The emotional component of qualitative research

The other day while doing laundry I came across a shirt that made me emotional.

Although mine is more of a softer military green and in a women's cut, the message is the same. 504 is the area code for the Greater New Orleans area. This is a post-Katrina message about human resilience.

I credit the interviews I did there and in Baton Rouge with the IWPR  as the return of my academic swag. I was contracted to do qualitative research with black women who lived in public housing before Katrina. Listening to tales that would break your heart, interviewing women who lived in conditions that were certainly a health hazard, seeing kids who might never return to school, it was a lot.  I sat, asked questions and listened as strangers recounted probably the worst and scariest time of their lives. [this project prepared me for my dissertation research as well. Few people spoke of the 1989 invasion without crying, men and women alike] Families separated. Friends dead. Community ties, destroyed. I had never been to New Orleans before and haven't returned yet. Bourbon Street is one thing, the projects are quite another.

But more than anything, I think of the way some women held my hand during the interview, just trusting that someone was really listening and cared about their story.  It was not a survey to be filled out, but rather open ended questions that required their words, their interpretations and their emotions. That project more than any other to date made me feel valuable as a qualitative researcher. My Blackness and femaleness aided that study. My attending school in Washington D.C. aided the advocacy of those results.

I often read Desiderata for inspiration because I love it, but as I write this dissertation-- which will not be the best thing I have ever produced but instead a display of my ability to create a project, get funding and write up results -- I can't help but think of:  Keep interested in your own career, however humble. It is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

I may not be finding a cure for AIDS, but that doesn't mean the work I do doesn't change lives.