Sparkes, Andrew. 2002. “Telling Tales in Sport and Physical Activity: A Qualitative Journey. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.
Snyder, S. & Mitchell, D. T. 2001. Re-engaging the Body: Disability Studies and the Resistance to Embodiment. Public Culture, 13, 367-389.
Wacquant, L. 2009. Habitus as Topic and Tool: Reflections on Becoming a Fighter. In W. Shaffir, A. Puddephatt & S. Kleinknecht (Eds.), Ethnographies Revisited, New York: Routledge
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Since the days of Plato in Ancient Greece, scientific researchers have claimed to use value-free language (Sparkes, 2002, p. 30). But, as we know, this is simply not the case: the scientific account, which follows the scientific method, isn’t reported naturally; on the contrary, it too seeks to persuade. Based on this conceptualization, the scientific tale is fictional as well. With the rise of “rationality” and statistics, bodies have been increasingly medicalized and hence discourses of ab/normality have been produced. Comparatively speaking, qualitative methods are often used to describe and understand the experiences of subaltern groups in society. As discussed in class, many researchers choose to study topics that they can personally relate to because they’ve experienced similar emotions and situations that go along with certain experiences. On the other hand, there are researchers who choose to study the “other” because of their fascination with “deviance,” difference, and diversity. By studying other groups, however, it’s possible for the studied subject/s to be further stigmatized and then excluded from mainstream society. Is it right for us – as researchers – to determine how society views the “other”?
Take the disabled body, for example. Snyder and Mitchell realize the scientific method is not the only way to understand disabled bodies and that it’s important to focus on the experiences of marginalized groups. They examine the ways in which the definition of the disabled shifted from medical to cultural through a depiction of fictional stories and historical events. Fictional stories have traditionally portrayed the disabled body in a negative, stereotypical, and demeaning manner. Images of deformed bodies dominate some fairytales and historical stories and, assumingly, were written by able-bodied individuals who would have had no understanding of how persons living with disabilities experience life. These inhumane representations then reinforce how society views disabled bodies and, historically, have contributed to the exclusion of people living with disabilities from society.
Images of disability in narratives and visual mediums have contributed to the social depreciation of people living with disabilities. Snyder and Mitchell problematize science’s taking over of knowledge and failure to demystify disability. These “...historical representations do not disappear with the passing of an era or cultural formation...” (381) and Snyder and Mitchell question how society can change, and whether or not it’s possible for the image of the disabled body to shift from “freak” to “normal.” Do you think this is possible? How can we reverse the images that have been drilled into our minds from such a young age? Is it ok for able-bodied researchers to speak on behalf of people living with disabilities or do we need to step back and let the “other” speak for themselves?
We found the story of armless performing artist Mary Duffy to be quite interesting. Despite doctors not having a word for her “condition,” Duffy, as quoted by Snyder and Mitchell, notes “‘my body [is] the way it [is] supposed to be. It [is] right for me,’” and she describes it as “’whole, complete, and functional’” (383). Snyder and Mitchell then note, “Such an open rejection of patronizing efforts to see her body as incomplete challenges cultural beliefs that the disabled body must be augmented or aesthetically restored to a closed approximation of normative biology.” With that said, how and by what means can able-bodied individuals ethically represent people living with disabilities in the scholarly literature? Was Snyder and Mitchell’s usage of Lord Byron’s “The Deformed Transformed” as an allegory, to make their point, effective? Sparkes, inspired by postmodernism, the crises of representation and legitimation, and the so-called “narrative turn” (vii), encourages researchers to write themselves into, and take responsibility for, their text (22). If we define our work as giving marginalized peoples a voice, what exactly are we giving?
