, the writing of Ralph
Ellison (1953/1995, 1986) on the scapegoating rituals that fortify White Americans’
258 T. J. Lensmire
As my reading and study caught up with my living, I realized that I would need
to go backward to go forward. I knew that I wanted to do an interview study with
White people, in order to write about White supremacy and White racial identity.
And I knew that I wanted to find a way to write in which I did not, as author, sepa-
rate myself from or suggest that I was superior to the people I was writing about
(something you see, over and over again, in books written about White people by
White antiracists). I realized that I should go home.
So I did.
I interviewed 22 White people, aged 18 to 83. Across two or three open-ended
interviews totaling three to six hours, we talked about how they thought the German
and Polish origins of the town of Boonendam (a pseudonym I created from an
Ojibwe word meaning to forget or to give up thinking about something) influenced
their lives there. I asked them to try to remember the first time that they realized they
were White and to narrate experiences in which race somehow mattered or was
important. We talked about how they and their community had responded to people
of Color in various situations and across different historical events, including the
controversy surrounding Ojibwe efforts in the 1970s to claim fishing rights on
nearby lakes and rivers, and their interactions with recent arrivals to the area, espe-
cially Hmong and Mexican Americans hired to work on local farms.
Drawn from this larger interview study, as well as autoethnographic writing, my
recent book—White folks: Race and identity in rural America (Lensmire, 2017)—
21 Writing, Race, and Creative Democracy 259
focuses on the experiences and stories of eight White people (including me) from
Boonendam, Wisconsin, and explores the complex social production of White racial
identities. The book is about becoming a White person in a White community, but
demonstrates just how dependent White racial identities are on racial others, even in
segregated White spaces.
Unfortunately, my book is timely. As racial actors in the United States, White
people do not understand themselves or their country very well. We may try to take
up colorblindness as a sensible, moral stance and hope that we had achieved a post-
racial society with the election of our first Black president. But then how do we
make sense of all the violence being waged against people of Color, make sense of
all the news (that is not new) in our country?
Furthermore, the current dominant critical framework for understanding racism
and Whiteness—a White privilege framework, popularized by writers such as Peggy
McIntosh and Tim Wise—provides precious little help to those who want to under-
stand and intervene in how White people learn to be White, how we come to think
and feel and act as we do. Within a White privilege framework, White people are
conceptualized as little more than the smooth embodiment of privilege.
Something more is needed—a way of conceptualizing White people that is
unafraid to confront, head on, the violence at the core of White racial selves, but that
also illuminates conflicts and complexities there. What’s needed is a way of under-
standing White people that recognizes the profound ambivalence that characterizes
White thinking and feeling in relation to people of Color—not just fear and rejec-
tion, but also envy and attraction. If, as Antonio Gramsci (1971) thought, the “start-
ing point of critical elaboration is … ‘knowing thyself’ as a product of the historical
process to date which has deposited in you an infinity of traces, without leaving an
inventory” (p. 324), then in White folks I attempt to create inventories and under-
stand traces, as regards the historical process of becoming White in a rural commu-
nity in the United States. My hope is that the storytelling and theorizing I do in this
book will support the development of more effective antiracist pedagogies, and that
it will help us imagine and live out better ways of working with and mobilizing
White people to take up antiracist and social justice action.
***
Inevitably, unavoidably, narratives reveal some things and hide others. My account
of how and why my journey as a critical researcher and educator played out as it did
does not escape this fact.
One goal I had in telling my story was not to write as if ideas and books were the
only important characters. I love reading. Serious, sustained study has been crucial.
Without the writings of Du Bois and Bakhtin and many others, I would not have
written what I have written, done what I have done, and become what I have become.
That said, my hatred of school and my love of basketball have been just as impor-
tant in propelling my life (and story) forward.
And, of course, once I say this, once I assert this, it becomes apparent immediately
that there is more going on in this hatred and love than is immediately apparent—that
260 T. J. Lensmire
this love and hatred must be interpreted, theorized, become educative so I can see how
they interact and connect with other things and activities.
Lurking in my hatred of schooling is a working-class kid’s nascent critique of capi-
talism. And my love of basketball surely expresses, among other things, an attraction
to Black ways of moving in the world and the fact that playing basketball has taught
me about what it means to be free—where freedom is not the absence of constraint but
the power to do something, create something, in community with others.
My story is one of movement, then, of the thinking body leaping forward, half
aware of what it is doing and why, and of movement among story and interpretation,
practice and theory, living and learning.
Suggested Readings
Ellison, R. (1995). Shadow and act. New York, NY: Vintage International. (Original
work published 1953).
I have found Ralph Ellison’s collection of essays to be incredibly helpful in under-
standing race and Whiteness in the United States. Two aspects of these essays that
are especially important are how complex and conflicted racial identities are
assumed to be by Ellison and the fact that, at every moment, he is concerned with
what all of this means for democracy.
Thandeka. (2001). Learning to be White: Money, race, and God in America.
New York, NY: Continuum.
I would be hard-pressed to name another book that is as effective at theorizing
White racial identity—not only in terms of societal structure and history, but also at
the level of intimate, everyday relations and interactions.
References
Bakhtin, M. M. (1984a). Problems of Dostoevsky’s poetics. (C. Emerson, Ed. & Trans.).
Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.
Bakhtin, M. M. (1984b). Rabelais and his world. (H. Iswolsky, Trans.). Bloomington, IN: Indiana
University Press.
Dewey, J. (1922). Human nature and conduct. New York, NY: Henry Holt.
Dewey, J. (1951). Creative democracy—The task before us. In M. Fisch (Ed.), Classic American
philosophers (pp. 389–394). New York, NY: Appleton-Century-Crofts.
Dewey, J. (1966). Democracy and education. New York, NY: Free Press. (Original work published
1916).
Du Bois, W. E. B. (1992). Black reconstruction in America, 1860–1880. New York, NY: The Free
Press. (Original work published 1935).
Ellison, R. (1986). Going to the territory. New York, NY: Vintage International.
21 Writing, Race, and Creative Democracy 261
Ellison, R. (1995). Shadow and act. New York, NY: Vintage International. (Original work pub-
lished 1953).
Gramsci, A. (1971). Selections from the prison notebooks. New York, NY: International Publishers.
Lensmire, T. (1994). When children write: Critical re-visions of the writing workshop. New York,
NY: Teachers College.
Lensmire, T. (2000). Powerful writing/Responsible teaching. New York, NY: Teachers College.
Lensmire, T. (2008). How I became White while punching de tar baby. Curriculum Inquiry, 38(3),
299–322. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-873X.2008.00410.x
Lensmire, T. (2017). White folks: Race and identity in rural America. New York, NY: Routledge.
Thandeka. (2001). Learning to be White: Money, race, and God in America. New York, NY:
Continuum.
Chapter 22
Beyond White: The Emotional Complexion
of Critical Research on Race
Cheryl E. Matias
Abstract Exposing life in the academy while doing racially just work is difficult.
For one, those who relay their experiences in the academy as a way to improve the
professoriate are incorrectly labeled whistleblowers and are often met with resis-
tance, passive aggressive bullying tactics, or find themselves and their scholarship
constantly under scrutiny. Second, instead of listening and learning from the stories
shared about academy life, administrators who do have the power to make changes
belittle and minimize the stories as if they are just mere whines of a baby. To combat
this, I share three essays that paint a picture of academy life while doing racially just
work. I do so to share the trials, tribulations, and simple successes of this path so
that professors and administrators can create more racially just educational systems
that are inclusive to faculty of Color and scholars of race.
Introduction
Special Note: To mi nina grande, La Dona. May you experience the full range of beautiful and
healthy emotions in an unhealthy emotional world.
C. E. Matias (*)
University of Colorado Denver, Denver, CO, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
were no white tears, protests of “not all white people,” emotional projections of
one’s guilt, or pontifications of one benevolence in “helping” students of Color; for
this was not simply a physical space for critical race researchers to gather. No. This
was a spiritual, emotional, and intellectual space that allowed us just to be free from
all that mess. So I felt home. I felt heard. I felt respected. On the other hand, it was
this very realization of feeling home, comforted, and relaxed that I became sad.
One, I rarely feel this way when engaging in the work of dismantling white suprem-
acy in the academy, a purpose many scholars would agree with but in which they
would rarely invest. Two, despite the academy claiming to want to engage in racially
just research and practices, they still refuse to acknowledge the humanity of the very
researchers who do this work. And three, as I listened to study after study of micro-
affirmations and how they affirm communities of Color as a way to counteract the
daily racially microaggressions we experience, I realized how sad it is to need a
space just to assert our humanity. Meaning, though the work was comforting, affirm-
ing even, to hear it or bear witness to the work that is being done, embedded within
its very need to be uttered is an ontological sadness. ’Tis as if we need to find secret
pockets within our lives to identify the affirmations because we are too often unaf-
firmed, unrecognized, disrespected, and dehumanized. Hence, I reassert that sadly
comforting emotional state of heart because in recognizing this sentiment I must
also realize that it is only true because we are frustratingly discomforted in engaging
in critical research on race in the “socially just” academy.
I want to be shocked, floored, awed, and inspired in new ways, especially when it
comes to the predictable behaviors of white emotions and emotionalities. Meaning,
I want to be shocked and surprised by not seeing the predictable behaviors of white
emotions. By white emotions I mean those very surface emotions that are expressed
as some sort of unhealthy defense or coping mechanism strategically employed to
avoid discussions or realizations of race and whiteness. It is captured in verbal
expressions like “I never own slaves,” “why are you blaming me,” or, “not all white
people.” Or, such white emotions can be captured in behaviors like strategically run-
ning to a dean or department chair to presumably “tattle” on a professor who is
teaching and learning about race, as if their discomforted emotions have more valid-
ity than the doctoral degree of the professor teaching on the topic. Alas, those who
employ this strategy know all too well that such white emotions do in fact have
power. We need not look further than the employment of this reverse victimization
of white women to see how it impacts the lives, and sadly, also the deaths of people
of Color, like how it did for Emmett Till. It is as if we, women professors of Color
who teach racial justice, are only present to mammy the emotional needs of white
students. Or, more specific to my case as a brown-skinned Pinay, nurse2 the needs
of unfettered white emotions.
266 C. E. Matias
Unlike these surface emotions that are eerily and routinely performed each time
a racially just educator attempts to teach about race and racism (let alone even
scratch white supremacy in any form), more deeply masked are the white emotion-
alities that dig deep into the abyss of what Thandeka (1999) coins, white ethnic
shame. That is, beyond the toddler-like tantrum of these white emotions is a deeper
white emotionality that gave it rise—one that has been so repressed that it manifests
in almost hysterical or irrational ways (Gonsalves, 2008).
