But what do you actually do? A short look at my research methods

For my anthro/archie friends, you can probably skip this post, unless you’d like to put yourself in the field with me, as it were. For my non-anthropology readers, here’s a little explanations of what I actually do while I’m in Ecuador.

A lot of my time is spent simply "hanging out" with people (and often eating. There’s lots of eating involved). And yes, "hanging out" is a valid research term for anthropologists. This may not seem like a legitimate methodology, but in spending a lot of time with people, we get to know them well and they get to know us. You may think of this as a rapport-building time period. The better you know your contacts/collaborators, the easier it is for you to talk about topics that may be difficult, sensitive, or personal. You can also be more certain that they are giving you truthful answers and not simply what they think you want to hear. The description sounds a lot colder and more clinical than what I really feels like when you are doing research. Instead of seeing them as contacts/collaborators, they become your friends. If you think about it, friendships are generally built by spending time together and discussing common interests; "hanging out" for anthropologists is basically building friendships. Instead of seeing hanging out as research, it often (hopefully) becomes something you look forward to doing because it means spending time with friends.

For me, hanging out typically means but I spend a lot of time in the market or in people's houses/production sites. Bless his heart, my dad keeps asking how there could possibly be more for me to learn in the market, since this is the third research trip that I've spent a lot of time in the marketplace studying. But you have to channel your inner Ariel (Little Mermaid) and "be where the people are" if you want to do anthropological research. I personally find informal conversations to be the most informative because you can learn a lot when people simply talk about what they find interesting or important. And in order to have those conversations, you have to spend lots of time with people. My people just happen to work in the market, giving me the best “office” in the world! I also try to speak with the ever-revolving tourists to ascertain their motivations for visiting and their perceptions of the marketplace. Thus, I don’t just bug the locals with my questions, but also anyone who I can get to stop for a minute or two. (I sometimes think being a cultural anthropologist means having no shame because, while we strive to be polite about it, we also want to talk to everyone about as much as we can. Thankfully, I’ve been blessed (cursed?) with the family gift of gab, er, an anthropological skill.)

In recent years, anthropology has been critical of its past (and has been criticized by other disciplines) because it was not uncommon for researchers to spend a lot of time reading literature before entering the field, and often assumed that they knew more than the locals from whom they were supposed to be learning. Because of this, many anthropologists (myself included) prefer informal conversations, which fall under the guise of participant observation, to more formal, rigid, structured interview.

Interviews can be very helpful when trying to get repetitive data that can be compared for statistical significance (I know, ew! But it’s important, or so they tell me) or patterns. However, those interviews should always first be informed by informal observations and conversations. Because of this, I also conduct semi-formal interview, in which I have a script of questions that I follow, but I also allow my participants to go off-topic or I will ask follow-up questions as I see necessary. As I previously mentioned, asking a standard set of questions allows us to look for patterns in the responses. One of the main goals of anthropology is to understand what can be generalized to a culture level and what is more specific to an individual, family, or perhaps a small group of individuals (this falls more under the heading of sociology, although there are exceptions).

In addition to interviews, I also complete family histories. For a family history, I ask someone a set of questions, not dissimilar to a normal interview. However in this case, the purpose of the questions and documentation is to chart as much information as you possibly can about… you got it: their family’s history. By doing this, you can learn about something of interest spanning across several generations. In this case, I ask about craft production and market knowledge (think: how do you know how to make and sell things successfully?) in an effort to understand how this knowledge is transmitted and potentially changes over time. Super cool, right? Are you ready to be an anthropologist yet?

You may have noticed that I threw out the phrase participant observation as though you know what I'm talking about. For some reason, non-anthropologists tend to get overwhelmed by this phrase, but it is really self-explanatory. Participant observation is the keystone methodology for anthropology. We attempt to both participate and observe whatever the local are doing, with the understanding that experiential learning is often more potent than simply watching or talking to people. In other words, by doing what looks simple/easy/natural when watching locals, researchers learn the skill, patience, and strength that are often required to complete seemingly basic tasks.