When we take “Telling Tales in Sport and Physical Activity” at face value, by no means is Sparkes (2002) intending to imply that we rid ourselves of science. Even the most scientific, and the most “objective” accounts are not so different from our (grad student’s and scholar’s in sociology of sport, cultural studies, etc.) own. Sparkes asks why there is such an apparent fear of relativism when scientific “objectivity” is clearly failing (220). In order to learn something from postmodernism, an individual need not fully subscribe to the “postmodern” movement. All of us have come to know truths to be partial, composed of “situated knowledges” (23). Under such circumstances, although the scientific method still reigns supreme (quantitative over qualitative), Sparkes assures the beginning graduate student that there are “many different options” for qualitative researchers nowadays (2-3). Autoethnoraphy, poetic representations, and ethnodrama are just some examples of the new and potentially exciting ways of writing up the ethnographic account. Another example is the confessional tale, which is a “behind-the-scenes” look of what is otherwise usually presented as “‘perfect’ research” (57). Because scholarly articles have been thoroughly polished, the confessional tale is a supplementary piece; it enables the researcher to additionally communicate embarrassing times, misinterpretations, and the not-so-obvious messiness of research. Such stories, according to Sparkes, are beneficial for pedagogical purposes (71).
Autoethnographies, poetic representations, ethnodramas, and confessional tales, as examples, were rarely included in academic journals just 15-20 years ago; however, nowadays, they are increasingly being published (Sparkes, 2). Sparkes interprets such diverse accounts, the methods and methodologies, as one of qualitative research’s strengths (25). “Diversity should be seen as an invitation to deepen our understanding,” he writes (224). We, the blog leaders, agree, and furthermore believe that the resulting interdisciplinarity will increasingly strengthen the qualitative brand. What do you think? Also, with the scientific method in mind, will qualitative researchers ever have such a strict method, methodology, or paradigm that all must subscribe to? Can anyone imagine what the construction of such a theoretical monstrosity would look like and if this is even be possible from a postmodern perspective, or from other academic perspectives? On the other hand, how and why would such a movement potentially be resisted?
The third article we read this week advocates Bordieu’s reworking of the “habitus.” In reflecting on his published dissertation, “Body and Soul,” “Wacquant offers an empirical and methodological radicalization of Bourdieu’s theory of habitus” (7). "On the one hand, [he] open[s] the ‘black box’ of the pugilistic habitus by disclosing the production and assembly of the cognitive categories, bodily skills and desires which together define the competence and appetence specific to the boxer. On the other hand, [he] deploy[s] habitus as a methodological device, that is, [he] place[s] [him]self in the local vortex of action in order to acquire through practice, in real time, the dispositions of the boxer with the aim of elucidating the magnetism proper to the pugilistic cosmos ... The method thus tests the theory of action which informs the analysis according to a recursive and reflexive research design"(7). Specifically, Wacquant sought to disclose the social making of a prize fighter: he asked questions such as, “Why do [boxers] commit themselves to the harshest and most destructive of all trades?” and “What is the role of the gym, the street, the surrounding violence and racial contept, of self-interest and pleasure, and of the collective belief in personal transcendence in all of this?” (3-4) By becoming a “pugilist-apprentice,” and by placing himself in the ring, according to Wacquant, it enabled him to understand first-hand what his research subjects were experiencing. Having had these experiences, how and why was he better equipped to write about the “other”? Do you all feel equipped to write about your own topics? What is your personal relationship to your topic? Do researchers benefit from experiencing the same phenomena they are writing about?
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ReplyDeleteThis week’s readings got me excited. Long have I worried about the “fate of many manuscripts, which lie unread, or at best skimmed over, on library shelves, or are commented on occasionally by other academics” (Sparkes, 131). I want my work to be read, considered, even felt by people outside of the “academy.” Writing poetry, performing ethnodrama, and employing fictional devices not only offer the opportunity for different audiences to engage emotionally and experientially with our work, but it will surely keep us, as researchers, constantly challenged and consequently (hopefully!) “fresh.”