To better understand this, allow me to illuminate. In delivering a keynote about
the need to say and talk about race in teacher education, there was one self-identified
white woman teacher candidate in the audience. She even began her comment with
“I am just like one of those white female preservice teachers in your study.” The
keynote speaker was listening attentively to this white female as she said, “This
thing about culture…” At this, the keynote speaker was frustrated at the predictable
maneuver of whiteness to once again deliberately refuse to engage the word “race”
after delivering a 1.5-hour talk about race. As such, the speaker refused to allow
rhetoric of whiteness to ensue and interjected, “Please, you have to say the word
race. We are all here to talk about race.” The teacher candidate nodded her head,
took a deep breath, cleared her throat, and began with her response again. “OK. This
thing about culture…” The keynote speaker was shocked—not in a good way—to
hear this candidate’s refusal to say the word race so the speaker interjected again
saying, “Please. I just got done showing why we must have the courage to say the
word race let alone really understand how race operates in teaching and education.
It is why I am here at this university. To begin this work, please use the word race.”
Upon this redirect, the white woman teacher candidate got visibly flustered. Her
face turned red, and it appeared her breath became shallow and panicked. She was
standing up in a ballroom of close to 150 audience members of faculty, staff, and
students from all over the university and surrounding community and began to dis-
play a white emotion which, for some, was shocking or surprising, yet, for me, it
was frustratingly predictable. She started crying. Through her sobs, she exasperat-
edly cried out, “I just can’t say that word! I just can’t say that word!” Her confession
of not being able to say the word race was nothing more than a revealing tale of her
deep refusal to say the word, for it is ludicrous to presume that a person has a par-
ticular speech impediment that physically does not allow one to say the single word,
“race.” Obviously, the white emotions she displayed are that of extreme distress,
sadness, and white tears.
Beyond those white emotions, however, are deeper emotionalities such as the
shame of bearing witness to race but suppressing this truth in order to be accepted into
whiteness (see Thandeka, 1999), guilt for partaking in whiteness (Matias, 2016), and
fear of what happens if they reject the norms of whiteness by asserting and identifying
its existence (Matias & Allen, 2013). You see, beyond the frustratingly predictable
white tears that are strategically employed to stop mere dialogues of race and racism
is a plethora of mechanisms of whiteness. For one, they operationalize white tears
because they know that white women’s emotions, stereotypes of innocence and purity
(via anti-miscegenation laws), and employment of reverse victimization have histori-
cally been used to maintain whiteness and relinquish any culpability that white women
22 Beyond White: The Emotional Complexion of Critical Research on Race 267
have had in such maintenance (see Godfrey, 2010). And, beyond this, this strategy has
been good enough to incite white men into a frenzy under the guise of “protecting”
white women, as if white women are indeed in need of protecting. Therefore, these
tears are real, but are not valid because they have for so long been operationally used
to reinforce a racial power structure that benefits whiteness, particularly gendered
whiteness, at the expense of people of Color.
Second, when white women deliberating employ white tears as a way to feign
innocence and victimization, it inadvertently makes anyone who made the white
women cry the enemy. White women are held to a false ideal of moral compass and
within this white supremacist understanding of humanity, anything that causes emo-
tional “harm” to this all-benevolent being is thus castigated as evil. In this case, the
keynote speaker was the evildoer for simply bringing up a topic that the white
woman teacher candidate was too unfettered to deal with because of her own issues
regarding race. Of course, the candidate’s issues regarding race cannot be addressed
if she pretends to be the crying victim while projecting her racial angst onto the
keynote speaker.
Third, once labeled as the evildoer who caused the white women “harm,” white-
ness flares up to once again reassert its power and privilege by policing, surveilling,
and disciplining the action, speech, tone, and research of the race scholar or scholar
of Color. In this case, the tears made its predictable appearance, but what was more
frustratingly predictable was the immediate rush to cater to her emotional needs, as
if the world needed to pause. One white woman audience member stood up and
went on a diatribe about nothingness or gibberish, which is common to whiteness in
its irrational logic. Another white woman who sat in the very last row of the ball-
room even tried to end the entire lecture by closing with, “Thank you all for com-
ing.” Another spoke at lengths at how antiracist she was by showcasing all the
organizations she was a part of and all the good deeds she has done instead of taking
the time to digest the feelings of whiteness and sit with discomfort. As if, the quick
turn to “I’m a good person” is some say deflection of the culpability we should all
own. In all, during these pontifications made primarily by white women in the audi-
ence, never once was there a real question asked to keynote speaker during this Q &
A. Instead, it became a silencing act to dismiss the credibility, respect, and message
of the keynote speaker. In fact, it shifted the focus and gaze that was on the keynote
speaker and the research delivered to the performance of whiteness. The soliloquies
of, “how good I am.” The monologues of incoherent logic. The controller of the
spotlight. Bravo, whiteness.
The most frustratingly predictable aspect of all this is that this exact scenario
plays out too often in various fields across the US. And, in this annoyingly repetitive
movie of whiteness, we, the spectators, are so engulfed in the performance that we
may overlook two major things. One, how catering to white tears is in and of itself
a maintenance of white supremacy because to be too emotionally unfettered to learn
about race and racism is NOT the same as to be emotionally traumatized by racism:
police brutality, job discrimination, housing discrimination, academic lynching,
denial of tenure, and death. Plainly, one’s choice to be emotionally unfettered to
merely learn about racism is NOT on par with the pain people of Color experience
268 C. E. Matias
under white supremacy. Catering to these white tears then becomes a giant leap
backwards in dismantling white supremacy. In doing so, it suffocates those racially
just researchers who try to engage in racially just research, teaching, and service.
Two, when people act as if they are shocked or surprised with some predictable
performance of white emotions like “I didn’t know about racism” or “My goodness,
can you believe she called the cops on those guys who were just barbecuing at a
park” it is frustrating. It is as if that person who is acting all surprised or confounded
by a particular behavior of whiteness is yet again feigning innocence by employing
an ahistorical understanding of our world. Frankly speaking, one cannot be sur-
prised about behavior that is routinely performed. Yes, she will call the cops because
white women have done it before. Do not act as if one did not know about racism
when they refused to bring their Black boyfriend home or chose to drive around a
particular part of town because it was “rough around the edges” (code for too Black).
The engagement of whiteness, anti-blackness, and white supremacy are so master-
fully executed because in their execution they deny its existence. ’Tis nothing more
than an abusive cycle whereby the abuser abuses and then uses his power to deny the
abuse ever took place. Therefore, this bewilderment toward acts of white supremacy
via white emotions and behaviors are frustrating because although they are so rou-
tinely performed we, as a society, are forced to act as if it were the first time ever.
And it is this pre-context that makes researching, teaching, and servicing racial
justice in the academy so frustrating. In fact, as social scientists, we are to investi-
gate patterns, understand why they exist, and theorize its maintenance and relation
to society. For example, when it comes to exceedingly high, high school dropout
rates of Black and Latinx students in US education, one does not hesitate to study
this pattern, what existing structures impact its prevalence, or to theorize as to ways
it can better support Black and Latinx students. When it comes to bilingual educa-
tion, we give no second thought of the pattern of white women educators who
become the experts of this field, many of whom do not speak another language. Yet,
when it comes to whiteness in teacher education, white supremacy in US education,
or emotionalities of whiteness that impact teaching and learning of our predomi-
nantly diverse student population, naysayers strategically overlook this pattern. To
ponder why education is predominated by white women is to engage in an emo-
tional act of whiteness because in that very quandary is a refusal to bear witness to
how post-Brown v. Board of Education inadvertently socially implied that Black
teachers were incompetent and thus many were pushed out of the field of teaching
(Tillman, 2004). To ask why women of Color are not supporting white women’s
marches is a direct slap in the face because it denies the historical realities of white
women who have rarely championed the interests of women of Color (see hooks,
1994). To question the competence, teaching practices, research agendas, and ser-
vicing projects of women professors of Color who are researching race and racism
is a blatant denial of one’s own insecurities of accepting that a woman of Color is an
expert. Thus, they forever attempt to undermine her competence. Meaning, to
readily accept that white professors can be experts on bilingual education without
knowing another language, educational pipelines of African Americans without
ever living in Black communities, or on culturally responsive teaching regardless of
22 Beyond White: The Emotional Complexion of Critical Research on Race 269
The field of education is quick to draw upon the now famous work of John Dewey
to understand the state, purpose, and experience of US education. Books, articles,
journal even, are written and established in the memory of his scholarship. Common
parlance within educational circles are talks of pragmatism, educational experience,
and democratic education. In fact, these concepts are held as truths from which
empirical studies then arise. Studies focusing on how democratic education can bet-
ter be facilitated, how does pragmatism impact student success, or what educational
experiences are contributing to the educational attainment of students are common
research inquiries that draw from Dewey’s foundational scholarship. Clearly,
Dewey’s educational contributions are long lasting and give education hope in its
innovative theories.
270 C. E. Matias
In the same vein, when educators and educational researchers engage in the en
vogue discussions of social justice, they are astute in citing Paulo Freire. His notions
of conscientization, banking education, and pedagogy of oppressed are just a few of
his theoretical rumination that are now used as the basis to drive educational policy,
teacher preparation programs, and university mission statements and visions.
Freire’s work has become so commonplace that high school kids at Tucson Unified
School District read Pedagogy of Oppressed. His face even glitters on the T-shirts of
many socially just educators. Freire is not only the man who is given the credence
of social justice education, but he has now become the iconic ideal which is now
repurposed as a living process of a pedagogically hopeful education, so captured
when researchers engage the word, “Freirean.” Meaning, to engage in Freirean
approaches to education is beyond Paulo Freire the man. In doing so, the hope for
socially just education lives on.
These are but two examples of scholars who have greatly influenced educational
practices, thoughts, and research agendas. Indeed there are many more like Karl
Marx, Max Weber, or even modern scholars like Michel Foucault, Henry Giroux, or,
my own mentor, Zeus Leonardo. Suffice it to say that understanding the complexi-
ties of education builds upon the research of yesteryear; research that is popularly
accepted as truths and applicable to education. As a subset of the entire discipline of
education, teacher education is no different. Echoed in mission statements and
visions is the need for democratic, socially just, and equitable education. Research
agendas within teacher education continually explore new teaching practices, cur-
ricular approaches, and pedagogical applications in order to meet the meets of a
growing linguistic, cultural, racial, sexual, and gender diversity found in US K-12
schooling. Needless to say, teacher education and all its belief system, practices,
operation, and evaluation are built upon truths first defined in theoretical postula-
tions of past scholarship. Meaning, within teacher education, it is common practice
and widely accepted to build research agendas off the need for social justice or to
enforce democratic education. With this in mind, one would have no disagreements
in saying these past theorizations, ideas, and assertions from scholars like Dewey or
Freire are relevant to the state of US teacher education today. Yet, when one attempts
to push the theorizations of yesteryear to the twenty-first century in teacher educa-
tion, there is empiricist pushback, especially with regard to those educational schol-
ars who research race, racism, and white supremacy. By empiricist I specifically
identify a group of educational gatekeepers or an educational epistemology that
actively limits what constitutes educational research. They do this by defining edu-
cational research as empirical studies only. Let me explain.
