This is the story of one day a few years ago, a moment when what was theoretical became very personal, namely my understanding of the mechanics of Participatory Action Research.
I was part of a group that was building a national resource to support local practitioners who serve children, youth and families affected by the incarceration of a parent (near as we can tell, one in seven of children in the US today). I was a member of a 15-person steering committee made up of formerly incarcerated people, local practitioners, and children and family members of incarcerated people. I was the only “civilian” on the committee, with no personal connection to the incarceration of a family member.
I began my connection to this group as facilitator and consultant. Over time, I found my commitment to the issue deepening. When the seed money ran out, I was asked by the other founders to continue as part of the team and so I assumed the role of volunteer steering committee member. This was a huge shift out of my comfort zone: I saw myself as a technician or a scientist, not a participant. I liked the distance. I also liked the role clarity. Aware of my rather narrow comfort zone, in most steering committee meetings, I lay low, listened, and waited for my new role to become clear to me.
At this particular meeting, our chair had asked me to report on a study a policy research think tank had just completed, a case analysis of a small sample of 8-12 year old children who were adjudicated through Juvenile Justice system. One finding was that most of these children either had a parent with a criminal history or a parent who was incarcerated. The numbers that described these children were appalling: criminalization of the children, sex and physical abuse, addiction, poor performance in school, etc. This litany of problems had me pretty het up, since I interpreted the dismal findings as a strong rationale for the work we were doing.
As I presented my the findings, I looked up to see the people in the room get madder and madder. Finally one young woman (whose father was just denied parole for the third time) asked: “so why are they doing IQ tests on these children?” Another man who runs a parents-in-prison program (and who himself is ABD) said, “I’m really insulted that you brought this here. There is no context. What kind of research is this? It reinforces every stereotype people have about little black children. I really hate this research.” Another woman said, “Were the people being surveyed consulted about this research? Who has seen this study?” Anyway, you get the drift.
By then I was hard pressed to maintain control. This really hurt. “I brought this study to our group because I thought it would be helpful. Research is a big issue for us, but I gotta tell you I’m damned if I’ll ever bring it up here again!” I blurted tearfully. This too was a first for me: owning my feelings in a group like this. Deep inside, I thought – this is how people bond and now I’m getting even more people in my life – but it was too late to back down. At a higher level, I thought, “Participatory action research affects the researcher as well as the subjects of the research. Damn! This is going to be hard!"
I suggested to my colleagues that we risked creating “us and them” as we increased knowledge and professionalization of the research in the field of community leadership, especially around issues such as imprisonment and justice reform. The group took this to mean I was critical of them, although this was not my intention. I realize now that the us was them and that the them was me … and people like me … who use science to distance ourselves from the human outcomes of policies and programs. I understood what my colleagues meant when they talked about the need for qualitative illumination of quantitative studies to mitigate the oversimplification inherent in scientific measures we parade before policy makers and the community in general.As the discussion ran its course, people in the group apologized for “killing the messenger” and encouraged me to continue to bring research to the group, with the full knowledge that there would be pain as well as learning in the conversation.
As we kept talking, the mood changed. We began to explore research issues more calmly. We decided that while we did need to redefine research, we also needed to find ways to help other researchers understand that along with scientific rigor, they should also consider the deeply personal implications of their work. Deep inside, I felt my own understanding of participatory action research slowly clarify … and why, as facilitator, it was important for me to augment the neutral role of technician with my own reflections as participant-researcher, why I have to find the heart to be a participant at the same time as I muster the brains needed to be a scientist.