ReplyDeleteMax and Erica, I am particularly compelled by your questions/statements regarding the ‘Other.’ Although my research will likely engage with issues of ‘Othering,’ I am not certain I want to be categorized as fascinated with deviance, difference and diversity. My motivation for this type of research is not to better understand “difference,” but to uncover mechanisms that construct these differences (that is, Others), and consequently oppress particular people. This leads directly into your question: “Is it right for us – as researchers – to determine how society views the ‘other’”? The answer is inherent in the question, I believe. ‘Society,’ if we take it to mean, for example, the imagined community that is ‘Canada,’ consists of us as researchers. We (insofar as we identify with this community and not with the ‘Other’), are perhaps ideally situated to deconstruct some of the mechanisms/discourses that perform these “views of the ‘other’” in Canada. This elucidation/critique, I believe, is enhanced with the collaborative techniques promoted by Sparkes. Autoethnography, fiction, and poetic representations allow for the voices of those Othered to partake in the research process and product (the two go together because “form matters, content and form cannot be separated”!, Eisner 2001, in Sparkes p. x). However, the ‘academic’ is still in a position of privilege. It is he/she who gets to determine what is ultimately said/performed/written. How can we create a more equitable partnership? Can there be such a thing? If theory tends to take a back seat in many of these forms, what does the researcher bring to the table? It is also important to approach these methods with caution. Because these ‘new’ forms of research are more accessible, they may be more insidious. As Snyder and Mitchell reveal, it was literary texts, films and “documentaries” that contributed to a discourse of disability as unnatural and something to be feared. Do we have to be even more reflexive, then, if we consider the implications of a larger (‘popular’) audience?
Finally, a common theme that emerged this week is the notion of ‘embodiment.’ Wacquant utilizes Bourdieu’s notion of ‘habitus,’ explaining that he could only understand his subjects’ experiences as boxers and, by extension, as African Americans in the ghetto, by understanding the movements and actions that are informed by a schemata of being. Similarly, Sparkes comments that ethnodrama, for instance, allows the actors, researchers, and audience to understand the embodied experience of the research’s subjects (p. 146). However, Bourdieu’s habitus recognizes that schemata are “engendered by history” (Bourdieu 1990, in Wacquant p. 5). Therefore, how is a white, French academic like Wacquant able to create a habitus similar to that of his Black, American subjects? How are the researchers/performers/audience able to understand embodied experience if they come from a different history?
As an allegedly (as per a distinction after a presentation) self-proclaimed neo-positivist (a.k.a. “logical positivism” Doctrine that the only meaningful propositions are those that can be verified empirically. Metaphysics, religion, and aesthetics are therefore meaningless. However, the doctrine itself cannot be verified empirically and so is self-refuting.) I’m excited to be discussing the ‘visceral’ lived-experiences of bodies.
ReplyDeleteSusan Wendell’s idea of ‘sitpoint’ theory states that there is an essential difference in experience for individuals whose bodies “give them little trouble” from those who struggle/suffer(negative)/grapple with bodies that are non-normative. Though Wendell’s idea is meant as a method for interrogating disability I believe that this concept of ‘trouble’ can be translated into intersectional (fluid) studies of identity politics. In other words, any non-normative body (one that deviates from the upper-middle class, white, male) can be seen as ‘trouble,’ and therefore privy to a unique lived experience that cannot be expressed through (as stated by Wacquant) a “gaze from afar” (3:2009).
The themes that run through these pieces discuss the day-to-day lived realities, and thus the importance of praxis (be it ethnography or another format) over abstract theoretical endeavors. Through analyzing ‘normative frameworks’ critiqued by theorists such as Foucault, Canguilem and others mentioned by Snyder and Mitchell, it becomes clear that body politics are an arena through which to discuss the relevance of identity and how this can be a site of resistance against normative/medicalized ideals as opposed to the “monstrous” existence of the “other” (2001: 385).