CRT and CWS operate as critical social theory has done before yet are not often
given the same credence. Like Marx and other critical theorists from the Frankfurt
School—many of whom were white men—the theoretical contributions were
widely accepted in various academic disciplines; teacher education is no different.
In the scholarship of critical theory, they critique society knowing that observing
society itself is in and of itself a wonderfully rich canvas for which to generate theo-
ries. These theories are then applied to teacher education as a way to engage in
socially just teaching. In fact, Freire himself often cites Erich Fromm, who was
22 Beyond White: The Emotional Complexion of Critical Research on Race 271
originally a part of the Frankfurt School. Therefore, the idea of accepting theoretical
research is not foreign to teacher education for its very foundations, pursuits, and
missions are guided by them.
In the same likeliness, CRT is a formidable analytic tool first used in the disci-
pline of law and then applied to education to investigate society and its maintenance
of white supremacy and racism. As a great complement to CRT, CWS deconstructs
hegemonic whiteness and how its operations ultimately uphold white supremacy.
Both theories or theoretical fields of study are like critical theory, in that they begin
with a point of contention. More precisely, just as conflict theory so describes for
critical theory, society is not benign, produced or interacted within a vacuum, or
absent of conflict over power. Similarly, society is not colorblind, post-racial, or free
of the competing powers found in a racial hierarchy. As such, CRT and CWS do not
preoccupy themselves in empirically demonstrating whether or not racism exists. It
is a fact embedded in its application just as the observation of a conflicting society
is embedded in critical theory. So you would think that teacher education that builds
its very foundation on theorization would welcome further theorizations as appli-
cable to nowadays. Unfortunately, that has not been my experience.
First, when engaging in the theorization of the emotionalities of whiteness, there
were several pushbacks. First, the idea of studying whiteness in a field that has been
determined to have an overwhelming presence of whiteness (Sleeter, 2001) was dif-
ficult. White teachers, white professors of teacher education, and white administra-
tors could not fathom a different narrative to their existence and presence as white
educators other than the Hollywood depictions of the white savior. Merely, positing
the idea that perhaps they are not helping was too unfettering. Second, the study of
emotionality was difficult because although male scholars have had the liberty to
study “affect,” the same study on emotions was considered biased when researched
by a woman, let alone a woman of Color. But the worst pushback was what I call the
methodological side-step. This process was often nonlinear and convoluted but
eerily very predictable.
I first noticed one application of the methodological side-step when I submitted
manuscripts that employed theory as a method or engaged in theoretical investiga-
tions to understand society’s patterns of racialized emotions. On one of my manu-
scripts, the infamous reviewer two predictably reacted to the topic of whiteness and
emotionality placing comments throughout the manuscript that were just objections
to every idea. They refused to engage in the topic, argument, and literature and flat
out wrote emotional responses to each claim. Knowing that one cannot deny a man-
uscript based upon one’s emotional response to it, the reviewer then wrote a lengthy
paragraph that discredited the entire manuscript based on methods alone. In speak-
ing with other critical race scholars or critical whiteness scholars, I noticed this was
becoming a more commonplace practice. Clearly, it became a new strategic maneu-
ver to discredit and silence the work on race, particularly whiteness. Yet, in the same
journal, I saw published articles of how white teachers became antiracist upon sim-
ple learnings of race and racism. It was as if research can never critique whiteness
unless it was given a heroic ending just like the Hollywood films depict.
272 C. E. Matias
It was annoying because my research is not about proving that racism, whiteness,
and white supremacy exist just as feminists do not have to prove that gender bias
exists. Instead, my research agenda was focused on how does the emotionality of
whiteness look in teacher education and how might it impact a teacher’s teaching
such that it also affects her students of Color. The inquiry and research was not to
demonize any one being, but to tackle the problem of racial bias in teacher educa-
tion—a field which is predominated by white women—in new ways so that educa-
tion actually becomes racially just. If by chance my research ever held up a mirror
to a reflection that one detests, then that is not my problem. The problem becomes
why someone would refuse to see their own reflection.
However, the methodological side-step grew even worse in its institutional pres-
ence. During my tenure process, a rubric was designed after the start of my profes-
soriate. It was developed to ascertain the excellence of our research as faculty.
Included was a simple word that defined what constitutes as research. The word
inserted was “empirical” which was later footnoted to be defined as “not just theo-
retical.” Interesting. Here are educational researchers who are okay with accepting
theorizations made by white men but disavowing, discrediting, and even discourag-
ing the expansion of epistemological, ontological, philosophical thought, especially
during a time when newer faculty are more diverse in gender, race, ability, and sexu-
ality than ever before. It is as if education refuses to allow diverse people to generate
philosophy of their own while readily citing Dewey, a philosopher by training.
Even the largest professional educational research organization, American
Educational Research Association (AERA), released a 2009 memorandum affirm-
ing the use of what they coined “humanities-based research” which officially rec-
ognized the importance of theoretical research in education. To honor this, AERA
even updated their online submission interface, allowing a drop-down tab to indi-
cate whether the proposal is methodologically theoretical. So it is quite telling
when the leadership of a school of education makes the decisions to limit the defi-
nition of research to empiricism when it readily applies theoretical research to
undergird their missions and visions. I mean, honestly, who did Freire or Dewey
interview? And, beyond this line of questioning, why is it that some folks in
teacher education, or education writ large, is averse to accepting newer theoriza-
tions like the emotionality of whiteness from scholars of Color? Crooms (2003)
answers this by positing how women of Color, particularly Black women, are not
given the credence of engaging in theory building, as if the job is only open to
white men, or men in general.
In addition to this is the fact that CRT and CWS are not preoccupied with provid-
ing empirical evidence that racism or white supremacy exists. It is a fact embedded
in its very employment. Thereby, to limit the scope of what constitutes research for
a scholar’s tenure process to only empirical research is also to limit the ability for
scholars to engage in CRT or CWS. In the end, this limitation is but another attempt
to once again silence racially just research. Furthermore, CRT’s method of counter-
storytelling, parables, or testimonies are also not given credence because if
administrators continue to redefine what constitutes research during the tenure pro-
22 Beyond White: The Emotional Complexion of Critical Research on Race 273
cess, they will revert back to the good old, “but that’s only your story,” or “this is just
autobiography,” as a way to minimize the relevance of counterstories.
Therefore, when this methodological side-step is applied to you, the reader, in
any of your racially just scholarship, recognize that this is not about your research
and it should not deter your hope in a racially just system; instead, it is about one’s
own insecurity to accept you as a scholar with formidable ideas, theories, and con-
tribution to education. In fact, it is about one’s insecurity to see its own complexion.
Because, alas, education is already run by queen bees refusing to share the hive
while enforcing, perhaps more precisely reinforcing, the whitened complexion of
education.
Suggested Readings
Notes
References
Berry, T. R., & Mizelle, N. D. (Eds.). (2006). From oppression to grace: Women of color and their
dilemmas in the academy. Stylus Publishing, LLC.
Crooms, L. A. (2003). “To establish my legitimate name inside the consciousness of strangers”:
Critical race praxis, progressive women-of-Color theorizing, and human rights. Howard Law
Journal, 46, 229–581.
Godfrey, P. (2010). “Sweet little (white) girls”? Sex and fantasy across the color line and the con-
testation of patriarchal white supremacy. Equity & Excellence in Education, 3(3), 204–218.
https://doi.org/10.1080/10665680490491506
Gonsalves, R. (2008). Hysterical blindness and the ideology of denial: Preservice teachers’ resis-
tance to multicultural education. Counterpoints, 319, 3–27.
Gutierrez Muh, G., Niemann, Y., Gonzalez, C., & Harris, A. (2012). Presumed incompetent: The
intersections of race and class in women in academia. Boulder, CO: University of Colorado
Press.
hooks, b. (1994). Teaching to transgress: Education as a practice of freedom. New York, NY:
Routledge.
Lugo Lugo, C. (2012). A prostitute, a servant, and a customer representative: A Latina in the
academy. In G. Gutierrez Muh, Y. Niemann, C. Gonzalez, & A. Harris (Eds.), Presumed incom-
petent: The intersections of race and class in women in academia (pp. 40–49). Boulder, CO:
University of Colorado Press.
Matias, C. E. (2016). Feeling White: Whiteness, emotionality, and education. Netherlands: Sense
Publishers.
Matias, C. E., & Allen, R. L. (2013). Loving whiteness to death: Sadomasochism, emotional-
ity, and the possibility of humanizing love. Berkeley Review of Education, 4(2). https://doi.
org/10.5070/B84110066
Sleeter, C. (2001). Preparing teachers for culturally diverse schools: Research and the over-
whelming presence of whiteness. Journal of Teacher Education, 52(2), 94–106. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0022487101052002002
Thandeka. (1999). Learning to be white: Money, race, and God in America. New York, NY:
Continuum International.
Tillman, L. C. (2004). (Un)intended consequences? The impact of Brown v. Board of Education
decision on the employment status of Black educators. Education and Urban Society, 36(3),
280–303. https://doi.org/10.1177/0013124504264360
Chapter 23
I Pulled Up a Seat at the Table: My
Journey Engaging in Critical Quantitative
Inquiry
Lolita A. Tabron
There is a great African proverb that states, “Until lions have their historians, the
tales of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.” This proverb has in many ways
reflected traditional academic research, where the research narratives continue to
legitimate hegemonic ways of thinking and doing, especially in quantitative inquiry.
Historically, statistical research has been used as a tool of oppression attempting to
“prove” the intellectual and cultural inferiority of communities of color (i.e., “the
bell curve,” Tuskegee Syphilis Study, eugenics, IQ testing) and obscure the reality
of racism (Cokley & Awad, 2013; Gillborn, 2010). Such scientific racism is the
foundation of the US education system and contextualizes many of the contempo-
rary issues of racial and social stratification today. Too often communities of color
are over-researched, exploited for capital gains, and dehumanized as a statistic
L. A. Tabron (*)
University of Denver, Denver, CO, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
(Leong, 2013). Further, findings from statistical studies often remain unchecked due
to the perception that numbers represent objectivity, truth, and real evidence
(Gillborn, 2010). Consequently, there is a widely held belief that “quantitative
methods are antithetical to social justice,” which situates the problem with statistical
methods rather than the users of the methods (Cokley & Awad, 2013, p. 27).
In this chapter, I share how this history and ongoing tension has shaped my
journey as an African American woman and scholar toward critical quantitative
inquiry. I begin by sharing two short narratives that were pivotal educational
experiences and examples of how the mobilization of bias and shaping of con-
sciousness prevalent in K-12 settings is perpetuated in higher education class-
rooms. I then share how the dynamics of racism experienced as a student led to
my path as a faculty member teaching statistics through a critical lens and con-
ducting critical quantitative inquiry as a researcher. I continue the conversation by
discussing what I view as the strengths and challenges to critical quantitative
inquiry. I end the chapter with recommendations for those currently engaged in or
desire to be engaged in critical quantitative inquiry.