Often a major corollary to participant observation is photography. Researchers are famous for taking millions of photos and videos in order to document daily life. For me, it’s even more important since I work with material objects that might even be considered an art form. I mean, really, would you rather I describe textiles or simply show you a photo? My friends/contacts have become so accustomed to me taking photos frequently that if I'm not taking photos of something they think I would find interesting/it’s been a few days since they've seen me with my camera out, they make sure to point out but I'm not getting photos. It has sort of become a joke that is also a helpful reminder. The longer I live here, the more it feels like another home to me, and the more normal everything seems. Therefore, it’s easy to forget to take photos, especially of things I see frequently.

I also use photovoice, a special methodology using photography, which asks community members to take photos and allows for greater collaboration between participants and researchers. I ask Otavaleños to take photos of craft production and selling, so they can show me what is important and use these as visual aids to discuss the ways in which these tasks are gendered and why. They can take as many photos in their home, factory, and/or market as they think are necessary. Afterward, we go through the photos together and can talk about why they took them and what they mean. Then, they can select the ones they think are the best. The photo (above) of me eating in the market was actually taken by one of my collaborators doing photovoice. I love this methodology because it actively invites other perspectives. I see the world through my own eyes, but this gives my collaborators an opportunity to quite literally show me things from their perspective. In practice, it’s had mixed success, but it’s definitely a method I’d try to use again in the future.

I also hope to do archives research, although that has proven quite difficult. You may have noticed in my post about the Yamor parade that I think there is more to the story about the gender division of labor regarding craft (and especially textile) production among indigenous Otavalans. I argue that modern production roles were actually dictated by obrajes, sweatshops the Spanish put in place in their conquest of the area. Accessing documents from those archives would help me to determine who actually fulfilled labor quotas and what work individuals completed…or, so I hope. We’ll see if I can actually gain access to any archives and if they give me any of the answers I’m looking for.

For me, the hardest part about doing research is all of the required writing. You might think that’s odd, given that I enjoy writing and am naturally verbose, but it's not like when you're a student and have assignments where you spend a day or two writing but then you're done. Nope. For an anthropologist conducting research, writing is never done. Each of the methods I mentioned above requires writing. For participant observation, we jot quick notes while actually doing research, and ideally write up those notes into very detailed, complete documents the very same day, once you get back to wherever you are staying. These are called fieldnotes and they are major source of data. When I complete a family history or conduct an interview, I also jot notes along the way to help keep my place and remember the important details. Once I am back stateside, I will transcribe the audio recordings, first in Spanish, and later translate them into English. So basically, I’ll spend hours and hours listening to recordings and writing them out word for word. Sound exciting yet? Still want to be an anthropologist?

In addition to doing my research, I also often go on adventures with my host family and friends, most of which find their way into my blog. I also get to juggle the demands being a graduate student, which means sending updates to my advisor/committee, writing report about my research progress thus far for the grants that I received, looking ahead toward future conferences (last year while still in Ecuador, I submitted abstracts for 2 conferences that were held in the spring), and my personal nemesis: funding applications. Last year, while still in Ecuador, I completed several funding applications for research grants so that I could come back this year to complete my research. Not to get on my soapbox, but if you've ever talked to me about funding for anthropology research, you know I have some pretty strong feelings about it. Let’s just say that in the past, more money was available to support the research of graduate students and professors and because of this, there is this false legacy that leaves people to believe that if you do not receive funding for your research, it means your research simply wasn't good enough. Unfortunately, those ‘good ol days of plenty’ are long gone, and we are in a time of budget cuts. There simply isn't enough funding for everyone. Getting rejection letters are hard enough, but it’s exponentially worse when your worth as an academic/researcher is falsely tied to receiving funding. A lot of the process depends on subjective recommendations from reviewers that aren't really a commentary on the quality of one’s application. I have no idea how we go about changing this, but it’s something we genuinely need to address. Still, completing funding applications is a necessary evil if you want to finish your research and graduate. So, while I am doing research, I also have the joy of applying for funding that would allow me to focus on writing my dissertation when I come home.

Oh, and I also have to plan ahead for interview transcriptions, data analysis, dissertation writing, and working part-time when I get home. So when I’m late posting blogs/photos or am perpetually tired, hopefully you’ll now know why. In my opinion, it’s exhausting doing anthropological research, but I also love the discipline and my research topic – for which I am grateful, since I will admit I don’t always love the process of doing the research. As I’ve said before, it’s work, not a vacation, so you have to appreciate the fun and fulfilling moments and the epiphanies to get through the boring and frustrating moments. Like everything in life, I guess it’s all about balance.