So as the end of my third year approaches, and the terrifying beginning of my fourth and final PhD year looms into view I’ve really begun to panic about my data collection.

The data that I currently have is amazing. The interviews I’ve conducted so far have tended toward the hour mark, with some exceeding it as both interviewer and interviewee seem to get carried away finding new topics  and fresh perspectives on old ones. Every interview has been a fresh occasion to be amazed and inspired by the work that young women are doing not only for social and climate justice campaigns but also within their own lives and communities.

Participant observation in a wide range of activism and group contexts for over 150 hours so far has yielded insights into the complexity of organisation and interactions that are far more valuable than quantitative methods such as questionnaires would have
produced.

 Even the diaries, although beset with their own problems of uptake and completion (I currently have 3!), have provided yet another viewpoint, not least on the huge number of hours that activists dedicate to their work; the back office, home and internet tasks that enable movements to function but which are largely unrecognised and undervalued.

And yet, with less than two months of my third year left I still need to interview 10 more people. My recruitment techniques have changed as time has gone on: initially I trawled the internet for groups and organisations that fit my anarchist/environmental focus and emailing them with information about the project and asking them to forward the email to their members. This elicited a few responses, but far fewer than I had hoped. Next I tried to publicise my research at events I was attending, such as anarchist bookfairs, and recruit participants face to face. This had a greater degree of success, but was hampered somewhat by my shyness. Most recently I’ve been using Twitter to try to recruit people: asking for retweets from people with relevant interests and followers. I was surprised by how many retweets I got, and at first was confident that this was *The Answer* to my recruitment problems, but while I had several offers, few have come to anything when I’ve tried to arrange interviews. All along I’ve been trying to use snowball sampling to reach people who are known to others, and in a one or two cases this has worked but not nearly as often as I would have hoped. Perhaps I’m not being persistent enough, but that’s
tied up with a bigger issue I’ll discuss below.

Problems associated with participant recruitment and retention are numerous on any research project and many of the standard issues of
time-commitment and access apply here but I’m finding recruitment for my PhD more difficult than I have on other projects I’ve worked on. I’ve been working through some of the issues in the faint hope of overcoming
them:

1)     
One issue that I had anticipated, and which has proved to be the case, is suspicion from activists about the legitimacy of my researcher status. The intelligence gathering tactics used by the police are notorious (Mark Kennedy being a recent but by no means lone case) and activists are right to be wary of outsiders. So I wasn’t in the least surprised when my supervisor told me she’s had an email asking whether I was a genuine PhD student. She was able to reassure them that I wasn’t planning to use the data for anything other than progressive and academic purposes but I
imagine most people with concerns about my status won’t go to those lengths, rather they’ll just not respond.

2)     
The second issue, and one that applies more widely than just my project, is that the people I am interested in talking to are incredibly busy. Although the time commitment is brief (generally a 1 hour interview in person or via Skype), it’s often just one more thing to try to shoehorn into an already packed schedule. The women I’ve interviewed are often working full-time, studying and campaigning for a number of groups at the same time. The issue of burn-out and over-commitment is one that I’m exploring in my research but I don’t want to contribute to it.

 3)    
I’m aware that referring to the participants I’m seeking as ‘activists’ may well lead some women to consider themselves ineligible.‘Activist’ is not an identity that is necessarily claimed by many who do activism, tied up as it is with issues of legitimacy and collective identity. I’d argue that this is particularly an issue for women. For some women cultural stereotypes around the abstract universal ‘Activist’ are such that it is incompatible with their own gender identities. Others undervalue their work (or have it undermined by others) to the extent that they don’t recognise their contribution in such a specific way. The ‘perfect standard’ that Chris Bobel has explored, one that is based on humility and rigor, is one that many women consider themselves to be unworthy of.
(Bobel’s work on menstrual activism is well worth a read, in particular her
article on ‘activist’ as a personal and collective identity:
http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/14742830701497277)

 4)     
Authenticity and legitimacy of identity are issues that apply to me as well as my target sample and I’ve been contending with that on two fronts, both as an academic and as an activist. Frequently I feel like a fraud in both roles, often regardless of objective evidence or personal testimony to the contrary, and it’s by no means unique to me. But this, in combination with a generalised fear or reluctance of asking things of other people, has made recruiting participants all the more difficult. While I’ve now overcome a reluctance to talk about my research from fear of boring people, asking people to participate in my research seems like asking too much of them, putting too many demands on their time, or affording  myself an undeserved status or importance. It seems like nagging. The same illogical thought processes occur if I have to ‘chase up’ individuals who have dropped off the radar after initial email contact. Or if I’m following-up on diaries. Or if I’m trying to increase my sample through snowballing. One of my supervisors has said that I need to pester people, which is undoubtedly true because my current timidity certainly isn’t getting me anywhere. But first I need to feel entitled to pester people and that’s harder to do.