The N-word
The first pivotal experience occurred when I was in elementary school. I was born
on the southside of Chicago, in the Englewood neighborhood, and was prepared to
attend schools in the Chicago public school system. Understanding the challenges
with the Chicago public school system, my parents decided to move to Indiana and
enrolled me in the neighborhood elementary school. My parents believed that out-
side of the city, I would receive a better education, especially since I entered the
23 I Pulled Up a Seat at the Table: My Journey Engaging in Critical Quantitative Inquiry 277
school one year ahead in math and reading. This meant that I stayed with my age
group for all social activities such as lunch and recess, but I joined the grade ahead
for math and reading instruction. There is no question that I arrived at the school
confident in myself and my academic abilities. Unfortunately, it did not take long
before my spirit was broken by the consistent racism even at the elementary level.
As the only Black child in the school, I was the victim of racist slurs and bullying
almost daily. One day, I got into an argument with a classmate who called me the
N-word, and I retaliated verbally. We were both disciplined. However, my classmate
received a verbal warning and phone call home to her parents, and I was removed
from advanced level math and reading courses. I never shared that incident with my
parents until adulthood due to my fear of my part in the altercation and retaliation
by the teachers and administrators. As an elementary student, this behavior incident
shook my confidence academically. While I still performed well academically,
maintaining high honor roll throughout my elementary and secondary experiences,
I remember feeling like I had to work really hard in my courses to get back what was
stripped from me and to prove that I was good enough.
Critical quantitative inquiry is about the “judicious and socially conscious use of
quantitative methods in our research” (Cokley & Awad, 2013, p. 37). Researchers
engaged in critical quantitative work are concerned about research questions asked
and decolonizing research designs and interpretations that reproduce oppression
and maintain the status quo (Stage, 2007; Stage & Wells, 2013).
23 I Pulled Up a Seat at the Table: My Journey Engaging in Critical Quantitative Inquiry 279
While there is great opportunity for equity with critical quantitative inquiry, there
are also challenges. One challenge is that method courses in educational programs
are often the breeding grounds for epistemic injustice. Those underrepresented in
the academy, particularly scholars of color, might have experiences similar to my
own where the educational process and content objectified me and my cultural
community. The narratives shared about my cultural community were often ill-
understandings of our marginalized experiences. Worse is the weighted responsi-
bility and urge to correct these narratives only to have these counter-narratives
denied as legitimate knowledge sources, while the false interpretations and mis-
leading arguments propagated through statistical research is seen as factual and
remain unchecked (Gillborn, 2010). Santoro and Kumar (2014) refer to this as
testimonial injustice, where
prejudice causes the hearer to give a deflated level of credibility to a speaker’s word…This
is not only a denial of the claim of a resource as a valid knowledge, but it also undermines
the community’s claim to knowledge. It is an injustice done to an individual by virtue of
them being part of that community. This likely leads to a feeling of inferiority in the student,
as well as a lack of confidence in one’s own ability to learn. (pp. 4–5)
statisticians intimidated by the numbers. They don’t have the confidence or exper-
tise to challenge the conclusions or the methods that generated them” (Gillborn,
2010, p. 267). This means we have to act to ensure our work is inclusive, accessible,
and relevant.
Concluding Thoughts
Suggested Readings
In this article, Cokley and Awad challenged the notion that quantitative methods are
antithetical to social justice. They argued that the reproduction of oppression
through quantitative analyses should be situated with quantitative users and their
misuse rather than the methods themselves.
Fendler, L. (2014). Bell curve. In D. C. Phillips (Ed.), Encyclopedia of educational
theory and philosophy (Vol. 1, pp. 83–86). New York, NY: SAGE Publications.
In this encyclopedia entry, Fendler discussed the history of the bell curve and its
intended use to display binomial probability density in the hard sciences, specifi-
cally astronomy. Fendler poignantly illustrated the misinterpretations and the erro-
neous application of the bell curve since its crossover in the social sciences.
Gillborn, D. (2010). The colour of numbers: Surveys, statistics and deficit-thinking
about race and class. Journal of Education Policy, 25(2), 253–276. https://doi.
org/10.1080.02680930903460740
In this article, Gillborn illustrated through narrative how traditional approaches to
quantitative inquiry can obscure the reality of racism, which sustains and repro-
duces hegemonic assumptions.
Stage, F.K. (2007). Answering critical questions using quantitative data. New
Directions for Institutional Research, 133, 5–16. https://doi.org/10.1002/ir.200
In this special issue, Stage described the evolution of critical quantitative inquiry,
addresses early critics, and discusses the need for more quantitative criticalists.
Stage, F. K., & Wells, R. S. (2013). Critical quantitative inquiry in context. New
Directions for Institutional Research, 158, 1–7. https://doi.org/10.1002/ir.20041
In this special issue, Stage and Wells provided an overview of the development and
evolution of critical quantitative inquiry, with an introduction to researchers cur-
rently engaged in this work.
Zuberi, T. (2001). Thicker than blood: How racial statistics lie. Minneapolis, MN:
University of Minnesota Press.
In this book, Zuberi discussed how statistics has been used to promote racists narra-
tives and ideologies. This dangerous use of racial statistics must be understood and
challenged to ensure social and racial justice for all.
Zuberi, T., & Bonilla-Silva, E. (Eds.). (2008). White logic, white methods: Racism
and methodology. New York, NY: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers.
In this edited book, Zuberi and Bonilla-Silva challenge the perceived objectivity,
color-blindness, and infallibility of statistics. They further argue that the color-blind
treatment and understanding of race as static and a social constant rather than a
social construct that sustains power differentials in statistics is undergirded by logic
and methods grounded in white supremacy used to justify racial stratification, which
further perpetuates racism.
282 L. A. Tabron
References
Cokley, K., & Awad, G. H. (2013). In defense of quantitative methods: Using the “master’s tools”
to promote social justice. Journal for Social Action in Counseling and Psychology, 5(2), 26–41.
Ford, K. A. (2015). Exploiting the body and denouncing the mind: Navigating a Black female pro-
fessional identity within the academy. In K. J. Fasching-Warner, K. A. Albert, R. W. Mitchell,
& C. M. Allen (Eds.), Racial battle fatigue in higher education: Exposing the myth of post-
racial America (pp. 189–196). Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.
Fowler, F. C. (2000). Policy studies for educational leaders: An introduction. Upper Saddle River,
NJ: Merrill.
Gillborn, D. (2010). The colour of numbers: Surveys, statistics and deficit-think-
ing about race and class. Journal of Education Policy, 25(2), 253–276. https://doi.
org/10.1080/02680930903460740
Kendi, I. X. (2017, January 21). Racial progress is real. But so is racist progress. The New York
Times. Retrieved from https://nyti.ms/2jKFsNC
Leong, N. (2013). Racial capitalism. Harvard Law Review, 126(8), 2151–2479. https://doi.
org/132.174.254.116
Lukes, S. ([1974] 2005). Power: A radical view (Vol. 1). London: Macmillan.
Santoro, D., & Kumar, M. (2014). Being bound to fail. How epistemic injustice fails educational
opportunities. Retrieved from https://imera.univ-amu.fr/sites/imera.univ-amu.fr/files/being_
bound_to_fail.how_epistemic_injustice_fails_educational_opportunities_draft_0.pdf
Stage, F. K. (2007). Answering critical questions using quantitative data. New Directions for
Institutional Research, 133, 5–16. https://doi.org/10.1002/ir.200
Stage, F. K., & Wells, R. S. (2013). Critical quantitative inquiry in context. New Directions for
Institutional Research, 158, 1–7. https://doi.org/10.1002/ir.20041
Yee, L. S., Carey, R. L., & Gamble, W. S. (2015). Navigating the academy, creating counterspaces:
Critically examining the experiences of three PhD students of color. In K. J. Fasching-Warner,
K. A. Albert, R. W. Mitchell, & C. M. Allen (Eds.), Racial battle fatigue in higher education:
Exposing the myth of post-racial America (pp. 7–16). Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.
Chapter 24
Working with Intention and in Tension:
Evolving as a Scholar-Activist
Kristen A. Renn
I work in a fairly small field within education research: I study higher education,
and in particular I study college student learning, development, and success, broadly
defined. My research centers on students who are minoritized by their social identi-
ties, with a long-standing commitment to conducting studies of LGBTQ student
experiences and identities. My commitment to this topic arises from my own experi-
ence as a White, lesbian, cisgender woman and my belief that colleges and universi-
ties can be places of transformation for students. After my own transformative
experience as an undergraduate at a women’s liberal arts college, I knew that I
wanted to work in higher education and started down a path into student affairs
administration. While pursuing a PhD in higher education, with the goal of becom-
ing a vice president of student affairs, my head was turned in the direction of
research on higher education and the possibility of a faculty career as an education
researcher.
K. A. Renn (*)
Michigan State University, East Lansing, MI, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
My career in the academy has existed in the tension that forms where my urge to
conform meets my urge to refute, resist, and reject injustice. This professional space
is a continuation of the same tensions I experienced as a young person trying to
work out how to be a respectable Connecticut girl while enacting a youthful femi-
nist agenda. From kindergarten onward, I never cared to fit gender norms very well,
and with my sporty demeanor I took charge of the classroom and playground,
always with an eye to step in and speak out when someone—first me, then increas-
ingly I saw others—was being treated differently, unfairly, unjustly. Yet, I still
wanted to conform to social norms of the well-behaved suburban girlhood that dic-
tated one should not draw attention to oneself or make trouble for others. I carried
these dispositions forward into my work as a student affairs professional, my doc-
toral program, and now into my scholarship, teaching, and mentoring as a faculty
member. I live within the tension or misalignment of enacting a social justice agenda
from within an unjust system of higher education that is not equally accessible to all
and that perpetuates racism and social stratification, even as it serves as engine of
social mobility for some. I wonder and worry about how my scholarship and subject
positions as a White, lesbian, cisgender woman who is a tenured professor at a pub-
lic research university act to reinforce the inequities and injustices I seek to illumi-
nate and eliminate. Can I simultaneously be a participant in and critic of the
neoliberal academy? Is my scholarship enough?
I conduct a lot of research in the areas of queer theory and the experiences of
LGBTQ people in higher education. In these projects, I am an insider and bear nega-
tive and positive consequences of insider positionality, such as familiarity with cul-
tural norms (positive) and risk of taking for granted what I know about the topic
(negative; see Chavez, 2008). I am keenly aware of how my ability to be an out-
lesbian academic and conduct queer research was enabled by a generation of schol-
ars before me (e.g., Bill Tierney, Toni McNaron, Tony D’Augelli) and is now
elaborated, challenged, and supported by scholars of my generation and those after
us (e.g., Cris Mayo, Juan Battle, Catherine Lugg, Dafina-Lazarus Stewart, s. j. Miller,
Erich Pitcher, Ed Brockenbrough, Carrie Kortegast, and too many more to name).
