Radical Caretaking in Qualitative Research

As researchers, we often concern ourselves with potential harm we could do to our participants, and the community we are researching. However, in any interview setting there are at least two people present; all parties are at risk for harm. Vicarious trauma occurs most often when an event or feeling described by the participant is close to home for the researcher.¹ It can also occur when the participant is describing atrocities that the interviewer feels could happen to them or someone they know. Reactions to vicarious trauma can be overwhelming, and concerns for the data and consecutive analysis process arise. Protecting ourselves, preventing harm, and healing after instances of harm are crucial for a sustainable research practice. In a conversation led by Allison E. Cipriano (University of Nebraska) and Rebecca Campbell, Ph.D. (Michigan State University) at SPSSI² 2023, a group of largely qualitative researchers explored instances of harm in interview situations and past methods of management.

Within qualitative research, researching our own communities is a common practice; we cite the importance of deeper understanding, the perceived safety in the researcher/participant relationship, and the ability to see potential questions that out-group members would not. And while this is complicated, (see “Insider” versus “Outsider” Research Discourse; Debunking the Binary Myth, Owenmark, A., “Fool” Spring 2023) an intersectional view provides us further understanding of how various identities alter the relationship. Regardless of individual differences, when we research our own community, we often find ourselves stumbling upon shared experiences, narratives, and past harm. These moments of shared history are often followed by a cocktail of emotions; joy at finding connection, or sorrow, fear, or anger at the recollection. Memories may come trickling or flooding back, so how do we manage our reactions? One woman at the conference, whose practice is more clinical, said that this is a critical moment in a client/patient relationship or in this context a researcher/participant relationship; acknowledging your own reaction and feelings in the moment is both better for you, and can help your participant (or patient) feel understood and safe. One researcher mentioned an instance in which, despite trying very hard not to, she cried when a participant’s story hit ‘too close to home.’ She said that the data collected from that interview stood out as richer, deeper, and incredibly helpful. By no means should a researcher try to cry, but when emotion is high, recognizing that and being human first is crucial.

Another struggle is when the data itself feels dark and heavy. When we do research to promote social change, with the intention of furthering social justice and revolutionary thinking, we are most often researching spaces of great sorrow and challenge. Especially when that space is our own community, it can feel disheartening. Dr. Campbell emphasized finding “the light” in each of your participants’ lives. She recommended asking an improvised question about what has brought light or joy or strength to the participant, or what has been meaningful, or a point of growth. Hearing these stories of “resiliency and desire” helps us both have a rounded three-dimensional understanding of our participants and not get bogged down in depressing data. Researchers around the table agreed and emphasized having the interviews end with these questions so both parties can walk away with a good feeling.

One study presented at the conference in a talk titled, Critical Conversation Spaces as Consciousness- Raising Communities for Black Girls by Gabrielle Kubi (University of Michigan) had a good strategy imbued in its methods. Kubi talked about ending the recorded part of the interview but continuing the conversation. This un-recorded conversation could serve as a moment for both the researcher and the participant to relax and discuss anything that may have come up during the interview in a more casual environment without the pressure of a record. Bringing up moments that were tough, pieces of information that should stay private, and divulging advice for these young Black girls felt important and healthy to Kubi. Talking about how it felt to discuss the subjects and events brought up in the interview helped both parties unwind from a potentially stressing conversation.

Dr. Campbell talked about her methods for changing up the research in order to avoid burnout. In her career, she has started interviewing the oppressor too—specifically citing talking to police officers, and Title IX mandated reporters and administrators. There are some techniques to critically interview the oppressor, including asking them questions that require them to self-reflect—when we talk to the oppressed we are careful to make them feel heard, with the oppressor we want them to hear themselves. This is far from accessible to everybody and presents its own challenges in terms of vicarious trauma; placing the researcher in a potentially vulnerable position, hearing harmful language, and the same horrifying stories told from a different perspective and more. Dr. Campbell’s Whiteness and her seniority and power in the field provide her with safety. This isn’t the only way to avoid burnout, however. Some researchers talked about volunteering in the communities they are researching; being a part of the solution to the issue they have identified. For example, many of the researchers in the conversation work on intimate partner sexual violence and spent time working in non-profits that provide support to survivors. In other cases, the researchers who were professors talked about teaching statistics or other more math-heavy classes as a break or change of pace.

These same researchers, and others who hold leadership positions in larger labs, brought up concerns for their graduate and undergraduate students and less experienced coworkers. They wondered how they could best take care of these researchers and research assistants as they navigate potentially traumatizing data together. Dr. Campbell mentioned that anyone who works in her lab must undergo training at a non-profit organization that provides care to sexual assault survivors, in order to both weed out underprepared individuals and to provide researchers with important skills to work with the community they are studying. This being an interactive conversation, I chimed in with the undergraduate researcher's perspective³. When individuals in a leadership position can demonstrate vulnerability, and show (rather than simply tell) their co-researchers how they manage vicarious trauma, they can teach an incredibly valuable lesson. Both from healing in community—a powerful tool—and from showing humanity and the importance of being human first.

Specifically, several Black women in the group mentioned finding other Black academics in the same or similar fields and forming support connections. Using tools like LinkedIn, or emailing researchers that are cited in their work, these women found that others were excited to find connections and that they had built beautiful and long-lasting relationships.

Knowing that researchers throughout the field of qualitative social-psychological research are concerned about and acknowledging researcher well-being and the risk of researcher vicarious harm is comforting. As we continue to legitimize qualitative research, we must not let old quantitative ideas get in our way. Our research practices focus on making our participants feel seen and heard and understood—let us extend that care to ourselves as well.

1. There has been some talk of both the effect on an interviewer and a coder, analyst, or transcriber. While the latter participation has the advantage of physical–and thereby emotional– distance, they do have the disadvantage of a more intimate relationship to the text or audio/visual information, often hearing the story over and over again.

2. Society for the Psychological Study of Social Issues

3. While the research I have done has been significantly less traumatic than hearing the stories of survivors, any data about a minoritized group has the potential to be triggering.