When I initially signed on to do my PhD, one of the things I most wanted to do was include a survey in the project. I’ve been almost exclusively trained as a qualitative researcher but felt, and continue to feel, that it’s important to learn new skills, skills that might actually help position me as a social scientist that someone might one day want to hire – what a thought! The real value of the method to the actual project was always going to be limited, but hey, you can’t let one conceptual question dictate everything.
But, today I reached a point where I actually had to acknowledge that the survey would not only have almost no benefit to my broader study, but that the emotional and financial costs mean that its probably not worth it. Over the last few days, since some #RealTalk from my supervisor, tears have been shed; pros and cons lists created, scrapped, more honestly recreated; a detailed flow chart of ‘to do if’ drawn up. But the reality is, you don’t need to be bound to your initial research plans. Especially if you’re not tied up in specific fundings terms and conditions, which I’m not, and if, as the initial research starts to come in, it becomes clearer that something different is required. If you want to be a good researcher, you have to respond to what you find along the way and acknowledge when your best laid plans are actually not going to work.
Wholly scrapping the plans for the survey and rethinking the project, how to move forward etc., will take a few days – there are several to do lists, timelines, and goals which need to be recreated – but deciding that it’s something which needs to be done has actually left me feeling quite liberated. It’s left some space for new ideas and plans. Space which will soon be filled with new stresses. But new stresses which will hopefully be more satisfying and productive to explore.
I’m currently up in Vhembe, where it’s a mild 31 degrees, so I thought I’d share three of my favourite things about being in the district with you.
(2) The food options are…interesting
The first couple of times I came up to Vhembe I was a committed vegetarian. So committed that I cumulatively ate four weeks worth of toasted cheese and tomatoes. Now that I eat meat, trips are far more pleasant culinarily speaking. Although, the nearest restaurant is sometimes still in the middle of the Kruger, and a fancy meal just means that you get olives liberally sprinkled on your chips.
(3) A lot of the time you’re just going ‘WHERE AM I?’
Hey, the 1950s were like a good 70 years ago now, right?
I don’t know what I’m looking at. [Hint: it’s a farming compound]
Are we really just a few hours from Joburg?
Is this the Wild West?
To be fair, you could be anywhere in a fairly large area which borders Zimbabwe. And you might be lost. But you definitely won’t be bored.
I (finally!) presented my PhD proposal last week. After two or three delays I couldn’t wait to get it out of the way.
Let’s be clear, the actual presentation is only the second step in the proposal submission process. Write*; Present; Re-write; Submit; Cry over comments from readers; Rewrite; Submit; Pray. Nevertheless, it feels like a massive achievement, and it was good to present it and get constructive feedback. And by that I mean feedback which didn’t fundamentally question the relevance or theoretical underpinnings of the project. Because, let’s face it, no one EVER what’s that kind of feedback.
In celebration of this step (albeit only one of many), here is a picture of me just prior to presenting**
*this obviously involves multiple writings
**picture courtesy of Dave Francis’ amazing artistic skills
By Zaheera Jinnah, Thea de Gruchy and Goitse Manthata On 28 October 2016, maHp team members, Thea de Gruchy, Zaheera Jinnah, and Goitse Manthata, participated in an international symposium titled…
Source: On crises and commonality: reflections from an international symposium on migration and symposium
The visa gods looked kindly on Goitse and me yesterday, making sure we got our passports and visas a casual three hours before our flight (!).
So right now, we’re on our way to Ottawa, where on Friday (28 October), we’ll be participating in a symposium on Migration and Intersectionality.
I’ll be presenting a paper on local level policy making, arguing that if we’re serious about intersectional or transversal policy making, we need to think seriously about making policy at a district level in South Africa.
If you’re interested, here and here are two of the seminal and (I think) better pieces on intersectionality out there.
So I’ve been making a bit of a song and dance about research communication, what it is, and how you’re meant to do it. And then, on Saturday evening a friend texted me to say that I’d been quoted in the Mail & Guardian. After much ‘wait…what’ emoji sending and the locating of a copy of this week’s M&G, we found on page 13, in an article about VFS and the Guptas, a quote from my Master’s research report.
I was more than a little surprise. Everything, and I mean everything, that I’ve been thinking about research communication had made me think that it would land up being a Sisyphean task. I would plot and plan how best to communicate my research and ultimately getting nowhere. And you, dear reader, would read blog post after blog post about how people just won’t engage with research. And then, out of nowhere, an obscure piece of academic writing (because that really is what a thesis is) that I wrote about 18 months ago gets used in the M&G.
My hope in the universe restored, I contacted Phillip de Wet, the journalist who had quoted me, to find out how he’d found the quote/thesis. I’m not quite sure what I was imagining he’d say. I suppose part of me hoped that he’d have some ‘lesson’ for me to take forth and use in my further research communicating. Instead:
‘Think of it as a kind of freak accident, perhaps; considering how little (of) what we publish is drawn from research, pretty much every instance is…’
*The M&G is behind a paywall these days unfortunately, I can’t even access the article electronically.
I feel like I may have created a bit of an impression that I actually know what research communication is and am really good at it. Let me put the record straight: that is not the case.
When I first set up the blog, I wanted to get a baseline for how well I have been communicating my research pre-blog so that in a year or two I can see if the blog has led to any improvements. So I sent out a Google Forms survey to friends and family with a couple of questions, for e.g.: where do I work; what does my job entail; what is my research about; what was I doing in the UK a couple of weeks ago.
The good news finding from my survey is that I can only improve…
Although friends and family are arguably not the primary audience I am trying to communicate my research to, they are a good place to start. Let’s face it, no one else is reading my blog yet!
I must admit, however, that thinking about who my primary audience is, is a little daunting. Largely because they’re the same group of people that I need to use as research participants. My research around policy process – who influences policy, how is policy influenced, etc. – requires interviewing, working with, and critiquing policy makers, key stakeholders, and CSOs (Civil Society Organisations – what we now call NGOs I’m told). But these are the exact same people I need to communicate my findings to and who I hope will learn from my research. And let’s be honest, this is going to require a level of tact and subtly that I do not have!
So while I’m feeling suitably more au fait about writing press releases and facilitating workshops, successful research communication is going to require a lot more.