Because LGBTQ people remain the object of substantially inequitable treatment,
discrimination, and violence, my scholarship itself reinforces my desire to resist
norms and work for justice. Early in my professional career as a student affairs pro-
fessional at Brown University (from 1989 to 1999, critical years in queer civil rights
and AIDS activism, as well as campus climate improvements), in graduate school
(Boston College [BC], 1994–1998), and even early in my faculty career (beginning
in 1999), queer research and work in what was at the time called “gay and lesbian
issues” pushed boundaries. It entailed professional and personal risks and interacted
in uncomfortable ways with my enculturated disposition to work within the system,
my inclination to seek a seat at the table as a well-behaved White cis lesbian who
was sure she would “lift as she climbed” and make space for other (well-behaved)
queer folks. Yet daring as it seemed, it was still well within the boundaries of accept-
ability, as demonstrated by those institutions’ willingness to co-opt the work as
evidence of their progressive commitments.
24 Working with Intention and in Tension: Evolving as a Scholar-Activist 285
Because I was working half-time (at Brown) while going to my doctoral program
(at BC), I had the opportunity to explore when and where in academe I might behave
differently as a scholar-activist. Brown students were far more adventuresome in
their activism than I was as an undergraduate. My Brown job, which was in the
administration and therefore not protected by tenure, entailed inaugurating what is
now a full-fledged LGBT campus resource center, and so I often found myself well
on the “well-behaved” side, negotiating between activist students and an
administration that was fairly liberal but wary of rapid change. At the same time, as
a student at BC—a university that featured paradoxically liberal Jesuit values and
conservative Catholic administrative viewpoints—I embraced whatever degree of
academic freedom graduate students enjoy to push the university to be more inclu-
sive of LGBTQ students. The unusual opportunity to contrast these two academic
personae, often on the same day, opened up space for thinking about how I could
perhaps take more risks in my research with LGBTQ topics and queer theory.
I also hit a turning point when being well behaved seemed to have hit a limit.
After an article appeared in the Providence newspaper about my LGBTQ work at
Brown, resulting in my being let go from a summer job at a Girl Scout camp, I testi-
fied four years in a row at the Rhode Island legislature to help convince them to pass
non-discrimination bills. This experience was enough to get me over the misconcep-
tion that being well behaved was going to be a satisfying way to have a career.
Whether in the hearing room or rallying in the capitol rotunda with hundreds of
queers and queer supporters, I was disrupting the status quo—perhaps not in the
same way as street activists in the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP)—
but the shiny suburban gloss of respectability politics was wearing off. I faced a
decision point, whether to continue my career in university administration—fulfill-
ing work in which one can make a real difference in policy and programs that ben-
efit LGBTQ students, but which does require a lot of “good behavior”—or turn to a
faculty career. The decision to take up the latter was based in part on the opportunity
to focus less on being a well-behaved bureaucrat and more on undertaking scholar-
ship that could also make a real difference in supporting policy, programs, and cur-
riculum to benefit LGBTQ students. That I could be considered at least somewhat
edgy among education scholars in my choice of topic was an added appeal for a
reforming follower of convention.
Twenty years later, LGBTQ research in higher education has reached a point at
which it is no longer edgy or particularly risky to undertake, at least for someone
like me who is a tenured professor in a good-sized and generally good-natured
department. Out-lesbians and gay men—though not necessarily scholars of other
minoritized sexual orientations and certainly not transgender scholars—are fairly
commonplace in my field (higher education), and each generation brings forward
more talented queer scholars. Observing their scholarship, it seems to me that the
edginess, the riskiness, has shifted from simply conducting research on LGBTQ
topics to pushing epistemological and methodological frames through more explicit
use of queer theory and by posing challenges to established, “acceptable” LGBTQ
research. When Darris Means (2017) “quares” his analysis of spirituality among
Black gay and bisexual college students he not only risks seeming like a less-than-
286 K. A. Renn
well-behaved Black man, but he also risks being seen as an early career scholar who
takes on established queer scholarship, holding it to account for its epistemological
racism. Z Nicolazzo (2017) pushes back on the cisnormativity and cisheterosexism
of social science research—even ostensibly queer scholarship—by arguing for a
trans* epistemological stance in higher education research. And while they are
unlikely to lose their jobs for doing queer research, it is indeed a risky decision to
point out epistemological shortcomings of (or, depending on one’s perspective,
simply differences with) the very scholars who are likely to have opportunities to
promote (or derail) one’s career.
So if I have contributed in any way to the possibilities for these newer scholars to
challenge and re-shape the field, where is the tension I feel now? It lies at the point
where I have become if not well-behaved at least “established” as a scholar and in
ways that make me wonder if I have perhaps fallen behind in my duty to use the privi-
leges granted institutionally through tenure and systematically by my race, social
class, ability, cisgender identity, and nationality. I feel the tension when I design my
own studies and consider where to publish the results and think, “Is that journal a
little…too...‘out there’?” and “What will establishment scholars—even those on the
ideological left—think of my work if I do it in an unproven way?” These questions,
of course, really mean, “What will they think of me? Am I too ‘out there’?” My press
to do cutting-edge work that matters in improving the lives and life chances of
LGBTQ people runs up against the press to stay in the lines, or mostly so.
Where those lines are depends a lot on one’s field and method, and I am not alone
in trying to understand what it means to cross them. Jay Garvey (see Garvey et al.,
2017; Garvey, Mobley, Summerville, & Moore, 2018), for example, is mapping the
terrain of queer-inclusive critical quantitative research in higher education. In this
vein, I am co-leader of the National Study of LGBTQ Student Success, a mixed-
methods study that includes critical quantitative methods (see Nguyen, Brazelton,
Renn, & Woodford, 2018; Nicolazzo, Pitcher, Renn, & Woodford, 2017; Pitcher,
Camacho, Renn, & Woodford, 2018; Woodford, Chonody, Kulick, Brennan, &
Renn, 2015).
This project has also become a place in which I can deal with and work out the
tension between being a “well-behaved” researcher (Look at those p values! Check
out our qualitative trustworthiness!) and challenging neoliberal academic norms
that are now as much an object of my resistance as homo-, bi-, and transphobia have
been. For example, adopting the example of National Study co-lead investigator
Michael Woodford, we developed an open stance to participation in the research
team (e.g., to design protocols and collect data) and use of data by colleagues and
students across a number of US states, Canadian provinces, academic programs,
and institutional types. By queering the traditional practice of holding data close in
a competitive market for publishing, we serve LGBTQ students better by letting
more people use the data and press back against norms that would pit us all in com-
petition. It is a way to use the privileges of my position (which comes with resources
to conduct large-scale LGBTQ research) to benefit others. I am aware that this
method of creating seats for others at the academic table is just that—creating seats, not
changing out for something other than a table—but it feels at least somewhat better
24 Working with Intention and in Tension: Evolving as a Scholar-Activist 287
than throwing elbows to keep others from coming to the table at all. Getting them to
the table while we and others continue to chip away at the table itself is something,
though not enough.
I end where I began: in the tension of trying to work for justice from within a
fundamentally unjust structure. I was socialized to be comfortable working within
the system, and, to a great extent, my academic career reflects this approach. I was
also socialized to see injustice and to try to act upon and against it, and my ongoing
research projects—both the topics and the ways that I undertake them—reflect to an
increasing degree my will to do so. If an end goal of the field of education research
is to create better lives and life chances, then I think it is best served by a steady
supply of “well-behaved” scholars, scholar-activists, activist educators, students,
and communities who demand more and better knowledge, and by people like me
who walk in and across those lines.
Suggested Readings
Ladson-Billings, G., & Donnor, J. (2005). The moral activist role of critical race
theory scholarship. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), The Sage handbook
of qualitative research (3rd ed., pp. 279–301). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
This chapter provides several examples of moral and ethical dilemmas imposed on
minoritized scholars and calls the reader to re-consider the role of the academic and
intellectual. The authors argue that a critical race theory perspective requires
engagement in activist scholarship and offer a view of a “reconstructed university”
(p. 295) that would reflect this approach.
Quaye, S. J., Shaw, M. D., & Hill, D. C. (2017). Blending scholar and activist iden-
tities: Establishing the need for scholar activism. Journal of Diversity in Higher
Education, 10(4), 381. https://doi.org/10.1037/dhe0000060
In this article the authors provide and analyze an example of scholar activism, spe-
cifically the case of Black faculty taking up a call to address racism and injustice on
their campus and beyond. The authors participated in an activist group on their cam-
pus and offer insight into the challenges and rewards scholar-activist work entails.
Rasmussen, M. L., Gowlett, C., & Connell, R. (2014). Interview with Raewyn
Connell: The cultural politics of queer theory in education research. Discourse:
Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 35(3), 335–346. https://doi.org/10.
1080/01596306.2014.888839
In this article, a dialogic interview of Connell by Rasmussen and Gowlett, Australian
sociologist Connell traces how she has theorized gender from the 1970s women’s
movement through present conceptions of queer theory. The interview provides an
historical overview of the emergence of queer theory and demonstrates the com-
plexity of defining it as a static term.
288 K. A. Renn
References
Chavez, C. (2008). Conceptualizing from the inside: Advantages, complications, and demands on
insider positionality. The Qualitative Report, 13(3), 474–494.
Garvey, J. C., Hart, J., Hoffman, G. D., Iverson, S. V., Metcalfe, A. S., Mitchell, T. D., et al. (2017).
Performing critical work: The challenges of emancipatory scholarship in the academic market-
place. Critical Questions in Education, 8(2), 138–162.