Over all I suspect there isn’t a magic bullet solution and that the way forward is to continue using all of the techniques I mentioned above to
attempt to recruit people, but with the looming shift to my final year the
pressure is on. Any advice or recommendations would be hugely appreciated so feel free to leave a comment. Don’t feel you have to though – I wouldn’t want to nag!

 
I've been slipping on the blog front again. Or more accurately falling face-first into inactivity. I'd love to blame teaching or work or have some such excuse but really it's just because I've been focusing on other things. So I'll try to get around to posting something soon but in the meantime, I read a really good piece on guilt and activism recently which is worth sharing:

http://peacenews.info/node/7292/diary-aneaka-kellay
 
I'm still thinking a lot about emotions and their role in social movements, but transcribing an interview recently got me thinking about the role of emotions in burn-out, and how awareness of our own and others' emotional needs as activists can prevent us overloading. In the process I stumbled across a great post about the need for radical self-care so thought I would share:
http://abortiongang.org/2013/03/radical-self-care/
 
Photo Credit: http://www.etsy.com/listing/28805225/less-guilt-more-action-button
After a fascinating conversation last week I’ve been spending a lot of time pondering the relevance and uses of guilt. It’s certainly not an emotion in short supply, and one with which I’m not unfamiliar. The very existence of this blog and my utter failure to write anything on it for the past 9 months is just one source of academia-related guilt I currently suffer from.

Last week I had a cup of tea and a chat with the wonderful Jenny Pickerill and we got on to the subject of guilt. She related how during a lecture to a group of environmental activists she explained that she had “given up guilt”, only to be met with surprise and disapproval: somehow abandoning guilt was akin to abandoning a commitment to activism. Guilt is certainly a prominent feature in environmental discourse, but the notion that guilt is an essential motivator for living well is oddly Catholic. While the relationship between green ideology and religion has been acknowledged previously (Asma 2010), it’s also the case that atheism and self-determination are not alien concepts to progressive movements.

Western privilege and consumer capitalism provide Greens (as well as so many others) with plenty to feel guilty about. Energy use. Food miles. Sweat-shop labour. Carbon footprints. Even our green choices (e.g. public transport), while better than the alternative (e.g. private vehicles), can still be cause for concern (e.g. I should have walked!). The issue with guilt though is whether or not it’s productive. For some, guilt and the associated need to undertake practices of sacrifice are means by which their lived experiences can match their inner ideals, and yet for others guilt is more closely associated with powerlessness. Anyone with even fleeting experiences of depression will likely be familiar with the paralysing impact of guilt. Failure to achieve a goal, regardless of how small it may be (get out of bed today, finish an essay, not eat an entire packet of biscuits in one sitting) most often results in self-criticism and regret rather than a motivating impulse to affect change. How useful is guilt as a motivator if it doesn’t motivate?

In the context of my research, I’m interested in how emotion, and in this case guilt, is gendered.  As Erica Jong, in Fear of Flying, provocatively writes “show me a women who doesn’t feel guilty and I’ll show you a man.” Guilt is by no means an innate feeling, but some people in society are socialised to feel it more, to internalise failure and perceived deviance. Perhaps unsurprisingly these people are largely the less powerful because guilt is a weapon of control. For women, pressures to be a perfect mother and raise happy, healthy children induce maternal guilt. Fear of sexual violence and shame relating to sexuality produce guilt relating to behaviour, dress and relationships. Ideals of perfect bodies and managed appearances feed in to guilt about exercise, eating and taking up space. Psychological studies, meanwhile, consistently find women reporting higher levels of guilt and shame than their male counterparts (Lutwak et al 1998; Benetti-McQuoid and Bursik 2005).

What does this all mean for activism, movements, and the individuals that make them what they are? For the moment I have no idea. Or rather lots of ideas that are not yet coherent. But perhaps, if I can stave off the guilt for a little longer, I might be able to make some sense of them.

References:

Asma, S.T. (2010) ‘Green Guilt’ The Chronicle of Higher Education <http://chronicle.com/article/Green-Guilt/63447/>

Benetti-McQuoid, J. and Bursik, Krisanne (2005) ‘Individual Differences in Experiences of and Responses to Guilt and Shame: Examining the Lenses of Gender and Gender Role’ Sex Roles 53(1-2) pp.133-142

Jong, E. (1973) Fear of Flying

Lutwak, N., Ferrarib, J.R. and Cheek, J.M. (1998) ‘Shame, guilt, and identity in men and women: the role of identity orientation and processing style in moral affects’ Personality and Individual Differences 25(6) pp.1027-1036