As we discussed last week, Dorothy Smith’s approach to such narratives is deemed ‘standpoint,’ (which is why Wendell’s choice of ‘sitpoint’ always makes me snicker) in which the individual experience is seen as superior to the external interpretation of such. As detailed by Wacquant – “…individuals with different life experiences will have gained varied ways of thinking, feeling, and acting; their primary dispositions will be more or less distant from those required by the Sweet Science…” (2009:5).
In short is this assertion, that bodies (be they ‘docile,’ ‘resistant,’ ‘able,’ or ‘othered’) each bring to the fore a uniqueness of origin, and a stock of knowledge that is important to socio-cultural theorizing, and the political role of academe itself.
Ps. I don’t think I’m a “true” neo-positivist, but you probably all already know that ;)
I think I need to pre-empt my blog with an apology. Now that I have finish writing it, I realize that is likely more of an incoherent rant than a blog posting. Thinking about my term paper for this class, and the problems with a white “Westerner” writing about the “Other” in the global South, this week’s readings got me thinking more and more about the notion of “posts” and their seemingly teleological approach to theory and methodology. I realize that I have gotten away from a close reading of the texts, and have ended up trying to write my way through some of the issue that I have been struggling with this semester.
ReplyDeleteIn the opening pages of his work, Sparkes (2002) outlines the history of the “narrative turn” in postmodern critiques, and the dual crises of representation and legitimation. He argues that postmodern approaches to socio-cultural studies move away from positivistic approaches towards an incorporation of feelings, the body, and the observer. Sparkes traces historical “moments” from the traditional period that aspired to ‘objective’ colonizing accounts, through the modernist phase of the 1970s, to the blurred genres and naturalistic, post-positivistic paradigms of the 1970s and mid-1980s. In the mid-1980s, Sparkes highlights the crisis of representation in which new models of truth, method and representation of the lived experience were sought. Here, the links between experience, the research and text became increasingly problematic. The “fifth moment” of the early 1990s saw the emergence of postmodern and post-structuralism and considerations of how to represent the ‘other’ and is followed by the sixth and seventh moments that seek to connect their writing to the “needs of a free and democratic society” (p.5).
ReplyDeleteIn the way we have approached these issues in class, I have assumed that each of these moments have approved upon their predecessors, and that we are moving towards something that is more holistic, democratic, encompassing, post-orientalist. Yet, as Anderson (1999) points out, like all histories, these breaks are somewhat arbitrary. Anderson argues that these are not so much successions, but rather diversification. He writes: “we are in a moment of discovery and rediscovery, as new ways of looking, interpreting, arguing, and writing are debated and discussed”. Thus, these moments, and their “post” (post-colonialism, post modernism, and other post-structuralist approaches such as feminism, queer theory, disability studies, and critical race theory) seek to contest and reform representations, and give a voice to marginalized/oppressed groups and individuals
Now, having said all that, I still question how my role as a research, and how these post-structuralist approaches, can really help in navigating through my positionality when writing about the global South. Carolyn, you highlight Sparkes argument that auto-ethnography, fiction, confessional tales ethnodrama and so on allow for the voices of those who are Othered to participate in the research process. I think that this notion needs to be continually complicated (Carolyn, I think you do a good job of this). I see a danger in the teleology of these approaches that may assume postmodernism as inherently more encompassing and representational. Are ethnodramas, poetry, fictional stories really more incorporating and less hegemonic/imperialist? Or are they merely another means of knowing the Other? Surely, many of the approaches listed provide a voice to marginalized populations, and from a Foucauldian perspective, you can never really get outside these power structures, thus there will always be areas of oppression and marginalization, as well as agency and resistance. It seems to me however, that my position as a white research from the global North is inescapable. No matter how/what post-structuralist approach is taken, power structures remain, especially within a context of global North-South relations. Clearly, I’m struggling through these issues, and I’m not sure where this leaves us, but I suppose my point is that these approaches cannot be taken for granted or assumed to be truer representations or more legitimate. Rather, we should continue to question our methodology, subjectivity, and positionality.