Garvey, J. C., Mobley Jr., S. D., Summerville, K. S., & Moore, G. T. (2018). Queer and trans*
students of color: Navigating identity disclosure and college contexts. The Journal of Higher
Education. Advance online publication. https://doi.org/10.1080/00221546.2018.1449081
Means, D. R. (2017). “Quaring” spirituality: The spiritual counterstories and spaces of Black gay
and bisexual male college students. Journal of College Student Development, 58(2), 229–246.
https://doi.org/10.1353/csd.2017.0017
Nguyen, D. J., Brazelton, G. B., Renn, K. A., & Woodford, M. R. (2018). Exploring the avail-
ability and influence of LGBTQ+ student services resources on student success at community
colleges: A mixed methods analysis. Community College Journal of Research and Practice,
42(11), 783–796. https://doi.org/10.1080/10668926.2018.1444522
Nicolazzo, Z. (2017). Imagining a trans* epistemology: What liberation thinks like in postsecondary
education. Urban Education. Advance online publication. https://doi.org/0042085917697203
Nicolazzo, Z., Pitcher, E. N., Renn, K. A., & Woodford, M. (2017). An exploration of trans* kin-
ship as a strategy for student success. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education,
30(3), 305–319. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2016.1254300
Pitcher, E. N., Camacho, T. P., Renn, K. A., & Woodford, M. R. (2018). Affirming policies, pro-
grams, and supportive services: Using an organizational perspective to understand LGBTQ+
college student success. Journal of Diversity in Higher Education, 11(2), 117–132. https://doi.
org/10.1037/dhe0000048
Woodford, M. R., Chonody, J. M., Kulick, A., Brennan, D. J., & Renn, K. (2015). The LGBQ
microaggressions on campus scale: A scale development and validation study. Journal of
Homosexuality, 62(12), 1660–1687. https://doi.org/10.1080/00918369.2015.1078205
Chapter 25
Collaboration, Community,
and Collectives: Research
for and by the People
Erica R. Dávila
My path in educational research began at a very young age, probably around the
fourth grade, when I started noticing that school policies and practices were simply
unfair and discriminatory, albeit without a conscious or deliberate awareness of the
reasons why. Some of the injustices I recall include my (and my peers) transition to
a monolithic English curriculum, unjust disciple policies for very young children,
and teachers and principals that devalued my home culture. Collection of data for
my dissertation brought me back to my public high school to recruit potential inter-
viewees and conduct some formal observations. This was not only a physical return
but also an emotional and cognitive one. As I walked the hallways, I began some
much-needed introspection. Recalling the days, I navigated my neighborhood high
school with all the beauty and pain that came with those few but vital years in my
life. For my dissertation studies (Dávila, 2005), I conducted a qualitative research
study that provided an in-depth analysis of the experiences of Puerto Rican students
in the Chicago Public Schools (CPS), and the narratives of my participants have
shaped most of my research agenda for the past three years. Some of my findings
included the priority of a Eurocentric curriculum resulting in the erasure of Puerto
Rican history at best and demonization of those racialized or othered bodies at worst
E. R. Dávila (*)
Lewis University, Romeoville, IL, USA
(Spring, 2016), and the desire for more teachers and counselors who understood
their lived realities and valued their cultural capital. Another key finding uncovered
the value one’s Puerto Rican home identity provided as they navigated their school-
ing experiences as youth of color and for many, learners of the English language.
Hearing these stories and reflecting on my experiences with schooling, my role as a
scholar become clear—I was to investigate the curricular issues, inclusive of the
nuances that come with these realities, while highlighting and learning from the
stories of resistance, hope, and love. From this early research through today, my
positions as researcher and scholar-activist have become critical to my work in three
specific ways: (1) working with and for our people; (2) highlighting lived experi-
ences grounded in struggle and hope; and (3) complicating the power that schools/
universities have to liberate and/or oppress.
First, I want to define what I mean by “working with and for our people,” the our
is contextual and varies depending on my role in various educational environments.
For example, my first cousin (Ann M. Aviles, PhD) and I have worked together to
lift the experiences of our own familia and as an extension we have worked to
expose the inequities embedded in our hometown of Chicago and even more specifi-
cally investigated the CPS where we both matriculated from K-12. One piece that
has been significant in our scholarly trajectory is an article titled, “Examining
Education for Latinas/os in Chicago: A CRT/LatCrit Approach” (Dávila & Aviles,
2010). In this article, we explore the sociopolitical context of education policy, par-
ticularly as it relates to Latinx education, highlighting the status of Latinx students
and teachers within CPS using a Latina/o critical race theory framework. This pub-
lication is part of a larger project that began in the early 2000s, where, as graduate
students, we worked with community leaders and educators across Chicago to
assemble two reports (Aviles, Capeheart, Davila, & Miller, 2006) on the status of
Latinos in the CPS; this was my entry into the world of research. I was intentional
in working with this group of researchers because I experienced the problematic
ways research is conceptualized and disseminated in academia. This research expe-
rience was empowering, as I was able to see firsthand how research can impact poli-
cies and practices, it restored my hope in research and led to my grounding as a
scholar-activist. In this work, I had the honor of being mentored by an amazing
scholar-activist who has passed on by the name of Angela Perez Miller, her ances-
tral wisdom from countless years in CPS as a parent, teacher, and principal was
invaluable then and now; her presence in the landscape of Latinx educational
research is far and wide, and we miss her every day. In addition to Perez Miller’s
mentorship, this committee also worked with other elders in the community who
had been fighting for equity in CPS for decades prior to this project.
Some of the specific practices of this collective that I have carried in my work
include translating the reports in Spanish, collective reading and writing, and grass-
roots dissemination. Currently, I ask every publisher I work with if we can provide
a Spanish version (for scholarship specifically about Latinx people); although these
publishers do not often or always take on this charge, simply making this request
creates awareness, and it is my intention that it leads to a change in broadening
readership that is more inclusive. In community spaces, when creating flyers,
25 Collaboration, Community, and Collectives: Research for and by the People 291
reports, and conference programs, the idea to translate is not only welcome. I have
seen some researchers who themselves pursue this translation, taking their own
time; most recently, I witnessed Ramona Meza, a Latina doctoral candidate at the
University of Illinois Chicago also studying CPS take on an arduous translation task
for the good of our people. Although the collective has changed over the last
13 years, what I have witnessed is the power of our people fighting for CPS, who
are alums, parents, teachers, and counselors, on the ground. More recently, we have
assembled a larger collective of Latinx academics who have lived experiences in
Chicago and who have built their scholarship in an effort to challenge inequities and
lift the beauty of resistance in our city. Together we assembled an edited volume
titled, Latinx education in Chicago: Historical trajectories, contemporary realities
and transformative possibilities, which is in submission with University of Illinois
Press, and three fierce Latina scholars who are editing this volume are leading this
collective. I have made it a point to lift other women of color in the academy because
we are underrepresented and undervalued (Gutiérrez, 2012).
This lived reality has pushed my “prima scholar” and me to move our work into the
sphere of investigating our firsthand experiences as Puerto Rican women in academia;
we are undergoing a critical autoethnography. In a recent publication, we reflect on
our identity and positionalities in higher education as Puerto Rican women. We have
generated two scholarly publications as part of this intellectual journey. In the summer
of 2018, a book chapter entitled “Afro-Puerto Rican Primas: Identity, Pedagogy, and
Solidarity,” where we weave together our personal and professional narratives to high-
light the struggle of our work as academics as well as the hope and love embedded in
our work, was released. The second piece that has come out of this project is an article
submission scheduled to be published in spring of 2019 for Taboo titled “Un réquiem
para la lucha Afro-Boricua: Honoring moments of decolonization and resistance to
white supremacy in academia,” which has a similar framing, but we focus more on our
lived experiences in higher education; we close this article stating:
Continuing to build upon the mentorship and work we have been inducted into, we seek to
continue to create opportunities that build solidarity amongst Black and Brown faculty as
an act of resistance and self-determination within institutions of higher education. Often
these collaborations lead to networks and professional organizations that provide literal and
figurative space(s) to collaborate and grow through shared community. Other times these
networks provide support when we are resisting the oppressive symptoms of white suprem-
acy and its subsequent microaggressions. One of those instances occurred several years ago
as one of the authors struggled to keep teaching courses that unpacked concepts of institu-
tional racism and white privilege primarily to middle-class suburban students at a PWI.
One practice that Aviles and I undertake is being strategic about our order of author-
ship. Since we think and write together, we struggle with the traditional notion in
higher education of ranking the weight of our work, in other words the common
practice is that the person with a better rank and power takes the top spot in order of
authorship, or in more equitable circumstances, the person who does more work and
provides guidance for co-authors may be appointed as first author. However, we
challenge these norms because we recognize the way academia values the order of
authorship, which demonstrates a practice that pits scholars against one another,
which we resist. As we state:
292 E. R. Dávila
In the fall of 2016, I received an invitation to co-write a chapter for a book titled
The Long Term which was published in the summer of 2018. This invitation came
to a collective of activists in Chicago known as People’s Education Movement, a
chapter of a larger national collective. This work is mostly connected to my recent
work investigating the school-to-prison pipeline because it connects to my own
research interests, but also in my experience, working with doctoral candidates who
are professionals in the police force, we aim to bridge the conversation with school
officials and the Department of Corrections. This chapter, which was crafted in
partnership with Free Write Arts & Literacy (www.freewritechicago.org), is titled
“Redefining the Long Term: Schooling and the Prison Industrial Complex.” And in
this chapter, we state:
We listen to the youth writers who are affiliated with Free Write Arts and Literacy, a project
based in Chicago that engages incarcerated and court-involved youth in the performing,
visual and literary arts. By designing creative space for their students, Free Write incarcer-
ated and court-involved youth to “become the narrators of their own stories and the authors
of their futures” and in turn, supports young people in “developing educational and career
opportunities that reduce recidivism. (Davila et al., 2018)”
Writing this chapter was an empowering experience as I was able to work closely
with activists from all across the Chicago area. In this chapter we complicate power
dynamics, collectively trying to understand and analyze the school-to-prison pipe-
line and the positionality of researchers/community folks working together to resist
hierarchies of power embedded within institutions of higher education and other
institutions such as prisons. Especially exciting was being able to publish with one
of my mentors, David O. Stovall, PhD, Professor at the University of Illinois
Chicago, who served on my dissertation committee 13 years ago, and while we have
worked together on multiple projects, this is the first publication in which I was able
to work with him at this level. This project was a collaborative research study where
seven of us ranging from professors to youth writers, to community workers worked
together to highlight the experiences of youth who are resisting the oppressive
nature of the prison system through writing and the creative arts.
25 Collaboration, Community, and Collectives: Research for and by the People 293
References
Aviles, A., Capeheart, L., Davila, E., & Miller, A. P. (2006). Dando Un Paso ¿Pa’ Lante o
PaTras?: Latinos in the Chicago Public Schools (2nd ed.). Chicago: Second Legislative
District’s Education Committee. Retrieved from https://www.chicagoreporter.com/wpcontent/
uploads/2017/06/Dando-un-Paso-2006.pdf
Aviles, A. & Davila, E. (in press). Un réquiem para la lucha Afro-Boricua: Honoring moments of
decolonization and resistance to white supremacy in academia. Taboo
Davila, E. R. (2005). Educational policies and practices in lived context: Puerto Ricans schooled
in Chicago. PhD thesis, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.
Davila, E. R., & Aviles, A. M. (2018). Afro-Puerto Rican primas: Identity, pedagogy and solidar-
ity. In J. Ewing Flynn, S. Shelton, & T. Grassland (Eds.), Feminism and intersectionality in
academia: Women’s narratives and experiences in higher education (pp. 117–130). New York,
NY: Palgrave Macmillan.
Davila, E. R., & Aviles, A. M. (in press). Brown spaces: Latinx education in Chicago. In I. Pulido,
A. Rivera, & A. M. Aviles (Eds.), Latinx education in Chicago: Historical trajectories, con-
temporary realities and transformative possibilities. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press.
294 E. R. Dávila
Davila, E. R., Aviles, A. M., & Benson, R. (in press). “Our political line was to serve the peo-
ple”: Community education and the transformational praxis of the Chicago Young Lords
Organization. In T. R. Berry, C. A. Kalinec-Craig, & M. A. Rodriguez (Eds.), Latinx curricu-
lum theorizing. Race & Ed. Series. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books.
Davila, E. R., & Aviles de Bradley, A. (2010). Examining education for Latinas/os in Chicago: A
CRT/LatCrit approach. Journal of Educational Foundations, 24(1–2), 39–58.
Davila, E. R., De Dios, M., Gamboa-Turner, V., Pantoja, A., Pulido, I., Shony, A., et al. (2018).
Redefining the long term: Schooling and the prison industrial complex. In A. Kim, E. Meiners,
J. Petty, A. Petty, B. Richie, & S. Ross (Eds.), The long term (pp. 228–237). Chicago, IL:
Haymarket Books.
Gutiérrez, M. G. (2012). Presumed incompetent: The intersections of race and class for women in
academia. Boulder, CO: University Press of Colorado.
Spring, J. (2016). Deculturalization and the struggle for equality (8th ed.). New York, NY: Taylor
and Francis.
Terminology1,2
Cisgender A person whose sex as assigned at birth is congruent with their gender
identity.
Civic engagement Participating in a society as an active member working to
improve the quality of life in a community, and developing the necessary skills
and knowledges to do so.
Civil Rights Movement The movement occurring primarily in the 1950s and
1960s in the US in which Black citizens, as well as citizens from other marginal-
ized groups and non-marginalized groups, worked together for legal protections,
voting rights, nondiscrimination laws, and to end Jim Crow laws and de jure
segregation.
Civil rights Typically refers to basic legal rights, such as voting rights, public
accommodations, housing, and employment. For example, civil rights laws are
intended to protect marginalized groups from discrimination in these categories.
Colonialism The practice or philosophy of domination or subjugation of one group
of people by another. Perhaps most visible in the subjugation of non-European
and non-Western peoples and ideas to European and Western (and therefore,
White) peoples and ideas. Involves the false assumption that non-European, non-
Western, and/or non-White peoples and ideas are somehow less civilized, cast-
ing domination and erasure of those peoples and ideas as legitimate aims. This
dynamic is linked to expansion of European control and its various entangle-
ments (death, violence, and displacement) that unfolded as a result of coloniza-
tion. In a research setting, these same colonizing assumptions can come to frame
research questions and data analysis, furthering the erasure of marginalized com-
munities and knowledges.
Complementarity As applied to mixed methods research, refers to the idea that
the different paradigms and philosophical commitments of qualitative and
quantitative inquiry complement one another. This is in contrast to the view (as
articulated in the paradigm wars) that qualitative and quantitative approaches are
inherently contradictory.
Conscientization The process whereby individuals develop a critical conscious-
ness, wherein they become aware of social realities around power dynamics.
Involves reflection on the ways in which social knowledge is driven by power
and oppression, and action toward liberation.
Counterculture A way of being in a society that is opposed to or different from
the dominant social norms. In research, this might involve diverging from tradi-
tional methods, strategies, paradigms, research models, grammars, and theories
in educational research.
Counternarrative Broadly speaking, a narrative that counters another. In this text,
narratives which counter the dominant and oppressive cultural narrative.
Critical pedagogy An educational paradigm and educational philosophy in which
education is conceived as a place for critical examinations of power and oppres-
sion, and the goal of which is conscientization.
Critical race theory A theoretical framework that critically analyzes the effects
of race and racism in modern society. Originating in legal studies and drawing
from critical theory, Critical Race Theory scholarship is characterized by empha-
Terminology 297
sis on several central tenets that fundamentally critique liberal meritocratic ide-
ologies regarding race, and highlight the pervasive embedded nature of racism.
In addition, Critical Race Theory is a praxis-based framework that focuses on
both studying and challenging white supremacy and its intersected systems of
oppression.
Cultural capital Assets other than financial assets that can be mobilized for libera-
tion and social change. May include cultural features such as resiliency, educa-
tion, appearance, and other non-financial assets.
Culturally relevant education Approaches to pedagogy, curricula, and research
that center the experiences, histories, and knowledges of traditionally marginal-
ized students and communities. The aim is to identify and cultivate individuals’
unique cultural strengths within educational practices.
De facto segregation Segregation by race that, although not enforced by laws,
exists in fact due to economic, cultural, and social conditions. For example, due
to issues such as income inequality and White flight, large portions of the US,
though not legally enforced, remain deeply segregated.
De jure segregation Segregation by race as enforced by the laws of a municipality,
state, or nation. See also Jim Crow laws.
Decolonizing methodologies Research methods that challenge dominant, tra-
ditional research paradigms by privileging participant voices, co-constructing
with participants, and emphasizing an emancipatory lens. Includes an intentional
attempt to both make transparent and resist colonially situated perceptions of
value and worth.
Deficit approach Sometimes referred to as deficit thinking or deficit mind-set, this
approach to understanding difference assumes differences from the dominant
cultural norms, practices, and values are the result of deficiencies in the indi-
vidual and/or cultural group.
Desegregation A process in which schools, which had been previously segre-
gated by student race, are no longer legally designated as single-race facilities.
Desegregated schools are not necessarily integrated, however, as desegregation
is only a change in the legal status of a school.
Discrimination The act of providing additional rights or privileges or denying cer-
tain rights or privileges based on identity. For example, discrimination in hiring
might involve choosing to hire a White person over a person of Color on the
basis of race. This goes beyond bias, which is a cognitive or emotional state.
Discrimination involves behavior (or lack thereof).
Disparity Differences in outcomes, like health, educational, financial, or employ-
ment outcomes, that are driven by systemic oppression. Disparities involve both
the element of differential outcomes and the connection to systems of power and
domination.
Economic capital Financial assets, such as money, property, and credit, which can
be mobilized for liberation or social change.
Emic An interpretive research lens wherein researchers seek to understand from
within the community or culture being studied, or to take an insider point of
298 Terminology
view. Provides descriptions and analysis from the perspective or with the voices
of participants or members of the community being studied.
Epistemic violence Violence inflicted on ways of knowing or generating knowledge,
usually by dominant ways of knowing (e.g. post-positivism and empiricism) on
marginalized communities’ knowledges and ways of knowing. In the extreme,
can be referred to as epistemicide, which involves the complete erasure of alterna-
tive knowledges and ways of knowing.
Epistemology An individual’s theory of knowledge, comprising what they believe
to be knowable, how knowledge can be generated and validated, and the limits
of knowledge and knowledge production.
Equality Rooted in concepts of equal access or equal opportunity. For example,
equality in higher education might mean that students of varying backgrounds
are subject to admissions on equal grounds, and able to enroll in courses equally.
Equivalent access to resources no matter the ascriptive characteristics of the per-
son. Equality requires equalizing inputs.
Equity Goes beyond equality, to include fairness and equal inclusion. Equity can
include measures beyond equal access or equal treatment as a way to remedy
injustice and historical underrepresentation. Where equality might require equal
access, equity involves inclusion and correcting disparities. Equity requires
equalizing outcomes, which might necessitate unequal inputs.
Essentialism The belief that characteristics of an identity are set or natural, and
that particular group of characteristics defines what it is to be a member of that
identity category. For example, essentialized notions of gender ascribe static and
discrete characteristics to masculinity and femininity, presuming intrinsic dif-
ferences in characteristics between masculine and feminine identities. Assumes
extreme in-group homogeneity.
Ethic of care Nel Noddings coined this phrase, and it speaks to the relationship
between a student and their teacher. Educators need to display a consistent level
of love and caring for their students as their work to address their needs.
Ethnicity A designation based primarily on social or cultural affiliation. Though
related to race, ethnicity often includes finer distinctions, and is not based solely
on physical characteristics, but social sense of belonging. In the US, the federal
government defines ethnicity solely as “Hispanic” and “non-Hispanic,” though
that definition is not well aligned with scholarship.
Etic A normative research lens wherein researchers seek to study phenomena from
outside of the community or culture being studied, to take an outsider position-
ing, or to impose outside theoretical frames on the data.
Gay Usually refers to a man whose sexual and/or romantic attraction is primar-
ily or exclusively to men. However, this term is also sometimes applied more
broadly to any individuals who experience same-gender attraction.
Gender identity The sense of self that one has as a man, woman, nonbinary, gen-
derqueer, trans, or another gender category.
Gender The culturally and socially determined attributes (such as behavior, emo-
tions, beliefs) that are associated with masculinity/femininity. It is a social con-
struct often conflated with sex.
Terminology 299
Neoliberalism At the simplest definition, it involves the move from public con-
trol of systems to private control of systems, perhaps most notably schools, but
also other systems that were traditionally publicly controlled. Neoliberalism also
involves the commodification of ideas such as student learning, teacher qual-
ity, and other concepts not traditionally considered commodities. This results in
the definition of learning as the ability to produce profit, and schools as places
for individuals to develop their profit potential. In other words—neoliberal phi-
losophies of education result in schools conceptualized as businesses, and stu-
dents conceptualized as commodities. In higher education, the concept is used to
describe the ways that competition for resources (e.g. students, faculty, revenue)
creates a “market” that emphasizes efficiency and production, individualism and
brand promotion.
Nonbinary An individual whose gender identity and/or gender expression is out-
side or beyond the traditional male/female or man/woman binary.
Opportunity gap Disparity in educational opportunity, often divided by race.
Which schools students have access to, for example, presents students with very
different sets of opportunities. Because of de facto school segregation, educa-
tional opportunities such as advanced courses, highly qualified instructors,
college preparation, and other opportunities are split by race, creating a gap in
opportunity. This opportunity gap, in turn, drives achievement gaps. In other
words, gaps in achievement might be better explained by gaps in educational
opportunity.
Oppression The state in which dominant groups, acting as oppressors, subjugate
and restrict other groups. Those dominant groups use power structures to ensure
they remain dominant by controlling non-dominant groups, restricting opportu-
nities, enacting bias, and attenuating their capital.
Panopticon A metaphor used by Michel Foucault to describe diffuse mechanisms
of surveillance as a means of social control. The panopticon, a reference to ear-
lier European prison designs, involves the constant threat of surveillance and an
inability to determine when one is being surveilled or by whom. The threat of
surveillance, then, becomes a tool for policing individual behavior and attitudes.
Pansexual An individual whose romantic and/or sexual attraction is not based on
gender, who may thus be attracted to individuals of any gender identity.
Paradigm wars A period in which researchers debated the value of various
paradigms. This period was marked by conflict between qualitative and quan-
titative methodologists with deep animosity developing between paradigmatic
approaches. Similar conflicts arose between humanities scholars and social sci-
entists as well.
Paradigm A philosophical approach to research that includes ontology, epistemol-
ogy, methodology, and axiology.
Participatory action research A community-based research method that empha-
sizes action and broad participation and seeks to co-create new knowledge
between researchers and participants by attempting to produce change in the
community.
302 Terminology
Patriarchy A societal system which privileges men and masculinity, while oppress-
ing women and femininity.
Photo-elicitation Involves either inviting research participants to take photographs
of a space (e.g. a school) under a broad prompt (e.g. places where you like to have
fun), or researchers selecting photographs and asking participants to respond.
Researchers then ask questions to fully elucidate participants’ experiences.
Photovoice The use of community-produced images to critically explore commu-
nity needs.
Position taking The process of trying to understand another person’s experience
or social position.
Positionality Involves critical examination of a researcher’s social position, espe-
cially as positioned within power structures, as it relates to research participants
and research questions.
Postmodern A time period beginning in the mid-twentieth century, and a set of
beliefs or philosophies that involve critique of modernity and its investment in
rationality and professionalization. Involves the fragmentation of authority and
counter-empirical movements. There is disagreement regarding when it began
and when or if it ended.
Praxis Involves critical reflection and thinking directed toward transforming edu-
cational practice.
Propensity score matching A procedure that helps estimate the effect of a treat-
ment, policy, or other intervention by accounting for factors that predict receiving
the treatment. It is a common approach to using observational (non-experimental)
data to estimate treatment effects when assignment to the treatment condition is
non-random. Cases in treatment and control groups are matched based on simi-
larity of propensity scores, and unmatched cases are omitted.
Propensity score reweighting A contemporary alternative to propensity score
weighting, particularly useful in overcoming small sample and/or small cell size
problems. In propensity score reweighting, propensity scores are used to control
the influence of each participant by weighting his/her responses based on his/
her propensity to receive the treatment. Since no cases are omitted, considerable
statistical power can be retained when working with limited datasets.
Quare As a noun, refers to a lesbian, gay, or bisexual person of color. As a verb,
“to quare” something is to acknowledge the intersection of race, class, gender,
and sexual orientation in one’s identity and social location, as well as account for
racism in the White LGB community.
Queer theory A theoretical approach that aims to deconstruct and critique binary
notions of identity, perhaps most notably around gender and sexual identity. Its
approach is oppositional and antiessentialist, refusing binaries as intrinsically
attached to hegemonic power relations.
Queer Traditionally a slur against LGBTQ individuals, but it has more recently
been adopted as an affirmative identity category. Can refer to sexual orientation
or gender identity, but typically includes identities other than cisgender straight
individuals.
Terminology 303
Notes
1. Portions of this section have been adapted from Strunk, K. K., Locke, L. A., & Martin, G. L.
(2017). Oppression and resistance in Southern higher and adult education: Mississippi and the
dynamics of equity and social justice. New York, NY: Palgrave.
2. We provide a list of terms used in this book which might not have widely understood meanings.
Our purpose is not to provide a definitive meaning for each term, but rather to explain how
those terms are used in this text.
Index1
A Conscientization, 270
Academic achievement, 100, 132, 228, Counterculture, 178, 183, 187
229, 233 Covariate(s), 228–232
Accountability, 4, 7, 94, 128, 145, 168 Critical consciousness, 76, 96, 126, 130, 132, 276
Activism, 6, 130, 132, 222, 263, 284, 285 Critical pedagogy, 50, 72, 76, 256
Agency, 19, 20, 36, 61, 86, 88, 99, 110, 111, Critical race theory (CRT), 45–52, 71, 198,
126, 132, 169, 191 242, 264, 269–271, 290
Antiracism, 255, 258, 259, 267, 271, 279 Critical theory, 78, 270, 271
Assumptions, 11, 12, 21, 26, 34, 48, 52, Critical whiteness, 51, 78, 271
63–65, 71, 93, 140, 141, 143, 144, Cultural insurgency, 178
168, 170, 171, 178, 186, 192–194, Culture, 4, 6, 19, 20, 25, 26, 28, 35,
196, 205, 206, 211, 228, 230, 48–50, 61, 82, 95, 97, 100,
242–246, 249 101, 127, 128, 130, 131, 138,
Autoethnography, 97, 99, 256, 258, 291 139, 142, 145, 154, 177, 178,
Axiology, 93, 118 181, 183–185, 193–194, 242,
257, 266, 269, 270, 275, 279,
280, 284, 289
B
Bias, 16, 17, 19, 20, 24, 26, 121, 143, 144,
155, 192, 203, 204, 229, 231, 232, D
236, 276, 278, 279 Decolonizing, 19, 92, 96, 97, 126, 127,
Black, 18, 20, 46, 47, 49, 50, 52, 62, 94, 165, 278
177–180, 183, 185, 195, 219, 228, Deliberation, 256
230, 232, 257–260, 268, 272, Democracy, 255–260
277–278 Democratize, 4, 9, 12
Dialogic, 5, 9, 11, 257
Disability, 48, 227–237
C Discourse, 5–7, 23, 26, 39, 48, 73, 74, 87,
Categorization, 213n1, 227–236 92–95, 98, 101, 127, 137, 153, 173,
Cisgender, 21, 30, 74, 283, 284, 286 178, 183, 185, 187, 192, 195, 242,
Civic engagement, 126, 129, 130, 132 245, 246, 292
Colonialism, 51, 164, 165, 173 Discrimination, 15, 37, 141, 198, 228, 230,
Colorblindness, 17, 21, 245, 259, 271 242, 267, 284, 293
Disjunction, 255 H
Disproportionality, 227–237 Heat map, 219
Domination, 73, 74 Hegemony, 19, 51, 75–76, 92, 94, 96, 138,
177–178, 192–194, 242, 271, 279
Heterosexism, 64
E cisheterosexism, 75, 286
Early Childhood Longitudinal
Study—Kindergarten Class of
1998–1999 (ECLS-K), 232, 236 I
Emancipatory, 4, 16, 92–101, 104, 127, 132, Ideological domination, 46, 74, 75
141, 145, 146 Ideology, 16, 17, 34, 48, 65, 74–78, 185, 193,
Emic, 181, 182 244, 246
Emotionalities, 265, 266, 268, 271, 272 Implicit bias(es), 198, 228
Emotion(s), 65, 265, 266, 268, 271 Inclusive, 48, 50, 95, 97, 137, 152, 153, 157,
Empiricism, 60, 61, 66, 183, 193, 269, 272 165, 182, 204, 220, 223, 224, 245,
Epistemicide, 184, 185 278, 280, 285, 286, 290
epistemic violence, 184 Indigenous, 52, 102, 103, 126, 127, 165, 184,
Epistemologies, 4, 5, 26, 93–95, 97–99, 104, 208, 279
118, 125, 127, 132, 154, 166, 177, Intentionality, 9, 35, 65
179, 181, 184, 193, 196, 241, 242, Interaction(s), 7, 21, 38, 65, 77, 86–88, 166,
270, 272, 285, 286 169, 171, 220, 222, 224, 230, 231,
Equality, 62, 152, 204, 205, 209–212 255, 258
Equity, 5, 16, 33, 34, 41, 50, 60–65, 74, Interpretivism, 122, 155, 194, 242
81–88, 92, 95–97, 117, 118, 129, Intersubjective, 3, 5, 9, 11, 12
137, 140, 152–153, 155, 157, 159, Interview(s), 4, 6–8, 10, 11, 16, 27, 28,
167, 186, 192–198, 204, 205, 209, 35–39, 41, 95, 99, 101, 104, 113,
212, 220, 227, 244–246, 249 128, 130, 131, 152, 154–159, 167,
Ethics, 5, 15–30, 35, 40, 85, 139, 155, 156 169, 180, 218, 220–224, 245,
Ethnocentric, 182 258, 272
Ethnography, 23, 33, 35, 40, 92, 100–101,
126, 156, 164, 243, 256, 257
Etic, 181, 182 K
Exclusion, 95, 153, 165, 168, 211, 217, 245, Knowledge(s), 4, 5, 16, 17, 20, 26–29, 40, 46,
248, 249, 279 47, 51, 73, 75, 77, 92, 93, 98, 118,
Experimental, 97, 99, 120, 191, 194, 198, 120, 122, 126–128, 130, 132,
228–231, 236 152–155, 164–166, 173, 182, 183,
186, 187, 193, 197, 242, 243,
279, 287
F
Feminism, 23, 28, 50, 51, 62, 91–96, 98–100,
103, 104, 141, 242, 256, 272, 284 L
Latinx
Hispanic, 102, 167
G Latina/o, 102, 129, 277, 290, 291
Gender, 4, 17, 18, 20, 23, 25, 26, 29, 59–64, LGBTQ
72, 73, 78, 93, 96–98, 100, 101, LGBT, 285
137–139, 146, 167, 170, 185, 193, LGBTQ+, 60–62, 219
194, 196, 198–200, 208, 223, 224, Liberation, 34, 40, 63, 74, 76, 78, 181
228, 232, 233, 236, 255, 257, 264, Life history, 177–188
267, 270, 272, 278, 284, 293 methodology, 177–188
Globalization, 19 Liquid modernity, 81–88
Grassroots, 126, 129, 290 Literacy, 52, 127, 255, 257, 292
Grounded theory, 66, 143, 156 Longitudinal, 232
Index 307
S U
Sample, 119, 143, 144, 179, 181, 196, Urban education, 76, 179, 269
206–208, 231, 233, 235, 279
Social class
poverty, 153, 229 V
socio-cultural, 178, 180, 183 Validity, 3–12, 24, 29, 96–98, 101, 120–122,
socioeconomic, 178, 180, 183, 185, 186, 204, 222, 244, 265
185, 230 Validity horizon, 7, 8, 10, 11
socioeconomic status (SES), 18, 141, 229,
230, 232
Social justice, 5, 15, 22, 29, 30, 33–41, 45, W
46, 48, 49, 52, 59–66, 81–88, White, 17, 18, 20, 22, 24, 29, 30, 33, 46, 47,
91, 94–96, 98, 99, 104, 117, 50, 52, 72–76, 78, 99, 102, 183,
118, 126, 127, 137–147, 152, 187, 192, 193, 195, 204, 210, 218,
153, 155, 157, 159, 164, 177–188, 228, 231–236, 242, 244, 247, 248,
191–198, 203–212, 213n1, 220, 255, 257–259, 263–273, 277, 283,
242, 246, 259, 269, 270, 276, 284, 291
280, 284 Whiteness, 47, 51, 71, 75, 78, 193, 197, 198,
Socio-cultural, 178, 180, 183 256, 257, 259, 264–269, 271, 272
Sociolinguistic, 39 White supremacy, 72–76, 99, 192, 193, 218,
Subaltern, 40, 184, 185 244, 255, 264, 267
Subjectivities, 77, 102, 138, 141, 142, 182,
191, 197
Subjugation, 72, 127 Y
Youth Participatory Action Research (YPAR),
125–133, 153, 166
T
Theory of Communicative Action, 6
Tokenizing, 159 Z
Transgender, 146, 207, 285, 286 Zero-tolerance, 228